15. Riley
CHAPTER 15
RILEY
I don’t know when the thought of coming out stopped scaring me. When getting caught felt more like a thrill and less like a fear.
Claiming Griff as mine never felt more right than with my arms around him at the park with strangers’ eyes boring down on us.
That doesn’t erase the terror that still encompasses me, but now I can’t explain why.
Why do I feel like I’ve damaged something precious instead of salvaging it?
Griff asked for an inch, and I gave him a mile. I thought pushing through would make the panic lessen, but instead my heart only aches worse in my chest.
It was those few days without him that did me in. Took me to the brink of what I could handle, and I knew something had to give.
Maybe it shouldn’t have been me.
Or maybe I’m terrified to lose the shield I’ve spent thirty years hiding behind.
“You’re disclosing that the two of you have been in a romantic relationship for the past two years?”
Griff drums his fingers over his bouncing knee and gives Coach a tight smile. “Yes, sir.”
If it’s any consolation, Coach doesn’t look angry. Or annoyed. Or concerned. If anything, I’d say he looks relieved. Tired even.
“Have you talked to the team yet?”
“We wanted to give you the courtesy of knowing first.”
When Coach looks up, those pointed daggers are directed straight at me. “Do all of my players think I’m oblivious? You aren’t the first couple to think they can sneak under my radar, but you’re the first to be honest.”
“Wait, what?” Griff pitches forward, and I have to anchor my hand on his thigh to keep him seated.
“Don’t even think about it, Foster. I’m not at liberty to discuss any current or past relationships not made public to the team.”
Griff and I share a look that says we both have the same suspicion of who that could be about, but Coach is right, and it isn’t our place to push anyone out of the closet.
“As long as you come to us if there are any grievances or issues between the two of you, our faculty will support and respect your relationship and wishes.”
As soon as I breathe a sigh of relief, Coach continues. “In saying that, is there an official statement you’d like to make, or are we keeping this friends and family oriented?”
I don’t even get a moment to give it a thought before Griff is shaking his head and pushing to his feet.
“Just us and the team. People are going to think and have opinions on whatever they want. We can’t control that. This is between us and the people we care about.”
Coach nods and makes a sweeping gesture toward the door. “Your teammates should start showing up anytime now. Feel free to take care of business before practice, but keep it off the ice. Understand?”
We agree, and my stomach is twisted up in so many knots I don’t realize I’m sitting on a bench with Griff’s hands on my shoulders until a cold rush of air hits my lungs telling me I wasn’t breathing.
A couple of guys have started stripping down to get in their gear, but other than a quick glance, no one bothers us.
“You okay?”
Griff is crouched between my knees, one hand on my thigh and the other cradling my neck as he brings our heads together. I close my eyes and grip the bench with tight fingers, one slow, solid breath in at a time.
“We don’t have to do this.”
“We don’t have to do this,” Matty says with his hand in mine as we approach the practice building doors.
The pressure lifts off my shoulders, and I slip my hand free to watch his rest limply at his side. Matty smiles and tugs on his ponytail.
“Raincheck?”
He doesn’t respond with words but with a kiss on my cheek and a quick squeeze of his hands around mine.
That weight doesn’t disappear this time. It grows heavier. Tighter.
I shake my head.
I won’t make the same mistake twice.
“I want to.”
This isn’t about me telling the team I’m gay. That doesn’t scare me anymore. This is about telling them what Griff means to me.
Even though I don’t have the courage to tell him myself.
I open my eyes, and Griff is staring at me with such kindness and understanding that there’s nothing I can do to stop myself from leaning forward and capturing his mouth in a long overdue kiss.
An intentional display of proof that I choose this man.
He kisses me back with a fierceness only Griffin can possess, broad chest pushing up on mine and commanding hands holding me to him.
There’s a round of hoots and hollers, but it’s the exasperated sigh as someone plops onto the bench beside me that breaks us apart.
“Finally!” Rory’s bright grin is near blinding. “Mash and I had bets on how long you could hide it. I think I was closer.”
My smile is automatic, Griff’s chuckle brushing my cheek. “Fuck off, short stack.”
Griff straightens to his full height and smooths a hand down my back. He looks so confident, strong with his head held high and his shoulders squared.
“If anyone has a problem with me and Riley dating, speak now or forever hold your peace. Be warned that I’ll deal with all problems one-on-one off the ice.”
Leave it to Griff to turn the announcement into a threat. Not that I expect anything less.
It’s surprisingly easy and casual the way our teammates come up and give their congratulations, how some just nod from their cubbies and others offer high fives or fist bumps.
Even when Griff starts getting ready for practice, there’s no hostility aimed at me. No jabs for keeping it a secret for so long, no jokes or accusations about checking anyone out in the showers.
It’s like any other day with the Hornets.
Why does that make me feel worse?
Our apartment has become home to our ragtag group of players plus a greasy mechanic who looks none too happy that he couldn’t shower before being dragged all the way here. Not that I blame him, especially since Rory did practically kidnap him from the shop during lockup.
The little troublemaker himself has been running around the apartment grinning and snickering at Griff trying to fluster him, but Rory should know by now that nothing embarrasses Griff. Especially sex.
“Is there anywhere you two haven’t done it?”
Griff rubs his fingers over his chin and purses his lips. “Ya know? Maybe the laundry room. Babe?”
He props his hip on the arm of the couch, looking down at me, and when I raise my brow he only grins.
“Want to bend me over the washer?”
Our friends laugh, but there’s a heat in his eyes that’s been boring into me all day. Even the ‘thank you’ blowjob he gave me before everyone came over wasn’t enough to sate him. There have been numerous hints about what we’ll get up to when everyone is gone, but I’m sort of enjoying pushing his boundaries and seeing how long he can hold out.
“Don’t you have guests to entertain, frat boy?”
His nostrils flare hotly, but he leans over the arm to slant his lips over mine with a stinging nip to my lip. “I’m going to wear you out, Easton.”
It’s a promise I’m sure he’ll keep, even as he rushes off to the kitchen where our overexcited winger has latched onto Locke—likely to press for more details.
How our coming out turned into a celebration is beyond me, but everyone’s laughter and smiles settles something inside me.
The nonchalance.
The happiness.
I could have had this.
We could have had this long before now.
But I held Griff back because I was afraid.
Of what?
I’ve spent so long in the damn closet I don’t even know anymore.
Someone flops onto the couch beside me, and I’m greeted by the neck of a beer held out to me and Hawks’ lopsided smile.
“You know that boy is going to be insufferable, right?”
I take the bottle and tip the liquid to my lips. “Which one?”
Hawks chuckles and looks around at the chaos that is our team. “Both.”
Which is one hundred percent true. Rory has always brought out Griffin’s more playful, carefree side, and I can’t help but wonder—watching him now—if I’ve been suppressing it?
If the burden of our secret has been dampening his spark, his happiness?
“You don’t look like someone enjoying their coming out experience.”
I drop my head back on the couch and sigh. “I’m not not enjoying it. I’m just a little …”
“Underwhelmed?”
“Something like that.” Half of the beer is gone before Hawks slips it from my fingers and places it on the coffee table.
“Spill, Riley. What’s really bothering you?”
I hold my breath a few beats, then let it out.
“Two years we kept this a secret. Hiding and holding hands under tables. Sneaking off in dirty hallways to make out. Two years of finding out how our pieces fit together. And now …”
“Now?”
I reach over to knock back the last of the beer which—Jesus—is a horrible idea, and I nearly cough the frothy shit up, but it dulls the pounding in my head.
“Now it feels like something is missing.”
Not just missing, but broken.
I can’t put my finger on it, and all the swimming thoughts aren’t helping.
“I think, just maybe …” Hawks slaps both hands on my shoulders. “You’re spiraling. Panicking. Happens when your world flips on its head.”
I suppose he’s right. This is new territory. A journey to new, fruitful land without a map to guide me.
“You know, Evan , you’ve been awfully chill about this whole thing.”
“Was I supposed to be angry? Shocked? You’re my friend. Besides, I saw the toll your last relationship took.”
I click my tongue and laugh, but there’s no humor to it. “How long have you known?”
“About Griffin? Immediately. He wanted you from the moment he stepped foot in the weight room. It was only a matter of time.”
One look and Hawks throws his hands up.
“About Matty? I didn’t for a while. Not until a few days before his accident. And even then, it didn’t really sink in until after. Until I saw what it did to you.”
“What happened before the accident?”
Hawks shrugs. “I left practice early and ran into him waiting for you outside. He looked … resigned. Sad. I got the feeling there was something going on, but didn’t know what it was.”
“And then I went off the deep end when he almost died.”
I couldn’t eat, sleep. I was a wreck. I didn’t know how long Matty was underwater before I found him. All I know is he was blue and not breathing. When he finally took in that first breath, there was no grand moment where we saw each other and felt relief. He took a breath, but he didn’t wake up.
Not for days.
And when he did, his life had changed forever.
“It killed you, Riley. Inside. You lost something just like he did. His was physical but yours was … I don’t know. You think something is broken now, between you and Foster but … I think you’ve been living without what Matty’s accident stole for so long that you’re scared to have it back.”
“What do you think I lost?”
He smiles all crooked again, slapping me on the shoulder and shoving to his feet.
“That’s for you to find out.”
Several minutes pass in a blur. I finish the beer Hawks conveniently forgot. The noise around me muffles. I close my eyes and rest my head, thoughts swirling like a whirlpool into incoherent muddles.
Matty lost his hearing, yet he never stopped fighting for what he wanted.
Fighting for his career, his existence—fighting for us until the last possible second.
Until I pulled the plug.
“Riley?”
My eyes are too heavy to open, so I grunt and feel around until I make contact with something soft and solid.
“Woah there, big guy,” Griff’s throaty laugh sounds in my ear. “You might be a little gone to the wind to be getting frisky like that.”
I’m not drunk; it takes more than two beers to get me more than buzzed, but Griffin’s warm fingers stroking through my beard and over my cheek wakes up my sleeping libido and the heavy need to feel him against me.
My hands land on his hips to pull him closer, and he doesn’t hesitate to climb onto my lap and bracket me with his body.
“Riley,” he laughs, but I slide a hand into his hair and urge him down. A sensual moan passes his lips, and he gives into the sweet call of our mouths coming together. “Maybe not so gone.”
I maneuver him to his knees, leaving his lips to trail down his neck, hitching his shirt up to pepper kisses along his abs, and even hike one of his legs onto my shoulder so I can mouth at the tantalizing v-line above his loose shorts.
“Oh god. Okay.” Griffin chuckles breathlessly as he tangles his fingers in my hair for balance. “Horny boyfriend alert.”
I grasp a handful of fabric in the hand not holding his thigh in place and tug hard until I get the material pulled down and tucked under his balls.
Griffin’s cock is long and curved, excited enough that the head peeks out beneath the foreskin, and all it takes is one shared look and Griffin’s muttered, “Hell yeah,” for me to take his semi into my mouth and cradle it with my tongue.
The weight of him grounds me, draws me into the moment like a tether. His salty precum hits my tongue, and I get lost in the motion of sucking, swallowing, and choking on his cock.
“Fuck, Riley. Yes. Oh god,” Griff babbles above me, pawing and pulling on my hair.
Each curse spurs me on, collecting some of the spit coating his shaft and balls on a finger that I bring back to put pressure on his entrance.
“Yes,” he hisses, hips hammering into my throat.
I still him with a hand on his hip and slowly—so fucking slowly—work him open with the one finger. When his legs start to shake, I pull out and reach blindly around the couch until I find the nearly empty bottle of lube stashed between the cushions.
I pull off his cock for just a moment to breathe and grin, then sink two lubed fingers into his hole that gives like butter. He falls forward, rocks back on my fingers, and shoots a hand to his cock to jack it to the rhythm I finger-fuck him.
“Baby. I’m not done with that.” I hold out my tongue, and he places the tip of his dick against it, pooling precum in my mouth.
“I love your mouth,” he says as his body begins to tremble. “But I want to coat you in cum. Please, Riley, let me claim you.”
I give his dick one solid suck before dropping my head back and giving him permission to do with my body what he pleases. His ass clenches around my fingers as they twist and crook inside him, and the moment I tag his prostate he jolts and loses his rhythm.
The hand in my hair tightens to a painful degree that makes me gasp, and the other digs into my shoulder with the force to bruise.
“Two isn’t enough,” he grunts, thrusting back hard and groaning loud when I squeeze a third finger in. “Fuck you. Cock. Need your cock.”
“What about what I need?”
Griff looks down at me through hazy eyes, sweat soaking his shirt and dripping down his neck, chest heaving with every labored breath.
“What do you need, babe? Fuck. Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”
“Even if it means you don’t get what you want?”
His brows draw together, and his throat bobs, but even with how needy and desperate he is, Griff nods. He loosens his hand in my hair and cradles the back of my head.
“I love you, Riley Easton. Whatever you need; it’s yours.”
I close my eyes and savor the gentle squeeze of his fingers, revel in the twin sounds of our breathing, and when our gazes meet again, my mind is made up.
Decision set in stone.
I’m a selfish, broken man.
Who will ask the world of the man he loves before burning it to the ground.