Page 15 of Find Me Again (KRK Security #3)

"—and then they told me they appreciated me contacting them and that they'd talk it over and get back to me." Neil stared ahead at the forest below them as he spoke, since it was all easier to say without looking at Ryan. "Less than two hours later they called again, and suddenly I'm on the conference call with my agent, the head of PR, the general manager, and the team's president."

"Damn."

"Yeah. With no warning, too, but I'm the one who dropped this bomb on them, so I can't really complain. They certainly weren't expecting it. There were several questions whether I'm sure I want to do this and suggestions they can take care of the blackmail situation, but… I don't know." Neil went to run a hand through his hair, but forgot he had a hat on, so he ended up rubbing his forehead. "They didn't hate the idea."

"That's good, right?" Ryan asked.

"It's great."

"You don't sound like you really believe that."

"It's… complicated."

This time it was Ryan who turned towards the forest, and Neil found himself saying what he was trying really hard not to even think about since that video call ended.

"I'm scared. I'm scared shitless, because what if they're only saying that, what if they're bluffing? They can't be liking this. If they were, they'd have encouraged us—me," he corrected quickly, because anything else wasn't his story to tell, "to come out earlier, and they never had. What if they're only saying that, and then I'm suddenly not fit to play after all, my healed injury needs more time and attention, and the reps ask me if I haven't thought about retirement?"

Ryan met his gaze head-on, his eyes clear like the sky at his back.

Fuck , he was beautiful.

"And what if it's the opposite?" he asked, voice steady and not at all like Neil's nervous babble. "What if they're not elated but still honest about supporting you through this?"

Swallowing hard, Neil dug his fingers into the unforgiving metal of the edge of the truck's bed, too cold for comfort even through his gloves.

What if ?

"Then I'm left with figuring out how to come out to the public, which means opening myself to millions of people with their opinions, and their bigotry, and—" He paused. "They're going to boo me at the arenas. They're going to harass me and probably my other teammates, and instead of it being about the winning or losing, it's going to be about how a fag should never be allowed to play the game."

He almost spat the words at the end, and Ryan crossed his arms against his chest.

"Hey, now," he said, half-consoling, half-warning, as if he couldn't decide which way to go.

Neil didn't blame him. He didn't know, either.

"Listen," Ryan went on, "I may not be a hockey fan, but I know this much—they don't matter as much as you think they do. Sure, they're nice to have. You play, you give them a show, and they answer with applause and appreciation. But they don't control your life unless you let them." He paused briefly. "You've given your all to the game, time and time again, and from what I heard, you've been pretty good at this hockey thing for many years now. Some people may make it less fun for you to play it for a while, but you've survived worse."

Had he, though? Had he survive worse? Apart from staying in the closet and all that had cost him, Neil's life had been pretty good—certainly far from a disaster this whole thing could turn it into now.

"Besides," Ryan continued when Neil stayed silent, "if you want to focus on the fans, why not think about those who are queer themselves? Wouldn't they be happy about this?"

"There's not a lot of crossover between the two groups," Neil told him, but Ryan wasn't having it.

"Yeah? And how much of a crossover would be enough? How would you have felt, as a kid, knowing there were players like you out there at the top?"

It wasn't an argument Neil had never thought of before, and yet, for some reason—maybe because of his hometown, this place specifically, or the guy next to him—it hit him differently today.

It hit right where it was aimed at.

Closing his eyes, Neil took a few deep breaths before he opened them again and crossed his arms against his chest, tucking his hands under his arms as he stared ahead.

"I'm scared," he said once again, in a whisper this time. He sounded exhausted, and he felt like it, too.

"Of course you're scared." Ryan's voice was softer now. "You'd be stupid not to be scared. But fear has never stopped you before—not when you were trying for the team your freshman year, not before your first game, not… You get the idea."

Neil snorted humorlessly as he met Ryan's gaze.

"We both know it stopped me at least once," he said, forcing himself not to look away.

He was rewarded with seeing Ryan's eyes widen, but then they dimmed.

"Yeah, well."

And it was the first time ever that he'd seen Ryan dismissing what they had, pushing it aside. Back then, he would never do that and would never let Neil do it, either.

Not that Neil had tried to, at least until the very end. They'd both always made sure they could fit them around everything else, the school, hockey, other friends.

It felt wrong to hear Ryan like this now, an echo of that defeated tone Neil had heard only once before, when Ryan had realized what Neil picking Chicago had meant.

"You know I loved you, right?" Neil asked now, the words falling out of his mouth in a desperate rush, because he needed Ryan to know, needed him to understand that it had never been lack of love that had led him to make that decision back then.

Ryan quickly turned his face away.

"I know," he whispered. "I had my doubts at various points over the years, but—I know. I do."

"Good." Neil's voice was gritty, raspy, and he felt hopeless in the face of it all, once again. How could he explain that while he hadn't regretted leaving, it was still a heartbreaking choice to make? "It's the truth."

Ryan nodded but didn't say anything, and it didn't feel like enough.

Neil got up and rounded on him then, brazenly taking Ryan's face in his hands and slotting between his legs like he'd used to. He held his breath as he did so, half-expecting to be pushed away. Ryan only looked at him, though, his eyes bright and clear—not crying, and yet broken open in a way Neil hadn't realized that he'd missed, but he had.

He had .

Never, not once in the twelve years they'd been apart, had Neil experienced a connection like this with anyone else, never felt the trust ingrained in it to its very core. To be allowed to see someone like that was both scary and beautiful beyond measure.

Ryan had always been beautiful to him, but never more so than in moments like this, even if Neil had never voiced that.

Hell , he'd barely acknowledged it before.

And yet, he felt like a man starving, now. The forgotten hunger reared its head and almost knocked him off his feet.

"Can I—" Neil whispered, glancing from Ryan's eyes to his mouth and back. "Do you want this? I do."

"Yeah," Ryan breathed out almost soundlessly in the small space between them, but it was all Neil needed to lean forward and brush his lips against Ryan's.

It could never have been simply a kiss, even with chapped lips and all the winter clothes getting in the way. And yet, Neil hadn't been prepared for any of this—the want that rushed through him at the first touch of skin to skin, the sound that escaped Ryan's lips, or the weight of Ryan's hands on his sides making Neil weak like a kid who'd never done this before.

He'd forgotten how it could be between them. He'd figured part of it must have been the teenage hormones, the way they'd wanted it so badly and anything could get them going. But at thirty years old, the chemistry was still off the charts and the desire headier than ever.

"Jesus," he muttered against Ryan's lips when they paused to take a breath.

Tightening his grip on Neil's sides, Ryan tried to pull him even closer, but there were way too many layers between them. As Neil nosed at Ryan's neck and inhaled the warm scent of cardamom and something earthy underneath, he wanted to taste the skin there, run his mouth along the edge of the scarf, but he was also content to simply stay like this and breathe.

At least until Ryan didn't press a kiss right under Neil's ear, adding a hint of teeth that felt more like a promise, a tease, than a bite.

It was like a match that caught fire.

Neil tilted his head and pressed their lips together again, licking inside a moment later and letting it overwhelm him.

He didn't need air. He didn't need anything but this, right here.

Ryan was the one who finally pulled back and chuckled warmly when Neil tried to follow.

"Let's get into the car. Backseat, come on," he whispered, breathing fast and blushing. His lips were red and full, and Neil was already picturing taking them between his teeth.

Then the words registered. Backseat . Yes .

He stepped away only to grab Ryan's arm and pull him with him. They scrambled inside, Ryan first and Neil fast following, and soon he was tugging off his outer clothes and then helping Ryan to get rid of his. When the hats, scarfs, and jackets were discarded, and, even more importantly, so were the gloves, Neil straddled Ryan and pressed close, as close as he could, tangling his arms around Ryan's neck and kissing him again, already missing the taste.

Being well over six foot tall, Neil wasn't used to sitting in anyone's lap, but there was something heady about it, about towering over Ryan while also being kept like this, like he weighted nothing. Like he wasn't more than Ryan could handle—on the contrary, even. Ryan seemed to be giving him a free reign, signaling come on, have at it with enthusiasm and maybe even some of the same hunger Neil was feeling, too.

They kissed as if it was the last time they'd ever be allowed this pleasure. Neil wanted to hear all the sounds coming out of Ryan's mouth forever, he wanted them on a loop anytime he was jacking off. They both whispered things like yes , and god , and fuck , but it was mostly sighs, and groans, and a loud moan he hadn't held back when Ryan gnawed at the shell of his ear, sending shivers down every part of his body.

Neil hit his head on the roof twice before deciding they should move, but he promised himself that when— if —they would get themselves into a bed, he would insist on revisiting this position. For now, they detangled themselves enough to have Neil half-lying, half-sitting sideways on the seats and Ryan hovering above him, pressing his groin against Neil's and rubbing—

"Fuck." Neil clasped his hand hard on Ryan's shoulder. "I'm not gonna last if you keep doing that."

"That's the idea," Ryan told him, lips brushing against his neck, but he pulled back enough to unfasten his jeans, then Neil's.

The moment he ran the back of his fingers along Neil's erection, Neil was arching from his seat, seeking contact.

"Please, just, anything," he panted as he grasped the back of Ryan's neck.

Ryan seemed equally impatient, because he shifted and pressed their naked cocks together before taking them both in hand. He couldn't get a good grip around—another sign that they'd grown since the last time they'd done this—but they were both too desperate to care. They pressed, and pushed, and fell into a rhythm that brought Neil over the edge in no time.

Breathless, he grabbed Ryan's chin to pull him into a kiss right when he came as well, spilling in the small space between them and moaning into Neil's mouth.

Yes. This .

Perfect .