Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ETHAN
The night has been wild – first the All Star Game, which was an unusually well-matched lineup. The Western Conference eked it out in the third, and I even managed an assist.
By the time I got back to the locker room, I had almost forgotten the interview and the prospect of the article hanging over my head. That didn't last for long, and most of my post-game press revolved around my conversation with Sam.
At first, I was worried – I hadn't seen the article and wasn't sure exactly what to say.
But after a few questions, I remembered – there was no keeping my story straight anymore.
All I had to say was the truth. With that, it suddenly became easier, and I spent the rest of my time with the press praising the Minneapolis organization and calling on the NHL to address the issues I'd mentioned.
I wasn't particularly surprised to return to a mostly empty locker room. After yesterday's conversation, I knew some of them wouldn't be wild about the revelation. I guess I'm lucky their reaction was just to leave.
By the time I get out of the showers, only two are left – Holmes and Bellaire. To be fair, I'm not exactly a social butterfly at the best of times. The fact that these two – one I haven't seen in half a decade, and another I met just yesterday – stuck around means something.
They make some awkward conversation about the article as I pack up, commending me for my 'bravery'.
That will take some getting used to. It doesn't feel brave, it just feels like finally being able to breathe.
I thank them for their support and we head out the door.
I think we'll separate shortly thereafter, but instead they ask if I want to grab a beer at the hotel bar.
I've been trying to delay checking my phone, afraid of what I'll find there – or what I won't. A beer seems as good a way to avoid it as anything.
One turns into two which turns into three, all the while my phone buzzes away in my pocket.
Finally, I head out, hoping the slight fuzziness in my head will give me the appropriate distance with which to approach my messages.
As my elevator heads to the fifteenth floor, I am grateful I booked the later flight tomorrow. Between the physical work of the game and the emotions I've been dealing with, nothing sounds better than collapsing in a huge bed for ten to twelve hours.
Well, almost nothing – I'd happily sacrifice a slice of the bed to Jamie, if only he'd take it.
It is with this thought rolling through my mind that I turn towards my room only to find him sitting on the floor.
For a moment, I truly think I'm hallucinating, that I've somehow dreamed him into existence.
My phone buzzes again, and the sound must catch his attention. Sitting there on the floor, his eyes shine up at me. I can hardly think, let alone move, as I stare at him, a sight for sore eyes after so much time apart. This may be the closest we've been to one another in nearly a month.
He stands, looking a little tight thanks to his time on the floor. He continues to look at me and I wonder which of us will figure out how to speak first. In spite of the tears in his eyes, it's him, croaking out a simple hi.
But that's enough, and it pulls me to him like a magnet.
Standing in front of him, I can feel the heat of his body, and I just miss it.
A tear is trickling down his cheek, and I can't bear the thought that I've caused him to cry.
I brush it away, then pull him to me, so happy to bring his body to mine once more.
He tucks his head into my neck and for a long moment, we just stand there, breathing the same air.
After a few minutes, he pulls his head back, though his arms are still wrapped around me. His eyes are dry now, though the front of my shirt feels suspiciously wet.
“I saw the article.”
I smile gently down at him.
“That makes one of us.”
His eyebrow quirks up and I realize he has no idea what's happened over the past few days.
“I knew he was writing it up, but I didn't know when it would release. And by the time I was off the ice, it was all anyone wanted to talk about.”
“And you still haven't read it?”
I silently shake my head.
“Do you want to?” He asks, still not moving more than an inch from my body.
“I don't know, do I?”
He chuckles.
“Maybe inside the hotel room?”
I smirk, pulling my keycard out of my jacket pocket.
Once we're inside, I set down my gear bag next to my suitcase, catching a whiff of myself in the process. I had showered at the arena, though not particularly thoroughly. With Jamie here, I suddenly have the desire to shower very thoroughly indeed.
“Hey, I'm gonna jump in the shower, if that's ok?”
His eyes go wide as he nods mutely.
I close the door to the bathroom, suddenly aware that I have no idea why he's here. Does he want to get back together? Do I?
Well, that I know the answer to. More than anything.
As I step out of the shower, squeaky clean, I get dressed again quickly. Taking a deep breath, I step back out into the main room.
Jamie is perched on the end of the bed, his body tight with the anxiety I feel, too. I sit down next to him, not too close but not too far.
He hands me his phone, which is pulled up to Sam's article.
It's surreal to read the words, knowing they're about me.
Just like I trusted him to do, Sam has treated the matter with the care it deserves.
It's also clear he spent the time between the interview and the release hard at work, as he details other significant cases of homophobia in and around the League, including Jamie's decision to go to the NCAA four years ago.
As I finish the article, I hand the phone back to Jamie.
“That was nice, he did a good job.”
“Nice? Nice? The man's gonna win a Pulitzer for that.”
I snort.
“Did you, uh, plan that ahead of time?”
I pause, thinking over my reply. I know Jamie is afraid that I've rushed into this headfirst because of him, that I haven't thought it through.
“Over the past couple weeks, I spoke to Alexei and my agent about it. We had decided that I would stop going to such lengths to hide it, and Jack was going to start shopping the story to some magazines...which I may have messed up. Whoops.”
He laughs at this.
“Something tells me they'll still be interested.”
He's turned toward me, our knees just barely touching. I chew my lower lip, wondering if I should just leave this here. Thank him for coming, and worry about any other conversation another day. That would be sensible.
Unfortunately, I'm not sensible.
“Why are you here, Jamie?”
His eyes go wide again, and I can tell he wasn't expecting me to ask.
“I, uh, wanted to make sure you had someone here. You know, to support you. It sucks to go through that alone.”
I think about letting him off easy, but I know that is only kicking the can further down the line.
“I guess when you didn't reply to my text this morning, I thought you, uh, weren't a fan. Of me coming out.”
He bites his lip, and I can see he, too, is struggling with whether or not this is the right time for this conversation.
“I turned my phone off. I've been...”
He clears his throat and takes a deep breath.
“...I've been missing you so much, and I had a really hard conversation with Avery earlier this week about you, about us, and I just...I needed some time to think. About what I want.”
I guess we're all in on this conversation, then.
“And...did you decide? What do you want?”
I can feel the anxiety bubbling up in my stomach, my chest going tight. In his eyes, I can see the same feelings – fear, anxiety, uncertainty. I reach a hand out, squeezing his thigh gently.
“I want you. I want us. I don't know what that looks like or how that works, but that's what I want.”
The tightness eases immediately, the relief washing over me. I give him a small smile, meeting his eyes with my own.
“I want that, too. And I want us to decide what that looks like together. We, uh, haven’t been very good about that.”
As much as I want to just lean into the joy of having him back with me, I know I have to do this.
“I should never have talked to Jack about how to handle that article without you. You should have been in on that conversation from the beginning.”
His eyes go wide, and it’s clear he wasn’t expecting this. I hope that it isn’t too late to do this, to be honest with him – honest with myself.
“Ethan, it wasn’t just you. I should have told you how I felt about it, how I felt about you.
But it all happened so quickly. One day we were just having fun and then I blinked and suddenly I found myself worried that no matter what I did, there was no way you would be able to love me how I loved you, and I figured it was better to just… go.”
His words pour out of him. When it’s over, his breath is coming hard, his eyes not quite meeting mine. I find myself stunned, struggling to understand his words.
“Love?”
The word has knocked the breath out of me. I don’t even know the last time someone used it with me, and I find myself unable to believe Jamie is using it now.
I reach out a hand, grabbing one of his. Finally, his eyes meet mine.
“Yeah. I think so.” His lips press together tightly, a deep groove forming between his eyebrows.
I take a deep breath, feeling the anxiety rising up in my throat. Still, I know Jamie deserves the truth.
“Me too, Jamie. Love.” I squeeze his hand, hoping he’ll hear what I’m not quite able to say.
Finally, I get a full smile out of him. Radiant, like I haven't seen since January. I can't help myself.
“Can I kiss you?”
He laughs out loud.
“I hope you're going to do a lot more than that.”
Taking my cue, I lean in, meeting his soft lips with my own. I've missed this, missed sharing his space, sharing his breath. Our tongues tangle together as Jamie scoots nearer, almost in my lap. We break apart, if only to catch our breath.
“So, I've been doing some research.”
“Research?”
I can tell he's a little confused.
“On, uh, bottoming.”