Page 7

Adam had to admit to himself that he’d run out of logical reasons to stay in Avery River. Riley didn’t want him here, and Adam had probably done all he could to help. That had amounted to drying some dishes, delivering lunch, and fucking off when asked.

Still, he couldn’t make himself check out of the River Bend Motel.

Riley wasn’t going to text him. Of course he wasn’t. It was ridiculous for Adam to even think he still had his number saved, but he hadn’t been able to resist trying to find out. As if the fact that Riley still had Adam’s number in his contacts would mean something.

Adam had spotted the framed photo behind the counter at the shop, the one of Riley and him celebrating that huge goal. Adam had the same photo on display in his own house, back in Toronto, even though it hurt to look at. They’d been fucking magic together back then, on the ice. And off the ice…well.

Early in their second NHL season, they’d been praised by a hard-ass Northmen beat reporter for having “something special.” Adam had read the article aloud to Riley across their round IKEA kitchen table in the apartment they’d shared, and still remembered the way Riley had tried to hide his pleased smile by stuffing a spoonful of Raisin Bran in his mouth. It had been thrilling, having someone else notice and announce that Adam Sheppard and Riley Tuck had a rare, magical connection. Adam had felt it every single day.

Kissing Riley for the first time had simultaneously been the most terrifying and easiest thing Adam had ever done. He’d been just drunk enough to not overthink kissing his male best friend, but not drunk enough to forget how fast his heart had raced, or how sweet Riley’s surprised gasp had been before he’d kissed Adam back. It had been about halfway through their third season in Toronto, and they’d both been twenty-one. Kids, really.

Later, when the orgasms were over and the alcohol had worn off, the overthinking had started. Adam had been so desperate to convince himself that it hadn’t meant anything—that it had just been sex, a spontaneous experiment—that he’d immediately begun to spout cliches. “We’ll pretend that never happened,” and “Man, how drunk were we, ha ha?”

Of course he hadn’t been able to pretend it hadn’t happened, and of course it had happened again. And again. Eventually he’d stopped pretending he didn’t want it, but he’d never admitted what Riley had really meant to him. He’d never allowed himself to acknowledge it, because there was no way he was gay . NHL players weren’t gay.

Adam could blame the concussions he’d suffered during his hockey career for how slow he’d been to figure himself out, but the truth was he’d never been very smart about things that really mattered. And the other truth was that Adam the NHL player was gay and had always been gay. The truth was that he’d been in love with Riley, and probably still was.

The harshest truth was that he didn’t deserve to be.

Adam went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and ended up frowning at himself in the mirror for a full minute. “Don’t you dare tell him,” he instructed himself. “He needs a friend, not this mess.”

Adam could do that, he decided as he spit toothpaste into the chipped sink. He couldn’t undo the past, but he could be here now for Riley.

He got into bed and grabbed the book from his nightstand that he’d almost finished because he’d had plenty of time to read. He was two pages into the last chapter when a knock on his hotel room door startled him. It was late, almost eleven. “Who the hell?” Adam muttered as he left the bed.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to find Riley. It was raining again, and his hair was clinging to his temples and forehead. His eyes looked wild, and for a moment Adam worried he was about to get punched.

“Hi,” Adam said cautiously.

“Hey.”

“You, uh, want to come in?”

Riley stepped past Adam, his arm brushing Adam’s chest. He stopped in the middle of the room, then glanced around like he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there.

“You can sit,” Adam offered, gesturing to the metal desk chair with the cracked vinyl seat.

Riley didn’t sit. “Why are you here?”

“Well,” Adam said slowly, “this is my motel room.”

Riley’s jaw clenched, and he snorted, almost like a bull. “Fucking answer the question.”

“Okay. I’m here for you.”

His answer only seemed to infuriate Riley further. “I don’t want you here. I don’t need you.”

The words seemed to bounce off the thin walls for a moment, hopefully drowning out the shattering of Adam’s heart. He swallowed hard and waited. Riley’s head dropped, and his hands curled into fists at his side, then released, then curled again. Adam recognized this from years of living together: Riley was trying to calm himself.

“I get it,” Adam offered. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Riley paced the room for a moment, then said, “Did you think I’d actually want to see you?”

“No. I didn’t think that.”

“Then why. The fuck. Are you here?”

Adam scrambled for the right words, and ended up blurting out honest ones, “Because I wanted to see you. I wanted to make sure you—” He stopped himself when he realized how stupid the end of that sentence was going to be.

“You wanted to make sure I’m okay? Well, I’m fucking not.”

“Of course not. I know. And I’m making it worse. I’m sorry.”

Riley huffed and looked away. He had a well-groomed beard now, which really suited him. Adam had only ever let his own facial hair grow beyond stubble during the playoffs, and had always been keen to shave the beard off as soon as he could. Riley looked good, though. Rugged and handsome. His reddish hair was lighter than it used to be, closer to strawberry blond, which hid any gray hairs he might have.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to you,” Riley said.

Adam took a careful step toward him. “You can say anything to me.”

Riley met his gaze and held it, anger flashing in his eyes. “Can I?”

Adam’s cheeks heated with shame. The words “I’m in love with you, you know” echoed across seventeen years, followed by the sound of Adam’s dismissive laughter.

“What would you like to talk about, Shep ?” Riley crossed the room in long strides until he was inches away from Adam. “You gave me your hotel room number. What were you hoping for?”

Riley’s eyes were like storm clouds, and his voice sounded like distant thunder. Adam’s lips parted involuntarily, and he may have gasped.

Riley’s gaze dropped to Adam’s mouth. He placed a hand on Adam’s chin, holding him there, tilting his head back slightly. Adam’s heart raced and his cock stirred.

“Maybe,” Riley said, “you thought I’d want to escape my problems by sucking your dick for a bit, hm?”

“N-no.”

Riley studied his face for a moment, so close Adam could feel his breath on his lips. He shouldn’t want Riley to kiss him. Not like this.

“Nah,” Riley said. “Of course you don’t want that. You’re too sober, right?”

Adam closed his eyes. “That’s not—”

Then Riley let him go and retreated to the other side of the room. He raised a fist at the wall, but stopped himself before punching.

Adam sat on the bed, breathing hard. Riley wouldn’t hurt him. He wouldn’t kiss him, but he wouldn’t hurt him either.

Riley paced a bit, then sat in the chair Adam had offered earlier, knees spread with his elbows resting on the metal arms. For a long moment, there was silence, then Riley said, quietly, “This week has been a nightmare.”

“I understand.”

“It’s too much,” Riley said. He flapped a hand next to his temple. “Too much, y’know?”

“I know.” Riley had never been good at managing his emotions, and there’d been many times in the past where Adam had helped him through that. It had scared Adam, sometimes, when Riley would sink so low he couldn’t function, or get so worked up that he couldn’t breathe. But what had scared him the most had been Riley leaving Toronto without a word to Adam, after secretly asking for a trade. Adam had felt sad for himself, but he’d been worried sick about Riley. Who would take care of him in Dallas?

“I’m sorry,” Riley said.

Adam hadn’t been expecting an apology of any kind from Riley. “It’s okay.”

“No. That was fucked up, just then, when I—I’m sorry.”

Adam swallowed. “It’s okay,” he said again. If either of them was fucked up, it was him for getting aroused by a furious Riley.

A long, heavy silence filled the room, then Riley said, “Dad would have liked you being here. At the funeral.”

Adam knew how much it cost Riley to say that. “Thank you.”

“I made a mess of the shop.”

“It can be fixed.”

“I don’t want anyone to see it. I don’t want—” Riley’s voice was breaking. “I wrecked Dad’s shop.”

Adam took a chance and placed a hand on Riley’s knee. “Let me help. I’ve got two hands and one functional shoulder.”

Riley’s gaze dropped to Adam’s hand on his knee, then back up to Adam’s face. “Still bothering you? The shoulder?”

“It’s better than it was before my last surgery, but it’s still a bastard most days.”

Riley looked like he wanted to say something about Adam being a bastard himself, but he managed to hold his tongue.

“Honestly, I forget what it’s like to live without pain,” Adam said, probably too cheerfully. It really wasn’t a joke.

“Sorry.” Riley’s gray-blue eyes were so sad, and Adam was overcome with the desire to take his hand, pull him onto the bed, and wrap himself around him. Adam suddenly became very aware of how little he was wearing compared to Riley: a snug white T-shirt, loose-fitting black sleep pants, and bare feet. That he was sitting on a bed, and that Riley was alone with him in a hotel room, like so many times before.

Adam pulled his hand away. “Did you eat your lunch?”

“Some of it.” Riley exhaled hard. “Thanks for bringing that.”

“I went to Paula’s for some scallops.”

Riley’s lips curved up slightly. “Must have caused a commotion.”

Adam smiled. “I signed some things. Was in a few selfies.”

“Normal day in the life of Adam Sheppard.”

Adam couldn’t deny it. He got recognized a lot pretty much everywhere in Canada. “I don’t mind. I like meeting people.”

Riley grunted, folded his hands between his legs, and stared at the floor. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“With what?”

Riley moved a hand in the space between them, back and forth. “This. Us.”

“I’m not asking you to. I just want to help.”

Riley shook his head. “No thanks. I’ll be fine.”

“Riles—”

“I’ll be fine .” Riley stood up. “And don’t call me that.”

“All right, I won’t. But I don’t want you to be alone.”

Riley stared at him. “I have friends, you know.”

Adam’s stomach dropped. He was such an idiot. “Right. Of course.”

“Anyway,” Riley said. He sounded so tired. “Like I said, Dad would’ve liked you being here. So thanks, I guess. But I think we’re done here.”

Adam nodded miserably. “Got it.”

Riley stared down at him, and for a moment, his eyebrows pinched together and Adam thought he saw regret in his eyes. Or maybe he was only shocked by how pathetic Adam looked, sitting on a shitty motel bed, trying not to cry.

“Goodbye, Adam.”

“Bye,” Adam said, but Riley had already left.