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“I hate being flattered for ulterior motives.” He’d been excellent at hockey, but once, he’d overheard a coach saying to his assistant, “I bet that LaCroix kid’s father would chip in for new benches for the locker room, new nets, stuff like that, if his kid’s on our team.

He’s loaded.” That moment had poisoned his confidence in being chosen for his skill, even in hockey, for a long time.

“If I want to kiss you again, is that an ulterior motive?” Rusty asked.

“I think that’s a… what would you call an obvious motive?”

Rusty shifted around and Cross put his right foot up on the couch, letting Rusty fall more naturally between his thighs.

He realized a moment late that Rusty might notice his own dick still hadn’t gotten onboard with things in this position, but then Rusty framed Cross’s face with his hands and dove in, and all rational worries scattered.

His lips were tingling and his chin felt damp by the time Rusty pulled back. Rusty grinned and Cross couldn’t help smiling back.

“Yeah. A-plus. All Star,” Rusty told him.

“I’m not sure you’re the most qualified judge.”

“You want me to bring in someone with a lot more experience?” Rusty raised an eyebrow comically. “Ooh, I bet Scott has all kinds of kissing skills, and he has Will and Casey as examples. We could see what he—”

“Don’t tell him about us!” Cross flushed at his knee-jerk reaction. Rusty’s humor vanished, his expression almost shocked, and Cross wished he could take back the words and say it differently. “I mean, not now. Yet.”

“I would never out you, even to Scott. Although you know he’d be supportive.” Rusty peered into Cross’s face.

“I know. Both of those. But…” Cross wasn’t sure how to explain his immediate recoil at the idea of even good-natured jokes. Scott would tease him about blow jobs and asses and he wasn’t there, not now. Cross swallowed, his stomach turning over nauseatingly.

“What are you so scared of?”

I’m not scared. But he was. That was only the truth.

“I don’t know.” Of being called a freak and weird for being queer and knowing I’m different but not in the way they think.

Of people assuming they know all these intimate things about me that are wrong and trying to pry me open.

He shuddered. “I’m sorry. I know you’re out and brave and all. ”

“I’m not brave. I didn’t get the choice. It hasn’t been the greatest, being out. So I understand.”

No, you don’t. Of course, whose fault is that?

But Cross could take some comfort in knowing Rusty wouldn’t push him, not after being outed himself.

Cross wasn’t ready to think about this anymore.

Tonight had been the oddest kind of emotional rollercoaster.

He wanted to lie here and hold Rusty and not put a name or a definition to anything.

But Rusty pushed up on one arm. “We have to talk about something else. Related. I’m sorry.”

Cross didn’t like the tone of his voice. “What?”

“Tyler the douche. He figured out who you are today. He might try to out you. I’m so, so sorry.”

Cross squeezed his eyes closed, but there was no doubt whose fault that was. “My choice. I didn’t have to play boyfriend the first time. I didn’t have to speak to him tonight. That’s not on you.”

“Why did you?”

Because I care about you. I want to protect you. “Because you deserve to have someone who’s on your side.”

“Not if it hurts you. Not if he starts making your life hard.”

Cross opened his eyes, staring up into Rusty’s intense blue gaze. “Yes, even then. You deserve to come first with someone.” And I want that someone to be me. That was truer than he chose to examine right now.

“Thank you.” Rusty’s tone had gone quiet. For a moment they just looked at each other and breathed. Then Rusty added, “What if he tells some reporter you’re queer, that you’re dating me? What will you do?”

“Well, for one thing, he has no proof, no pictures, no dates or times. There are probably a hundred rumors out there about me. It’s not going to get any traction with no more than ‘This random guy said.’ Heck, Scott says there are fan fics out there where people write him and me as a couple, sleeping together. Doesn’t mean anyone believes it.”

“So you’re not worried? Maybe you and me should keep our distance for a while, so Tyler can’t get pictures or anything.”

That did drain a little of Cross’s mellow contentment. “Does he know where you live?”

“I don’t think so? Even if he sneaked a look at my wallet, my license still says Kansas. We always went to his place.”

Cross made a vow to set Amy on Tyler in a more serious way.

He had passed over the shot glass but only had Amy’s verbal report that the guy had no criminal charges.

Time to dig deeper into Wellington. The thought of Tyler sneaking around, making trouble for Rusty, made Cross more angry than afraid.

It definitely didn’t make him want to get up off Rusty’s couch and run away.

“We’ll worry about him if we have to. I’m not letting a punk like that scare me. ”

“I just don’t want you to regret being with me.”

I would never. Maybe that was optimistic.

The thought of being hounded by the press, teammates, family and friends, asked and teased about gay sex, still made him queasy.

But no, even with that risk hanging over him, he would never regret finding out what his body and heart thought about kissing Rusty.

“Zero regrets.” He tugged lightly on the front of Rusty’s shirt.

Rusty lay down on Cross again, carefully and slowly, pinning him into the cheap couch with his weight and tucking his head beside Cross’s cheek.

Cross ran his hand up and down Rusty’s spine, rubbing, stroking, soaking in the fact that he had the right to be here doing this with this man.

Rusty sighed and relaxed over him. Time drifted.

Eventually, Cross had to say, “I need to get going.”

“You could spend the night. Although my bed isn’t that big.” Rusty hesitated. “And just to sleep. I’m not suggesting anything.”

“I can’t anyway. I have practice at eight, and I’m not getting up at four a.m. to make sure I don’t arrive late.”

“Makes sense. That drive sucks.” Rusty peeled himself off Cross and stood.

Cross took the hand Rusty held down to him, glad of his strong grip when he staggered on numb feet. Stomping a couple of times got the pins-and-needles under control.

“Sorry,” Rusty told him. “This couch is pretty beat up.”

“It’s not that bad. I’m kind of fond of it now.”

Rusty’s smile was Cross’s reward for those words. “Me too, all of a sudden. Hey, you want some coffee for the road?”

“Might be smart.” Even with the reduced traffic at midnight, Cross was going to be short of sleep tomorrow, and he needed to get home in one piece.

“Coming up.” Rusty padded toward the coffee maker, and Cross followed.

He felt like he should be watching that round hockey ass in Rusty’s cheap suit pants, but instead he was noting the overhead fixture creating silver-white highlights in Rusty’s blond hair, and savoring the sound of Rusty’s voice.

The deep contentment he’d found didn’t vanish as they moved around each other in the kitchen.

Cross closed his eyes and took a long, satisfied breath.