A whole world of people and no one interested in me. Josef Davis stared out at the football field, lost in his thoughts. He shouldn’t be worried about finding a lover. Hell, he barely liked dating. The act of going out wasn’t so bad, but it was the small talk. The trying to figure out if someone liked him in return. That was the tiring part. That and the idea that the people he’d come to know might not always be honest.

Well, except for the team…and the support group. His friends were the best people in his life because they were always honest and didn’t mince words in an effort to be nice. They were simply as advertised. So was the football team and coaching staff. He had his support group of best friends who were like his brothers, and had found a family among the coaches.

“You look deep in your head,” Sylus said. He elbowed Josef. “We’ve got a practice to coach. You need to be present.”

“I am.” Not wholly, but whatever. “I’m here.”

“Are you?” Sylus tipped his head. He removed his hat, then scratched his head before putting the cap back on. His blue eyes narrowed. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Even the boys have asked. They want to know when Uncle Josef will come over to play. What gives?”

He had to be honest with himself and Sylus. He’d known Sylus since he’d come to the team over ten years ago and had been there since his head coach’s sons were born. He nodded. “I’m trying to sort out my personal life.”

“What personal life? You don’t have one. You don’t go out. Don’t talk about yourself outside of the game. Don’t bring anyone along to the parties. It’s like you’re afraid to admit you want someone.”

“Maybe I am.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but the smart remark tumbled right out. “Sorry.” This wasn’t the time to discuss his personal life. He should be focusing on the game.

“Don’t have to be sorry. The assistants are running this part of the practice. I’m worried about you. You’re running yourself ragged trying to run away from everything. The more you insulate yourself, the less you’re going to be happy.” Sylus folded his arms. “Have you talked to the support group?”

He’d forgotten Sylus knew about his college friends. “No.” He should have a chat with them. A nice, long video chat where they could talk about…stuff. Tim, Dante and Bram knew him better than anyone. They could see through his bullshit in seconds, then turn around and offer the kind of support only someone who’d been there through the rough times can give.

“Then you’d better call them. Why don’t you head out? It’s Templeton’s turn to clean up after practice,” Sylus said. “He owes me anyway. He keeps getting out of ensuring the practice gear is clean. You’d think he doesn’t know how to run a washing machine.”

“Nah, he just doesn’t want to.” He knew Templeton. The guy put laziness to new levels. “Is that a demand?”

“Yes.” Sylus nudged Josef’s shoulder. “I have the feeling you’ve got more on your mind than your dating situation and it’s that stuff you won’t discuss, so talk to them. I need your head in the game for this weekend’s matchup versus Academy. We’ve got their number, but you’re our best play caller. Think you can get yourself sorted out enough for this weekend?”

“I can.” He laughed to hide his discomfort.

“Then go.” Sylus shooed him away. “Go. You need to be ready. I need my coach.”

“Noted.” He clapped Sylus on the shoulder, then walked away. He hated that Sylus knew him so well, but he appreciated that his coach was directing him to take positive steps in his life.

He’d become good at burying his feelings. If no one knew he was upset, then they’d leave him alone. If they didn’t know he had things wrong, then they’d give him space. But he’d hidden so much that he’d pushed people away. No one wanted to try to get close.

Not that he’d let anyone.

Except the support group.

He headed out to his car. He didn’t live anywhere close to the guys, but with a few taps, he’d have them in his living room. He drove from the practice facility to the freeway and along the beltway around town to his housing development.

When he’d thought he’d be in professional football for the rest of his life, he’d bragged he wasn’t about to live in a house. He’d have a bus. Wasn’t going to have roots.

Look at him now. He had a house in the ’burbs, a car and truck, enough electronics to keep himself busy and three bedrooms for one man. How sad.

He drove from the beltway to the main road leading to his development, then down his side street. Within ten minutes, he pulled into his driveway before parking in the garage. He shook his head as he killed the engine and the clunky garage door shut. There was no personality in his house. All white exterior, bland gray sidewalk. No flowers—he hadn’t been blessed with a green thumb—no colorful statuary, no flags—but being busy, he hadn’t had time to put them up and couldn’t decide which he wanted to showcase.

Inside wasn’t much better. It certainly looked like a bachelor lived there. He had just enough furniture for his own use and nothing more. He didn’t have photos on the wall, even though he had plenty of snapshots on his computer. The desire to print the images hadn’t crossed his mind. He didn’t even have a room displaying his various jerseys, awards and team paraphernalia from his playing and coaching careers.

Why be reminded of past glory?

He left the car and headed into the house. He’d take the truck to practice tomorrow. The vehicle required too much fuel, but he liked the way it rumbled down the road.

He left his keys in the bowl, then kicked out of his shoes before strolling through the kitchen where he picked up an apple. He made his way to his office. Of all the rooms in his home, this one had the most personality.

He’d left his tablet on the charger and removed the cord before leaving the office. No one needed to see the piles of papers or clutter. The support group wouldn’t say anything about it, but he didn’t like having the mess in the background.

Josef removed his socks on the way to the living room and left them on the floor by his armchair. He’d get the rumpled articles of clothing later.

As he settled on the worn leather, he tapped to light up the screen. Within a few moments, he’d set up the chat windows. He hadn’t bothered to give the others a chance to accept or decline. He simply demanded they show up.

The first screen to open was Dante’s. He laughed. “It took you long enough.”

“Took me?” he asked. “How so? I called the chat.”

“I know, and I’ve been waiting on this.” Dante shook his head. “Finally ready to open up?”

He wanted to feign not knowing what Dante meant, but why bother? Dante was smarter than he looked and had a biting sense of humor. If he knew Josef was struggling, he’d give him hell until he admitted it to himself. “Maybe.”

“What happened?” Dante asked. “You don’t crack this easily. Did you meet someone?” his eyes widened.

He didn’t want to give Dante this power, but he hadn’t met anyone. “Stop. You’re thinking too hard. I’m just… I wanted to talk to you all.” God, he had to stop avoiding the situation.

“You’re so full of shit,” Dante replied. “If you haven’t met someone, then you want to.”

Tim saved him from having to answer. Just as well. He didn’t want to have to tell each of his friends individually.

Tim waved. “Stranger! Where’ve you been?”

“Coaching.” This he could answer. “We’re five and one this year and a good bet to make the playoffs. We’ve had our toughest game against the Cougars, so this should be easy. The remainder of the schedule isn’t as bad, even for teams within our division. We’ve got a stout quarterback and he’s healthy this year. The line’s strong and I can’t complain.” He’d said a lot and hadn’t really answered the question.

“So you’ve been neck-deep in the game. What about your personal life?” Dante asked. “Gone out recently?”

“Not everyone has to club like you.” Josef scrubbed the back of his neck and rested the tablet on his lap. “I like being quiet.”

“Except when you’re on the sidelines,” Tim said. “I’ve seen you. You’re so animated.”

“I get into the game.” What was wrong with that?

“Get into it?” Tim asked. “You’ve been this involved since college. I’ve got video somewhere of you on the sidelines when you went pro practically hopping around to get the attention of the team. It could be said your sportsmanship at the time was original.”

“So?” He had been too enthusiastic and angry on the sidelines in his playing days, but he’d worked hard on it since then. He had an idea how the game should be going and hated when no one listened to him…which was why he’d gotten into coaching.

“So you don’t have any prospects for a boyfriend?” Dante asked. “Or you’re not trying?”

“Are you?” he challenged. “You’re still single.”

“Only our Bram has connected,” Tim said. He sighed and shrugged. “I’m not finding anyone either. It’s like I can’t seem to attract anyone who wants to be with a single dad.”

Josef bristled. He hadn’t tried to have kids because he hadn’t believed he’d make a good parent. “At least you’re trying.”

Bram entered the chat. He appeared to still be at school and in his dimly lit office. He adjusted the light. “Sorry. I had meetings after school. Seems like it’s never-ending. What’d I miss?”

“Josef wants a date,” Dante said. “And he’s ready to talk about his issues.”

Jesus Christ. He hadn’t said any of those things. He wasn’t ready to discuss anything. Okay, maybe he was, but not with Dante’s pushing. He could count on his friend to force them all to confront what needed to be discussed, but his bulldozer methods often left a little to be desired.

“Uh…” Bram frowned. “Josef?”

Tim leaned in closer to the screen. “We know you’ve been struggling. Have you been talking to your therapist?”

He was so used to them supporting each other and him not being the one in need. But now it was his turn and their overwhelming backing surprised and relieved him, They knew him so well. “Guys.”

“That’s why you’re seeing Mark. He’s helping and he’s right,” Dante said. “You’re being bogged down by the past and you can’t change it, so make the future what you want.”

Why did Dante have to remember that?

“It’s okay to discuss it with us. We know some of what happened, witnessed other parts of it, and aren’t going to judge you,” Bram said. “It’s hard to let go.”

He had to give that to Bram. Of all the men in the group, Bram knew the heartache of being screwed over and had even managed to come out on the other side. Every time he saw Bram and Alan together, he knew his friend would be okay. Alan was a sweet man, steady and calm. He also had the temperament from his days playing baseball to keep up with Bram. Theirs was the kind of love he wanted for himself.

If his version of someone like Alan existed.

Josef fiddled with the nub of rubber on the edge of the tablet that had torn loose. “My coach asked me to get my head in the game for this weekend. He doesn’t know about my past, but he knows enough to figure out I’ve got a lot on my mind. I don’t want to let the boys down, but I can’t figure this out.”

“Have you talked to Mark?” Bram asked. “Or is it something else?”

“When I see the boys, I remember being in their position and wanting so much to impress my father. Then the old bastard called me names because I’m gay. Said I wasn’t a man or a decent player because of my sexuality. I’m, on one hand, in awe of the boys and, on the other, frustrated that they’re sailing when I hit choppy waters.”

“You had more than choppy waters. You came through a goddamn hurricane,” Dante said. “It wasn’t fair and I wish you’d have let me say something back then. I knew you were hurting.”

He knew. Dante had been his first champion and his first crush—not that he’d tell Dante he’d been interested in him. That was all he needed—to inflate Dante’s ego more than it already was, or encourage him too much.

“I know.” Josef sighed and massaged his forehead. “The worst part is that I want to see the boys succeed, but I’m secretly angry with them for not having to navigate what I did. I wish I could go back to my younger self and speak up for myself, but I can’t change the past and my father’s dead. Can’t talk to a ghost, unless I visit him at the cemetery and talk to a stone.”

“No, but has Mark given you some ideas? Maybe write a letter or two or ten to him and burn them?” Bram asked. “We have students do that sometimes.”

“Make a video or even just an audio recording where you get it all out, then delete it?” Tim asked.

“Go to the cemetery and said what needed to be said?” Dante asked. “I’ll come out and run interference in case someone questions you.”

He appreciated their ideas.

“Maybe a journal.” Bram shrugged. “Write it all down over the course of days or weeks or whatever, then either lock it up or shred it?”

“I like the fire idea,” Tim said. “It’s so destructive.”

“You would,” Josef replied. Dante drove him crazy, but he rather liked his idea. “I know this sounds silly. I’m forty-six years old and tired as hell of this whole thing. It’s a weight around my neck.”

“Then let’s get rid of it.” Dante applauded. “You’ve got this.”

“You sound like a coach.” He crooked his brow, but the ideas churned through his head. He sent Dante a private text chat.

Would you be willing to come to town Sunday? Accompany me to the cemetery?

The three dots flickered as Dante read and typed a reply. His heart pounded as he waited to see what Dante might say. Part of him knew Dante would agree, but a piece of him worried his friend would turn him down due to a scheduling conflict.

A moment later, the reply came.

What time? Where are we meeting? Your place?

Ah, he could rely on his oldest friend. He barely paid attention to the cross chatter, despite the fact it was about him.

Sixish? Sometime in the evening?

He turned his attention back to the main chat. “Sorry.”

“We know you’re not paying attention. We just offered to sell your football memorabilia,” Tim said. “For a buck.”

“Asshole.” But he loved his friends. They kept him in line.

Dante’s reply came before the small box darkened.

Done. See you then.

Good. He could work with that.

“So you’re going to talk to Dante, you’re going to let go of some of this anger and coach the hell out of the game on Saturday? Then hunt for a boyfriend?” Tim asked. “You’ll give yourself a chance?”

“Yes.” He nodded and made a snap decision. “I’m going to try a dating site.” It was foolhardy and could be another dead-end. But he had to try.

“You were thinking about it?” Bram asked. “Are you permitted? It’s not in your coaching contract to keep from doing that kind of thing? It might not be. Our teachers aren’t supposed to, but that’s because it’s all searchable.”

“It’s not.” He wasn’t sure, but he’d look. He hadn’t signed up yet, so it wasn’t too late.

“Good. Just keep your profile more or less clean,” Bram said. “Learn from past mistakes we’ve all made.”

“I know.” He would. He needed a change. Needed to find someone for himself. The bar scene wasn’t happening—people wanted to talk sports and while he wanted someone who understood football, he didn’t want an armchair quarterback. “I’m not doing the dating coach thing, either. I don’t want to be alone, but the only wingmen I want are you all.”

Tim bowed. “Always.”

Bram grinned. “I didn’t use the dating coach method, so I can’t say it’s good or bad, but I get it. You need who you trust.”

“I do,” Josef said. “I’m tired of being alone.”

“I get it,” Dante said. “It’s not fun going to parties on your own. People get this idea they need to push you to someone. Gotta be the matchmaker. What if you don’t want that? What if you’re not interested in the guy’s friend’s cousin’s brother? What if you’re just there to listen to the band? You just want to hear good music, take five minutes from your life and forget you’re a parent who feels like his son isn’t listening to him?” His eyes widened and he stopped talking.

“You just outed yourself and let us know what’s finally bothering you, too,” Tim said. “Dante, you’re not invincible.”

“We’re here to help Josef. I’m not important.” Dante closed his window, leaving that part of the screen dark.

“Well.” Bram crooked his brow and shook his head. “We cut a little too close to the bone. You need to do what you need to do, Jos. If it’s a profile, then cool. If it’s something else, just as cool. Be smart, but follow…” He rolled his eyes.

“His heart?” Tim asked. “You’ve been at the school for too long, talking in motivational poster lingo.”

“I am,” Bram said. “Keep us posted and don’t be a stranger. We do care about you.”

“Ditto,” Tim said. “We’re trying to help.”

“I know, and I appreciate it.” Even if they were somewhat pushy about it. “I’m going to the cemetery and say my piece to Dad—even if he can’t hear me.”

“Good.” Bram sat up straighter. “Gotta go. Next meeting starts in five minutes.”

“If he’s going, then I guess I am, too.” Tim waved before darkening his screen.

Bram darkened his at the same time, leaving Josef alone.

Although he wasn’t in the chat any longer, he wasn’t lonely. They’d given him the help he’d needed, and a direction. Things weren’t going exactly as he wanted, but they would be soon enough. Once he let go of some of his baggage and forgave himself, he’d be able to move forward.

Not long now.