Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
KELLAN
Ican’t believe that there is only one game left in the regular season. If you’d have told me in October how different my life would be heading into March, I’d have laughed. And then laughed some more. And then genuinely wondered if I was having a mental breakdown.
It’s Sunday afternoon, and finally above freezing for the first time this year.
Which was lucky, since Wells and I just spent the day helping my family move into their new apartment building.
A great two-bedroom on-site at a large apartment complex in South Warwick, right on the border.
Sammy and Joey won’t even have to change schools.
“That playground is amazing. The boys are going to love it,” I say, looking over to Wells, who’s idling his SUV outside of my townhouse.
His ears and nose are still red from the cold.
Sometimes it hurts to look at him. It feels like a hand is wrapped around my heart and squeezing so tight that it could burst.
I’m in love with Wells. I can at least admit that to myself, even if I haven’t told him yet.
I tried for months to hold onto the idea that it was something else.
Infatuation. Lust. Raw need. Some simpler emotion that could have the possibility of passing with time, if life doesn’t work out the way we want.
I have no idea what Wells wants after college.
Or where my pro career will take me if I’m lucky enough to get signed.
But I’m not going to miss out on the time that we have together now.
Or make the absolute most of it while we can.
But when he says, “They deserve it,” and I can tell on his face that he genuinely means it, breathing normally gets a little harder, too.
“It all just feels too good to be true. Things like this don’t really happen to my family,” I admit. A lot of things didn’t happen to me before Wells came into my life.
He cups my cheek. “The only thing that keeps most people down is that they don’t have access to the things that could truly change their life quickly instead of just keeping their head above water.
It’s amazing what you’ve done this last year.
Hockey. Working. Supporting your brothers.
” He quirks his lips. “All while dealing with me.”
I lean forward and kiss him. I don’t care who sees us.
I mean, we aren’t parading around campus waving Pride flags, but I’m not going to not kiss my boyfriend after he just spent the day helping me haul furniture and humoring my mom’s endless requests to move things ‘just a smidge the other way.’ I cock my head to the side when our lips part. “Are you my boyfriend?”
He sits up straighter against the driver’s seat. “Are you asking me to be?”
“I mean… we spend most nights together. You know my family. I’m not sleeping with anyone else.”
“You better not be.” Wells’ deep eyes flash with something, and I still get a thrill when he shows his possessive side.
“Where would I find the time?” I tease, even though I’d never throw away what I have with Wells. Or take it for granted.
He runs his finger along my temple. “I’ve seen you do pretty incredible things, so I’m not willing to put anything past you.”
We’re staying apart tonight, as we head into the last week of the regular season.
I’ve been woefully neglectful to my teammates off the ice, and Coop and I still haven’t hashed out…
whatever it is that has him skittish about the idea that Wells and I are together.
We’re playing fine and he hasn’t said anything overt, not that that makes me feel any better.
Two years of friendship down the drain would really suck.
And I won’t lie, I’m going to be bummed as hell if it’s just good ol’ fashioned homophobia, but I guess you never know with people.
I sigh and lean into his touch. “You didn’t answer my question.
” I’ve never asked someone to be my boyfriend–or girlfriend, for that matter–before.
Now, I’m wondering if I should have added a little more pageantry.
I shake the idea away. Everything about us has gone at its own pace and happened in its own way.
This is just another one of those things.
“Yes, Kellan. I’ll be your boyfriend,” he says at the same time little bursts of color splotch across his cheeks.
I lean forward, my voice low even though it’s only the two of us.
“You’re nervous about being my boyfriend when last night, you had me tied to your bed?
” Luckily, no one noticed the light marks on my wrists today.
And even if they did, I wouldn’t have cared.
It was top three in our all time best hookups–a list that is consistently getting more difficult to rank.
His pupils blow wide, and I love that he’s thinking about it now, too. “Who picks ‘hoser’ as their safe word?”
I throw out my arm. “It’s the losing team that has to hose down the ice after a match. I figured it was sort of an equivalent to a cold shower. It felt right.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It’s…old-timey,” I defend. “Before Zambonis existed.”
“The point of a safe word is that you wouldn’t use it in regular conversation.”
I smirk at him and steal a kiss. “Well, I never lose so it’s not usually in my vocabulary.”
Wells laughs. “Honestly, I didn’t realize how many hockey terms were overtly sexual until last night.”
“I accept that ‘grinder’ was a bad first choice.”
“Spelled differently but that doesn’t exactly help when you’re screaming it,” Wells says, his voice dropping a delicious octave lower.
I don’t want to get out of the car, I’m realizing. I’m stalling for time so that I don’t have to leave him. “And you’re slammed this week helping students prep for mid-terms?”
Wells nods. “My schedule is disgusting. Plus, I promised Carter that I’d go to his game on Wednesday. If they win, they’ll be in the finals.”
“Warwick hasn’t had a winning season since… well, I left,” I say with a smirk.
“I hear it’s a pretty big deal.” He looks at me innocently. “You know all that stuff goes over my head.”
I laugh. “Well thank god you have a hockey expert at your beck and call to explain the finer points of the game.”
He toys with the string on my hoodie. “I can be especially motivated with the right incentives.”
I groan. “Don’t tempt me.”
His hand sneaks up so that his fingers are lightly resting on my exposed pulse point, which jumps under his touch.“But the tempting is the best part.”
I’m trying to steel my resolve. We can make it through one week apart.
“At least I’ll be done with Mulligan’s after Thursday.
” I gave notice a week ago, when my mom was cleared to move into the new apartment and her official employment contract was signed.
With the housing included along with pay and a really decent benefits package, she’ll be able to make things work on a single income.
I won’t pretend that I’m not excited as hell to get back to only focusing on hockey through the playoffs.
And Wells, of course, but that’s as easy as breathing.
I’m about to ask Wells if he wants to come up to my bedroom for a quickie when I see Coop heading to our front door. I’ve been putting off talking to him, and I need to man up and have an honest conversation.
I open the SUV door, even if all I want to do is crawl across the center console and mount Wells right now. “I’m going to catch up with Coop before he slinks off to his bedroom.”
“Text me later?”
I give him a quick kiss. “It would be pretty shitty of me to not keep my boyfriend updated on my comings-and-goings.”
He lifts his brow. “I’m a lot more interested in the comings, for the record.”
I laugh and hop out of the SUV before poking my head back in. “Noted.”
I jog across the sidewalk and unlock the door, bracing myself for a conversation that I’m hoping doesn’t fuck up the rest of my season.
I’m relieved when I see that Coop is in the kitchen when I walk inside. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”
He’s standing at the fridge, a dazed look on his face. When he hears me, he quickly grabs a bottle of water. “Hey, K. I was just heading upstairs to study. Mid-terms are kicking my ass this semester.”
I nod and lean against the doorframe that separates the kitchen and the living room. I’m not saying that I’ll stop him from leaving without talking to me, but I’m not not saying that either. “Do you have a minute? I was hoping we could catch up. I know that I haven’t been around much.”
“Uh… yeah. Sure.” He looks nervous, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Maybe it’s because whether I’m bi or not, I could still kick his ass.
I head to the living room, grateful when he follows me. I sit down on the sofa. No time like the present, I guess. “So, how have you been?”
“G-good,” he says, taking a seat on the recliner chair. But he sits on the edge of it so that it doesn’t shift back and forth. He’s missing the best part of its functionality, as far as I’m concerned. That thing has rocked me to bed like a baby on many-a-night.
“Hell of a game you played last night.” I’m not above flattery to get what I want, especially when it’s true. Coop has been a maniac on the ice lately, and it’s a huge part of why we’ve been dominating all semester.
“Thanks,” he says, looking at the darkened television instead of me.
God, this is like pulling teeth. If I wait for him to participate in this conversation, I’ll probably be too arthritic to play hockey anymore.
I run my hands down my joggers. Practicing patience isn’t one of my strong suits, and I feel like I’m going to lose my mind if I keep beating around the bush like this.
“Look, you know that sexuality isn’t, like, contagious, right?
I told you that I was going on a date with a guy, and now, I feel like if it’s not about hockey, you don’t know what to say to me.
” I pause. “Or, you don’t want to say anything to me. ”