“You pay for it the next day?” He inclined his head. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I spend the day after recovering. A lot of icepacks and ibuprofen.”

  He whistled. “That sounds like me after a hockey game.”

  “Some days, that’s kind of what it feels like. I know it sounds melodramatic, but yeah, getting physical for a couple of hours puts me through the wringer. It’s still easier on me than a full-time job, though. Plus I can make in two hours at Emerald City what I’d have to work forty hours a week to make at a regular job. More than that, actually, and it takes way less of a toll on my body. So…” I shrugged again. “This is the least of several evils.”

  His forehead creased. “You can’t apply for disability?”

  I laughed, because what else could I do? Cry? Right here in front of a client who’d already heard more of my sob story than my unprofessional ass should’ve told him? “Oh, that’s a whole cascade of bullshit. It’s… The short answer is that I don’t qualify.”

  “What?” He stared at me. “Even with… You don’t qualify?”

  I didn’t want to explain it all. Just thinking about it exhausted me. “In theory, I should, though people in my position—chronic pain, fibromyalgia, stuff like that—have to fight hard to get approved because people don’t actually think we’re disabled. But it’s also … Well, the way it was explained to me, if you’re making above a certain amount of money, they look at you and say, ‘You don’t need help. Get out.’ And that threshold is a lot lower than what I need to actually survive around here.”

  Scott’s eyes widened. “Wait, you have to make more in order to survive than the maximum to qualify for disability?” He made a face. “That sounds…”

  “Like bullshit?” I huffed a laugh. “I know, right? It’s such a Catch-22. This area is so expensive, so in order to—anyway, that’s how it was explained to me. It isn’t like I can afford a lawyer to help me through it, you know? The websites are all confusing as fuck, the people I’ve talked to haven’t been helpful at all, and I just kind of… I gave up, I guess. I can’t handle the stress that would be involved with trying to fight for it if I got denied. I can’t afford to be as poor as I need to be in order to qualify for assistance.” I shrugged tightly with the shoulder that didn’t hurt. “So, I do the best I can, and I work with my ex-wife and her husband to make sure our daughter has a stable home, food—all of that.”

  “Holy shit,” Scott breathed.

  “I know, right? And even if I do qualify, it takes forever to get approved. I’m in an online support group, and there are a few people who got approved right off the bat, and others who’ve been fighting for years. I could quit my job, apply, and get approved next week, or I could still be slamming my head against this five years from now.”

  “Jesus fuck. That’s…” Scott shifted onto his back beside me, and he shook his head as he stared up at the ceiling. “That’s fucking barbaric.”

  “It is. So thank God I have the job with Emerald City, and my ex and her husband are good with me living with them. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without them.”

  A mental image of the tent cities around Seattle raised the hairs on my neck. Oh yeah, I knew what I’d be doing without Rachel and Leo. I just really, really didn’t want to think about that.

  And maybe if I wanted to keep all of us in that apartment and out of the two tents we’d bought, I shouldn’t be a fucking downer to my new client. To the only semi-regular client I’d had in ages.

  Ignoring an obnoxious spasm across the back of my ribs, I rolled over and draped my arm across Scott. “So that’s my super depressing origin story,” I said with a playful smile. “Yes, I took the job out of necessity, but I really do enjoy it.”

  “Do you?”

  “Mmhmm.” I paused. “I mean, it has its moments. Some guys can be assholes.”

  Scott winced.

  “But in general?” I said quickly. “Yeah, I enjoy it most of the time.”

  “What about right now?” he asked self-consciously.

  Grateful he was running with my subject change, I trailed my fingertips across his abs and grinned when the muscles tightened and he bit his lip. “I definitely like it right now.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Uh-huh.” Damn, I wished I could lean in and kiss Scott’s tempting, full lips. “Question is, are you enjoying it?”

  His cheeks flushed, and he nodded as he raked his eyes over me. “Yeah. I am.”

  Well, that was a relief. Maybe I hadn’t killed the mood.

  “Any chance you want to go another round?”

  “Do you really feel up to it?”

  “More than up to it.” I licked my lips. “I’d love it.”

  Scott met my gaze. He grinned.

  And no, I hadn’t killed the mood after all.

  Chapter 11

  Scott

  The next morning was a low-key practice with my teammates who weren’t out of town, recovering from surgeries, or just didn’t feel like showing up. Most of us older guys came as often as we could, convalescence and vacations permitting, so we didn’t get out of condition over the summer.

  I noticed Dane hadn’t been here for a few days. That wasn’t a surprise. The kid had earned his time off, and I was pretty sure he and his boyfriend were someplace tropical, soaking up the sun and probably hitting the waves. He was young. He’d bounce back as soon as he put his skates on.

  Matt wasn’t here today either. I thought he was having a minor procedure on his arm this week. Something to do with the fracture that had benched him for a chunk of last season. I didn’t know the details, only that he was going to be out for like two weeks, playing light for a couple of weeks after that, and back to full speed in time for training camp and regular practices.

  Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. I wished him the best and all, and for his sake I hoped he was back on the ice sooner than later, but I was okay with not seeing him for a little while. It had been hard to even be around him ever since that conversation in the locker room where he’d ripped me up one side and down the other. Ever since he’d told me I’d fucked him up for over a decade after how I’d reacted to our one night together in college, and that I needed to get my head out of my ass and stop letting my self-loathing out into the world as homophobia.

  He was the reason I was coming to grips with my sexuality right now, but I still carried way too much guilt to look him in the eye.

  So that was two of my gay teammates who were MIA right now. There were two others, though, and they were both here. Ethan was doing a relaxed passing drill with Gagnon and Welch. Warner was leaning against the boards, fussing with the tape on his stick.

  My stomach tightened. One of them. I could handle talking to one of them today. At the first opportunity to get one or the other alone, I would do it. Get my apologies out, clear the air, and hopefully be one step closer to my conscience spending less time beating me up.

  My chance came when Ethan headed for the locker room.

  I bowed out of a light two-on-two offensive drill and followed him. The locker room was, fortunately, pretty much deserted. Most of the staff were in the arena with the other guys, and no one else had come back in. I didn’t know how long that would last, though, so it was now or never.

  I found Ethan standing by his locker, checking something on his phone. “Hey. Wright.”

  He turned, and as soon as he saw me, his features hardened. Guard fully up, he said, “Yeah?”

  “Can I um…” I glanced around us, making sure we were alone, then looked at him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  He was clearly still suspicious, but he didn’t leave. “All right.” He sat on the bench, put his phone down beside him, and started unlacing his skates. “I have to grab a shower and get out of here, though.”

  “That’s fine. This won’t take long.” Assuming I can spit out the words.

  “Okay.”

  I chewed my lip as he continued removing his skates, then finally said, “Look, I talked to Luca at the wedding, but…” I hesitated. “Listen, I wanted to apologize.”

  Ethan looked up at me, and his eyebrows rose slowly.

  I went on, “I was an asshole to Luca, but I was one to you too. And I don’t have any excuses for it. Just… I’m sorry. I’m trying to do better.”

  He stared at me as if he hadn’t understood what I’d said. “Oh.”

  Neither of us spoke for a moment. He slid off his skates, then pushed his feet into his flipflops and got up. “For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to hide it. The whole team knows about me and the other queer players. Literally no one will care if you come out.”

  I bristled. “So Luca told you?”

  Ethan breathed a soft, almost sympathetic laugh, and he shook his head. “Nah, man. You did.”

  I swallowed.

  “I mean, I put two and two together when I realized you had history with Luca. I’ve never said a word about it to anyone else, but they probably know too.”

  Panic shot through me. “They do? How?”

  “Are you kidding? Every one of us has known someone who hated us because they were closeted themselves.” He shrugged. “I’m probably not the only one who’s guessed.”

  My blood turned cold at the thought of anyone speculating, never mind guessing, that I was gay.

  “Hey.” Ethan stepped closer, looking right in my eyes. “No one’s going to out you, man. Honestly, it’s your business, and no one cares about it nearly as much as you do. I’m just telling you that when you’re ready…” He smiled faintly. “It won’t be nearly as big of a deal to us as it is to you.”

  That was oddly reassuring. It felt monumental to me, even thinking about admitting what I was out loud again. The thought of it being a non-issue to everyone else on the team, that coming out might be completely anticlimactic, brought the fear down a few notches.

  What a shame it wouldn’t play out that way back home.

  “Thanks,” I said quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m… I have no idea if or when I want to come out. Aside from a handful of people. Publicly… to my family… I…” Just thinking about that made my stomach shrivel. “I don’t even know what I’m doing, to be honest.”

  He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…” I exhaled. “I’ve been fighting so hard for so long to tell myself I’m not gay. Now I’m just trying to navigate being gay. And I don’t know…” I trailed off, not sure how to explain it.

  “You don’t have to ‘do’ anything.”

  I met his gaze.

  “You’re still you,” he said. “The only difference is now you’re being honest with yourself.”

  I laughed bitterly. “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It’s not easy,” he admitted, “especially after you’ve been fighting it for so long, but it’s not like there’s a secret handshake or a list of things you have to do so you don’t get your gay card revoked. Just… be the same guy you always were, except let yourself be attracted to men and act on that attraction.”

  “And be less of a dick to other gay men?” I asked dryly.

  Ethan gave a soft laugh and showed his palms. “You said it, not me. But to be serious, it really is that simple. A lot of us had to figure it out at some point too. Spend a long time wondering what’s wrong or different, spend a little more time in denial, admit it out loud, and then flail a bit while we figure out what to do next. It's okay.”

  “Do most people flail like that in their thirties?”

  He studied me for a moment. “Everyone comes out when they’re ready. And usually the people who don’t have a reason they stay closeted. Yours is none of my business, but if it kept you from coming out, then it kept you from coming out.”

  “So, like an unaccepting family?”

  Ethan nodded. “If that’s what kept you in the closet this long, you wouldn’t be the first. Or the oldest.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He paused. “If it helps, even those of us with accepting families were still scared shitless to come out. I’ve lost count of my friends who cried when they told their parents, even when they were sure they’d be accepted.”

  I moistened my lips. “Did you?”

  To my surprise, he nodded.

  “But your family accepted you?”

  Again, he nodded. “I was pretty sure they would, too. But it was possible they wouldn’t. For a kid, that’s scary as hell. If I hadn’t thought they would accept me, God knows how many years I’d have waited before I even admitted I was gay to myself, never mind anyone else.”

  “Oh. Wow.”

  We held each other’s gazes in silence for a moment. I thought he was going to bow out and head for the shower, but instead, he quietly asked, “How do you think your family will take it?”

  “Oh, God.” I let my head fall back against the locker and sighed. “I know for a fact that they’ll…” A ball of lead formed in my stomach. “It won’t go over well. Guaranteed.”

  “Yeah?”

  Closing my eyes, I exhaled hard. “Every time I’ve even thought about accepting that I’m gay, all it takes is one visit with my family to add another padlock to the closet door.”

  “Jesus. That bad?”

  “That bad.” I gazed up at the locker room’s ceiling and blew out a breath. “Of all the people I’m dreading talking to…”

  Silence hung between us for a moment before Ethan spoke again. “If it’s not too personal—why now?”

  I looked at him. “Hmm?”

  “Something must have changed. Because this is the most we’ve talked in all the time we’ve been on the same team. You’re mending fences with people. You’re talking about coming out.” He furrowed his brow. “What changed?”

  There was no way I could explain it to him. Partly because I had no idea if he knew about my history with Matt, or if Matt would want him to know. Partly because the shame made me want to crumble to the floor and die.

  Instead, I went with, “An old friend made me take a long overdue look in the mirror. Made me realize I’d been awful to a lot of people.” I swallowed, though I had to work at it. “And that I was missing out on my own life.”

  Ethan studied me, then nodded as a small smile played at his lips. “Better late than never, right?”

  “Yeah.” I laughed humorlessly. “Something like that.”

  He couldn’t stick around any longer, and I didn’t mind. The conversation had gone better than I’d expected, but I was fine with it being over. And with having a minute to catch my breath.

  As Ethan headed for the shower, I kept leaning against the locker, and I exhaled. Maybe he was right. Maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal. He obviously knew, and Matt had known for years. The rest of the team knew about them and didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

  But I couldn’t help it— no matter how much I craved the daylight on the other side of these closet doors, I was terrified.

  I was pretty sure I could trust my gay teammates to be discreet. If I came out to the rest of the team, though, then there was the risk of that information slipping out to the public, and if it was made public, it would get back to my family. The thought of that literally made me shudder. I was barely coming to terms with my identity. If my family found out…

  I closed my eyes and tongued the inside of my lip where my tooth had once sliced it after Dad had backhanded me. He hadn’t laid a hand on me since I was a teenager, but he would this time. If I said the words…

  I blew out a breath.

  One thing at a time. I’d apologized to (and come out to) Ethan and Luca. That was a start. I’d made up with one of the four gay men on my team. One down…

  Well, actually only two to go. I had mixed feelings about the realization that I didn’t need to mend fences with Dane. Though no one had said anything outright, I wasn’t stupid. From the moment the kid had started practicing with us, Matt, Warner, and Ethan had taken him under their wing, and I’d known even then that they were shielding him from me. At the time, I’d been pissed, but now the shame turned my stomach at the realization that there’d been any need for them to do so. They’d expected me to be an asshole to an out gay player, and they’d been right to expect that.

  The upshot from their protectiveness was that it had worked—I’d only interacted with Dane as a teammate, and I hadn’t so much as looked at him sideways because I hadn’t wanted to deal with the other three. So now, while he was cautious around me (having been duly warned, I was sure), I hadn’t actually done or said anything to him that warranted an apology.

  I had a lot to unfuck with Warner. I didn’t have the stomach to face him today after I’d talked to Ethan, but I would. I owed him that much.

  And Matt?

  Oh, fuck. Matt. If there was anyone on this planet whose forgiveness I didn’t deserve, it was him. I’d try, though. If I had to get on my knees and beg for it, I would, because holy shit, I had worked him over, and I hadn’t known until recently just how badly I’d hurt him. How much that hurt had shaped his world and kept him alone for years.

  I wasn’t sure when or how to approach him and apologize.

  Only that I was scared to death it was already too late.

  Chapter 12

  Hunter

  “Dad, can I play?” Ginny tugged at my hand and gestured at the playground in the park we were walking past. “Please?”

  I checked the time on my phone. We’d finished up our errands early, and we still had some time before I needed to take her home for dinner. It was a nice day out, and there were quite a few kids around her age playing on the toys.

  “Sure.” I smiled down at her. “Twenty minutes. Okay?”

  Her face lit up. “Okay!”

  I chuckled and let her half-lead, half-drag me across the grass toward the toys. What could I say? I was a sucker for anything that made my kid happy.

  An asphalt path dotted with benches encircled the waist-high fence that surrounded the playground. I made sure she knew where I’d be, reminded her to stay inside the fence, and then sent her off to have a good time while I eased myself on to the bench. My lower back was grateful for the break; we’d been walking on hard floors and concrete sidewalks, and that was enough to cause some eye-watering lumbar pain. Letting Ginny play for a bit was never an imposition, and I tried to make time for it whenever I could. The break for Dad’s bitchy body was a definite bonus.