1 Chapter 1

There sure were a lot of funerals going on in the cemetery that afternoon.

Damian Grant wondered how he would figure out which one was for Jacob Fields.

It was the sort of cemetery where big marble headstones and carvings of angels littered the ground. Most of which were now old, cracked and covered in weeds and other growth. An old cemetery, Damian guessed. Maybe dating back a hundred years or so.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel of his sedan and for a moment he considered driving away. Before anyone noticed him. Not that he expected to be recognized or anything. He hadn’t played football for a few years and Jacob Fields’s family wouldn’t know him.

Hell, Jacob Fields himself had hated his guts.

Turning off the engine, Damian opened the car door and got out, shielding his eyes against the midday glare. Should have brought his sunglasses. He was forever forgetting to take them with him

To his left he spotted a group of mostly old white people, including a short little bitty lady wearing a widow’s veil. Jacob hadn’t been married at the time of his death according to his obit, so it couldn’t be that group.

In the middle was a mixed group of white and black folks. Jacob Fields having been a bigot, Damian doubted there’d be any black folks at his funeral other than himself.

Finally to his right was the funeral he guessed must be for Jacob. A mix of young and old alike. All white, of course. He squinted, trying to see if he could spot the reason he’d come all this way to this tiny little town in Alabama. But he didn’t. Still, he knew Jacob Fields Junior…Jake would be there for his father. Years ago Jake had given up everything important in his life to please his father…even Damian.

Damian began the walk toward the group, his muscles stiff and tight. The long drive made sure his limp showed. The injury to his left knee had ended his football career as a quarterback and even now after numerous surgeries it was never the same.

He’d donned a navy suit for the somber occasion. He felt a bit stupid in it. He never felt comfortable in suits, though sometimes life insisted on them.

Damian could just make out a dark haired man taller than most of the other guests. He couldn’t be quite sure, but he thought it must be Jake. Jake, a former wide receiver, was six foot-five and difficult to miss. Just then an older woman wearing a black pantsuit shifted to the left. Straight through the space she had just occupied stood Jake. Damian’s heart twisted. His step faltered and he stopped in the middle of the parking lot.

Jake Fields. The one man he had loved in this world more than anyone and the one who’d broken his heart. For several heartbeats, Damian just stared. The man was simply breathtakingly gorgeous. Strong, broad shoulders, big bulging biceps…visible even in his black suit…square, rugged jaw. Even from this far away, Damian could see just a touch of silver at Jake’s temples. He wasn’t that old. Only thirty-eight. But on Jake it looked absurdly sexy.

Jake’s gaze was on one of the mourners and Damian could see Jake waving his hands as he spoke. He hadn’t yet noticed Damian. If he turned and hobbled back to his car Jake might not even know he’d been there.

Damian snorted derisively. “You may be a lot of things, Damian Grant. But you aren’t a coward,” he spoke out loud to himself.

No, he’d come this far. He would see it through. See Jake again.

Years ago they’d been teammates and lovers. Jake was Damian’s wide receiver of choice back in the day. It seemed completely natural as quarterback to seek out Jake’s tall, muscular frame and throw his pass to him. Time and time again they combined to make the touchdowns for their team. Then after the games, they’d have intense wild sex that left both of them breathless. Life and the two of them seemed unstoppable.

Damian grimaced at his own fanciful thoughts. He took a couple more stiff steps toward the funeral party. One of the other mourners, the woman who’d previously blocked Jake, noticed his approach. Her frown deepened and she stepped away from the rest to greet him.

“I’m sorry, mister,” the woman said, looking to be in her sixties. “But I was told the next funeral wasn’t scheduled for another hour. We’re not quite done here.”

Damian nodded. “This is the funeral for Jacob Fields, right?”

She stiffened. “Yes.”

“I came for that funeral,” he said simply. He tried not to notice her pursed lips. He went to move past her.