Page 21

CHAPTER 21

JETT

The rush of game-time adrenaline was like nothing else. Except maybe post-win adrenaline.

Yep, the Bears won again, and tonight, I’d been part of the action. No goals, but I had three assists and had played some good defense. Best of all, my knee hadn’t bothered me at all. I’d ice once I got home.

But first, we had a two-hour bus ride back to campus.

I slipped into a seat and slid toward the window, ignoring the curious looks from the guys in the rows behind me.

Ty flopped next to me, stretched his long legs into the aisle, and glanced around. “What are you staring at, Pritchard?”

Pritchard shook his head. “Uh…nothin’.”

Ty and I shrugged and settled in as the bus chugged along on I-90, dissecting the finer points of the game and generally shooting the shit. I hadn’t checked my cell yet, but I wasn’t going to with Ty nearby. The guy didn’t understand personal boundaries.

Neither did Langley.

He turned from the seat in front of us. “Uh…Erickson, you might want to check your socials.”

Ty and I exchanged glances. He pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolled, and…froze. “Oh, shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

He handed the cell over. “Fuck, Jettster.”

The kiss cam revelation no one expected! Jett’s dating a man?

The comment jumped out—one of many attached to a blurry photo of Malcolm and me.

If I hadn’t been sitting, I would have passed out.

I couldn’t breathe.

At all.

Dramatic, right? Judge away. I was struck with a sudden fear that I’d lost everything I’d just won. Gone in a click with thousands of likes and even more comments of the “Is Jett Erickson really gay?” variety. And by the subdued twitter permeating the bus, everyone knew it.

I returned Ty’s cell to him and dug mine from my pocket.

Hi, I need to talk to you, but I’m on the bus. I’ll call you when I’m home. We won, btw.

Malcolm responded immediately. Congratulations.

That wasn’t like Malcolm…at all. But he was still typing. Three dancing dots appeared and disappeared for what felt like ten minutes. Between the buzz on the bus and my suddenly upset stomach, I couldn’t take the suspense.

You saw the picture .

I did and I’m very sorry. I’ll fix this for you. Please don’t worry , Malcolm replied.

Huh? I was confused.

There’s no reason for you to be sorry. Or to fix anything. I’m coming over.

No. Don’t. Tomorrow is better. Please trust me. It’s going to be okay.

I had no idea what to make of that, and sitting on a bus in the dark while watching my cell light up like a fucking Christmas tree with messages from friends who wanted to know what was up was unnerving. I ignored those texts and flipped to the more ominous ones.

Randall: Did you come out without telling me? What the fuck. Call me. Now. I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing. Call.

Dad: Call me.

Fuck. Me.

Coach had to have heard the whispers and noticed that the mood on the bus was off, but he didn’t say anything. He was either oblivious or tired after a long day. A “Good game. See you at practice,” was all we got.

“What now?” Ty asked.

“I don’t know.” And I didn’t. Talk about being blindsided.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing. I just…nothing. Thanks, though.”

“We all knew he had a crush on you,” Langley added. “But it looks like he took it too far.”

I had no idea what the fuck that meant. I shook him off and headed straight for Malcolm’s.

The building door was locked for the night, and there was no way to get inside without a key. He could have buzzed me in, but he’d gone radio silent. That wasn’t good, but it was late. Too late to call my dad or my agent… Thank fuck.

I had no choice but to wait till morning.

Doom-scrolling wasn’t good for anyone. How much “people are terrible, the world is fucked, and your career hasn’t started and it’s already finished” can one person handle? Apparently, a whole damn night’s worth. I didn’t sleep at all. By sunrise, I was a bleary-eyed, over-caffeinated mess.

I needed direction, a plan, and I really needed to talk to Malcolm.

Unfortunately, my dad called first.

“Randall called last night and said you’ve been caught in a compromising position…with a man. Please tell me that’s not true.” No hello, how are you?

“It’s not true.”

Dad breathed a sigh of relief. “I didn’t think so. You’re too smart for that. Call Randall and tell him?—”

“It was a kiss. Not a compromising position,” I clarified.

Silence.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

My father hissed. “This is going to look bad for you. Do you understand that? I told you not to advertise your sexual exploits. This happened because you don’t listen and gee…you never listen.”

I worked my jaw, my nostrils flaring with anger and frustration. If I didn’t hang up now, it wouldn’t go well for either of us. “I have to go.”

“Call Randall.”

I ended the call and texted Malcolm, Are you awake? Can I come over? It’s important.

Nothing.

I showered, shaved, and dressed, and was halfway to the door when my phone buzzed again with two new messages. Coach wanted me to stop into his office ASAP, and Randall was now speaking in all caps.

CALL ME NOW, ERICKSON. NOW!

I sent a thumbs-up emoji to Coach and told him I’d be there in ten minutes, then decided to bite the bullet and deal with Randall.

“Finally! Christ almighty, Erickson. What hair I have left is now gray. Thanks a fucking lot.”

“Sorry, I?—”

“Don’t speak. I’ve got two minutes to brainstorm, and it’s easy. You either come out, and that’s cool. Syracuse is a great organization, they’ll be fine with it. However, I’m not sure the AHL will be as welcoming. I could be wrong, but I think you’re fucked,” he commented matter-of-factly. “Other option and the better one…deny it. Hey, it’s a blurry pic, it wasn’t you, or it’s a girl with short hair or whatever.”

“Deny it?” I scoffed. “It’s obviously me and?—”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he growled. “My job isn’t to judge you. I really don’t care if you’re gay, bi, straight, pan, or whatever. My job is to help you get a fucking job. I can’t help you if you’re going to sabotage yourself. My God, Jett, this is hockey. You know what you’re up against. You know how hard it is to get a seat at the table in the pros. Don’t fuck this up.”

The line was dead before I could reply.

I slumped forward, leaning my elbows on my knees, head in hands. Tears welled. I blinked them away furiously, pissed at myself for even thinking I had a right to them.

But I felt raw. And very fucking alone.

I tried Malcolm again, and this time, he answered and I could have cried. Seriously. That was how strung out I felt.

“You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice,” I said, pulling on a jacket. I wanted to curl up on the sofa, but I couldn’t keep Coach waiting. “Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine…yes. And after a grueling morning, I’m at my abode.”

I smiled. An actual smile on a shit-tastic gray day. “Cool. Look, I have to stop at the rink to see Coach. I’ll come by afterward.”

He agreed—or, no…he acquiesced to meet with me. The fancy speech wasn’t a great sign, but I had to deal with Coach first.

* * *

Coach Beekman was imposing on and off the ice. He didn’t suffer fools or put up with bullshit, and he had the world’s best poker face. After ten minutes of blathering on about hidden cameras being a violation of privacy, I clued in that he wasn’t really listening. So I shut up and let him take over.

He sized me up for a long moment. I swore I heard birds chirping outside his window and melting snow dripping from the rooftop.

“Your scientist fixed it. The picture has been taken down and the Smithton news boy should be posting his apology within the hour. Case closed. Enjoy your day off, Erickson.”

My mouth was open. Not a great look, but I wasn’t tracking.

“Uh…what?”

Coach snorted. “You need me to spell it out? Okay. Mr. Maloney has a crush on you, kid. It happens. He confessed that he’d rashly instigated a one-sided kiss that unfortunately went viral on campus. It should have stayed private, but it didn’t, and it took some balls for him to admit that he’d put you in a bad position. He’s a TA here, so this might be a tough one for him, but—hey! Erickson, where’re you goin’?”

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

I ran through the quad and into town on streets marred with dirty snow piled at the curbs. Passersby did double takes at the wild man cutting across traffic. A few even called my name. I ignored them and raced up Malcolm’s street, panting as I slipped into his building behind a resident and took the stairs two at a time.

“Malcolm!”

He opened the door, giving me a curious once-over. “Did you run here?”

I licked my lips, my chest heaving. I nodded…or I thought I did. I was too busy drinking in the sight of Malcolm in his pressed khakis and a light blue V-neck sweater. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d assume he was freshly showered and ready to start the day. But his eyes were red, and lines of worry etched his brow.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He shrugged off my apology. “Don’t be silly. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Actually, it was.” I stepped around him and into his plant-filled apartment. “Is Layla here?”

“No, she’s at class. I have to go soon too.” He lowered his gaze, wringing his hands nervously. “I’m not well-versed in the art of letting go. Please excuse my inadequate speech. I want to thank you first and foremost for being so…so kind. I didn’t expect to like you so much or to think of you as a friend, let alone dream you’d become more. You’ve been the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, and I’ll cherish these days for the rest of my life. I hope you?—”

“Stop.” I sucked in a breath and released it, now that I finally had the lung capacity to do so. “Are we breaking up?”

“We’re not technically boyfriends, but…yes. We can’t be together, Jett,” Malcolm said miserably. “We can’t be friends either, and I’m sorry for that. An association with me is detrimental to your well-being and your career.”

“And that’s why you sacrificed yours? Was that for me?”

“I…”

“Why did you do it?” I pressed furiously.

He blinked as if confused by my reaction. “You have a contract. You’re a star. Everyone knows you’re special and the ones who don’t yet…well, they have something to look forward to.”

“Jesus, Malcolm.” I raked a hand through my hair and paced to the window. “My coach said you ‘fixed’ this. He said you have a crush on me and that someone’s lucky camera caught you acting on that and that I was a victim and?—”

“And everyone will believe it.”

“But it’s not the whole story. I kissed you.”

“They’re less likely to believe that our attraction works both ways,” he replied in a small voice.

“But it does. You know how I feel about you,” I rasped.

He folded his arms, his lips quivering slightly. “Yes, but…no one will understand us, and that’s okay. It’s okay, Jett. You have to think of your future, think of your career, think of your dream. It was always going to be this way. Let’s say good-bye now. Please.”

I shook my head no as a wave of desperation unlike anything I’d ever felt washed over me. I wanted to melt against the wall, sink to the floor, and disappear. But he was holding the door open, and it felt like he’d twisted a knife in my stomach.

“No. This isn’t right. You want me to walk away like we were nothing and…and what happens to you? You’re a TA, Malcolm. They could accuse you of inappropriate behavior or?—”

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted.

“What about the textbook? What about?—”

“I’ll be fine,” he repeated. His tortured expression was the opposite of fine, but he was so resolute that I didn’t know what to do or how to make him hear me. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll get another shot. But you won’t, and I won’t be the reason your dream didn’t come true.”

“Malcolm…”

He opened the door wider and looked away.

My heart shattered in my chest. It literally fucking hurt. I stumbled into the hallway, tears clouding my vision.

I made it outside as the second wave of pain hit me—this time, like a ton of bricks. I leaned against a tree, swallowing around the lump of emotion blocking my airwaves.

What now?

Ty had asked me that last night, and it had seemed like a flippant question.

Today, it seemed like the key to the secrets of the universe.