Chapter 40
Lars
D ylon stares blankly ahead, and it’s so out of character I almost trip on my way over to sit next to him. He’s the one who can talk to anyone and loves telling the kids stories. I’m none of those things.
“Hey.” I squeeze his thigh as I sit.
He drags his gaze to mine as if it’s an effort and swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. I wait for him to explain what upset him. A bunch of theories flip through my mind, and I shove them away. I cannot stress about the what-ifs when he will tell me in a minute. Filling my lungs with air, I hold it, then let it out slowly.
“I did a thing.” His fingers drum nervously on the table. “I hope you’re not mad. But I can’t lie or deny my feelings for you.” He takes a gulp of air. “I told the kids I’m in love with you.”
His words are fireworks, lifting my heart and my body into weightlessness. It’s the type of thing I didn’t know I wanted, to be claimed by him. But now that he has, it’s amazing.
“Do you want to make a formal announcement?” I ask, warring with the pros and cons of each answer.
“For the principle of it, no. I would like to stop playing into the narrative that we are straight by default and have to come out if we’re not. We can be who we are without commenting. Neither of us made statements about women we dated or fucked, so we shouldn’t be obligated to reveal the details of our love.”
“Do you think we can do that?” Although I agree with his idea, it will be difficult to avoid direct questions.
“Maybe. As athletes, we don’t owe anyone full disclosure about our love life.” Our heads are inches apart, and his quiet words float between us.
The reporter clears her throat. “Do you need a minute, or are you ready to film?”
“Our PR department has a say in the final edit, correct?” I ask her.
“Absolutely,” she assures us.
“Let’s do this.” Dylon leans in and playfully bites my shoulder, and I’m very grateful we’re sitting at a table and not in chairs so my growing dick isn’t visible.
The interview begins with straightforward questions about The Q Solutions and our volunteer work. Dylon’s animated as he waves his hands and talks about all the great programs. I highlight Ari Dimon’s commitment to supporting LBGTQ+ rights and organizations and the ways he’s implementing those values.
That segues into Jayce’s press conference last year and Patrik’s engagement to Trevor.
“You both have been in the press lately with rumors of a relationship. Would you like to comment?” Our agreement states she will not push beyond what we decide to share.
“I find the speculation funny.” Dylon grins. “Our family and friends know the status of our relationship, and we don’t feel the need to comment publicly.”
“We are public figures, but we value privacy. No matter what we say, people will dissect our words and form judgments. Dylon is the most important person in my life, and people can interpret that as they see fit,” I say, facing Dylon, and I’m struck by his dimple and the gold flecks shining in his eyes.
“He’s a big softy, but don’t tell anyone. We don’t want to ruin his reputation.” Dylon winks at the camera. “I’m a lucky man to have him.” He leans in and lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Not to give him a big head, but he’s my favorite person.”
The reporter laughs, and Dylon slings his arm over the back of my chair.
“Is there anything else you’d like to share?” she asks .
“I would encourage people to be who they are. We love The Q Solutions because it provides a safe space for kids to figure out who they are. As a society, we expect and almost demand people who are not straight to come out by announcing it. Don’t allow outside pressure to dictate your story. Be who you are and do what’s right for you. You don’t have to continually come out for the rest of your life to make sure everyone knows,” Dylon says with his usual charm.
“It’s difficult to reveal something so personal over and over again, not knowing how it will be received. We believe everyone has the right to talk about it or not. Everyone has different experiences.” I reach over and rest my hand on his thigh.
“Very profound. Thanks for your time and the work you do here,” she says to end our interview.
Dylon and I lock eyes, and it’s off script, but we can ask the Enforcers to cut it. I lean in, and as he reads my expression, his face lights up. Although I never imagined doing this in public, it doesn’t feel brave. If feels exactly right for who we are. Dylon meets me halfway, and our lips connect with a chaste kiss. “It was our pleasure,” I say, grinning at the camera.
The room goes silent after the reporter gasps. She recovers after several beats. “This interview will change lives. Thank you for trusting me.”
I kissed my boyfriend in the moment because when I leaned in, Dylon’s eyes spoke to me, craving the validation and public display of affection. We didn’t set out to change lives, but hopefully it will be a positive step forward in the conversation about acceptance.
“We’re thanking you in advance for not fucking this up.” Dylon’s arm wraps around me, and I pull his chair closer.
Joanne steps in to coordinate interviews with the kids, and they opt for a private office.
Once they’re gone, the room erupts and we’re surrounded. There are choruses of “That was awesome!” and “I can’t believe you did that!” and “Holy shit.”
Tucked in bed, I ask, “Are you going to tell your family before it airs?”
Dylon picks his head up off my chest and rests his chin on his fist to look me in the eye. “They don’t deserve it, but I should say something.” He rolls over and grabs his cell phone.
I watch as he unblocks and opens his family group chat. He hasn’t read any of the recent messages and doesn’t bother scrolling up to see what he’s missed. There are trash-talking texts about his game and more. It’s a toxic cesspool of insults about his manhood because opponents threw him against the boards, as if anyone in his family could withstand a single hit.
Dylon holds out the phone, asking me for approval of what he’s typed. I read it aloud to hear it for myself. “You’re dead to me if you say one more disparaging thing about my boyfriend.”
“Shit. They probably don’t know what disparaging means.” He erases it and retypes, reading it for my benefit. “‘You’re dead to me if you insult my boyfriend again.’ That’s better. I think it gets the point across. I could say lover, but no need to give anyone a heart attack.” He chuckles.
“I cannot be the reason you lose your family.” He could have regrets later.
“Sugar.” He rolls the R, and the term of endearment fills me up. “They are happy to take my money but don’t support the sacrifices I’ve made to play the game. The guilt my mother lays on me for missing holidays as if I wasn’t working and she couldn’t see me playing on the damn TV. She acted like I refused to go home. I played into the guilt because I didn’t want to go home and see them. I’m relieved I have a job that prevents me from sitting around for family dinners. They act like they could play better if they had the chance. Like I randomly won the lottery and don’t work my ass off to be the best. I’m not losing them because of you. This is my way of thanking you.” The air chills my skin as he returns his phone to the nightstand after sending the message and turning it on silent. I chase his body heat.
“How about you thank me now?” I blanket his back and tug him closer .
“You definitely deserve a special thanks for kissing me on TV.” He hooks his leg over mine, and a second later, I’m flat on my back as he looms over me. “You’re at my mercy now.”
“Really?” I ask, extremely turned on. “What do you plan to do to me?”
He sits back on my thighs with his hand on my chest. “Maybe I’ll tie you up.”
A smile takes over my face. “If that makes you happy.”
His brow furrows. “I’m thanking you. What do you want?”
Seeing him happy and feeling settled after all he’s been through this year brings me happiness, but I doubt he will accept that answer. “I want to be at your mercy however you see fit. Take me apart until I beg you for more.”
“Should I fuck you again?” His frown doesn’t smooth out.
“Hey.” I yank him forward. “Why are you uncertain? I love everything you do. I love you.”
His exhale washes over my face. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
There are certain cultural differences I’ve noticed over the years, and one is that when someone says they’re fine, they are most definitely not fine. But calling him out won’t help so I clamp my fingers around his neck and hold him still while I kiss him slowly.
Dylon collapses his weight on me, tightening the pressure on his throat. His pulse hammers against my thumb, but I don’t let up or stop my tongue from invading his mouth.
“It’s more than words,” I assure him. “Saying I love you is more than that. Love is a verb, and I will take every action you need to feel it in your bones. In your soul. So that when we die, our love lives on.” I stroke his pulse, wishing I could destroy every person who made him doubt love.
We stare at each other as he digests what I’ve said. I cannot be any clearer. In an interview that will be picked up by every news organization, hockey fan, gossip site, and more because I kissed him, I said he is the most important person in my life.
“I’m being stupid.” He tilts his head to kiss me, but I hold him back.
“It is not stupid. When you need something, please ask for it. In the past, you probably asked for things you never received, but I am going to change that. I want to give you everything, including the things you think are stupid.” I pinch his side to lighten my heavy words. Dylon can only stay serious for so long before it makes him twitchy.
“It feels like a cosmic joke that we love each other, and now the entire world will know, so I’m,” he winces, “waiting for it to blow up in my face.”
“ Min k?rlek .” My heart breaks for him. “I can’t lie to you. Our interview could blow up in a bad way.” I fully embrace him. “But… but if I have to choose between you and hockey, I choose you. If I have to choose between sweets and you, I choose you.”
“Omigod. You did not just tell me you’d give up sweets for me. Next to hockey, it’s most of your personality.” His eyes go soft, and his body melts into mine like liquid caramel.
“I could do it for you,” I say seriously.
“Is there something wrong with me? I shut my phone off because I’m afraid of what my family will say, but there are a ton of strangers who could shit on us too.”
“Only the people we care about can truly hurt us. If Bob from Florida hates us, we don’t care. But when the people who society says are supposed to love us don’t love us in a way that feels real or unconditional, it hurts.” I tuck his head under my chin.
“That’s it. I’ve always felt that my family’s love came with conditions. And it still does. It depends on how much money and fame I can provide. And I don’t want to do that anymore because whatever I do is never enough.” His lips move against my collarbone.
“So you never feel their love.” I say the unspoken part out loud and he nods. “I don’t have magic words to fix it. But I promise you, every single day of my life, I will profess my love until you believe it.”
“I believe you.” His fingers twine in my hair.
“That you believe it 24/7 for 365 days a year with no doubts.”
“That kind of perfection isn’t achievable.” He brackets my head between his elbows .
“Watch me,” I dare him, flipping him under me and kissing my way down his body.
I take him apart with my teeth until he’s screaming my name so loud the fucking world can hear him.