Page 132 of The Way Home

Which was how he found himself standing in the hospital room, hunched over the tiny television in the corner, trying to figure out how the hell to stream the Chelsea vs. Arsenal match. It was a big game, so when he finally managed to get the broadcast up on the screen, Bri, Mike, Jamie, and a few curious hospital staff members gathered in Derrick’s room to watch.

The pre-game show had just started, highlighting clips from earlier matches in the season. It was actually kind of nice since Caleb was usually there in person, so he rarely got to see these segments.

His dad evenlooked… happy.

If there was one thing Derrick Reed understood, it was competition. And by the way he was sitting ramrod straight in his hospital bed now—barking, “Now that’s a shot on goal!” at the replay clips—he seemed to be having a grand old time. Beside him, Bri was practically glowing, seeing her father engaged in something. Mike sat close to her, staring at her like she was the sun. Even Tay had texted a few minutes ago, asking if maybe she could FaceTime in during the game.

The tight ball of anxiety he’d been carrying around all week was starting to fade away. Ifthisended up being his last memory of his father, he could live with that.

His gaze drifted toward the window, where a small bird landed on a branch outside, hopping once before settling there.

Maybe he was just exhausted—God knew he hadn’t slept properly in days—but for a moment, he imagined it was his mom. Just watching over them and spending a little time with her family, even if that family was broken and a little crazy.

The door swung open, and Jamie rushed in, curls falling into his face, trying to balance four cans of Pepsi and a Sprite.

“Here you go!” he said breathlessly, handing them out. They hadn’t had much time to talk today since Jamie had slipped out for a morning walk and they’d rushed here as soon as he had gotten home. Maybe he’d recommend napping together later…

Jamie carefully lowered himself into the chair beside Caleb and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Caleb noticed his father’s eyes linger on Jamie for a moment.

Jamie noticed too and simply smiled back.

It hit Caleb then that Jamie fit here with his family. When he’d first moved to London and fallen in love with the bookish, nerdy British man with a bike helmet slung under his arm, he never imagined he’d come back to this town. Why would he? At the time, he hadn’t believed his family would accept either of them.

But here they were. All of them sitting together in a cramped hospital room, watching the team he had poured so much of his heart and soul into. The team that had become a kind of family to him—that had supported the life he’d built with Jamie.

And now his family, messy and complicated as they were, were showing their support too. In their own way.

“Oh, it’s starting!” Bri said, sliding closer to Mike as she cracked open her Pepsi with a sharp hiss.

“Is that the coach, Caleb?” Mike asked in his Jersey accent, pointing at the screen. “Halcombe?”

“Yep,” Caleb said, sliding his hand into Jamie’s.

Bri turned toward Mike, confused. “Since when do you follow women’s football?”

Mike shrugged, pulling off his baseball cap, spinning it around in his hands before settling it back onto his head. “Since this morning. I Googled the team.” He pointed again at the screen. “Dillion Hawthorne’s the captain, right? She’s hilarious on Twitter. And rumor is the coach is a dick. Is that true, Caleb?”

Caleb shrugged, but beside him, Jamie muttered under his breath. “Bloody right he is. He’s been blatantly homophobic toward some of the queer players on the team.” His gaze flicked briefly to Caleb. “And toward Caleb.”

“What?!” Bri’s voice jumped an octave.

“That’s so fucked,” Mike said, taking a sip of his Sprite. “I read one of the players opened an investigation, something about him breaking league harassment and discrimination rules.”

“What? I didn’t hear about that.” Caleb turned toward Jamie. “Is that true?”

There’s no way that happened without him knowing. Surely Sally or Ang would have told him—

“It’s true,” Jamie said quietly, his eyes still fixed on the television. “It was Angie.”

On the screen, the teams were lining up for the coin toss. The captains shook hands before jogging back toward their huddles.

Behind him, his father grunted. “I hope they kick Arsenal’s ass.”

Derrick didn’t care about these teams. Hell, he didn’t know anything about the league. But he always picked a side, and it warmed Caleb’s chest that he’d chosen his.

Jamie squeezed his hand, drawing Caleb’s attention away from the television. His eyes looked nervous behind his glasses, the lensessmudged as if he’d been taking them off and putting them back on over and over again. “Can we talk? After this?”

Caleb nodded immediately. “Of course, love.” Jamie turned back toward the television, but Caleb lingered on his profile for a moment, studying the tension in his jaw and the way he kept fidgeting with his fingers. He wondered why Jamie didn’t tell him about Angie filing a discrimination complaint.