Page 21

Chapter Twenty-One

RIVER

My cell phone dings with hundreds of messages and calls. I can’t ignore them forever, but Nate and his health are my primary concern.

He often brushes off injuries. This isn’t the first time he’s taken a hit that knocked him out. Nate is rough on the ice and doesn’t mind getting dirty.

So far, he’s not showing signs of a concussion. He seems alert and does not stagger or slur his words. Although, I am worried about the bruises on his back and ribs.

I strip off his T-shirt and study the discolored skin. My fingers trace around the spot around his rubs, careful not to touch it.

“What are you doing?” Nate bites out.

“Checking for swelling. The doctor asked you those questions?—”

“I know, I know. And I don’t have internal bleeding. Trust me, Riv. I’m fine.”

“You wouldn’t tell anyone if you did. That tough guy act doesn’t work on me.” I move behind him and glance at his back. “Keep an eye on these, okay? If anything feels wrong, or you show any signs?—”

“I will,” he promises. “I’m not going to die on you.”

“Better not.” I put my hands on his shoulders and squeeze, our lips inches apart. “It would kill me.”

“If you die before me, I’d totally Romeo myself,” he jokes, but I’m not laughing. “The thought of living without you…”

Deflated by his response, my hands drop to my sides. “Nate, this isn’t comforting. At all. You can’t talk about suicide the night before I leave. This is freaking me out.”

He shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“And I didn’t like it back then. Please call Dr. Swanson in the morning.”

“I’m not going to off myself, you idiot. I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid.”

I pull him to me, gripping the skin on his neck, and hold him tightly. “I’m hurting, too, Nate. But we’ll get through this. Together.”

His long fingers dig into my hips. Rough and possessive, Nate claims me.

Again, my cell phone rings with more calls and messages, ruining our moment of peace. Our lives will never be the same. We will always have as much hate as support.

“You should deal with that,” Nate says when my cell phone beeps for the millionth time. “Get it over with… and then we can spend the rest of the night naked and all over each other.”

I smile at the thought and swipe my phone from the nightstand. Reporters beg for interviews. Content creators tagged me on social media. There are so many notifications my head spins. So, I focus on the texts first.

Scrolling down the screen, I see congratulatory messages from unknown numbers. I never give out my number for a reason, yet somehow, they have mine.

Ignorning them, I search for people in my Contacts and see my parents.

Dad

Call me now.

Mom

I’m so proud of you, Rivie. Love you.

Dad

What were you thinking?

Dad

Turn on the news.

Dad

Don’t ignore me, River. We need to do damage control.

I respond to my mom with I love you and save the dreaded conversation with my dad for last.

“Do you mind if I call my dad?”

Nate sits on the bed and nods. “Go ahead.”

My hand shakes as I raise the phone to my ear. He answers on the first ring.

“What would possess you to do that in front of thousands of people?”

“Dad, calm down. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Well, it did… and now everyone knows you’re gay. The story is on every news channel. All over social media. They’re calling it the kiss felt around the world .”

“Huh? What are they saying?”

He sighs. “You have a lot of support from fans. A lot of hate, too. Your new teammates are posting on Twitter… or X. Whatever the hell it’s called now.”

“And?”

“From what I read, it’s good. They’re supportive. I’m still worried for you, River. Now that people know?—”

“I’ll be fine, Dad.”

“I hope so,” he mutters. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. People are mean. They can do horrible things when they don’t understand… I love you, River. And I’m afraid for you.”

“I know,” I say, pacing across the room while Nate watches with a wary look. “But being gay isn’t as stigmatized as it was thirty years ago.”

“The NHL has not been welcoming of people like you. They banned specialty jerseys on the ice after players refused to wear Pride jerseys.”

“Yeah, but they allow Pride tape now. They reversed the ban.”

“I wouldn’t push it. Just keep your head down and play your best game.”

I sink to the mattress beside Nate, and he touches my knee for support. “What do we do about all the publicity?”

“Don’t accept any interviews until you talk to me. Okay?”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone. My personal life is none of their business.”

“I wish it were that simple… but it’s not. You have to be your best this season and the next. Don’t give the team a reason not to re-sign you.”

“Yeah, Dad. I will try.”

“I can only do so much on my end. If, for some reason, things don’t work out on Long Island, you can play for me. Just stay focused on what’s important.”

I chose the Islanders to create a legacy separate from his, and I don’t want my dad to bail me out. No matter what people say about me, I will play at the highest level possible, even if I have to push myself to the limit.

“Can we talk about this on my drive to Long Island?” I ask my dad. “I’m tired and need to look after Nate. He took a pretty bad hit tonight.”

“How’s Nate doing?”

“Hanging in there.”

He breathes into the phone. “Good. Tell him to stay off his feet and get some rest. Call me before you get to the arena.”

After I hang up, I toss the phone on the bed and curl up beside Nate. Regardless of what people say about me, this is my time with Nate—our final hours.

Nate lays on his unbruised side, an arm slung over me, nestling his nose in the crook of my neck. “I’m going to miss this. You and me. I took it for granted for so long.”

“Hey, don’t go there. Nothing will change. You still have me.”

“Not in the physical sense.”

I was going to wait to reveal the surprise purchase I made for us. But as they say, there’s no better time than the present.

I sit up and offer him my hand. “I want to show you something.”

Nate slips his fingers between mine. “Do I have to get dressed?”

“Yes. Put on something warm. We’re going down to the water.”

He complies with my request, bundling in black Kingston University Ice Hockey sweatpants with a gold stripe down the side and a matching hoodie.

Five minutes later, we’re standing at the shoreline, staring at the twinkling lights across the bay. One of many reasons I chose this school is that you can be in one state and see another. I have always been fascinated by places like that.

I point a finger across the water. “Do you see that house? The one with a light on the back porch?”

Nate nods. “What about it?”

“I bought it for us.”

“You did what?” Nate gasps, turning to face me. “Are you kidding? You haven’t even met your teammates yet. Why would you do that? How did you…?”

“My mom,” I confess. “Remember when she called during dinner? That was to tell me the good news. I wanted to be as close to you as possible. So I did the research, and my mom checked out the house. She loved it so much that I put an offer on it. The owners accepted a few hours ago.”

Nate throws his arms around me, lifting my feet off the ground, but he groans and sets me back down. “Ugh, that wasn’t the best idea. Fuck.”

“Are you hurt?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just sore. I’m good. Keep going. Tell me everything.”

Standing chest to chest with him, I kiss his lips. “I want you to stay in college and get your degree so you can be my agent someday. But I know you’ll struggle without me. I’m worried you’ll fall apart.”

“I have the team and Dr. Swanson. I’ll be fine.”

I stroke his cheek. “Whenever you get lonely or scared… or want to feel closer to me, come here. Look at that light on the patio. It will always guide your way to me.”

Nate sniffles and lays his head on my shoulder. “Fuck, this is hard. I hate being apart from you.”

“I don’t want to go… but I have to.”

“I love you.” He lifts his head, and our eyes lock. “I love you so much it hurts.” As I reach out to inspect his bruises, he says, “Not that kind of pain. Emotional. I never knew I could feel like this. I can see why people avoid falling in love because it’s both amazing and horrible at the same time.”

“I love you, too. I want forever, Nate. You promised me that.”

“If I could lock you up and keep you all to myself, I would. I’m a selfish asshole. But not with you. Never with you. I love you too much not to push you toward your dream, even if it means leaving me behind.”

Dr. Swanson explained that Nate has an attachment style called anxious attachment that makes him clingy and afraid of losing me. According to the doctor, I have a secure attachment, which is the most common and helpful for someone like Nate. She believes my stability keeps him grounded.

Over the past two months of therapy, I have learned so much about Nate and me. I now understand why we work so well together. And why sometimes we’re a complete disaster.

Nate lowers me to the sand, and then we’re kissing and moaning into each other’s mouths. He climbs on top of me, his weight pressed down on me, our cocks rubbing together.

“We’ve never had sex on the beach,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “What better way to commemorate your big moment?”

“You’re hurt,” I remind him. “We’re not supposed to?—”

“I don’t care if I’m dying,” he interjects. “There’s no way in hell I’m not fucking you on our last night together.”

Nate removes his wallet from his pocket and takes out a packet of lube. He gets on his back and shoves down his sweatpants, his hard cock springing free.

“It’s just us out here. Ride me, Riv.”

Checking both ways, I don’t see anyone on the beach. It’s dark, the only light coming from across the water.

“If someone sees us, I will kill you,” I tell him. “I can only handle one scandal at a time.”

“Right now, you only need to worry about handling my big dick.” He fists his shaft and gives himself a few pumps. “I need you, Riv. Please. I need to be inside you.”

I strip off one of my pants legs, do the same with my boxer briefs, and shove them to the side, just enough to make this work. As I lean forward, pressing my palms to the sand on each side of Nate, he rubs the gel on my hole and pushes in his finger.

“Oh fuck,” I grunt. “Nate.”

“I love it when you say my name.”

“Nate,” I say, just to see him smile as he replaces his fingers with his cock, inching inside me. “Nate, Nate, Nate.”

He grips my ass in both hands and slides me up and down his length. “You feel so good, baby.”

Sometimes, he calls me that when we’re having sex. It feels like such an ordinary nickname. So, I whisper words he loves to hear in French.

“ Tu es à moi ,” I say against the shell of his ear.

He moans, making me feel so full as he pulls out and rocks his hips again, hitting my prostate. “ Je suis à vous.”

“I will always be yours.”

One hand stays on my ass, and the other moves to my cheek. “Mine.”

“Le mien, ” I agree in a language he only understands when I speak it.