10. Gideon #2
Ryan leaned into my side, his shoulder warm against my arm. “He has a point.”
Across the table, Walker threw me a knowing smile, and I went back to my oatmeal before he could say anything else.
Breakfast broke up twenty minutes later when Walker announced we had forty-five minutes before we needed to be on the bus, which sent everyone checking phones and arguing about who still needed to pack.
Ryan caught my sleeve before I could follow the others.
“Can I talk to you?”
“Sure.”
He tugged me toward the buffet, away from the table and the others, stopping in an alcove behind the door. He let go of my sleeve, then immediately started worrying at the cuff of my hoodie instead.
“What’s wrong?” I asked because he was agitated and frowning.
“Did I cross a line?”
“What?”
“Back there.” He glanced toward the table. Walker and Chip headed for the elevators, Bob and Arnaud still arguing as they followed. “You said I was your date. In front of everyone.”
“I know.”
“Are you okay with that? I don’t want this to cause issues for you. With the team, or hockey, or whatever.”
“I’m the one who told them.”
“I know, but maybe it slipped out.”
“It didn’t.”
He stared at me, waiting, and I knew I had to give him more than that. A few weeks ago, I would have panicked, stumbled over an explanation, and spent the next three days wondering whether I needed to correct everyone.
But I’d thought about this. A lot.
I’d thought about the team knowing, management finding out, and someone taking a photo of us at the fundraiser and putting it online.
There would be questions, probably gossip, maybe some asshole with an opinion nobody had asked for.
Hockey liked to say it had changed, but I wasn’t stupid.
I’d spent enough years inside locker rooms to know there were still people who thought anything different threatened the entire sport. None of that changed what I wanted.
“It didn’t slip out,” I repeated. “I wanted to say it.”
Ryan’s fingers twisted tighter in the cuff of my hoodie. “Why?”
I frowned. “Because you’re my date.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” I glanced toward the elevators, but everyone had gone. It was only us, the muffins, and a bored server rearranging bowls of fruit. “I don’t know if I’m gay or bi. Maybe I’m something else. I might never find a word that fits.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know that now.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
“What I do know is that I want to date you. I like you a lot, and I think about you all the fucking time. I look for you whenever I walk into a room.” I drew in a breath.
Saying things didn’t come easily to me. Ryan knew that.
He waited while I dragged the words into order.
“I don’t want to hide this. Us. Whatever we’re becoming. ”
His smile faded around the edges. “Even if people talk?”
“They’ll talk for a while, then someone will get traded or punch someone on the ice, and they’ll talk about that instead.”
“It might not be that simple.”
“I know.”
“You’re a professional hockey player.”
“Minor league.”
He touched my arm. “You’re still a professional, Gids. People watch you. You have sponsors, fans, and management telling you what you can put online. You can’t pretend none of that matters.”
“I’m not pretending.”
Ryan’s fingers stilled. “Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’ve considered all of it.” I lowered my voice even though nobody was near enough to listen.
“I’ve thought about someone asking me in an interview.
I’ve thought about the guys knowing. I’ve thought about management calling me into an office and asking if this will affect the team.
I’ve even thought about my family finding out. ”
“What would they say?”
I didn’t know. “I’m scared,” I admitted. “Not of you. Never you. I’m scared of everything that comes with letting people know something real about me.”
Ryan’s expression softened. “You don’t owe anyone that.”
“No, but I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t care about anything beyond hockey.
I’ve done that for years. I let everyone think I was reserved and private because it was easier than telling them I could barely get out of bed some mornings.
I hid the scars. I hid how bad things got.
I hid what happened with Ethan and let people make up their own reasons for why I never went home. ”
“Those things aren’t the same as us.”
“No, they’re not.” I looked at him. “You’re good.
” His lips parted, but nothing came out.
“You’re the first good thing I’ve let myself want in a long time,” I continued.
“Not because I thought I should want it. Not because a doctor told me it would help or my teammates decided I needed more friends. I want you because you make me laugh. Because you sit beside me without expecting me to fill every silence. Because you see every fucked-up piece of me, and you don’t look away. ”
His eyes had gone suspiciously bright.
“And because I think you’re beautiful,” I added.
“Gids.”
“I’m not shoving you into a dark corner because I’m scared of what someone might say. I don’t want to act as if you’re something I should be ashamed of.”
“I wouldn’t think that.”
“You might not, but I would.” I stared down at his fingers curled around my sleeve. “I’d know I was hiding you, and I’d hate myself for it.”
“You could never hide me. I’m far too fabulous.”
I huffed a laugh. “Obviously.”
His smile appeared, but the worry remained in his eyes. “The fundraiser will be bigger than breakfast with the team.”
“I know.”
“There’ll be sponsors and donors. People with money who think that gives them the right to decide what everyone else should do.”
“I know.”
“And cameras.”
“I know that too.”
“Someone could put us online before we’ve even left the building.”
“Probably.”
“What if they find out I’m an addict?”
“What if they find out that you took control of your addiction and fight it bravely every fucking day?”
His eyes widened. “You’ve really thought about this.”
“Yeah. More than you knew. I’m not saying I won’t be nervous.
I probably will be. I’ll wonder who’s looking at us and what they’re thinking.
I might freeze if someone asks me a direct question.
I might say something stupid.” I moved closer, leaving hardly any space between us.
“But I want to walk in with you. I want people to know you’re there with me.
I don’t want to spend the whole night pretending you helped me choose a suit and happened to turn up at the same event. ”
Ryan swallowed. “And if management doesn’t like it?”
“They employ Walker and Chip. They keep telling everyone hockey is for everyone. They don’t get to change the rules because it’s me.”
“They might try.”
“Then they can talk to me.”
“What if it affects your career?”
There it was. The question he’d been circling from the start.
“Hockey matters to me,” I said carefully. “You know it does.”
“It’s your whole life.”
“It was.” I didn’t take it back. I didn’t want to.
“For a long time, it was the only thing I had. Then I started letting other people in. Walker, the guys, Finn, and the art sessions.” I paused to give myself time to find the right words.
“Hockey still matters. I want to play. But if being seen with the person I’m dating is enough to destroy my career, then keeping you hidden wouldn’t save anything worth having. ”
Ryan stared at me.
“Was that too much?” I asked.
“No.” His voice came out rough. “It was exactly enough.”
He looked away, blinking hard, and I gave him the time he needed. Somewhere in the room, plates knocked together. This was the least romantic place to spill my feelings all over Ryan, but he seemed to be going with it, and I was ready for him to know it all.
“What if we try to be together, and I’m too selfish in what I want, and you hate it?”
“I won’t.”
“Sometimes I’m more me than other times. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“You don’t have to explain it.”
“But what if the Ryan who turns up isn’t the one everyone expects? What if I wear a dress? What if…”
“I’m not taking everyone else to the fundraiser.
” His gaze lifted to mine. “I’m taking every part of you that you want to bring.
” His breath caught. I wanted to cradle his face in my hands and kiss him right there.
The urge caught me hard enough that I almost did it.
I didn’t. Not yet. “Wear whatever makes you feel good,” I said.
“I’m proud that you’re my date, Ryan. I want to be seen with you. ”
His expression softened. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“And if it causes trouble?”
“Then we deal with it together.”
“You make that sound easy.”
“It probably won’t be.”
“No,” he agreed.
“But I’ll still be there.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then his smile appeared properly, warm and bright enough to loosen something inside my chest.
“I like you, Gids.”
“I like you too. And I like you in my sweatshirt.”
He glanced down at himself. “This old thing?”
“That’s mine.”
“Finders keepers.”
“I gave it to you because you were cold.”
“And now I’m warm.” He beamed up at me. “So, it’s a win-win.”
I caught one of the sleeves hanging over his hand and rubbed the soft material between my fingers.
“It looks better on you anyway.”
Ryan’s smile gentled. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
For a second we stood there too close to each other, my fingers still twisted in his sleeve, and I wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt.
Not yet.
But soon.