Page 73 of Man Advantage

“Nobody.”

“You’re wrong.”

Halsey sat back. “Fine.”

Ford should have let him believe he’d won. Instead, he heard himself ask, “Who else?”

“I don’t know.” Halsey picked at a loose thread near the hem of his shorts. “Some of the guys have probably figured it out. Nobody’s talking about it.”

Halsey looked uncomfortable now, but not for the reason Ford had expected. “You watch Englund whenever he leaves a room. He does the same thing with you. And when anybody gets close, you both start acting like teammates who met that morning.”

Ford stared at him until Halsey added, “That’s more obvious than when you’re normal.”

A laugh came through the wall from the equipment room. Ford waited for the door to open again, for somebody to walk in and prove Halsey wrong about nobody caring. The handle didn’t move.

“We’re done for today,” Ford said.

Halsey looked at the screen. “We just started.”

“We’ll finish tomorrow.”

The kid closed his laptop but didn’t stand. “I’m not going to say anything.”

Ford’s chest tightened at the promise. He should have felt relieved. Instead, he pictured Halsey weighing every word around the other players now that he knew, and his stomach turned.

“I know,” he said.

Halsey rose and tucked the laptop under his arm. At the door, he stopped. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think anybody cares.” He waited until Ford looked at him. “About you being with Englund. Things were tense when I came in though.” His gaze moved toward the hallway. “I hope you work that out.”

He left before Ford could answer.

Charlotte settled between Ford and Cole for her bedtime story, and Cole opened the book. He read every ridiculous voice she demanded. Usually, when Charlotte objected to one, Cole pulled Ford into the debate and made him choose a side. Tonight, he accepted every correction without looking across the bed.

Ford laughed when Charlotte did and helped her through the spelling words she remembered after they finished the book. Cole wasn’t punishing him or letting their fight touch her night. He was being careful with Ford in a way he had never needed to be before, and Ford missed being pulled into the nonsense with him.

When they finished, Ford leaned over and kissed Charlotte’s forehead. “Night, bug.”

Charlotte pointed at Cole. “You too.”

Cole bent over her, gave her an exaggerated kiss that made her complain that his face scratched, and tucked the blanket around her shoulders. He followed Ford into the hall and pulled the door nearly closed.

Ford waited for him to say something. Cole only said, “I’m going to shower.”

He walked toward Ford’s bedroom without reaching for him. Ford stood outside Charlotte’s door and told himself Cole was tired.

The shower ran while Ford checked the locks downstairs and moved Charlotte’s backpack off the kitchen floor. By the time he went upstairs, Cole was in bed with his back against the headboard and his phone in his lap.

Ford changed in the bathroom and brushed his teeth. When he finished, he stayed where he was, unable to make himself open the door. Halsey knew. Other men in the locker room might know too. Ford had feared that for years. But Cole was waiting on the other side, close enough to touch, and Ford had made him unsure whether that touch was welcome. That hurt worse than anything Halsey could tell the team.

When Ford returned, Cole set his phone on the nightstand and shifted onto his side. He left the lamp on for Ford.

Ford got into bed. The mattress dipped, and Cole adjusted to the movement without turning toward him. There had been nights when Ford couldn’t roll over without Cole reaching for him, half asleep and greedy for contact. Tonight, Cole kept both arms in front of his body.

Ford switched off the lamp and lay on his back. Cole’s breathing changed slowly. Not sleep. Ford knew the difference now. He knew the small hitch before Cole rolled closer, the weight of Cole’s leg sliding between his, the warm scrape of his stubble at Ford’s shoulder. Ford waited for all of it until the silence made his skin feel too tight, then turned his head. Cole was a dark shape facing the wall.

Ford lifted his arm, intending to close the space. The movement stopped before he touched him. If Cole turned around, they would have to finish the conversation from the video room. Ford would have to explain why wanting Cole beside him made every call from Chicago feel like a warning.

He lowered his arm. Cole shifted at the sound of the blankets, then went still again.