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“Except Cross and me are both players.”

“Ah. Sure. That could be a complication.” Will paused. “Do you want one of us to come out there, to stand beside you? Or all three of us, if you like. Casey does a good death-stare.”

“No.” The offer helped, though. “We have all kinds of people. Cross’s agent and whoever.”

“We’re your family, though.”

Okay, that was a welcome reminder. More family. Rusty rubbed his eyes and sniffed. “Dammit, Will. Yeah. But we’re okay, I promise.”

“Can’t swear Scott won’t fly out regardless, the moment he hears. Unless you want me to sit on him, if he’d make things worse?”

“No. He and Cross can work that out.”

“How are you and Cross doing, between the two of you? Are you on the same page?”

“Yeah.” Rusty smiled through the lingering prickle of tears. “When it’s just us, we’re great.”

“Will you have to do a press conference or something?” Will sighed. “We did those. Wasn’t fun.”

“Later today.”

“Good luck. Let me know if you want me to watch it. And I mean it, kid. You need someone at your side? You call me. Scotty’s NHL dollars are good for something. I can catch a plane.”

“Thanks. I mean that.”

“Remember, it’s not all bad. That first time you have the impulse to kiss your man in public and you start to hold back, and then realize, ‘I don’t have to anymore. I can kiss the hell out of him right here and now.’ That’s one sweet moment.”

“Thanks, Will.”

“Anytime.”

Rusty hurried through a basic shower, getting clean as fast as he could. Then he brushed his teeth, pulled on sweats, and jogged to the kitchen. Cross was making coffee with the high-tech machine, wearing pressed tan slacks and a tailored navy sport coat, his hair damp but styled.

Rusty blinked. “Is there a reason you’re dressed like a car salesman?”

Cross barked a laugh and turned. “My father likes us to be well-dressed in public. I’m pandering to him a bit, without going as far as a suit. And any car salesman who wears Tom Ford to work is selling Lamborghinis.”

“I wouldn’t know. I wear more like Henry Ford.”

Cross held out a coffee cup. “Your morning rocket fuel.”

“Thanks.” He took the mug and sipped, letting the caffeine hit his bloodstream.

He’d slept better than he expected, but Cross had woken twice with bad dreams he needed hugging out of, and Rusty thought he was still in adrenaline debt from yesterday.

The smooth brew went a long way to helping. “I could marry that coffeemaker.”

“Not if I ask you first.” Cross went a bit wide-eyed at his own words.

Rusty went to him and delivered a coffee-flavored kiss. “Hold that thought a year or two. We’ve got enough on our plates right now.”

Cross kissed him back. “Smart man.”

“How did the Rafters take your call?” Are you okay with your team?

“Pretty well. They’ll send a media person to our press conference to assure everyone of the team’s support. They said they’d touch base with the Gryphons too.”

“That’s good.” It gave him an excuse not to make that call. A little of the tension in his chest eased and he sipped more coffee.

“Yeah. And Sam scheduled the conference in the hotel at eleven, after we’re done with my parents. Amy’s coordinating. Shall I call a driver to get us to the hotel, or do you want to do it?”

“Hey, if you don’t need your foot up anymore, can I drive the Porsche?” Rusty joked. The Cabriolet was a sweet, sweet convertible. Rusty had considered looking up what it was worth once and decided he’d rather not know.

Cross glanced out the window at the heavy gray sky. “Kind of a waste to drive her with the top up, but sure.”

“Sure? Really? What if I damage it?”

“Mon chou, you drive fast but very well. Maybe better than I do. And in any case, the car’s replaceable. I’ll be much more unhappy if you damage yourself.”

Rusty wasn’t sure what to do with that. Maybe another kiss. “Do you want to take the Porsche?”

“Yeah, I do. I haven’t ridden in one of my fun cars in months.”

“Okay then.” Rusty felt a grin stretch his lips and saw Cross grin in return.

“Okay.”

They had enough time before they had to leave to grab a snack of yogurt and granola and sit at the kitchen table, talking about everything except coming out and parents and kidnappings and…

yeah, they talked about cars, mostly. But it was comfortable, a lull before the storm.

Maybe an echo of times to come, sitting here having breakfast and shooting the shit, like any other couple.

Until it was time to face the music.

The drive to the hotel was fun, at least. Rusty kept his touch on the gas light and his following distances large, but the car was responsive and purred softly with the power under the hood.

Cross smiled too, despite the mist dampening the windshield and the leaden clouds overhead.

But once they arrived, Cross’s smile faded.

He directed Rusty up to the main doors under the arched entry roof, and had him hand the key off to valet parking.

Cross was using a cane with his boot, and although he leaned on it heavily and crutches might’ve been smart, Rusty understood he didn’t want to seem weak in front of his dad.

He realized he could offer his arm, because they had nothing left to hide.

“Hey, one benefit of Tyler’s big mouth.” He crooked his elbow at Cross.

Cross hesitated, then actually laughed. “You’re right. And side benefit, it’ll piss off Dad.” He slipped his hand through Rusty’s arm.

The guest card they picked up at the counter gave them access to the twenty-sixth floor.

In the silent elevator, Rusty glowered at his reflection and tugged his jacket straight.

Cross had refused to dictate Rusty’s clothes at all, but he’d gone with a game-day suit.

One less thing for LaCroix to sneer at, although probably off-the-rack didn’t count as a suit in his books.

And if they were talking to the press, Rusty wanted to look professional.

Cross knocked on the door of 2702, and it immediately swung open.

“RJ!” The woman who launched herself at Cross was clearly his mother.

Rusty had seen her in a few photos around the house, but he hadn’t realized how small she was.

Cross caught her easily, dropping his cane to do so.

Rusty caught the cane with one hand before it hit the floor and set his other palm on Cross’s back to steady him.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” She hugged Cross, then stepped back. “Oh dear, I forgot about your foot. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Forgot? Rusty reminded himself she wasn’t living in their house with the clomp of boot on floor a constant reminder.

Maybe Cross hadn’t even told her how bad the injury was, how little chance he had to get back on the ice in a Rafters uniform.

Perhaps she thought it was like all the other bangs and scars of Cross’s career.

“Come on in.” She retreated into the open, airy suite behind her. “And you must be Rusty. Can I call you Rusty?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s my name.” Rusty handed Cross his cane and followed him in. The door shut with the faintest click behind them.

“Call me Elise, please. Come in, sit down. We’ll have them send up breakfast right away.” Elise turned toward the windows. “Look, Pierre. RJ and his boyfriend are here.”

“I had noticed.” LaCroix sat in an armchair with a wall of windows behind him. The backlight made his expression hard to see. “How are you, RJ? Recovered from yesterday’s experiences?”

“I’m fine.” Cross’s glance at Rusty suggested he wanted something. When Rusty moved closer, he tucked his hand back in Rusty’s elbow.

LaCroix’s eyebrow quirked. “Amy informed me she’s coordinating security for a press event for you this morning. She would not explain why, no matter how I insisted, told me to ask you. It was most insubordinate of her.”

“It’s not her fault,” Rusty had to say. “You can’t fire her or anything.”

Elise laughed. “Pierre would never fire Amy. He’d sooner cut off his right hand. But it’s kind of you to be concerned.”

Rusty felt his face heat. Of course not. He had no clue what he was doing here.

“I’ll call down for breakfast.” Elise tapped the smartwatch on her wrist. “I didn’t know what you boys like to eat these days, so I got a bit of everything.”

“With eggs Benedict?” Cross asked.

“Of course, cheri, I haven’t forgotten that much.”

LaCroix cleared his throat. “So, RJ, are you going to tell me what the press conference is about? I suppose it’s too much to hope you’re being sensible and retiring before you do yourself permanent damage.”

Rusty squeezed Cross’s hand against his ribs with his elbow, hoping that felt like support. Because fuck that dude.

Cross said, “No, actually. I’m coming out as bisexual and in a relationship with Rusty.”

LaCroix leaned forward, his attention fixed on Cross. “Is that really a good idea? You know you’re painting a target on that young man’s back. Are you prepared to offer him protection for the rest of his life, even after you split up?”

“We’re not splitting up,” Rusty burst out.

“No, of course you wouldn’t think so.” LaCroix pushed to his feet, standing several inches taller than Cross. Rusty like the fact that he topped LaCroix by about the same number of inches.

Cross said, “We’re not splitting up. And if, in some year to come, we did? Yes, I would keep Rusty safe, whatever that looked like.”

“Except we’re not.” Rusty tried to stare that certainty into Cross’s eyes.

At least that made Cross smile. “No, mon chou. We’re not.”

“So it’s a mute point.”

“Moot.” LaCroix shot the cuffs of his snowy white shirt.

Cross growled, “Dad,” in a warning tone.

LaCroix shrugged. “It’s hard to keep you safe, RJ, when you insist on putting yourself at risk. I understand this young man is partially responsible for the attempted kidnapping.”

“Huh? No, he’s not.”

“Well, I did date Tyler,” Rusty noted, his temper simmering. “But we could also say your dad’s responsible because he doesn’t give away enough of his money.”

“What?” LaCroix stared at him.