Chapter 33
SEBSATIAN
Taylor’s eyes flicked to me briefly, then back to the road. “Are you ready to talk about it yet?”
I’d practiced what I wanted to say multiple times on my walk from the office to the arena, but no matter how many times I said the words, they still felt unbelievable. I’d kept my sexuality a secret because it was more important to protect Wyatt’s, and today he’d blown that all up.
I couldn’t help but feel like he’d made a mockery of my sacrifice.
My head fell back against the headrest. “Wyatt called a press conference to announce he’s running for President.”
Taylor’s head swung my way, the car jerking to the side of the road before he righted it, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. “I thought you said he wasn’t going to run until 2032.”
“That was the plan.”
I shivered, but I didn't know if it was from the cold. The dashboard said it was 27 degrees outside, so it was probably that. I angled the heater vent toward my face.
“So what changed?” Taylor asked, turning onto the road leading to his house.
“I have no clue.” I rolled my head along the seat back to look at him. “That wasn’t his only announcement.”
He pulled into the driveway and turned the key in the ignition, the engine falling silent.
He spun to face me as best as he could in the cramped space, reaching across the console to brush the pads of his fingers over the divot that’d formed between my eyebrows. I hadn’t even realized I was scowling.
“You’re upset. Why?"
There was no easy way to ease him into it, so I went for the bare-bones simple version of the story. “He came out.”
Taylor’s chin rocked backward, his brows dipping together. “What do you mean?”
“He kicked off the announcement with a fairly impassioned speech about how queer people are being forced to live in the shadows, never feeling wholly safe, and—as a bisexual man—he wants to change that.”
“But that’s … good, right?” Taylor asked, clearly hating that he had to give the guy even an ounce of credit. “I mean, he’s not wrong.”
“No, he’s not. And that speech on its own would have been great. But he also used that moment to announce that he’d once been in a years-long relationship with another man.” I pulled in a deep breath, bracing myself to admit the worst of it. “Which he also noted was with his best friend.”
Taylor’s hands curled into fists in his lap, his jaw clenching so tight I swore I could hear his molars crack. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
The laugh that came out of me was unexpected. “Whoa. Easy there, tiger.”
“I’m fucking serious, Seb.”
I didn’t want to minimize his reaction, but I couldn’t help but smile. I’d known Taylor would be furious, but I never expected this. He was a brute on the ice—pure muscle and strength—but off of it, he was a big old golden retriever. “I know you are.”
“I will end that man and enjoy every single second of it.”
I settled my hand over his. “While tempting, I really don’t think orange is your color, and I’m not sure I’m built for conjugal visits.”
“I’m being serious,” he grumbled, flipping up his palm and linking our fingers together.
“While I love that your first instinct is to want to protect me, it’s not necessary.”
“I will always protect you,” he vowed.
What did you say to a declaration like that?
I lifted our hands to my mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles before letting go, the cabin filling with silence.
Eventually, Taylor blew out a breath. “Do you think …” He stopped and shook his head. “When he showed up at your apartment last week, do you think he had all this planned?”
I’d been turning that question over in my head all damn day. Wyatt had been drunk and desperate, yes, but he was still Wyatt. He wouldn’t have shown up like that without an agenda. There was also no ignoring his parting shot.
You're going to regret this.
“I think he showed up with an idea of how he expected the evening to go. He was running for President, and part of that strategy was coming out. Those pieces of the puzzle were probably already in motion, and he assumed I'd willingly go along with them. That I'd help him sell the story."
Wyatt and I had dreamed of him in the White House someday. Everything we'd done together was in service of that goal. But then I threw him for a loop.
"When he realized that wasn't going to happen, he had to pivot. Since he couldn’t bring me to heel, he decided to punish me instead.”
“So he deliberately put that target on your back?” he fumed.
Honestly, it was on me for not having anticipated something like this. But I'd been so relieved just to have Wyatt gone that I hadn’t let myself consider he’d retaliate. It’d been a rookie mistake. Naive to the core.
I nodded, feeling frustration rise inside of me. “He did.”
Taylor’s exhale was slow and controlled, the way he breathed when he was trying very hard not to rock the boat by saying the wrong thing.
“Can we go inside?”
The car had been off long enough that the cold was beginning to seep into my clothing, and I could see Taylor’s breath fogging in the air.
“It’s freezing out here.”
“Oh shit. Yeah. Of course.”
Snow began to fall as we raced up the front walkway and tumbled through the door, him flushed and warm, me shivering. We took off our coats and scarves, depositing them in the closet, removed our wet shoes, and headed for the kitchen, where Taylor filled the kettle.
“Go sit down.”
I dropped onto one end of the sofa, pulled the throw blanket off the back, and draped it over my legs, watching him prepare two mugs of herbal tea.
A few minutes later, he joined me, handing me mine before settling onto the opposite end and tucking his feet under the blanket.
“So what now?” he asked, picking up the thread of our earlier conversation.
I blew on my tea, stalling. He was not going to be happy with what I was about to say, but it needed to be said.
"I can see the wheels spinning in your head. You have a plan, so spill it."
“The thing is," I began, parsing out my words, "I'd understand if you want to take a step back from us until everything settles down. I— ”
“No. Absolutely not. I will never do that, so don’t ask again.” Taylor's face flushed scarlet, his nostrils flaring.
"I couldn’t forgive myself if it blows back on—”
"I said no."
“Taylor. Be reasonable.”
“You be reasonable, Sebastian.” He set his mug on the coffee table and crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“This is going to get really ugly,” I warned.
“And you, what? That I can't handle ugly. I can fucking handle it.”
I stared at him over the rim of my mug—at this man who had every reason to put distance between himself and the blast radius of my life, but who had instead told me in no uncertain terms there was no way that was ever happening.
I had spent most of my adult life surrounded by people who viewed relationships not as partnerships but as negotiations. People who calculated the value of affection before they offered it. In my world, love was currency.
But not Taylor. He loved fully. Unconditionally.
I felt my throat tighten and my eyes begin to sting. I took a long sip of tea to cover my reaction.
“Come here,” he said, grabbing a few of the decorative pillows to stack them behind him.
I set my tea aside and fitted myself into the space he’d made between his legs, settling against his chest.
Taylor traced patterns on my arm, grounding me.
“I’m not going to deny it,” I whispered after a long stretch of silence. “When they come asking—and I guarantee they will—I’m not going to lie. I'm so fucking tired of lying.”
“I’ll support you, no matter what.” He pressed a kiss into my hair. “I’ll be right by your side the entire time.”
“That’s what I mean,” I said, sitting up and crossing my legs. “You’re going to get pulled into a circus. People are going to make assumptions.”
“They’re not really assumptions, though, are they, Seb?” he asked, his voice soft. “We’re together.”
“Being out to your teammates is one thing. This is a whole other thing.”
“I know what it means.” He leaned forward and cupped the back of my head, his thumb tracing a slow arc just behind my ear.
I leaned into his touch.
“I was always going to come out this season. It’s time I stopped hiding, too.”
“Are you sure?” I studied his face, looking for the tell that would indicate Taylor was saying what he thought I wanted to hear. There was nothing there but him staring back at me like the answer was more than obvious.
“I’m ready.” A corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile. “In fact …”
He lifted his hips slightly and twisted to work his phone free from his pocket. “Give me your hand.”
“What are you doing?”
“Give me your hand, Seb.”
Not fully understanding where this was going, I did as he asked.
Then he tugged me toward him, and I tumbled against him onto my side.
He linked our hands together and positioned them against his chest. Using his thumb, he swiped open his camera and zoomed in.
When he was satisfied with the composition, he took the photo.
He gave my hand a quick squeeze, then let go and opened Instagram, where he typed out, “Hi. I’m Taylor. I’m bisexual. And I love my boyfriend.”
He looked up at me. “Good?”
I nodded, my throat tight. I couldn't believe he was doing this. For me.
No. For us.
He posted the photo, then tossed his phone onto the coffee table, where it clattered against the wood and slid to the edge, dangling just over the side. Then wrapped both arms around me.
“There,” he said. “Now I’m out.”
I buried my face in his neck and breathed him in. I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but tonight, I had this.