Page 74 of Rule 4: Never Get Stranded with a Sports Reporter

We both stare at the horizon, but no one is there.

“It would have been cool if a helicopter had appeared right then,” Jason says.

“Yeah.”

“You now know how to swim. I would say you’re safer than ever.”

I grin. “I thought your specialty was frozen water.”

“I’m multidimensional.” His smile falters, and the moment turns too serious.

“I’m here if you want to talk. I mean, you know I’m here. No one else is here. But I mean—”

Jason gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “I get it. Thank you.”

“And if you’d prefer not to talk...” My voice wobbles. I don’t finish the sentence.

“I think I’ve not talked for many years,” Jason says finally. “Perhaps I should do something different.”

“Am I the only guy you’ve been, um, attracted to?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“Oh.”

“But I’m glad you’re the guy I was with.”

“So you think you’re...”

“I guess I’m bisexual.” Jason chews on his bottom lip. “Though honestly, I’m not sure. I only know I like being with you. I don’t think I’m fully comfortable with women. I alwaysfeel like I’m performing. I don’t hate sex with women. But I never let myself enjoy it, either. I was too busy pretending to be the guy I thought I had to be. I was happier about the fact I was having sex with a woman than I was about having sex with that particular woman. I-I don’t think I’m good at sex.”

“I think you’re good,” I say.

A smile spreads over his face.

“I don’t like leading.” His voice trembles, and his face is red. He’s embarrassed, but he wants me to know. “Not in the bedroom. It feels fake. Like I’m an actor even though I don’t want to be. I-I like the way you take care of me.”

His gaze flicks away. He’s so adorable.

“Why am I writing an article about you being homophobic?”

“Because I’m an asshole?” Jason shakes his head, and something in my chest tears. “It didn’t seem fair that my teammates suddenly dated men and were completely happy and everyone was happy for them.”

“But if one day you wanted to do the same thing...”

“You’re right,” he says, and his skin is red. “Of course, you are. But I had to pretend I didn’t have those feelings. I had to force myself not to look. I just felt angry. I-I can’t explain it. I was wrong. I mocked it, and I mocked them. I hurt them, and all the time I was hurting myself too.”

Jason’s shoulders are slumped, and his expression contrite, and I hate it.

“You don’t talk much about your family,” I say. “Your dad and grandfather both played hockey.”

“You did your research. They both played in the minor leagues. They wanted me to have the life they never managed to achieve for themselves.”

“Well, you got it.”

“Currently.”

I don’t know how long the Boston Blizzards will wait for a player who has gone missing in the Pacific. Maybe they’re lobbying the top NHL leaders to see if they can get someone to take his spot.