Chapter 2 #4
The whisk hit the side of the bowl with a little metallic click, and—well, funny how it was a close echo of what Talia had told me all those months ago, her manicured hand holding her phone out. Before she’d walked away with half a million and a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.
“He does,” I said, through a knot of unease in my chest. I’d need to have my shit together by the time I hit the ice, and I would. I always did.
“And?” Reid asked. As if he expected a ready answer to how I’d make Stellan pay. As if it were that simple—actions, consequences, a neat map with labeled arrows.
I took a second to answer. “He said he didn’t know who I was. That he realized it too late.”
Reid’s eyebrows lifted just enough to make a point. “And you believe him?”
No. Yes.
Quiet voice, shadowed face, no sparkle.
I slid the pan onto the burner and waited for it to heat. “I’m not sure.”
Reid didn’t move, watching me like a puzzle. Then, almost like it pained him, he said, “You want to fuck him. Still.”
Jesus Christ.
The pan hissed when I poured the eggs in, loud over the open-plan quiet of my apartment, a piano playlist blending with the sound of the rain.
And—fuck. I didn’t answer fast enough. Couldn’t—my brain serving up the image of Stellan kneeling in the fitting room, tape measure in his hands, head dipped and hair falling over his forehead in soft curls.
The brief, hot flash when I’d thought, Oh.
Reid made a soft, frustrated noise. “That’s a yes.”
“It’s not—” I cut myself off because, yeah, it was. I did. Fuck. “He’s the first who made it feel…” I stopped again, words lined up that felt pathetic. “Like something I could have.”
Reid’s expression flickered, concern slipping in beneath the outrage. He set his coffee down like he’d lost the taste for it. “But you wouldn’t have. Right? You wouldn’t have taken a risk like that on a sudden impulse.”
Half a question, half a statement. Like he honestly wasn’t sure.
“I wouldn’t have,” I said. “I’m not that stupid.”
I really, truly wouldn’t have. No. But I’d wanted to. Something in my body had reached for him before my brain could yank the brakes, while with Talia, sex had always been… an afterthought. An obligation, no matter how much I’d wanted it to work, so badly that I kept trying to call effort desire.
She’d noticed. Of course she had. Beautiful women like her were used to men wanting them without a pause, and I’d been all hesitation. Present enough to pass cursory inspection, but not enough to fool someone for weeks that turned into months, into just over a year.
Time she’d wasted on me, that’s how she’d put it. Time she’d wasted hoping I was just a little slow in the emotional department, that I’d come around, and instead, I’d made a fool out of her. “You fucking owe me, Matt.”
Angry. And underneath—sad. Still just enough in love with me, even then, to hit my bank account rather than my career.
When Reid had wanted to haggle over the money, I’d told him not to because, fuck. I did owe her. Half a million was a sideways fix, but it was the best I’d had.
“You’re not stupid at all,” Reid said into my trip down memory lane, voice gone sharp, ready to defend me even from myself.
And that was Reid. I’d told him about me, all of it, just hours after Talia had presented me with evidence and options, and the very next day, he’d shown up at my door with a heavy gift basket.
“Here,” he’d said, shoving it into my arms. “For your gay crisis. Two kinds of lube and three different-colored dildos. I did research.”
I’d laughed so I wouldn’t cry.
Kind of how I felt now, too. Thanks, Stellan.
“I wouldn’t have,” I repeated, checking the eggs, partly for something to do with my hands—soft and perfect, about the only thing I actually knew how to cook. “It’s just that he… he made me think about what it’d be like. I’d never let myself before. Like…”
“Yes?”
“With Talia, I could tell myself I was doing the right thing just long enough it almost passed for real. With Stellan…” I let out a breath that fluttered over something raw. “My body just went fuck yes. Straight away.”
Reid muttered a quiet curse. “Okay. I get that. But, Matt. He’s dangerous.”
“Yeah.” I plated a big serving of eggs for myself, a smaller amount for Reid, and didn’t look at him. “But he already knows.”
Reid pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, taking a moment to think, when usually he was all rapid-fire words. “I guess he does,” he said then, slowly. “And he hasn’t blabbed in the last few months. Hasn’t tried to contact you, or benefit in some way.”
“Yeah.” I inhaled and met Reid’s eyes. “I don’t trust him, okay? I know better than that.”
“Doesn’t change that you want to fuck him.”
“Stop saying it like that,” I shot back, then regretted it immediately because Reid wasn’t the problem. It was me. I was the problem. The way I couldn’t just shut the door and walk away.
“Fine,” Reid said. His gaze didn’t budge. “You want him to fuck you. Better?”
I huffed out a laugh that scraped along the back of my throat. “You’re a dick.”
“You want the dick.”
“We’re not twelve anymore, man,” I said, something lighter catching in my chest. No, we weren’t—but we’d been friends then, and we still were even though people had warned me against hiring a friend as my manager. Other than my parents, there was no one I trusted more.
“True,” he said. “Which is why this isn’t a family show. So, go on, then. Tell me why you didn’t kick his ass.”
Part of me had wanted to. I’d watched him in that suit shop and felt something like satisfaction when his gaze dropped too fast, like he’d lost the right to look at me. But somehow, the other part of me had remembered dimples and quick, witty words, the warm brush of his fingers.
“I bet you’re the kind of man who packs his suitcase into neat little compartments.”
Anger was easy. Admitting I’d felt seen was not.
“He…” I forked some eggs and took a bite without really tasting it. “He claimed it wasn’t all fake for him either. Back then. In Chicago.”
Reid’s mouth twisted. “Could be a pretty lie.”
“That’s what I said.”
“And he said…?” Reid stabbed at his plate. “That he’s a changed man now? Goes to church on Sundays? That your jawline made him see the light?”
“Something like that.”
Reid paused, staring at me. Then he sighed and reached for his coffee, emptied it in one gulp and set it down with a clink of porcelain.
“Okay,” he said, and for once, there was no joke lining up in his tone.
“I hear you. I get that this is complicated, as much as I can from the outside. But it’s still a huge risk. ”
Yeah. Fuck, I knew. Seeing Stellan again was reckless.
One wrong person who noticed something strange, one rumor that got legs, and suddenly it wasn’t just him and me anymore.
There’d be the room, the sponsors, the cameras.
Fans wearing my jersey who’d feel betrayed if I handed them a different version of the same guy.
Extra chirps by other teams. Extra hacks. Every game just that little bit uglier.
And yet I wanted to.
“I know it is,” I said, so quiet it blended in with the rain. “But I just… need to know.”
“Know what?” Reid asked immediately, attention sharp, and my stomach did a weird little drop.
I inhaled through it and thought about lying, then didn’t. “If any of it was real.”
Because if it had been, then maybe I wasn’t crazy for wanting that. For thinking I might be able to make a few inches of space for the part of me that had lit up around another man. Around him.
Reid’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t trust him.”
“I know.” The words came out blunt, like I was ready to carve them into fresh ice. “I don’t.”
Reid took a long, controlled breath and tilted his head. “Okay, question. How much of this is you deciding with your dick, and how much of it is…” He pursed his mouth. “He fucked you over, but exactly because he did, because he already knows, he’s kind of… safe?”
Fuck, okay. Stellan wasn’t safe safe. But, well. Yeah. He wasn’t new, and that counted for more than it should. I still reached for something sharp and confident only to come up empty-handed. This was Reid. He’d hear the lie before I finished the sentence.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted.
His expression softened slightly. “Maybe figure that out,” he said. “Before you make a call you could regret.”
Yeah.
Rain pattered against the glass, the city moving below. Tomorrow, I’d walk back into that shop and put myself into Stellan’s orbit again—by choice. Usually, I’d have skated this kind of noise out of my system. First hard stride, lungs burning, head clearing. Not this time.
A risk. A calculated one.
Still a risk.