Almost everyone has showered by the time Grayson’s assistant gives us the all-clear to enter the locker room. There’s tension in the air, and it’s unclear if the team is mad at us or for us.

  I pretend not to notice the sideways glances as I strip out of my gear. Sitting on the bench in my base layer, I grab clothes from my locker. Hands land on my shoulders, and I tense up. After over a decade in changing rooms, I’m still not used to people touching me when I’m not fully dressed. Partly my anxiety and partly I’m not a touchy-feely person.

  Mav sits close enough that our legs touch, concern written all over his face. “Are you okay? Everyone is worried.”

  “He’s not a child. He’s an NHL player who popped his fight cherry. Leave him alone.” Theo’s fists clench.

  “This doesn’t concern you, Keefer,” Mav snaps back.

  “The hell it doesn’t.” A murderous look crosses Theo’s face, and it’s as if I’ve been injected with a narcotic.

  He’s jealous of Mav. The high surges from my head to my toes and pools in my belly. It’s so wrong, but every part of me loves it.

  “Everyone, relax,” I say calmly.

  As soon as Mav goes back to his locker, I grab Theo’s arm, drag him into a private shower, and back him against the wall with my hand on his throat. “I will go out there and tell everyone we’re together. But there’s no going back. Don’t make a rash decision out of jealousy.”

  Theo swallows under my palm and closes his eyes. We’re so close his breath puffs against my face. “My mom never called me back.”

  “Kitten, I’m so sorry.” I’m fuming a mother could treat her child so callously. “Call her when we get to the hotel. I’m not going anywhere. We can tell them or keep it to ourselves a little longer.”

  “Everyone will hate me. Blame me for turning you into a fighter like me.” He slumps against me. “I can’t drag you down and ruin you as a role model.”

  “I had a convo with my moms about that.” I flex my hand on his throat, and he groans. “Sorry,” I lie, loving the way he presses into my hand but reminding myself to keep it on lockdown. “Anyway, from my mom’s perspective, I can’t be a role model and deprive myself of a dating life. Walking on Pride Night isn’t the whole truth unless I’m willing to be open about my romantic relationships. And I agree. I can’t be a cardboard cutout of a Black NHL player. I have to be me. And when you’re ready, you can be you.”

  Theo’s green eyes are as deep and stormy as the ocean. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Too bad. You got me.” I back away. “Shower, call your mom, and we’ll decide.”

  “No. We’ll tell them now.” Theo yanks me to him for a brutal kiss, then leaves the shower. I trail behind him, breathless. “I have an announcement,” Theo yells to get everyone’s attention.

  “Really, that’s how it’s goin’ down?” I laugh, wondering if he plans to warn everyone off or say something sentimental. Who am I kidding? Theo isn’t sentimental.

  “Then you go.” He sweeps his arm for me to enter the center of the room. All eyes turn to me, and my skin itches.

  “How many of you lost money betting O’Keefe and I would’ve punched each other by now?” A couple of the guys grumble, but no one confesses. These guys are so competitive they make side bets on all non-sports things. “Okay, who’s still in the pool?”

  Brant, Benz, and Mav raise their hands. “We bet on you, baby,” Brant sings, and Theo grunts.

  Words seem trivial, and I won’t be able to say enough without everyone jumping in and giving advice or asking questions.

  I face Theo to confirm we’re ready for this, and he gives me a head tilt of approval.

  “Did anyone bet on this?” I close the gap between us, hook my arm around Theo’s neck, and fuse our mouths together. He’s stiff for a moment, then fists my braids. For a second, we’re alone, in our bubble. Me and Theo. Connected at the lips.

  The bubble bursts with hollers and backslaps. Theo growls again. “Keep your hands to yourselves. Mav, I’m talking to you.” He glowers at a stunned Mav. “And you”—he points to Brant—“no more flirting with my man online. I don’t care if you have some mystery man; you can’t have mine.”

  Brant flushes bright red, which is compounded by Ari Dimon’s appearance in the locker room.

  “We need Finn in on this.” Ari turns on his heel and stalks out.

  Chapter 32

  Theo O'Keefe

  When my phone wakes me up, I’m strangling Jamal with my arms and legs. He’s practically off the bed as if he’s trying to escape, and I’m holding him in place. He told me he’s not a cuddler, and I said I’m not either.

  I think I lied.

  It’s more that I never shared a bed with someone and didn’t know I’m a stage-five clinger when I sleep.

  Jamal groans as his phone rings too.

  We haven’t been as careful about sleeping in the same hotel room since telling the team, and it’s a relief.

  Maybe my mother is finally calling me back. I kiss Jamal’s round shoulder and roll over. Both our phones are on the same nightstand charging.

  Sarah’s name lights up my screen, and although I have so much to tell her, I’m disappointed.

  “Shit. Finn’s calling you.” I toss Jamal his phone and answer mine.

  “Are you okay?” Sarah’s voice is high-pitched and stressed. On the other side of the bed, I hear Finn’s voice through the phone.

  “Yeah. Typical hockey fight. My nose isn’t broken.” I yawn, not sure I’m ready for her drama this early in the morning.

  “Oh my God, you don’t know,” she whispers.

  Jamal’s face falls, and his mouth hangs open. He glances at me with wary eyes. This is not good.

  “What?” I demand.

  “I can’t describe it. Google your name. I won’t hang up,” Sarah assures me.

  Jamal moves closer and reaches for me but stops as if he’s afraid of my reaction. My fingers clumsily try to open apps and type my name.

  A headline pops up: Innocent or Incest.

  My stomach heaves, dissecting the picture which only John could’ve taken while we slept. Jamal and I are fully clothed, sleeping on top of the covers of my bed, a foot apart. Jamal has one hand on his stomach, and I have one hand behind my head. It’s our other hands, in the middle of the bed, causing the problem. We’re not holding each other, but our pinky fingers are linked. I’m sick to my stomach with the memory of waking up to a flash. I’d forgotten, and now it’s hurting Jamal.

  Jamal’s breathing becomes too fast and too loud, and when I look at him, his eyes are unfocused.

  “Theo, did you see it?” Sarah asks, and I startle, having forgotten she’s on the phone.

  There’s a banging on the door, and Finn’s voice comes through the phone and from the other side. Jamal points mutely as if I can’t hear the pounding.

  “Sarah, I gotta go. The PR director is here.” I end the call without waiting for a response and get out of bed. I approach the door slowly as if it might be kicked in at any second. Through the peephole, I see only Finn and open the door.

  “You little donuts suck all the fun out of queer love. You’re trying to put me in an early grave.” Finn huffs and pushes past me into the room, stopping short when he sees Jamal in bed. “Well, at least this is convenient, and I don’t need to hunt you down.”

  “It’s my room.” Jamal’s chest visibly rises without his shirt on.

  “Butterscotch, I’m going to ask you to put pants on.” Finn turns and gives me the once-over in my boxer briefs. “You too. We have a meeting five minutes ago in conference room C.”

  “It’s my fault. John King threatened me because I’m not giving the family my money, and I knew he wouldn’t let it go. He took the picture and used the way Jamal and I fought for each other in last night’s game to make it seem plausible we’re a couple. Before that…he had no evidence.” My insides shrivel. “It’s my fault he wants to destroy us.”

  Jamal gasps for air, and I rush to kneel at his side. “What do you need?” His eyes are panicked and darting around. “You can breathe. There’s enough air.” I don’t break eye contact with Jamal as I say, “Finn, I’ll bring him to conference room C as soon as we’re dressed.”

  “Sugar britches, you take care of our precious, and we’ll have several plans to handle this. You gave enough info on the who and why of it all. This is where I shine.” His voice is unnaturally peppy, even for him. “Y’all have turned me into a damn disco ball with all my shine,” he mutters as he exits the room.

  “That’s the sarcastic Finn I expected.” I place Jamal’s hand over my heart and take deep breaths. My mind races as his breath becomes shallower and faster. He’ll pass out at this rate. “Maj, you said your anxiety is worst when you’re not in control. Let me give you control. Control me.”

  His eyes widen with concern and questions. I’m certainly not telling him I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m about to join him in a breakdown.

  “Fuck me like you own me. Mark me and take me as yours.”

  Jamal shakes his head, and a stray tear tracks down his cheek.

  “You won’t hurt me,” I say, and he glares at me. “I trust you, even if you lose control, you won’t hurt me. I know you.”

  More tears leak out of his eyes, and he throws his arms around me. Time to fight dirty.

  “C’mon, Maj.” I hoist him up, and he wraps his legs around my waist. “We’ll get you cleaned up in the shower and face this together.”

  His phone rings again, and it’s his mom. He’s in no condition to talk, so I answer. “Hi, Kenya. He’s in the shower, but I’m with him, everything is under control, and we have a meeting with the PR director.” After we hang up, I realize that I never gave her my name, but she knew it was me.

  His phone lights up with Tyrone’s name, and I silence it, my concern for Jamal growing.

  I carry him into the bathroom and don’t let go. While the water heats, I awkwardly, with one hand, place a shower cap over his head. We usually sleep in his room since he has nightly skin and hair routines.

  It’s easier to walk us into the water wearing our underwear. His breathing has slowed, but he chokes as he tries to take a deep inhale.

  “Thank you,” he says into my neck.

  “Didn’t expect this.” I try to set him down, but he’s not having it. “I’m sorry, I should’ve known. John doesn’t make idle threats.” I hold him tightly and won’t let him go until he’s ready.

  After a long silence, Jamal pulls back and drops his feet onto the tile. “This isn’t on you. He’s supposed to care about us. He’s the worst excuse for a parent, for a man, on this planet.”

  I rotate Jamal so the spray hits his chest and loop my arms under his to massage his face. My thumbs work on loosening his jaw while my fingers caress his temple.

  We let the warm water wash over us, not moving until his breathing and heart rate slow down. “Agreed. Now that we’re naked and wet, I really, really need my boyfriend to fuck me.” I grip his ass, then peel off his wet briefs.

  “I’ll hurt you,” he counters, but steps out of his drenched underwear.

  “Nope.” I kiss him as I strip and bring our bodies back together. His glorious naked skin rubs against mine. “Please,” I beg into his ear. It started off being for him, but I need him.

  This could be the last time. He’ll realize I’m not worth the bad press and disgusting headlines. He’ll leave. There’s no reason for him to stay with me. He can find someone nicer and less complicated.

  I’ve been living in a fantasy, like we could be something in the real world, out from behind secretly locked doors.

  “Kitten, we’ll be okay.” He swivels his hips. “I’m almost at my baseline.”

  “Please,” I repeat, hoping I won’t have to say more pathetic words out loud.

  Jamal backs us under the spray and reaches for his body wash. I love smelling like him.

  When our eyes meet, he’s instantly aware something’s wrong. I duck my head under the water, but he holds my chin.

  “This isn’t over. We’re not over.” His eyes blaze with fury when I’m silent.

  All I have to do is lie and agree. It’s not his fault, and I won’t hold him to the promise. But by staying silent, I’m failing him—again.

  “Theo?” he questions, and I shut my eyes, willing words to exit my mouth.

  Nothing comes out, and my mouth hangs open, letting water in. I sputter and expect his anger. He should be angry; he’s telling me what I want to hear and…maybe that’s why it hurts… He cares enough to say the things I need to hear.

  I assumed I’d say something stupid to upset him before the end. My silence is worse than cutting words. It’s an admission of hopelessness. Jamal is such a positive person, and I’ll take that from him.

  “Theo,” Jamal says softly, and wraps me in his arms. I soak in the warmth of his skin, and my pale arms clutch his back. “It’s okay to be scared. We’re in a crazy situation, but I’m not turning on you as soon as it gets hard.”

  I bite his shoulder to keep my emotions in check. Everyone eventually leaves; it’s human nature. My heart tears itself in half, one part for him and the other consumed with fear.

  Jamal being on my side and ready to fight to protect me means everything, and now it will be used against us. John is turning an innocent moment of comfort into something vile and hateful.

  “Your mom never texted you back, did she?” he asks.

  I shrug, not trusting my voice. She’s the last person I want to talk about. My mother’s never there when I need her.

  It’s fine. I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.

  “I’m sorry she let you down.” He takes me by the shoulders so he can see my face. “I’m not her. Do you hear me?” He gives me a little shake.

  Irrational anger surges through me with the urge to punch him.

  I nod because I believe he means every word he says, but things can change in an instant, and I need to prepare myself for the end. But in this moment, I’m holding on to him until he steps away.

  “I’m not fucking you out of fear. We are going to meet with Finn, make a plan, and we’re coming back here, where I can take my time and give you what you need. I’m yours and you’re mine, and that won’t change when we walk out of this room. Promise me.”

  Chapter 33

  Jamal King

  I fully intend to keep my promise to Theo, but things are moving quickly and I’m spun. It’s louder than it should be in the conference room. Theo opens the door to guide me in with his hand on my back, and I’m awestruck to see my teammates.

  Everyone falls silent as we walk in.

  “Well, that’s not awkward at all,” Theo says from behind me.

  Benzy is the first to approach us by tackling me in a hug. “We’re here for you.”

  After that, every team member backslaps or hugs me. I’m in sensory overload, and Theo’s very pale. We’re pulled apart, and I sense Theo’s temper rising. He doesn’t trust the team yet, and when he’s afraid, his go-to emotion is anger. But I can’t get to him before he blows.

  “If anyone has anything to say, say it to my face,” he growls, expecting the worst, and the room goes quiet again.

  Brant raises his hand. “Quick question. You know we’re on the same team, right? Everyone in this room has your back, or we wouldn’t be here.” His fiery temper flares right back at Theo.

  I step up to Theo and take his hand, looking him in the eye. “This isn’t how or when we wanted to tell people. Thanks for standing with us.” I squeeze his hand. He’s used to fighting his battles on his own, but he doesn’t have to do it alone anymore.

  “Lovely. Take your seats, gentlemen.” Finn finally gets the team to shut up. “We have some ideas. Do you want the team here, or should they mind their own business?”

  Theo needs more than a minute to be eased into accepting support.

  “No disrespect, but we could use some space,” I tell our teammates.

  They offer more words of support and fist bumps as they leave. I drag Theo to the nearest chair.

  Mr. Dimon casually seats himself across from us like we’re in a normal business meeting. “I hired more security. When we get to New York, will you be staying together or separately?”

  Theo snaps out of his trance. “I didn’t know my stepfather had taken a picture. But I should’ve.” He runs his hands through his hair and stares at the table. “It’s my fault because he wants to ruin me and take hockey from me.”

  Finn taps away at his tablet, and Mr. Dimon clears his throat.

  “Assigning blame won’t solve the issue. But I’m sure Mr. King disagrees with your statement. He doesn’t look coerced or held hostage.” Mr. Dimon’s lips quirk up. “Unless you had superhuman strength in your pinky to hold King down on that bed. If that’s the case, I expect you to summon that power on the ice.”

  I exhale with relief, and Theo makes a sound that’s a cross between a laugh and a hiccup. Mr. Dimon isn’t the person I would expect to use a joke in this situation. Finn is the wildcard with a reckless mouth.

  Finn details several plans and outlines the pros and cons of each. The bottom line is that we can’t control how people receive the information, only how we respond.

  Staying silent seems to be the worst option because it will give John the opportunity to write the narrative he wants. Secretly, I’m relieved; I’m ready to go public.

  But Theo has been mute, shaking his head at every option. “What if we went on The Zone Breakdown podcast? I know one of the brothers from school.”

  Finn’s mouth drops, but he taps furiously on his keyboard. The Zone Breakdown drops once a week and features popular hockey brothers. It’s been voted the number one sportscast on several streaming services. The oldest brother, Augustus, played in the NHL for a few years but got traded every season and couldn’t find a fit. The younger brother, Brad, played in the AHL and only had a few games in the NHL before concussions took him out of the game.

  Mr. Dimon’s shrewd eyes assess Theo. “Would they do you that favor and put it out immediately?”