Him (Him #1)(78)

My face is hot now. Because I do think that.

“You think that I was just playing around. Taking a walk on the wild side. You think I’m just going to—” He brushes his hands together as if dusting them off. “—go back to girls. Chalk this up as an experiment.”

Yeah, I think that, too.

“That’s not what happened, Ryan. Not for me. What happened is that I got my best friend back for a little while, and I also fell for him.” His voice thickens. “I’m not just saying that. I f*cking love you, and I know that’s inconvenient. But I didn’t get a chance to tell you in Lake Placid, so I’m telling you right now. Just in case we can ever get more than a summer. I love you, and I wish things were different.”

There’s pressure in my ears, and the world goes a little blurry. I find myself sinking down toward the floor, my back sliding along the expensive wood cabinet, my ass hitting polished cherry. My eyes are wet, so I look out the window. I see blue. That f*cking view. It’s beautiful, and I just don’t care.

Because nothing is as beautiful as the man who just told me he loves my f*cked-up self.

“Wes.” The voice is soft, and it’s coming closer. I hear the rustle of a suit jacket being removed. A few seconds later, Jamie seats himself on the floor beside me.

In my peripheral vision I see muscular forearms jutting from rolled-up shirtsleeves. He links his hands around his knees and sighs. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says quietly. “But it needed to be said.”

He’s right there. The clean scent of his shampoo and the warmth of his elbow against mine are overwhelming. I’ve missed him. So f*cking much I’ve been walking around with a hollow chasm in my chest where my heart used to be.

But that gaping hole is full again. My heart is back, because Jamie is here.

And he f*cking loves me.

My next breath escapes as a shudder. “I can’t choose,” I grind out.

“You’ve already chosen, and I understand why…”

I give my head a violent shake. “No. I mean it—I can’t choose. I won’t choose between you and hockey. I want both. Even if it’s a disaster.” I look at Jamie again, finally, just in time to see him wince.

“I do not want to be the reason your NHL career doesn’t work out,” he says vehemently. “I get it, Wes. I really do.”

There’s a tear running down my face and I don’t even care. I scoop Jamie’s hand off his knee and kiss it. He feels so f*cking good.

“Sorry,” I choke out. “We’re going to have to work something out. I love you, goddamn it.”

His breath hitches. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah. And I’m not letting you walk out of here.”

“Ever?” he teases, squeezing my hand. “That’s one way to prevent gossip.”

I sigh. “We need a strategy. I have to stay out of the newspapers as long as I can.”

“But, see, that’s why—”

“Quiet, baby,” I murmur. “Let me think for a second.”

We can’t lie forever to save my career—that isn’t fair to Jamie. Maybe he hasn’t thought it through, but I’ve been gay a long time and I know how much the closet sucks.

“I need to be sneaky until next June,” I finally decide. “But that’s it. And that’s only if Toronto gets pretty far in the playoffs. Just one season.”

“And then what?”

I shrug. “Then you can be my date at the next team barbecue or what-the-f*ck-ever.”

Jamie chuckles, but I’m dead serious. It only took one look at him today to realize I can’t keep the parts of myself in separate drawers. It was never going to work.

“What if something happens before June? I mean…” He sighs again. “I can’t lie to my family. I can ask them to be discreet, and they’ll try. But I’m not kidding when I say that I don’t want to be your downfall. Think hard about how much risk you’re willing to take.”

“You’re worth it,” I whisper. Fuck, I’m worth it. My change of heart isn’t pure generosity. If Jamie is brave enough to walk in here and tell me he loves me, I’ve got to take some chances, too. “I’m going to have a talk with the PR department. I’m going to warn them.”

His hand tightens on mine. “You can’t be serious.”

I turn my head against the little wooden wall where we’re sitting. “I’m dead serious. It’s my life, and yours. I’ve loved you for years, babe. If the NHL can’t deal with it, then that’s just the way it is.”

Jamie’s expression softens. “That will be a really bad day, though.”

“No. A bad day is you giving up on me.” I rake one hand through my hair, and he suddenly captures my wrist, his brown eyes narrowing.

“When did you get this done?”

He’s looking at my new tat, and I feel sheepish as I answer, “Couple days after I left camp.”

Rough fingertips skim the line of black ink. “What are these coordinates for?” I’m not surprised he’s figured it out. My man is smart.

“Lake Placid,” I tell him.

His eyes lock with mine. “I see.” He clears his throat, but when he speaks again, his voice is still lined with gravel. “You really do love me, huh?”