Chapter Fifty-Three
Dean
Sometime later
Ihopped down the stairs of the arena before the Terriers began practice, humming softly to myself.
The past season hadn’t been the best. In fact, it had absolutely sucked.
Asher was off his game, pun intended, with Wyatt gone, and he hadn’t owned up to it until he came back from visiting his brother in Arizona.
He’d proudly announced that not only was he bisexual, he was in love with a man.
His brother’s best friend, Saint. Why he was able to admit that about Saint and not Wyatt, no one would ever know, but everyone was different.
Saint was who I was currently making a beeline for.
I could mark out his shaggy dark hair just before he turned to see me.
His eyes went wide behind his thick glasses, and his mouth formed a perfect circle.
I smiled at him as he climbed to his feet.
Saint was so different from Wyatt, who was a big, broad hockey player.
Closer to my height, maybe an inch or two shorter.
He was dressed in a Boston hoodie with Asher’s last name plastered on the back.
“Are you Saint?” I asked.
“You’re Dean Frost.” He gasped. “What... Wow.”
I chuckled softly. “That’s me.” I held out my fist. “Beau thought we could sit together during practice.”
“Beau?” Saint’s brows nearly shot off his head as he stared at me with big, round eyes.
I glanced around the empty arena before I leaned forward. “Beau and I are together. We’re dating.”
“What!” Saint shouted. A blush bloomed on his cheeks. “I mean, what?” He coughed as he tried to whisper, but it still echoed across the Plexi-glass. “You’re dating Beau?”
I nodded and sank down into one of the chairs. I motioned for him to join me. “I am. So yes, I’m bisexual, and so is Beau.
“I had... Wait, what?” Saint blinked at me in confusion. “Have you always... Never mind, that is none of my business.”
I opened my mouth to say more just as someone skated out onto the ice.
It was one of the goalies. I had met most of the team at this point, and I immediately recognized Oscar Lane.
He was the Terriers’ new goalie and a huge man.
But he was also a golden retriever beneath all the gear he wore, and I knew that Beau really liked him.
Flying behind him was Asher. He blew Saint a kiss, and he blushed and quickly ducked his chin.
I leaned closer to Saint. “I moved in with Beau.” His head swung around as he gaped at me. “We’re not officially out or anything, but we’re a couple. People have probably seen us together. We’re not hiding our relationship, but we haven’t announced it either.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
I could see the questions in Saint’s eyes. He wouldn’t be the first one. Plenty of Beau’s teammates had already asked. I surprised when he didn’t say anything.
“How do you like living in Boston?” he asked instead.
“It’s different.” My eyes were glued to the ice as my man appeared.
The big C on the front of his jersey was impossible to miss.
“After living in California for the past few years, dealing with snow again sucks, but I’m just happy to be with Beau.
” I turned to look at him. “Do you plan to move here with Asher?”
We watched as our boyfriends play-scuffled on the ice. Laughing and fighting over the puck. The sound of their happiness was enough to make me smile. I would do anything to hear that. To keep Beau happy.
“Yes, I think I will,” Saint answered softly.
“Cool,” I murmured, and we sat in a comfortable silence as the team practiced.
Asher skated to a stop before us, and I didn’t miss the smile that spread over Saint’s face. Or the one that Asher wore. It was obvious Asher was happier than he was last season. He had been miserable. His game had suffered because of it. His blue eyes darted between the two of us.
“You two getting along, Alice?” he raised his voice so that we could hear him over the plexi-glass.
“We’re becoming the best of friends,” Saint assured him.
I nudged his shoulder playfully. “That’s right. Saint and I—Wait, did you call him Alice?”
“Looking good, Pink.” Beau stopped next to Asher. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Saint. This guy hasn’t shut up about you since he returned from Arizona. I think he might love you or something.”
Asher rolled his eyes. “Dick.”
“Asshole.” Beau grinned.
Then they began to shove one another playfully before Asher shot off down toward the other end of the ice, with Beau following him, leaving the two of us alone again.
“They’re two overgrown children,” I muttered and then burst out laughing. “He calls me Pink because the night we first messed around, we were going to dye my hair pink.”
Saint hummed. “I thought maybe it was because of Pink Floyd or something, since you’re a guitar player.” He gave me a shy smile. “Asher calls me Alice because I dress like I’m from the grunge era of the 90s.”
“That’s kind of cute. I like it.” I grinned.
“Beau asked me to marry him.” I felt my cheeks burn.
I hadn’t told too many people. Your eyes look like they might pop from your head.
Don’t tell anyone yet, okay? I haven’t said yes or no.
I just... I’m just... I love him. Fuck, I love him, but we have a lot to figure out first. He scares easily, and well, I’m terrified he’s going to run again. ”
Saint touched my arm gently. “But you moved in with him.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything,” I whispered. “And until I know that won’t happen again, I can’t tell Beau yes. I want to. I want to marry him and live happily ever after. I want to be Dean Frost-Whitaker.”
He squeezed my arm. “I understand. And I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“Saint, right?” Oscar was standing before us. “I’m Oscar Lane. I’m so excited to meet you.” Well, now there was some story here that I needed to know.
Saint giggled. “It’s nice to meet you, Oscar.”
“Lane, back away from my boyfriend!” Asher exclaimed, which caused us both to laugh.
Oscar slipped his mask up over his head, revealing his baby face. He was a young kid at nineteen, drafted right out of high school. “We’ll have to catch up sometime. Nice to see you, too, Dean!” he shouted.
When Asher started toward where he stood, he laughed hysterically and skated away back to stand in the crease.
“That man is huge,” Saint muttered softly. “Like, huge.”
I snorted. “Yeah, he’s like six-foot-eight or something. I thought Jackson was a big guy.” Saint turned to look at me again. “That’s my brother-in-law. He used to play for Boston, but now he’s the coach for the Panthers. I’ll introduce you sometime. You’ll love my brother.”
“I don’t know about that. Maverick doesn’t like Asher very much.” Saint grimaced the second the words tumbled from his mouth. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say that.”
I shrugged. “I mean, no, he doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean Mav won’t like you. And people can change. Mav did. He wasn’t always nice to people, but now he’s married, a dad. You’ll get along just great. You’ll see.”
“Maybe, sure.” Saint turned his attention back to the ice.
But I knew that I was right. Everyone would get along eventually, and we would become great friends.