Page 35

ERIK

S ometimes it honestly seemed like Kayden and I never stopped.

Between hockey, school, the gym, practice, and most importantly each other, you would think neither of us would have an ounce of remaining energy.

Despite it all, I still had Kayden out in the early evening, jogging through the Westside.

We started down Baynes, the street that he lived on, and headed south.

We turned left at the corner of Lafayette and then took a right onto Putnam Street.

Let me tell you, the Westside was neighborhood to be gay in. When we jogged, I couldn’t help counting the number of Pride flags hanging from people’s houses—and then I lost count. I’d noticed the flags before, but something about seeing them now made me feel good inside.

People can say what they want about the flags, but they offered a sense of reassurance I hadn’t found anywhere else.

They told me that living my truth as my authentic self was possible.

I didn’t know exactly what my authentic self really was, but it included my life with Kayden.

But it wasn’t just the flags. I saw men walking down the street hand-in-hand, living freely the life that I wanted for myself.

The problem was I couldn’t do that unless Kayden was willing to come along for the ride. I knew that he wasn’t ready for that lasagna dinner. I could just tell. But something else had happened. After that visit to Tully’s, he seemed even more guarded. I didn’t know what it was.

Aside from that, it was time. How did I know?

Have you ever experienced a time in your life in which you just knew something? You couldn’t explain why you felt that way, but you knew the right thing to do?

I’d had one of those moments. I guess you could say I’d felt the same about getting into a relationship with Kayden in the first place. I’d been right the first time, and lightning would strike twice.

It was time and I would tell Kayden so.

“It’s time,” I said.

He paused before saying, “What do you mean?”

“I’m saying it’s time we stopped hiding. We should stop pretending to be something we’re not and be who we really are.”

“Hold on, you’re not talking about…”

“Yes, Kayden. The next big step. It’s time.”

When I glanced at my boyfriend, I saw fear, but it looked different from the apprehension and hesitation I’d seen before. And I’m not talking about a different shade of fear, exactly. It was like the subject alone had provoked a sense of panic in him.

“We can’t do that,” he said. “Just forget it.”

“Hold on. I don’t get it. Not that long ago, you sounded all hesitant, maybe a bit apprehensive. I thought there was at least some hope. Now you’re saying we can’t do it at all? Never? ”

“Bro, don’t you know what would happen if we told the whole world about us and what we’ve been up to?”

“What we’ve been up to specifically is no one’s business. And who said anything about the whole world? I just want to tell the team, the guys that are closest to us.”

“The team might as well be the whole world.”

I understood what he meant. By now, our teammates had become like family, and the rest of the world didn’t matter. Rejection from one teammate would feel like placing an entire continent against us.

But it was time. I knew it, even if Kayden didn’t. If my optimism had to balance his pessimism in our relationship, then so be it.

“But that’s all the reason to be open and honest,” I said. “If they’re like our family, we shouldn’t keep secrets from them.”

“Yes, we should. It’s common sense, if you ask me.”

“How is it common sense?”

“Put it this way: Would you tell your mom and dad about us?”

I hadn’t thought about that, at least not yet.

Kayden had come to Canada with me at Christmas and met my parents.

Of course, we hadn’t told them the truth.

We’d just said we were teammates and slept in different beds.

They hadn’t asked questions and had shown no suspicion.

In a way, I felt like telling my actual family about us was a different matter altogether.

But I could do that too. My folks were conservative but they cared about all people, and I knew in my heart that they would accept us.

“I feel like we’re getting ahead of ourselves here,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean telling our actual families will be different from telling the team. We don’t want to go there. Not yet.”

“Word will get around, don’t you know that?”

“No, it won’t. You know how those guys are. What happens in the locker room stays in the locker room.”

“I don’t think you understand, dude. Telling them could be really dangerous, and there’s no going back.”

Okay, Kayden had said a lot of stupid shit, only I didn’t think he was being ridiculous this time. He actually believed what he was saying, I mean. I didn’t like him putting up walls, but he sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

“I think you’ve got to give the guys more credit than that,” I said. “Haven’t you seen teammate reactions when pro athletes come out?”

“That’s an act for the media, bro. It’s all bullshit. Don’t you know that?”

“Yeah, but…”

“An athlete comes out, and then the media shoves microphones in the teammates’ faces to ask them for their thoughts. And what are they supposed to say? If they say the wrong thing, they’ll have even more media attention but for all the wrong reasons.”

“But I really don’t think the guys are going to go to the media with this.”

“Stuff leaks. You know that.”

“No, it won’t. You know how the team operates. Trust is sacred. We’re like a brotherhood. And like I said, it’s not an announcement for the whole world. It’s to let our brothers know who we really are. No more pretending.”

“It won’t work.”

Now he sounded like a robot programmed to disagree with anything and everything I said. We turned right onto West Ferry Street and headed west toward the Niagara River. My hopes for winning him over had dimmed, but I still thought I had a shot.

Okay, this wasn’t the typical Kayden hard-headed stubbornness I was used to. This was something completely different. Before, he’d at least left the door open for change. Now he made it sound like we would spend the rest of our lives living in secret.

No thanks.

“I think it can work,” I said. “You’ve just got to trust me.”

“Next, you’re going to say it’s time, huh?”

“Damn right it is.”

“Okay, so let’s say we do come out. What are we supposed to tell people? That we’re gay? We’re…”

“I don’t know what we should tell them. We should say whatever’s on our hearts.”

“See? You didn’t even think this through before trying to make a decision that’s going to change our lives forever.”

I hadn’t considered that part. I’d never wanted a guy before him, but I couldn’t deny what I’d felt.

Instead of fighting my feelings, I’d followed my heart.

After several months together, I still hadn’t lusted after another guy or checked out a single male ass on campus—or anywhere else.

I still liked women, but my eyes hadn’t wandered toward them.

That told me my feelings for Kayden were real.

They weren’t just a passing fling or a phase. My love for him was here to stay.

But what did that love make me?

I didn’t know, and I tried not to overthink it. To be honest, we’d gotten way too wrapped up in things to worry about much else. I didn’t bother asking Kayden if he thought he was gay or bi or whatever. It didn’t matter. He’d turned into a closed book in a flash.

I wouldn’t let myself be diverted from my other concern: something had clearly set Kayden off. I didn’t know what, but I meant to get to the bottom of it.

“Did something happen?” I asked.

He stopped and wiped sweat from his forehead.

He huffed and puffed a little from the jogging, but I knew something more had caused his heavy breathing.

Ditto for the sweat streaming from his brow.

Now I’d caught him, and he would try to clam up.

Of course he would. He was Kayden Preston.

On the other hand, I’m Erik De Ruiter, and I won’t let him pull any funny business.

“Something really did happen,” I said. “I know you too well. Instead of being a pain, why don’t you come out and tell me?”

“Nothing.”

“ Tell me, would you?”

“Jesus Christ, dude, I’m telling you there’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. The look in his eyes made that clear. If nothing had happened, then he wouldn’t have stopped so abruptly. He wouldn’t have gotten all defensive at everything I said, and he wouldn’t have slammed the door shut on us ever being ourselves.

The only other option was that he’d hit a wall. He’d experienced a moment of realization telling him who he was and what our relationship meant. It didn’t matter what had happened. Something had come along and scared the living shit out of him.

He started jogging again, and I caught up with him.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” I asked. “No judgment.”

He said nothing. The conversation was over. When Kayden couldn’t win the war of words, he shut things down. Call it loss by forfeit instead of knockout.

“I’m worried,” I continued. “If we want to make this work, we’ve got to be open with each other, lay everything out on the table.”

Again, he said nothing, focusing his eyes forward.

“Is this really what you plan to do? Just hide from everyone forever?”

“Why stop doing what works?”

For the first time in our relationship, I worried we could be in serious trouble.

It wasn’t just because my boyfriend had shown the signature Kayden Preston stubbornness.

He wouldn’t let go at all. I might not have known what I was, but I knew I wasn’t ashamed of it.

Kayden obviously was, but there was more to it.

Like I said, something had happened, and I didn’t know what.

I remembered how he’d hesitated before passing earlier milestones. This could be different, the one obstacle he couldn’t hurdle. But I would keep on him. I wanted to think his stubbornness was no match for my optimism. But if he couldn’t clear his biggest obstacle, could we ever stay together?