Page 13 of Find Me Again (KRK Security #3)

Hearing Ryan describe his work environment was like hearing something out of a fairytale. Neil had absolutely zero chance for something even remotely similar and the gnawing in his stomach only grew bigger.

"Hey, don't overthink it," Ryan said, prompting Neil to meet his gaze. "I get that you're not going to have that, and that's not your goal. I was trying to share my story, but maybe I focused too much on the good parts. If you want to hear more about the struggles of a closeted gay soldier, I can talk about that, too."

He was almost flippant about it, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity in his words. Yeah, he might have it good now, but he hadn't always. And Neil pretending as if he was the only one who struggled was honestly stupid.

"No, don't worry about it," he told Ryan. "I'm happy for you, I really am. It seems like you found your tribe twice, one on-line and one off. That's cool."

That earned him a big grin.

"I haven't thought about the similarities, but you're right. I've been lucky like that. I'm serious about knowing a thing or two about the darker side of things, too, though. Since most of my friends are former military, we all have shitty stories from our past, so I'm not trying to sugar-coat it for you. Some people are going to be the absolute worst and throw some horrid shit your way, stuff you have never heard before, even after losing a big game. But that's the assholes out there, and you have little control over that. I'd focus on what's closer—your team, both the players and the management. How do you think they're going to react? Do any of them know?"

"Well, it's in the Vault," Neil said with a grimace, then caught Ryan's frown and quickly explained. "The Vault is where any scandal that a player may cause goes. After signing anyone up, the team's PR people sit him down and ask whether or not he has any shit that needs to be handled or monitored, because they want to be ready—it can be anything from drug or gambling problems, ex-wives or girlfriends, to, well, ex-boyfriends, I guess." He drank the rest of the tea. "It's like 'tell us now, and it's fine, but don't let us find out later' kind of a situation. Then, every once in a while, they ask if there's anything they need to be made aware of, but mostly they expect us to fess up by ourselves."

Ryan stared at him for so long that Neil had to stop himself from squirming in place.

"What?" he finally asked.

"I don't know if that's the safest strategy or the most dangerous one."

Neil snorted. "It can be both, I guess."

"And you— And people really tell them stuff? Without worrying that they'd cut you from the team or bench you or whatever?"

"Well, it is by no means a perfect system. But from what I've seen, it truly is much better when the team already knows than when something blows up and they had no idea."

"So that's why you told them?"

"That, and the fact that I had no intention of coming out which, frankly put, worked in my favor. If they wanted to keep all the gay or bi guys out of the league, they would have to cut too many players out from their prospects and they know it. Since I planned to stay in the closet until I retire, I was a relatively safe bet, because they knew I'd be careful about my private life for my own good as well."

Neil glanced towards the windows and saw it was snowing again and getting dark already.

"Mostly, though," he went on, "it was that 'better safe than sorry' strategy. I knew there was no way somebody from the team wouldn't find out about me sooner or later. Even if I wanted to remain completely celibate—which I didn't—there was a possibility of me sharing too much while drunk or sleep-deprived. In the end, the management keeps a close eye on us. They know things about us that the other players don't." He shrugged. "All I had to do was prove myself on the ice, day after day, so they'd want to keep me around, closet or not."

Ryan looked only slightly less perplexed than before, but finally he downed the rest of his tea and met Neil's gaze.

"Okay, so if I understand correctly, your parents know and are fine with it, your team knows and is civil about it—at least the higher-ups, the ones making decisions. So, what are you most afraid of?"

"Not being able to play anymore."

The answer had been right there all along, at the tip of his tongue, and he did nothing to stop it. What would be the point, after all?

"Figured," Ryan said with a nod. "So, your main problem is how to keep the bosses happy enough so they let you keep playing."

"Yeah. But once I come out, it's not only me and my behavior or performance. It's also the media frenzy and fans' outrage, because if it's too bad, benching me would be the easiest solution."

"Or they could capitalize on you," Ryan countered. "Listen, I hate how it sounds, but if they can maneuver you into this position, you can exploit it as well. How long do you have left on your current contract?"

"Three years."

It was the only aspect of this whole thing that allowed him to have any sanity left. He was at least going to stay employed for three more years. Hopefully. The team could take him off the ice, or move him somewhere out of sight, out of mind, but it would be an expensive hassle for them, so they might not want to do that, as long as he kept performing well.

"That's good." Ryan tangled his fingers in front of him at the table, and Neil focused on them for whatever reason. "If you want, you can offer them full cooperation in regard to the media fallout as long as they back you up. They can be the ones driving the story and milking it for what it's worth. There are fans who are going to be delighted, and the news outlets that would want a scoop. Hell, I'm sure there are even sponsorship deals to be had out of it. Like it or not, the first NHL player coming out at the height of his career will go down in history—and your team can either be on the right side of it or the wrong one."

"They'd prefer their history to be a record-breaking Stanley Cup win streak." Neil grimaced. "Professional hockey isn't exactly a civil rights movement."

"Haven't noticed," Ryan told him dryly. "And sure, maybe your bosses would prefer for the world to look different and for them to have an easier job. Tough luck. You haven't chosen this, but you're here and this is going to happen, so there's no longer a path for them to sit back and do nothing."

They could probably find one, but it would only prolong the inevitable, as far as Neil was concerned. And Ryan was giving him a clear strategy here—one that Neil had thought of on his own, too, but it had been murky and self-recriminatory. He'd thought the only way out was to be apologetic about this, hat in hand and all that jazz. But if he presented it as a partnership, then…

Well, they could still laugh him off, sure. But maybe they wouldn't.

And if there was one thing he understood about the management, it was that they really liked it when someone offered them a solution to a problem. So if he came to them with a plan, with an idea of doing this with them, not to them, it might actually work.

They could all—including him—prefer to be anywhere than in this situation, and there could be some kicking and screaming along the way, but it might work.

"You're right," he finally said, realizing he'd been silent for a long time. "It's a good strategy to try, at least."

Ryan nodded with a crooked smile. "Pretty good, if I do say so myself."

"Are you sure you're in private security and not in the fixing business?"

"I'm sure." Ryan's smile twisted into a smirk. "But you hear a lot of things when you're protecting someone high enough in the chain of command. I've been to many meetings where people forgot I was there, because they're so used to the security in the background that I could as well be invisible."

"I imagine you can't indulge my curiosity now?"

"No, the NDAs are longer than my arm. Still, I can use the framework of what I learn, like in this case."

"I appreciate it."

"That's what I'm here for," Ryan said softly, and right when Neil's heartbeat sped up and his gaze wandered dangerously towards Ryan's mouth, Ryan sat up and lost his smile. "Speaking of, I should probably go."

He gestured towards the door, and Neil wanted to protest, to keep Ryan here for longer, but he knew better. He was already feeling things he had no business feeling again and it was just going to get worse if he didn't put a stop to this—whatever it was.

He'd apologized, he'd asked Ryan for help, and Ryan had offered sound advice, even though they'd started on a bad foot earlier.

Neil probably shouldn't push his luck any further.

"Oh, okay." He sat up, looking around as if anything in the kitchen would help him. "I can drive you back—"

"No way, it's not even a ten-minute walk. And it will do me some good, since I'll probably be fed again as soon as I step into my parents' house." Ryan paused and glanced down at Ken, who sat up, probably sensing something was going on. "But hey, let's exchange numbers. I'm in town until New Year's, so if you need to talk or something, let me know."

"Really?" Neil tried not to sound too hopeful, but he probably ruined it by pulling his phone way too fast to be casual.

Ryan, for his part, only smiled when he took it.

"Sure, yeah. Besides, I wouldn't mind finding out how it goes. With the—the coming out and all."

As Ryan tripped over the words, he lowered his head, focusing on the phone, but Neil could still see how red his ears got in a span of a few seconds.

Now it was his turn to smile.

At least he wasn't the only one embarrassing himself here.

Good .