15. Ryan
Ryan
Does Jackson have a child?
The question circles my mind repeatedly. Maybe I should just ask him, but how do I even bring it up? Oh god, I don’t want to be the guy breaking up a family. Ok, we need to have an actual conversation about this, but I really, really don’t want to. Fuck.
Jackson’s last letter was a jolt of pure, electric adrenaline.
Reading those words, the way he hinted at my personality and called me handsome—it felt like a thrilling confirmation of the hope I’d been trying to bury.
For a split second, the desert didn’t feel so vast. But then, there it was, the mention of a child.
It hit me like a physical blow, a cold reality check that sent my heart plummeting.
The fear that I was falling for someone who had an entire life, a family, I knew nothing about, made my skin crawl.
It threatened to snap the fragile thread of vulnerability I’d finally started to unravel, reminding me exactly why I kept my walls reinforced with steel.
I lay back on my bed after opening another care package from him. Who is this person, and fuck, he’s a professional hockey player? I look at the cookie boxes again, a totally different brand this time, and Jackson’s letter mentioned they were from Houston.
I feel a familiar shift on my mattress as Brody sits down at the edge. “So, are you going to tell me about the Cookie Monster then?”
I stare at him, giving him a blatant what the fuck look. He rolls his eyes and points to the box.
“Oh. His name is Jackson,” I say.
Brody’s eyes widen. “So he has a name! I’ve just been calling him Cookie Monster in my letters.”
I give him a stern, warning look. “Be nice, otherwise I’m not sharing these,” I say, pulling out two packets.
Brody’s eyes lock onto the food. “Jackson. Nice name. Honestly, Ry, he seems to have put you in a much better mood since you started talking to him.”
“It’s just nice to talk to someone without any judgment or background, you know?” I admit softly.
The second the words leave my mouth, Brody’s face completely falls.
I panic. “Hey, I didn’t mean you judge me!
I just mean… this is a totally clean slate.
Jackson doesn’t know me, and he doesn’t have any expectations of me.
We’re just being one hundred percent honest with each other. It’s refreshing.”
Brody looks at me, really looks at me. “You know you can talk to me about absolutely anything, don’t you? I’m always here, no matter what.”
The truth is right there, right on the tip of my tongue.
I’m about to do it—I’m about to finally tell him I’m gay.
I look at Brody, who is currently moaning in pure, sugary delight as he stuffs a second cookie into his mouth, crumbs tumbling onto his uniform.
He looks so ridiculous, so happy, that a genuine laugh bubbles up in my throat. This is it. This is the moment.
I take a breath to speak, but before I can even form the first syllable, a sudden, sharp burst of close gunfire rips through the air, the sound so loud it vibrates in my teeth. Fuck, that’s close!
Instantly, the conversation vanishes. Everyone grabs their gear and rushes outside to see what the hell is going on.