Chapter 14 #2
Ramsey just shrugged though, apparently aware of the irony of the situation, but unwilling to shoulder it. “That’s something even I wouldn’t get into the middle of,” he said. “Families and sex. Scary combo.”
Nate couldn’t disagree with that. “You just get here?”
“Oh, no. I’ve been here for hours,” Ramsey said. “There was a supplier issue with the napkins I had to get sorted out.”
Nate paused, repeated in his head what Ramsey had just said. “Wait a minute.”
Then it was Ramsey’s turn to freeze. “Oh. Oh.”
“You didn’t mean to tell me that. You didn’t mean to tell me that you help run this place.”
“Uh, actually,” Ramsey hesitated. “I’m a part owner? Majority owner, in fact?”
The thing was, Nate knew he didn’t know everything about Ramsey yet. That he was still waiting for Ramsey to unpack some—or most—of his closely hidden secrets. But this was one that he’d never seen coming.
“Wait. Wait.” Nate was still reeling, but of course Ramsey hadn’t stopped talking.
“I was just going to advise on the gaming room,” Ramsey said, “but then I did the walk-through while they were still putting the interior together and I made a few suggestions.” He shrugged, like investing in a bar wasn’t a big deal.
“And then towards the end of the process, someone had to buy out, and I’d just signed that big contract with the Wolves, and I had the money, so I figured why not? ”
“Why not,” Nate stated blankly.
Ramsey flushed a little. “I wasn’t going to tell you. The only one who knows is Wes, and that’s only because there was no way to avoid it. But I didn’t really want anyone else to know.”
“Why not?” Nate repeated, but this time he made it a question.
Nate could count on one hand the number of times he had ever seen Ramsey’s mask truly slip. It was slipping now, even as he watched Ramsey try to gather himself. “I really wasn’t going to tell you.”
Nate nudged him. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because I gotta tell you, it doesn’t really.”
“Shit, you’re right. Told you I’d be terrible at this.
” Ramsey made a face. And for a second, Nate really saw him.
Saw all the insecurities and anxieties. All the churning that went on beneath Ramsey’s smooth exterior.
And maybe that should have made him like the guy less.
Should have made it impossible to love him, but instead, Nate just felt a swelling tenderness.
A recognition that Ramsey was human too, even as he tried to convince everyone he was actually superhuman.
“You’re not terrible,” Nate murmured. “But I wanna talk about this.”
Ramsey tensed.
“Not in a bad way,” Nate said. “Just . . .you own this place, apparently. Can’t you wave a magic wand and get us into one of the private rooms?”
“I got just the thing,” Ramsey said and took him by the hand, leading him towards one of the narrow hallways and into a room lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
Nate took in all the books and the big wide window seat at the back of the room with its long, gathered velvet drapes.
“The door doesn’t lock, but it’s the library. Nobody comes in here,” he added. “Especially during the nights when the place is overrun with football players.”
“Hey,” Nate retorted instinctively, but Ramsey only grinned.
“Not better when the Leafs come in either,” he admitted.
“Better,” Nate said. He propped a hip against the back edge of one of the couches. “Okay. Tell me why you didn’t want anyone to know.”
“I . . .” Ramsey hesitated for so long Nate actually wondered if he wasn’t going to tell him, after all. “I did think about it, before everyone came here for the first time. Even considered how I’d do it. Like casually, like it wasn’t a big deal.”
“It’s a big deal,” Nate interrupted.
“That I own it? Or that I didn’t tell anyone?” Ramsey said it so matter-of-factly, but the cracks in his composure were obvious now, once he’d begun to recognize them.
“Both?” Nate ran a hand through his hair. “We all like you, Ramsey. You know?”
“Come on,” Ramsey teased, “you didn’t like me at all, at first.”
This was so blatantly untrue, Nate didn’t even know where to begin, but he knew he should say something to reassure Ramsey.
“At first? I actually liked you way too fucking much.”
Ramsey’s mouth dropped open in surprise—and Nate didn’t think very much surprised him.
“I did,” Nate repeated firmly. “The night we met, I liked you so fucking much. I liked you so much I nearly didn’t have sex with you because I wasn’t sure I could deal with you leaving after and never getting your phone number. Never getting to see you again.”
“But you did have sex with me.” Ramsey had adopted that teasing, flirtatious tone again.
The one he seemed to think would distract Nate enough that he’d throw everything else out the window.
Historically, it was probably crazy effective.
Nate felt himself wavering, despite absolutely knowing better.
“I did,” Nate said, and then added bluntly, “and then you freaked out.”
Ramsey sighed. “I miss when just me saying the word sex was enough to distract you.”
“How do you know it isn’t?” Nate was thinking of last night, already, images of Ramsey on his knees in front of him, the way his blue eyes had gone fuzzy and soft when he’d come.
“If it was, I could tell,” Ramsey complained.
It was time for Nate to confess some of his own truths. “It distracts me, okay? But don’t—”
“I wouldn’t.” Ramsey grinned.
Nate couldn’t help the commiserating smile he gave him. “You absolutely would.”
“Okay, I absolutely would.” Ramsey’s dimple emerged. Adorable and sexy, at the same distracting time. And Ramsey had thought he wasn’t distracting. He was the most distracting.
“But you won’t,” Nate continued, shooting Ramsey a stern-ish look, “because you won’t get to hear how much I liked you.”
“You said you did. But then you didn’t like me at all, when we met again.”
“Not true,” Nate confessed gently. “I liked you even more. I liked you so much that I couldn’t deal with the fact that you’d let me make such a fool of myself.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I didn’t know that though. I didn’t believe that I hadn’t.
” He hesitated. “And now I’m remembering what else you said.
First you told me you were in town to research a bar.
Buying into a bar. That was this bar, wasn’t it?
” At this point Nate wasn’t going to let himself feel stupid.
He just wasn’t. But it was hard to push those feelings away.
The voice that screamed at him that this whole fucking time, Ramsey had been lying to him when he should be telling the truth and telling the truth when he was supposed to be making shit up.
“Yeah,” Ramsey said, and of course he didn’t even look sheepish at having that discovered.
If Nate was sane, he shouldn’t have ever trusted Ramsey. Nothing Ramsey had ever done would make him feel like he’d made the right choice in taking him at face value.
But then Nate remembered a half-whispered confession.
I was so fucking happy. And you were the first person I wanted to tell.
That’s not bullshit. Ramsey insisting that he didn’t have to deal with his Jordan-sized responsibilities alone.
Ramsey suggesting he call Deacon and get advice, if he wouldn’t accept it from Ramsey himself.
Ramsey letting himself into his condo, into the heart of his life, so he could make his favorite pre-game meal for Nate.
Staying the night, even though he’d never done it before.
But Nate wasn’t sane. Dawson was right, and Nate was actually insane. Insanely in love with Ramsey.
“Don’t be mad, okay?” Ramsey tacked on, and Nate looked closer. While he’d been having his enormous realization—though it wasn’t really that enormous, was it, because it had been building for a long time now—little cracks in Ramsey’s composure had begun to show.
Ramsey really cared if Nate was upset.
“I shouldn’t have done that, I know, but it was fun, and a joke and it didn’t feel real, even as you felt like the most real thing I’d run into, in so long . . .” Ramsey trailed off, blue eyes intent and serious on Nate’s.
Nate wanted to reassure him that no, he wasn’t mad. That he didn’t like it, that he would’ve much rather Ramsey had come clean that night. That he’d not run out of his condo the moment he’d realized that Nate was Nate Bishop, defensive end of the Toronto Thunder. But that he understood too.
Ramsey didn’t share all the parts of himself with anyone. Nate didn’t know why yet, though he knew there must be an overriding reason, tucked away somewhere in Ramsey’s history. Maybe Wes was the only one who knew. Maybe Wes was the only person Ramsey truly let in.
And Nate had been painfully adjacent to Wes.
The play life that had seen Ramsey pretend that the thing he was wasn’t the truth at all, but a joke, had been about to collide with his real life.
“You were the most real thing I’d run into in awhile too,” Nate admitted. “Come here, okay? I’m really not mad. I wish you’d told me—”
“I did tell you,” Ramsey said, a trace of his usual impudence back in his tone, even as he slid closer, tucking himself into Nate’s arms like he belonged there. And that was for Ramsey’s benefit, Nate realized, not just his.
“You didn’t mean to,” Nate corrected, but so gently. He knew it had been a slip up. That much was obvious. But yes, he did believe that Ramsey would’ve told him about it at some point.
“I . . .I’m not so sure about that,” Ramsey confessed, so quietly into Nate’s shoulder.
Nate pulled back, just so he could see Ramsey’s face. “What do you mean?” He thought he understood, but he wanted to be sure.
“Sometimes I . . .sometimes I can’t get out of my own way. I’ve been doing it so long, on my own. Protections between me and the world, it just feels natural. I don’t even realize I’m doing it, a lot of the time. Most people can’t see through it.”
“But I did.”