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Paul

B rendon lets me sleep for two glorious hours.

Once I’m showered and dressed, he’s in his suit looking sexy as fuck, even swollen and bruised. He pulls out a blue collar with a green-and-blue plaid bow tie on it and a matching leash.

“When did you get that?” I ask.

He kneels to put it on the pupper and squishes his little face.

“When you were sleeping. I got him some puppy chow too.”

I’m impressed he didn’t get distracted and end up spending all his money on dog toys.

We head down to the rink, and Brendon encourages him to run around to get some energy out. There’s a ball shoved in his pocket so we can play with him during intermission and before the game. Hopefully, he’ll chill during the game.

The locker room is loud as usual as the guys get changed and ready.

The puppy lets out a sharp bark, and it’s instantly quiet. My eyes widen as everyone looks around for the source of the sound.

Brendon has a shit-eating grin on his face as he poses with the dog at his feet.

Everyone comes over, wanting to pet the dog and ask questions. I shake my head and head over to sit on the bench at my cubby. Preston lifts an eyebrow at me and nods toward Brendon.

“We found him in the middle of the road.” I shrug.

“Of course you did.” Preston sighs and grabs his workout gear to go change in a bathroom stall.

Jeremy appears behind Preston with a stern grimace and his arms crossed.

“I know, you’re pissed. We can talk about it later.” I nod at him with my hands up.

“You feeling okay?” he asks, pulling on his gym shoes.

“I’m tired and sore but okay.”

Jeremy pats me on the shoulder. “Good.”

The guys get ready for the game, stretching and warming up on the ice while Brendon and I head to the stands with the puppy. Someone found him a blanket so he can lay on the floor or be wrapped up in Brendon’s lap without getting fur all over his clothes.

Brendon takes the pup outside to run around and get some energy out while I find our seats. It’s weird to sit here and watch my team on the ice. I’ve of course been to hockey games before, gone to friends’ games so I knew players on the ice, but this is my team, and I’m not out there with them.

There are some die-hard fans that say hi to me as I pass, ask me questions about the game and the other team or why I’m not playing. I drop down into the seat and look around, the frigid air of the rink, the excitement of the crowd, and try to find it in myself. But I’m struggling.

Not only do I hate not being on the ice with the boys, I’m tired of not being myself outside of my dorm room. I’m tired of hiding. Brendon deserves to be shown every day that I love him proudly. In public. Out loud.

My knee bounces as I watch. The announcers introduce the players as a smiling Brendon sits down next to me with the puppy under his arm.

“I had to tell security he was the team pet.” He chuckles and spreads the blanket out next to our feet. He sets the puppy down and wraps a corner over him. It doesn’t last long. About half a second later, he’s up and begging to be picked up, which Brendon does.

I lay the blanket on Brendon’s lap so he can put the puppy down. It’s only a few minutes because he calms and lays down. Just in time for us to get the biscuit in the basket and the crowd goes wild. The poor dog jumps and lets out a scared bark as people cheer and whoop and clap.

I chuckle and pet his head.

“It’s okay, little buddy.”

“How come you never talk to my little buddy like that?” Brendon smirks at me, and I lift an eyebrow as I lean in close so no one overhears me.

“Your little buddy doesn’t like to be talked to nicely.” I drag my lower lip between my teeth and watch his mouth. “Your fuck stick likes it when I’m a little rough on him.”

Brendon’s cheeks pinken at my words, and I sit back in my seat to watch the game.

The next time we light up the lamp light, I jump out of my seat and immediately regret the abrupt movement. My surgery site screaming at me to calm the fuck down, so I do.

“You okay? Did you rip your glue or whatever? Do you need a doctor?” Brendon’s panicked tone cuts through the pain a bit, and I’m able to focus.

“No, I just moved too fast. I’m okay.” I reach for his hand and thread our fingers together, holding his hand against my thigh while I turn back to the game. It takes me a few minutes to realize he’s quiet. Too. Damn. Quiet.

When I look at him, he’s smiling at me, but I have no idea why.

“What?”

“You’re holding my hand.”

I look down at our hands and smile at it. It was so natural that I didn’t pause to think about it. He’s it for me, and I’m done keeping him a secret.

With our eyes locked together, I speak my truth.

“I love you, Brendon, and I’m done hiding it.” I don’t know how, but his smile gets bigger, brighter. “You’re my husband, and I don’t care who knows it.”

Even with a swollen nose and the bruising under his eyes, he’s still beautiful. Brendon’s eyes turn glassy with happy tears, and he ducks his head, shaking it and wiping at his eyes.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says with a gravelly voice. “But I’m selfish enough to not let you get away either.”

It’s a stab in the heart to hear him think he’s unworthy, but I’ll spend the rest of my life proving him wrong. He is the most worthy.

“Look at me.” I wait until his eyes meet mine again. “Your past doesn’t determine your worth. No one is a better fit for me than you, and I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

A tear escapes his eye, and he swipes it away, leaning in for a kiss that I don’t deny him. It’s a quick kiss, a brush of lips, but it’s comfort. It’s home. Brendon is my home. And as much as that scares me, I won’t let it stop me from loving him out loud.

He rests his forehead on mine with his eyes closed.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

The puppy chooses that minute to pop up and lick Brendon right across the lips. He jerks back, and I laugh at the look of surprise on his face.

“Someone’s jealous, huh? You need love too?” He cuddles the dog to his chest and scratches his ear while the pup licks furiously.

“What are you going to name him?” I scratch under the puppy’s chin.

“Me? Don’t you mean we ? He’s our dog. Or do you expect me to name all the children too?” The hoity tone is so amusing. I love that he assumes we’ll have kids because, why wouldn’t we?

“Letting you name the children by yourself is slightly terrifying. They would end up with initials that spell something weird.”

Brendon throws his head back and laughs hard.

“You’re not wrong.”

I look at the pup, at the square shape of his muzzle and his soft floppy ears.

“How about something like—”

“Lizard Brain. I was thinking the same,” Brendon interrupts.

“Lizard Brain?”

“Butt Breath?” he tosses out.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Have you never named an animal before?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Let me guess, you want to name him something boring like Bob. Carl. Spot.”

“He’s distinguished. Look at him.” I point at him. “He has a bow tie and will probably be pictured with the team a lot. He can’t have a weird-ass name.”

“If you suggest we name him Darby, I’m leaving you.”

It’s my turn to laugh, but fuck, it hurts.

“No, we aren’t naming him Darby.”

“Oh good, I didn’t want to leave you.”

Reaching for his chin, I pull his mouth to mine and take his mouth in a quick but dirty kiss. It sizzles my blood and has lust licking my skin.

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

Brendon blinks a few times while his neck turns pink.

“How about something like Seymour?” I offer. “He looks like a Seymour to me.”

“Butts!” Brendon shouts. “Yes, he can be Seymour Butts.”

“I’m going to start calling you Bart.”

He cackles and squishes the dog’s face in his hands. “Hello, Mr. Butts.”

The dog’s tail wags, and he licks Brendon’s face again.

“See, he likes it. Don’t be a party pooper, P Dawg.”

Intermission is about to start, so Brendon takes the puppy out again to run around.

“Grab me a Dr Pepper on your way back in.” I smack his butt as he leaves with the dog.

I watch the last few minutes, then flip through my phone while I wait. When I open Instagram, I have a hundred new tags that weren’t there before the game started. What the fuck?

All the blood drains from my face at the pictures of Brendon and me kissing being shared on social media. Who the hell takes pictures of random people in the stands and posts them? Goddamn it.

My heart starts pounding, and my body has so much anxious energy I want to get up and pace. Instead, my knee starts bouncing, and I scroll through the pictures. One looks like someone zoomed in from somewhere behind us. One is cropped from the selfie of the couple directly in front of us. I stare at the back of her head for a second. Seriously? Who does this?

The last one is from a strangle angle, which means the person who took it was looking directly for us, probably watching us, and when I flip through the pictures posted with it, I have no doubt it was Nikki. Us kissing in the hallway the day she saw us and images of the way we look at each other. It’s so clear we’re together. Fuck her.

Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. Part of me is grateful it’s out and I can just deal with it and be done with it, but I’m also mad that the opportunity was taken from me. Coming out is a big deal, and I wanted to do it my own fucking way. Now I’m going to be bombarded with questions, and people will want me to put a label on myself. I’ve seen how Jeremy and Preston get asked when they go to press conferences. Preston refuses to answer, just staring at the reporter until it’s awkward, but Jeremy gets flustered.

Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I stew in my irritation while I wait for Brendon to get back. Is he already being bombarded with questions? Does he already know about the pictures?

A few minutes later, Brendon and Seymour are back, both looking like they had a good run. Brendon drops into the seat and grabs the blanket before picking up the pup. Seymour sits on Brendon’s lap with his tongue hanging out, panting and gazing up at the man who saved him.

“The internet knows about us.”

That was not how I expected to tell him. Jesus.

“Huh?” Brendon looks at me with confusion creasing his face.

“A few people got pictures of us kissing and tagged us on social media. They’ve already got a few thousand views, and it’s been like half an hour.”

Brendon goes very still like he doesn’t know how to react.

“Are you okay?”

I sigh and scrub a hand over my face. “I think so. Irritated that people shared a picture they didn’t have a right to. Frustrated that we’re going to have to deal with the questions.”

Brendon reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.

“You’re not alone. I won’t let you face it alone. Okay?”

I nod and chew on my lip. “What if we make our own post?”

For a split second, Brendon is excited, but he shuts it down so fast I can almost convince myself it wasn’t there.

“Do you want to?”

I shrug. “Yeah, pull the Band-Aid off and get it over with. If you’re okay with it.”

A huge grin splits Brendon’s face, and I find myself smiling back.

“I’m done hiding us.”

We both pull our phones out to look for a picture to post. We decide to do our own and as much as I’m nervous for whatever Brendon’s is going to say, I’m excited too. I’ll probably laugh.

I find one that I look a while back of him asleep on my shoulder lying on my bed with his face in my neck. It’s perfect.

I load it up onto Instagram and think about what to say.

I don’t think people should have to “come out” but just be accepted for who they are. You love who you love, gender shouldn’t matter. So this isn’t me coming out, it’s me saying I married my best friend a few weeks ago, and I’m tired of feeling like I have to hide that fact. He’s an amazing man, and I am honored to call him mine.

I tag him and post it to my socials. It’s empowering and scary, but I’m glad it’s done.

Only a minute later, I get a tag from Brendon and I’m smiling before it even loads.

The picture is of us standing next to each other at the costume party, his arm around my shoulders, and I’m looking at him with love in my eyes.

Somehow, I managed to trick this guy into putting up with my shit for the rest of my life. Or his. He’s told me I can’t name the kids by myself, which is probably best for everyone. He keeps me grounded but lets me fly. He’s the Batman to my Robin. The peanut butter to my jelly.

“You’re a dork and I love you.”