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brody

After the preseason, we had a short break before the regular games began. Gabe and I spent most of the time taking it easy, working out in his basement gym, and doing whatever else we wanted to—namely, getting off whenever we felt the urge, which was usually several times a day. To say I was smitten would be a massive understatement. Gabe was far more than a brilliant hockey player with the looks of a Hollywood star; he was also sweet, kind, and considerate. And he was into me, which just made me fall harder.

Gabe was spotting me one afternoon while we did bench presses in his gym. We’d been chatting about the likelihood of an autumn snow when, out of nowhere, he asked, “How do you think it’s going so far?”

Caught off guard, I could barely process his words as I strained against the weight. “What?” I asked. “The Warriors?” Lowering the bar slowly, I added, “Good. Like it here.”

He tapped my shoulder, urging me to do another rep. “Not the team. Us. How do things feel to you?”

It was impossible to focus with 375 pounds hovering above me. “Rack.” My arms trembled as I shifted the bar backward.

Gabe helped guide it into place. Once it was secure, I sat up, grabbed my towel, and wiped the sweat off my face and chest. His eyes were steady, holding a glimmer of hope that made my heart kick. “It’s good,” I said. “I think.”

What the actual fuck? That was hardly a ringing endorsement. Desperate to fix my lukewarm response, I added, “I mean it’s really good. What do you think? Is it going okay for you?”

Fucking shitty hell, I wish the floor would open up and swallow me. Why couldn’t I tell him how I felt? Say something real like, You’re the most incredible person I’ve met in years. I feel so hopeful about us. But the words stuck, tangled up with every fear that was twisted around inside me.

I was still floundering for something better to say when Gabe knelt beside me and took my hand. “I feel better about things than I have in a long time.” He paused, and I could tell he was deciding whether to go on. After a moment, he did. “I don’t know your full life story, but from what you’ve said, you got pretty unhappy before the trade. I’ve heard rumors about what happened in Boston, but it’s only a bunch of gossip to me. I don’t know what’s true, but I do know you’re scared, and I wish I could help.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so afraid.”

His thumb brushed the back of my hand. “No need to apologize. Whatever has you so frightened, please know I won’t push you—not for sex or companionship, and definitely not to go public. You’re amazing, and I think we could have something real, but only if you want it. I’d rather be neighbors who occasionally play Scrabble than push you into something you’re not ready for.”

Despite the mangled knot in my chest, I chuckled. “There’s no question about me wanting sex, and I spend most of my time with you because I want to. You’re…” My voice faltered as I tried to find the right words. “You’re the best, Gabe. I’m so lucky to have you.”

His face softened. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me, but please try to relax. Hear me again: I won’t push you. We don’t need to go public when we’re exploring—or ever, if you don’t want to. No one has to know.”

Gabe’s gentle understanding stirred emotions deep inside me. He didn’t know how the weight of his words awakened every fear and uncertainty I had, but this wasn’t only about him. It was about me finally letting someone in. I chose my words carefully. “If things got serious between us, I wouldn’t want to keep it a secret. I’m afraid, not ashamed.”

He nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on mine. “Okay, but don’t some people already know you’re bi?”

I rolled my neck, trying to ease the tension that had settled there. “A couple of friends know for sure. Many people in the league probably suspect, thanks to last year’s gossip.”

Gabe’s eyes sharpened, and he squeezed my hand. “Rumors are nothing but rumors until someone confirms them. Like I said, I’ve heard things, but I don’t know what happened.”

There it was, an open door, one I’d been too afraid to walk through with anybody but Em. My stomach twisted as I stared at the floor. I don’t have to do this, I reminded myself, but just as quickly, I realized the truth. Gabe and I can never get serious until I let him see me—the real me.

I looked into his eyes, and my voice came out shaky. “What you’ve heard probably doesn’t come close to how bad it really was.”

He remained silent, giving me the space to continue.

“Do you know Wesley Burnham?” I asked.

Gabe nodded. “We’ve met, but except for a few pleasantries, we didn’t talk.”

Time slowed, and I had a crazy urge to run. Acid burned my stomach as I tried to figure out how to start. “Wes and I hit it off when I joined the Beanies. For a while, we were hanging out, and that turned to flirting. After a few months, things became physical. We were never serious, though. He didn’t want that.”

“But you did?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Not in the way I feel about you, but yes, I liked him enough to want more. We sneaked around, spent time together when we could—and when no one else would know. He still screwed women every chance he got, but he told me he wasn’t attracted to them. He said he needed to keep up his cover and protect us. Eventually, I got sick of hiding and told him I’d come out if it meant we could be together in the open.”

Gabe remained quiet. An uptick of his chin confirmed he was listening, and he waited for me to continue.

“It scared Wes to death. He was hysterical, told me I was nothing but a little bit of fun on the side. He said I should get a girlfriend if I wanted a relationship because he’d never be down for that. Then he stormed out, and I thought we were over.”

“The bastard. What happened next?”

My right thigh started twitching, and I tensed the muscles to calm it. We were getting close now. “Are you sure you want to hear? It’s not pretty.”

Gabe’s expression was serious, and after a moment, he squeezed my hand again. “Only if you want to tell me. No obligation.”

I started talking before I could back out. “The flirting started up again after a few weeks. Kip Murphy was Wes’s roommate, and one night after a game, he told Wes he’d be staying overnight at his girlfriend’s place.”

Gabe nodded.

“Wes asked me to go home with him. ‘No funny business,’ he said, then added that he missed me and wanted to be friends. My gut told me to say no, but I still liked him in spite of everything. So, we went to his place. We had a beer and played video games. One thing led to another, and we started making out.” My voice wavered, so I took a deep breath. “More than making out, actually. We were on the couch when the door flew open. Murphy came in and started shouting.”

Gabe grimaced. “Oh fuck.”

“Wes freaked out. He jumped up and started slurring his words, pretending to be drunk. He told Murphy I’d seduced him, that he wasn’t into it at all, and I’d forced him.”

“And Murphy believed that bullshit?”

“Yep. Wes really put on a show, and Kip wanted to believe him. I guess that was easier than facing the truth. Wes told me I was sick, and I’d better get out before he called the police.”

“Oh my God.” Gabe let my hand go and patted the floor beside him. I moved, and when he wrapped an arm around me, I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Do you want to go on?” he asked.

Did I? My mind always degenerated into chaos when I remembered the days that followed, and now was no exception. I was trying to think of a graceful way to say I’d finish the story later when Gabe kissed my cheek and ruffled my hair. Something shifted inside, and I realized I needed to get everything out. I wanted Gabe to know what happened, so I stared at the clock on the wall and started talking.

“I was late to practice the next day. By the time I arrived, Murphy had spread the word, and no one spoke to me. Hank Newsome was my D-partner, but when I said hi, he called me the F-word and walked away.”

“Where was fucking Burnham during all this?”

I shrugged. “He was there. He stayed as far away from me as he could, and except for one wide-eyed glance, he never looked at me. After practice, I went home and tried to decide what to do. I’d been with the team long enough to know the Beanies weren’t exactly open and affirming, but I figured the coach would want me to play. I’d barely made up my mind to call and ask to see him the next morning when someone knocked on the door.”

Gabe must have sensed what was coming, because a shudder ran through him. “It’s okay, babe. You don’t have to?—”

“It was Newsome and Pettit, one of the wingers. Newsome said he’d been thinking about how he’d acted at the rink and asked if we could talk. I should have known better than to let them in. I did, though, and I’d just closed the door when Newsome clocked me. I went down hard. He knocked me senseless, but I remember how they took turns getting down and punching me. Then they kicked me for a while. I couldn’t make a sound—hell, I couldn’t breathe. I must have passed out, because the next thing I knew, they were gone, and I was in a world of pain.”

Gabe moaned and squeezed my shoulders. “Did you go to the ER?”

“No. I’d been in fights before, and we had a game in Toronto the next night, so I sucked it up and took ibuprofen. I found out later that I had a couple of broken ribs, but Newsome and Pettit had been smart. Except for Hank’s first punch, they didn’t hit me in the face. The next day, no one spoke to me. Not when I showed up for the flight to Toronto, not on the plane, not at the warm-up, and not between periods.”

“Holy shit. Tell me you talked to the coach.”

I scoffed. “He wasn’t fucking speaking to me either. I decided to get in touch with the league when we got back home and ask about my options.”

“You did that, right?”

“After the game in Toronto, there was no need.”

Gabe grunted a few times and shifted positions. I could tell he was trying to follow the story, but it would be hard for anyone to hear. Finally, he asked, “How the hell can you say there was no need?”

I’d felt a bit numb when I told the first part of the story, but now I went into an almost trance-like state. In a monotone voice, I told Gabe how the game in Toronto went downhill from the beginning, unsurprising since the D-men backing up the first line weren’t speaking to each other. I’d been one big, throbbing mess, and the coach finally moved Newsome and me to the second line. On the first shift of the second period, I watched from across the ice as Hank barreled into Toronto’s center, knocking the guy flat. When one of Toronto’s defensemen dropped his gloves, I had no choice but to step in. That’s what D-partners do. But what should have been a routine scrap turned into a nightmare when Hank swung wide and punched me in the jaw. The crack of bone almost drowned out the roar of the crowd.

“God almighty.” Gabe’s voice wavered, and when I looked over, his gorgeous face had become a mask of horror.

I continued the story, telling him how Newsome swore he’d been aiming for Toronto’s player and missed. “Everyone knew that was bullshit, and the officials handed him a game misconduct, which only made the Beanies angrier. When we arrived back in Boston the next day, I took another beating. This time it was in the parking garage at the arena, and some of the equipment guys called security. Management went ballistic and put me on the injured reserve because of my jaw. After that, I became a healthy scratch and never played for the Beanies again.”

Gabe pulled me closer and wrapped his other arm around my front while I finished the story. “When they made noises about putting me on waivers, my agent sent me to a lawyer. That spurred everyone into action, and the league stepped in. After months of meetings and threatened lawsuits, the Beanies traded me to Buffalo.”

We sat still, listening to the hum of a fan running on the far side of the room. After a while, Gabe asked, “Management here knows?”

“The whole, sad story,” I said. “They knew when they took me, and they’ve assured me several times that I’m safe. Jarvis says if I continue playing well, there’s no reason I can’t retire from Buffalo.”

Gabe moved his hand in slow, soothing circles on my stomach. “You know you have nothing to fear from the team, right? What happened in Boston would never happen here. Even if we told them about us—and we never have to—they’d be fine with it. If anybody said a word out of turn, Packy or Holky would personally kick their ass to hell.”

I wanted to believe it was true, but if Gabe and I made a go of things, only time would tell.

“I’m so sorry, Brody.”

I broke out of Gabe’s arms so I could turn around and face him. “Me too. But it happened, and I had to live with the consequences. Now, things seem to be getting better. Especially with us. I like you so much, Gabe. Sometimes it scares me, but I don’t care because you make me happy.”

He looked into my eyes and pushed my hair back before leaning in. His tongue flicked the corners of my mouth, and I shivered as he slid a hand to the back of my head and guided me closer. My heart skittered when he covered my lips with his and slipped his tongue inside.

I wrapped my arms around him, desperate to feel the solid strength of his body against mine. Reliving the terrible memories had left me raw, but Gabe’s warmth was already soothing the ache. Bare chest to bare chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, I felt a glimmer of hope for something I hadn’t had in a long time: peace.