Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys #2)(28)

You’re only hurting yourself.

But the alternative is hurting Dex, and that’s something I’m not willing to do. Ever.





Eleven





DEX





I barely know what I’ve actually agreed to when things start to move fast. By the end of the week, my place is up for lease, and I’m moving all my worldly possessions into Tripp’s apartment. Our PR team released a statement about us that was in line with what Jessica had already said: we hid our relationship so it wouldn’t affect the team, but we couldn’t keep the secret any longer.

The story isn’t rock solid, and my biggest fear is someone calling us out, but I’m not going to complain.

If it stops one of us from being traded, I don’t care what it is, I’ll do it.

I have no problem with pretending to be married to Tripp, because showing public affection for him is something I can do in my sleep. In fact, I’m a thousand times better now than when I was avoiding him. He has a way of making me believe everything will be okay and that I’m invincible when I have him.

There’s just one thing I can’t stop stressing over: the messages.

Graham has someone managing a joint social media account for us, and between that and my own private ones, I’ve had a flood of messages and notifications. The homophobic dickwads I can brush off easily enough because I know what they have to say is bullshit; it’s the supportive ones that are messing with my head.

People congratulating me for coming out and living my truth. Guys across the NHL, some I’ve met and some I only know in passing, all declaring support for us. Most of our team have posted fun jokes about how unsubtle we were while texting us in private to find out what’s actually going on, and the outpouring of love and support … makes me feel like a horrible person.

It’s completely misplaced.

I remember when Anton came out publicly and announced his relationship with Ezra. Tripp and I watched the press conference, and when I noticed Tripp starting to get choked up, I asked what was wrong.

“I still remember the day I came out. It was the most freeing moment of my life.”

I’ll never relate to that, and the thought of someone getting choked up over this story of two best friends falling in love and getting married makes me feel like a phony.

I’m an idiot.

But I’ve always been an honest idiot.

I wish I could go back and smack past Dex upside the head, because ever since I suggested that dumb wedding, everything has snowballed.

My first night in Tripp’s place is spent tossing and turning. When I stay here, I’m usually in his bed, with him, chilling and hanging out.

In the guest bed, I can’t get comfortable, so I’m awake ridiculously early and make my way into Tripp’s living room. I’m scrolling through too many messages to keep track of when Tripp stumbles sleepily from his room. He’s only wearing sleep shorts, and his entire torso is covered in freckles.

“Morning.” I drink in the sight of him eagerly, because just like he did, I missed him during our days apart.

“Hey. You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He moves away toward the kitchen, and I turn on the couch to watch him.

“Why not?” he asks.

“I’m not used to that bed.”

He doesn’t respond as he switches on the coffee machine. “Sharing a bed isn’t a good idea.”

“I know.” Though, I don’t really. I wasn’t suggesting sharing, but if Tripp asked, I’d be in there in a heartbeat.

We’ve done it plenty of times before. And sure, he’d thrown that joke out about us hooking up, but he can’t think that’s made things awkward between us. In fact, it’s probably a better idea than us hooking up with anyone else, and I know Tripp has a high sex drive, so if he can cover for this whole mess for me, I can do that for him. It’s not like it would be hard. The memory of our wedding kiss still makes my lips tingle.

My gaze goes unfocused, and I rub my jaw, trying to work out how long it would take for him to get desperate enough to offer for real. If he did, would I go through with it? It’s always been so easy to be affectionate with him; would that really be any different? I know I’m straight, but Tripp doesn’t count.

I jump at the sound of Tripp setting a coffee mug on the table in front of me and watch as he sits down on the couch opposite.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, totally.”

His expression tells me he doesn’t buy it. “You look like you’re trying to do math.”

I laugh, but it’s not like I can tell him what I was really thinking about, so instead, I unlock my phone again. “I’m having an attack of the guilts.”

“The guilts?”

“Yes. I feel guilty. Look at this.” I round the table to sit next to him and start scrolling through my phone. “Look at all these people. Some of them are sharing their life stories with a total stranger all because they think I’m like them. I don’t know if I can pull this off.”

He pulls back. “You want the trade?”

“No.” I don’t even like those words coming from his mouth. “I’m worried I’m going to say the wrong thing and it’ll make us both look worse than if we admit it was all a joke.”