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I frowned. “That sucks.” The idea he’d wanted to try yet when the moment came, he couldn’t hurt more than anything else he could say.

“It’s okay. Did you see who she married? Lucky son of a bitch.” Thierry chuffed.

“What about when you’re on the road or whatever, how do you, you know…” I couldn’t even say “get laid.” That made me an even bigger coward. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“I have my ways.” He sighed. “I was also in a relationship.”

“Please tell me it hasn’t always been the asshole who’s claiming you abused his narcissistic ass?

” I’d read about him, too. His name was Derrick or Daniel or something.

I didn’t give a fuck about his name, to be honest. The fact his fans ignored the photos of him cheating with some d-list actor, said more about them and less about Thierry.

Still, Thierry took the brunt of their bullshit.

“Okay,” he said. “I won’t. But it wasn’t always him. There were others.”

“I wish I would have known.” A weight lifted from my shoulders.

“I don’t care, Thierry. I wouldn’t have ever cared.

Jesus, I’m more upset that you didn’t think you could tell me than anything else.

Especially since you kissed me. I mean, I kind of figured it out after that.

” Yes, I understood I’d played a part in him not wanting me to know, but damn it, we told each other everything. “You iced me out, man.”

“How could I tell you when you wouldn’t even say hello?”

He had me there. “Yeah, I’ve got no answer.”

“So, I said nothing,” he replied.

“I wish I could go back and change everything,” I murmured. “Make things right between us.”

“Me too,” Thierry said. “Me too.”

We sat there in silence for another while longer before I helped Thierry back up and into my apartment. With only one bed, I’d take the couch and let him sleep off the rest of his stupor. A night of lumpiness was the least I could do after everything that had happened between us.

As Thierry stepped into my apartment, he tensed, taking in the surroundings. “You live here?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m a man of few possessions.” The building was mine. The money I earned went into the shop and made sure the power stayed on. Everything else seemed trivial.

“Seems homey.” He took a couple of more steps. “I need to piss.”

“Bathroom is over here.” I hadn’t expected his acceptance. I was sure his home was some million-dollar mansion in Nashville or one of those penthouse apartments. With the money Thierry made over the years, he probably had both. This place would always be home for me.

Once I flipped on the light and was sure Thierry wouldn’t fall over, I went back into the main area of the apartment and grabbed a water out of the refrigerator for him. When the sink came on, I grabbed two pillows off the bed and threw them on the couch. The rest he could use. I didn’t mind.

Thierry ambled out of the bathroom and sat down.

He pulled his jacket off like a tired toddler and flung it on the floor beside the bed.

Then he went to work getting his shoes off.

I tsked and moved his hands out of the way so he didn’t end up knotting the laces so badly, he’d never get them undone.

He bent forward, pressing his forehead to the top of my head as he exhaled.

The scent of mint hit my nose, and I knew he used my mouthwash and or brushed his teeth while he’d been in there.

“I want everything different between us,” he mumbled. “I want so many things that are unattainable.”

“Me too,” I said. “I’ve missed you. This. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a sleepover.”

He snorted. “Not since we were kids.”

“It was so easy back then.” I stayed knelt in front of him, unable to move or look up. He’d caught me off guard.

“So much more fun. We’d smash a pizza while watching movies. Talk about whatever hockey game we’d seen. Or about the next team we were going to face.”

“We were shooting for the stars.” Until I dropped hockey.

Now, I couldn’t even remember what the catalyst was that ended my time on the ice—because if I was being honest, it hadn’t been the kiss—or what I’d seen in Thierry except for his potential to be more than just some junior league player who grew up to be a doctor or some shit.

“Yeah. I wish I had you with me every time I left home. Would have made the trips better.” The note of sadness in his voice had guilt welling within me.

“Would have been epic.”

“Our parents would have had to bail us out more than a few times.” Thierry chuckled softly as if he actively imagined the scenario playing out.

“Oh, fuck. Your parents and my dad flying halfway around the world calling us knuckleheads all while we nursed hangovers and relished the fond memories…” Yeah, I wish we had that too.

“Did you know the guy in our goal for the Mountaineers is the Polish international goalie?”

“No,” I answered. “I hadn’t been paying attention to the goalies, to be honest.” I’d been staring at Thierry.

Watching him for any signs he’d been in pain.

When I wasn’t doing that, I’d been staring at him, because I couldn’t believe he was there after being away for so long.

In a way, I worried if I blinked, he’d be gone.

I never wanted any of this to end.