At least we’d stopped before we’d gone much farther. Even with that popper or whatever the hell it was, I didn’t imagine he’d have been comfortable being topped. I had a feeling he’d have done it anyway, and that made my skin crawl, because prior to getting my head out of my ass very recently, I might have been oblivious to how uncomfortable he was.

  Either way, this was not how I’d envisioned the night playing out.

  But after my conversations with Matt and Luca, I had promised myself I was going to do better. I’d been an asshole for a long, long time to a lot of people, especially men in Hunter’s line of work. Maybe tonight was a chance for me to put my money where my mouth was and prove to myself that I was going to do what Luca had told me to do.

  “Next time you hire a Gentleman,” he’d said at the wedding, “don’t think of him as an escort. Try looking at him as a person who deserves pleasure and affection. Not an outlet for your frustration.”

  Words I was trying like hell to live by, and tonight I had a Gentleman who not only deserved pleasure and affection, but clearly needed some sympathy and compassion.

  What would I have done if this had happened a year ago?

  I shuddered. That was not something I wanted to think about tonight. I was going to do better than I would have then. Full stop.

  I led Hunter out onto the patio in my backyard. This time of year, the sun went down late, though the air was smoky and the sky hazy from some distant wildfires. The thick heat of the afternoon was steadily cooling, and the evening was comfortable. The bugs could be an issue, though; I had some citronella candles on the table, and I lit them just in case.

  “You want anything to drink?” I asked Hunter. “I was going to grab a Coke.”

  Hunter seemed to think about it as he eased himself down into one of the padded wrought iron chairs. “Some water, if it’s not too much trouble?”

  “Sure.” I went back inside and got us each a drink.

  As I was sitting down opposite him, Hunter opened up what looked like a corked test tube, and from that, he slid a joint free. He lit it, and he closed his eyes as he took a deep drag. He held it in for a good long while before turning his head away from me and slowly blowing out the smoke.

  After just one hit, the relief was visible to the naked eye. His features relaxed. So did his shoulders. He took another drag, then put the joint in the ashtray and sat back, eyes closed as he just breathed for a moment.

  “Better?” I asked.

  Eyes still closed, he nodded. “Yeah. Way better.” He exhaled again before looking at me. “I’m sorry. Sometimes pain gets the best of me.”

  I offered a sympathetic smile. “I’m a hockey player. If there’s one thing you won’t be judged for in this house, it’s pain.”

  He studied me uncertainly. “Really?”

  “Mmhmm. Whenever my teammates hang out, someone inevitably needs an icepack or has a brace on for something. Kind of comes with the territory.” I gestured at the joint. “Maybe someday the League will wise up and let us use that.”

  “They still don’t?”

  I shook my head. “Fuck if I know why. Isn’t like it’s a performance enhancer, you know?”

  Hunter laughed. “You know, I would seriously pay to watch a hockey game where all the players were baked off their asses.”

  “Oh God.” I chuckled. “I can’t even lace up my skates when I’m high.”

  “See? That would be even funnier! The whole pre-game show could just be the players trying to put on their skates and pads and shit.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “How strong is that weed?”

  He glanced at it and shrugged. “Strong enough it’s a good thing I didn’t drive here tonight.”

  “Yeah, I bet.” I watched him. “Is it helping, though?”

  He released a long breath. “Yeah. It is. It makes my head kind of weird, but everything else…” Closing his eyes again, he nodded slowly. “Thank God I can get weed, because I can’t get the stronger stuff.”

  “You can’t?”

  Hunter shook his head slowly. “Not with everyone panicking about the opioid epidemic. And don’t get me wrong—I totally understand that whole thing. But the fact that some doctors over-prescribe and some people get addicted doesn’t change the fact that some of us are in pain…” He hesitated, tapping his nails on the edge of the table. “I don’t want to get fucked up. I just want to be able to function.”

  “I believe that,” I said. “I know some hockey players who’ve had a hard time getting their hands on painkillers because of that, even after they’d have surgery or something. You’d think there’d be some common sense about people who actually need it.” I paused. “On the other hand, I know players who’ve gotten hooked. Seems like someone would have figured out a different solution for pain by now, you know?”

  Hunter grunted in agreement. He lit the joint again, took another drag, held it, then blew it out.

  “I have a question,” I said. “And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

  He gazed at me through the thin cloud of smoke as he put the joint in the ashtray. “Shoot.”

  “If you’re in this much pain, why did you accept the booking tonight?”

  Hunter avoided my gaze as he focused on absently turning his lighter over and over between his long fingers. He didn’t seem overly surprised by the question, but he was obviously not comfortable with it either.

  “Seriously, you don’t have to answer. I just… I don’t want you to think you’re obligated to be here if it hurts to be touched.”

  Pressing his lips together, he nodded. He eyed the joint for a moment as if he were considering taking another drag, but instead, he sat back and exhaled. “To be perfectly honest in a way that my boss would lose her shit over, I can’t afford to decline a booking.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded. “I could lose my job. I mean, we can make ourselves unavailable if we’re sick, or if we just don’t want to work for a while. Declining a booking can get us deactivated from the app, though.”

  I winced. “Oh. Shit.”

  “It’s not your fault,” he said softly. “I should’ve temporarily deactivated myself. I just hadn’t gotten to that yet.”

  “But if you’d messaged me or something…” I pressed my elbow onto the armrest and watched him. “I would’ve understood.”

  Hunter winced, still not looking at me. “A lot of clients do. That… That wasn’t really the biggest issue, though.”

  “What was?”

  He swallowed. After a long moment, he finally met my gaze. “Company policy aside, I literally can’t afford to decline clients. I’m…” He chewed his lip, then deflated, and he stared at the smoldering joint as he spoke. “I’m a single dad. I have to live with my ex-wife and her husband because that’s all we can afford. Even with all three of us contributing, we’re barely scraping by.”

  My lips parted. “Holy shit. And you really live with your ex and her new husband?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed humorlessly. “It’s not as awkward as it sounds, and we get along all right, but there are days…” He trailed off, staring out at the yard with unfocused eyes. “It’s not ideal, let’s put it that way. We don’t clash like people expect us to, and it’s a million times better than when we were still married. And I like her husband. He’s a great guy, and he’s been an awesome stepdad to our daughter. But…” He sighed, his shoulders sinking, and he turned to me. “It’s not something we want to do forever, you know?”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Until we can figure out a financial solution, though…” He shrugged, winced faintly, and then reached up to rub his shoulder. “To be blunt, there are a lot of times when me getting paid for a booking is literally the only way we can make rent or go grocery shopping.”

  “Holy shit,” I whispered. I knew what it meant to be in dire straits. My childhood hadn’t been bad in that respect—my family had always been reasonably secure financially, even if there had been somewhat lean times. My college years, though? Ooh, boy, I knew what it was like to choose between putting gas in my beater and buying enough ramen to get through the week. The minor league years weren’t much better.

  But I hadn’t had anyone else depending on me. If things really went to shit, my parents had been a phone call away. I’d never been in danger of winding up on the street or starving. So yeah, I knew what it was like to struggle, but I literally couldn’t imagine what it was like to be in his shoes.

  Hunter shook himself and rolled his shoulders, still rubbing the left one. “I’m sorry. I’m not even supposed to be talking about all of this with clients.” He laughed humorlessly. “The boss says it’s like how people who work at Disneyland can never break character—don’t ever ruin the magic for the client.”

  “It’s fine. Honestly.” And the comment about breaking character or ruining the magic sent a cold shard of horror right down my spine. How many times had other men from Emerald City gritted their teeth and rolled with my bullshit while reminding themselves to stay in character no matter how much it sucked? Oh God. That was going to keep me awake for a while. I took a deep swallow from my drink and met Hunter’s gaze. “Last time you were here… Were you in this much pain?”

  “No. Days like this… I mean they’re not rare, but it’s not every day.”

  “But were you in pain at all?”

  He held my gaze, then whispered, “I’m always in pain.”

  “Jesus…”

  “It’s manageable most of the time,” he went on. “Honestly, I can do the job more often than not.” There was an unspoken plea in his eyes, too: I need this job.

  Goddamn, I was torn. I wanted him, but I was also afraid to hurt him. At the same time, I had the means to hire him and help with his cash flow. I had no idea if that would actually balance out some of my terrible karma or not, but it would definitely soothe my conscience. Unless I hurt him, of course. Damn. What was the right thing to do here?

  Maybe the best thing was to let him decide.

  I took a deep breath. “Listen, um. It’s completely up to you, and if you don’t want to, or you think it’ll be too much physically, I’ll understand. But I’d really like to book you again.”

  He met my gaze, eyes full of question. “You would? Even after…?” He gestured at himself and the weed.

  “Yeah. I mean, last time was really good. There’s a reason I wanted to see you again tonight, you know?”

  “Right, but it didn’t exactly turn out so hot this time.”

  “No, but…” I thought about it. “The thing is, I don’t want to get you in trouble with your boss. I mean, what if I message you first? See if you’re up for it before I actually book on the app?”

  “You’d…” He searched my eyes. “You’d really do that? What if I’m not available that night?”

  I shrugged. “Then you’re not available that night.”

  “Are you—? You’d be okay with that?”

  “Of course! Especially if it means not asking you to perform when you’re in too much pain.”

  He flinched, cheeks coloring.

  “I mean it. The last time was really good. And I think…” I swallowed hard, then shook my head. “I can’t really explain it, but I think it’s what I needed. What I still need. I’d, um… If you’re up for it physically, I think making this kind of a regular thing would be good for me. At least while my team is in the off season.”

  Hunter held my gaze. “How long is that?”

  “Until about October. There’s training camp and practice before that, but the pre-season doesn’t start until late September.”

  “So, the next two or three months.”

  I nodded.

  He shifted a little in his chair, features tightening as if the subtle motion hurt. It probably did. “How regularly are we talking?”

  “I figured we can play that by ear a bit. When I’m available. When you feel up to it.”

  “You’d just want me? For all that time?” He laughed with what sounded like some vague nervousness. “There are a lot of other guys at Emerald City. Without so many, um… So many limitations.”

  “I know. But I think you’re the right speed for me.” I paused. “If you want to. If not, I’ll—”

  “No, I’m in,” he said quickly. “I’m in. Definitely. Just, um… There really will be days when I have to say no, and I don’t…” His forehead creased, and he chewed his lip as if he wasn’t sure how to finish that thought. Or like he thought he’d said too much.

  “It’s all right. I mean it. I’m still… I guess you could say I’m still figuring some things out. I’m not ready to date, and I’m not out, so the discretion is important.” I hesitated, then softly added, “And seriously—I liked it. With you.”

  “Oh. Okay. Yeah, we can, um… We can do that.” He rubbed his neck and winced. “I’m sorry again about tonight. This fucking sucks.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “I’ll probably be fine—or, well, I’ll be better in a couple of days. These flare-ups don’t usually last very long.” His eyes were almost pleading as he said, “So, if you want to try this again, I’ll probably be okay later this week.”

  Jesus. He was in that much pain, and he was already thinking ahead to when we could do this again? Sure, I’d suggested making it a regular thing, but I’d assumed we’d actually schedule it once he felt better. When I was hurting really bad—or even when I had a damn cold, honestly—I pretty much resigned myself to feeling that way until the end of time, and I dreaded putting on my skates again even though I knew I’d be back to normal before long. It just never seemed like I would when I was in the thick of it.

  But then part of our conversation replayed in my head:

  “I’m a single dad, and I have to live with my ex-wife and her husband because that’s all we can afford. Even with all three of us contributing, we’re barely scraping by.”

  Oh. Shit, he wasn’t thinking ahead to when he could handle a roll in the hay—he was trying to get back in the saddle sooner than later because he needed the paycheck.

  “For what it’s worth,” I said, “I’m still paying for tonight.”

  Hunter’s eyes widened and his lips parted. “But… But I didn’t do anything.”

  I grinned. “I’m pretty sure the Emerald City terms of service say I’m paying for you to show up and provide company. Everything else is… unofficial.”

  He blinked. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. And going forward, let’s text instead of using the app,” I said. “So it’s off the record for your job, and you don’t have to keep your calendar open if you’re not up for it. When you’re game and we’ve confirmed our schedules line up, I can book you through the app.”

  “Oh. Okay. And…” He pushed out a long breath. “That would mean I can gray out my calendar and make myself unavailable to other clients.” He sounded relieved as hell just saying that.

  “Whatever you need to do,” I said.

  Hunter met my eyes, and he actually smiled. “Thanks. We’ll have to play it a bit by ear, but yeah, I think we can make this work.”

  “Me too.”

  I was still worried about his pain, but to my surprise, I was actually excited about going forward with this too. A regular thing with the same guy meant I could find my footing and figure out the kind of sex that wasn’t “get off, get out, and get drunk.” I’d just have to be careful of him physically, and I could do that. Six months ago, I might not have even noticed—holy shit, that thought made me sick—but I noticed now, and I was determined to be more conscientious with him than I’d been with other men.

  Tonight definitely hadn’t played out the way I’d anticipated. This wasn’t what I’d needed after my trip to Rexburg, and I really felt for Hunter, since he was clearly miserable.

  But I liked this new direction.

  And now I had our next encounter to look forward to.

  “Oh, hey, Scott.” Brittany smiled cheerfully from behind the counter in the float center’s lobby. “How have you been?”

  “Good.” I smiled back. “Sorry, I was running a little late. I’ve got a session booked for one o’clock.”

  “No problem.” She checked her screen, then nodded sharply. “Looks like you’re all set.” Gesturing over her shoulder, she added, “I’ll put you in number seven.”

  “Perfect. Thanks.”

  I headed into the back, following the familiar hallway lined with ferns and aloe plants and other things I couldn’t identify. In the room she’d indicated, I put my bag down on a chair, then went through my usual routine—strip out of my clothes, shower, and get into the float tank.

  This place didn’t have the sleek, high tech tanks that some of the more high-end facilities did. No fancy LED lights. No lid that came down on hydraulics or whatever. No spaceship-looking design. It was kind of a clunky-looking metal box with a hatch that you’d lift up, step through, and close behind you after crouching in the water. Not the most glamorous or cutting edge equipment, but it definitely got the job done.

  After all, this was one of those situations where the outside didn’t matter nearly as much as the inside. As with any floating tank, the interior had Epsom-salt-saturated water that was the same temperature as the air above it—I wasn’t sure what the actual temperature was, but the idea was that you’d float on the surface and feel completely warm and weightless.

  With the top of the tank closed, it was completely dark, and I lay back on the surface of the water with my arms over my head. Once I was settled and the water had stopped moving…

  Oh, God, yeah.

  That warmth and the weightlessness were addictive, and they let my back and joints relax. Before long, some steady aches started to ease the way they always did in here. My knee didn’t throb quite so aggressively. The usual annoying twinges in my back, neck, and shoulders calmed down. Floating wasn’t a cure for a damn thing, but it took the strain and pressure off everything for a little while.