Chapter 29 #2
Braydan pushes off the counter and whistles through his teeth. “Well, guess I’ll be heading off then.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Eric insists.
“It was great seeing you again James, we should hang out sometime.”
Eric corrals Braydan, herding him towards his front door, and I wave goodbye. I linger in the kitchen for all of two seconds before following after to eavesdrop from around the corner.
“Sorry again for barging in unannounced,” Braydan says, scratching the back of his neck.
“It’s fine. You and Kaori are always welcome to come over. Just send a warning text next time.”
“I won’t tell Kaori until you’re ready to tell her yourself, same as always.”
Does Braydan know, then? And he’s not going to tell his wife? What does he mean by ‘same as always’?
“Listen, I meant what I said before. I’m always here for you. I just want you to be happy.”
A pause in their conversation follows, and when I peek around the corner, Eric and Braydan are hugging each other and murmuring something only they can hear.
Eric’s hands grip Braydan’s shoulders tight, and I can’t even begin to imagine what they’ve experienced together over the years.
Two friends who love each other so much, as close as brothers.
That kind of friendship is rare, beautiful, something precious and worth cherishing.
When Eric returns to the kitchen, he catches me right while I was in the middle of making fresh coffee. His arms wrap around my waist at the counter, and he breathes in deep, humming softly. He presses a kiss to my neck and holds me while the coffee brews.
“I’m sorry about that. Normally, when I go on solo trips with the trailer, I check in with Braydan when I come back so he knows I’m alright.”
“I understand. He’s a great friend.” I stroke his arm gently and offer Eric a half-hearted smile. “You’re wearing my shirt, by the way.”
Eric glances down at the damning shirt in question and laughs. “No wonder Braydan was so smug.”
I might have found the ordeal comical if this happened in a book, but in real life, once you’re out to someone, you can’t easily take it back.
“So…” I take a deep breath and busy myself with the coffee machine. “Braydan knows then?”
“Yeah, he does. He’s known for a while that I’m bi.” Eric hugs me tighter and presses a gentle kiss to my cheek. “I’m so sorry for the scare. I should have texted him the moment we were back. I was a little preoccupied.”
I smile, remembering how intense Eric was the moment the front door shut behind us. “You don’t need to apologize to me for having a best friend who cares about you so much. I’m happy you’re both so close.”
“There’s no one else I trust more than him to keep our relationship private. Not even Kaori knows I’m into guys, too. She tends to play matchmaker with her close friend group, even if she doesn’t always intend to.”
Eric has trusted him with something so personal, something so vital to his identity for years. Not everyone could keep such a secret, and from their own spouse, too?
After we each pour a cup of coffee, Eric guides me to the couch to sit down and cuddle together. I have a million questions, but no idea how to word any of them delicately. How long has Braydan known? Did Eric tell him, or did Braydan find out on his own?
“Just Braydan knows, though. No one else, not even my teammates. Not because they’re assholes.
Braydan runs a tight ship. No one’s ever pushed back against our barn’s Pride night.
Honestly, some of them go all out for it.
It’s just my sexuality’s never been relevant to them.
I think the majority of the guys assumed I’d eventually have another girlfriend at some point, but they also understood relationships are a sensitive subject for me. ”
I smile half-heartedly. “Perfect cover.”
“Sure, but it was also true. It took time for me to bounce back fully from the breakup. I needed time to reflect on myself and what I was looking for in relationships.”
Eric was waiting for the right person, waiting to open up his heart. A goaltender in every sense of the word, always needing to protect something, even himself. No one else moved Eric the way I could—a fact I will never take lightly.
“What about you?” Eric asks, shifting the focus to me. “You said you’ve never outright told anyone else.”
I nod, putting aside my half-drunk coffee cup. “There was never really a reason to share that side of myself with anyone else. I’ve always known I’m gay and that I wanted to be with someone, but life’s been busy. It made sense for my career to be my priority; playing in the NHL was my dream.”
My promotion out of the AHL had been sudden and exciting, and I wanted to continue earning my spot on the Comets.
I chose not to take chances or risks in my youth which could have jeopardized that goal.
Then mom became sick, and I was determined to improve at an even faster rate without distractions so she’d see me win the Cup before it was too late.
I didn’t have time to navigate the dating world as a socially awkward closeted man in my free time.
“Everyone’s path is different.”
“I’ve never, you know, been part of that community. Not publicly, at least. I don’t think living vicariously behind an anonymous username counts.”
“There’s nothing wrong with exploring that part of your identity online.”
Eric puts aside his own coffee on the table and wraps an arm around me to bring me closer. I rest my head against his shoulder and hold his hand, needing the connection.
“Our relationship is private. We’ll tell who we want to tell.
I’m never going to make you feel pressured to do something you’re not ready to do.
” He sighs. “Doesn’t mean the media won’t speculate about your private life, though, especially as you get older and improve as a player.
Having a relationship or not having one is no one’s business but your own, James.
They’ll spin whatever message they want to sell, regardless of what you do or don’t do. ”
Every year, it seems like the media or fans drum up a story about a player’s personal life, usually due to a leave of absence being blown out of proportion.
Some players have felt so pressured to come out and explain what’s going on off the ice, everything from mental health struggles to illness or death in a family.
My mom passed over the summer during the offseason, so there was less attention from the media and it wasn’t brought up again until the post-season interview.
If it had happened during the season, however, some frustrated fans might have drawn the spotlight to the team and forced the Comets to make a statement.
Eric strokes my arm, and it’s so easy to give in to his comfort, to lean into him for support and guidance. He’s the one with more life experience. I should trust his judgment on these delicate matters, but I’m prone to overthinking.
“I just don’t want to make things weird with you and your team, let alone Braydan.”
“You won’t. When I said I wanted us to date, I meant it. I just want to enjoy us and our time together. If we go out, we can be incognito—”
“I didn’t pack my big nose glasses.”
For that comment, Eric drags me into his lap and seeks my mouth for a playful kiss. His hands slip under my shirt—his shirt—and grip my waist, holding me in place.
“Well, since you didn’t, we can keep things light and friendly in public,” he says, mouthing the words against my lips. “Nothing’s changed other than what we do once we’re in private again.”
And what haven’t we done in private? Eric’s only found new ways to manipulate my body with more freedom and space around his home. And now that we won’t have to worry about someone walking in on us again…
I trace my finger along the faded printed letters of my university’s name on the shirt he’s wearing. “This looks great on you.”
Eric chuckles, and the tension from before fades, transforming into something else. “If you wanted to borrow my clothes, I have a few in mind you could wear instead.”
“Like what?” I ask, assuming he means something formal. I didn’t exactly pack for fine-dining in the event he’s interested in going somewhere special one night.
“What about the game worn jersey I was wearing in the poster above your bed?”
My lips part. “You… You still have that? You mean you didn’t sell it?”
Shamefully, I might have looked online for any charity auctions after his first Stanley Cup win. I didn’t have much money to spare at the time, but I would have dropped a year’s worth of work study checks to get my hands on it. For one hundred percent pure, innocent reasons.
“It’s in a shadowbox in my office if you want to try it on sometime.”
Oh God, is he serious? That jersey? On me?
I’ve had that exact dream countless times, and my cock hardens at the possibility of it becoming reality.
Eric smirks when he notices through the sweats, and he rolls his hips up into mine, grinding along my length.
Every time I shift in his lap, I get a good feel of him through the thin fabric of our clothes.
I’m getting worked up, hot all over, my body craving him yet again.
His voice drops. “Be honest, James, how bad do you want me to fuck you in that jersey?”
My mouth waters at the question, and my eyes fall half-lidded. Words fail me. I need that jersey against my bare skin, the same one Eric wore when he cemented his legacy and became my idol.
“James?” Eric chuckles, and his hands slide under the waistband of my pants to grope my ass.
“When can we open the shadowbox?” I answer instead. All other thoughts have disintegrated into thin air.
His nose brushes along my neck, breathing in deep. My skin is so sensitive, and every scratch of his stubble causes me to tremble in his arms.
“How about now?”
“Are you serious?”
Eric responds with a firm squeeze to either cheek and a powerful, dizzying kiss that makes me melt and shudder.