Page 33 of Home Ice

“Maybe I’ve changed.”

“Or maybe you’re still the same stubborn guy who uses hockey for validation.”

His eyes meet mine across the canyon of space between us, and something about it is so familiar, it warms me from the inside out. “Being a hockey star is awful. All the media interviews, awards nights, and multimillion-dollar contracts are the worst things in the entire fucking world. Do not recommend.”

Old Tai would have been wildly jealous over all of that, and even though there’s a distant pang of longing for that life, it’s a relief to know that I’m genuinely happy for him. It might have taken me forever to pull my head out of my ass, and maybe our friendship will never happen again, but at least I know I got here. The place where I’m genuinely okay with the decisions I’ve made.

“I bet all the women who throw themselves at you are awful too.”

“The worst.” He’s looking at the river as he scratches his nose, a sure sign he’s hiding something. Then he says the last thing I’m expecting him to, voice tight like he’s fighting against every word. “The, uh, men are horrible too.”

Nerves fill my gut, and I wonder if he’s still joking around or if he finds it genuinely horrible. Is he being homophobic right now or … coming out to me?

His tone is making me suspect it’s the second one, but I’ve never heard so much as a rumor about him. Considering I had to force myself to watch his games, I guess that’s not surprising.

Without knowing though, it makes my response risky, but I say it anyway. I’m not ashamed of who I am, and I don’t keep it a secret either. “Damn,” I tease. “That would be the best part for me.”

His gaze clashes with mine again. Sudden and intense, like he’s trying to read my mind. Our eye contact stretches on … and on …

Then the corner of his lips twitches upward. “I always knew you had good taste.”

Relief rushes out of me. “You’re bi?”

He shrugs. “I guess. I don’t really like putting labels on myself because people try to define things, and then other people disagree, and honestly, I have no preference. I’m attracted to pretty much everyone. Some people say that you have to be pan if you’re attracted to anyone non-binary or trans, but then it also falls under bi, and if you’re in an opposite-sex relationship, no matter who you’re attracted to, there are others who tell you to shut up and be straight.” He takes a deep breath. “I find it easier to not justify my attraction. I like who I like in the moment, and that’s all that matters to me.”

I nod. As someone who was eager to come out and proudly claim being gay, his way of thinking doesn’t apply to me, but it’s interesting to hear his perspective.

“And … you?” The guardedness dissipating has left his hazel eyes brighter. “Is it only men for you?”

“Yeah. I always felt like something was missing. The way you and some of the other guys talked about girlfriends and hooking up didn’t match with what I felt. Like, kissing was fine. I never had a problem getting it up, but I wasn’t … like, actively in the moment with them, I guess. I figured it out in college, and after I slept with a guy, I knew it.”

“You never said anything.”

“Neither did you,” I throw back.

He scratches his nose again. “I figured it out in high school.”

“Really?” I don’t know why that’s so shocking, but considering it was hard enough to keep it secret from him for a few years in college, I can’t believe he managed to keep it secret for longer than that.

“Yeah, we were here, actually.”

I look around at the river, remembering when we’d be here with a group of friends, just being kids. The memories fade away until it’s just me and Hawke.

He swallows roughly. “Junior year, we were hanging out, and I caught myself staring a few times in the locker room or around here and couldn’t figure out why.” His tongue swipes over his lips. “Then you stripped off your shirt to go for a swim, and I had the strongest urge to lean in and lick your nipple.”

Whatever I was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. A short, fast laugh coughs from me. “You wanted to lick my nipple?”

It’s the most glorious sound when he laughs too. “So badly. I freaked out, thinking I was gay, and went down a whole rabbit hole of experimental porn. I started dating Carly—obviously, I liked her a lot, don’t get me wrong—but I definitely held on to that relationship like a lifeline. If I was with her, I could keep my eyes firmly on my things while we were all changing in the locker room. Or turn my back when you’d strip off in front of me.”

“So that’s why you started doing that.” I’d worried that Hawke was suddenly shy. “Makes so much sense now.”

“It didn’t help that we’d get changed in front of each other a lot.”

“We had years in the locker room together and literally no secrets between us. It wasn’t weird to me.”

“It wasn’t weird to me either.” He sighs. “Until it was.”

I’m still grinning, and it feels weird on my face. “Sorry for causing you all that inner turmoil, I guess.”