Page 29 of Grief & Glitter

“Back there.” He glanced toward the table. Walker and Chip headed for the elevators, Bob and Arnaud still arguing as they followed. “You said I was your date. In front of everyone.”

“I know.”

“Are you okay with that? I don’t want this to cause issues for you. With the team, or hockey, or whatever.”

“I’m the one who told them.”

“I know, but maybe it slipped out.”

“It didn’t.”

He stared at me, waiting, and I knew I had to give him more than that. A few weeks ago, I would have panicked, stumbled over an explanation, and spent the next three days wondering whether I needed to correct everyone.

But I’d thought about this. A lot.

I’d thought about the team knowing, management finding out, and someone taking a photo of us at the fundraiser and putting it online. There would be questions, probably gossip, maybe some asshole with an opinion nobody had asked for. Hockey liked to say it had changed, but I wasn’t stupid. I’d spent enough years inside locker rooms to know there were still people who thought anything different threatened the entire sport. None of that changed what I wanted.

“It didn’t slip out,” I repeated. “I wanted to say it.”

Ryan’s fingers twisted tighter in the cuff of my hoodie. “Why?”

I frowned. “Because you’re my date.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” I glanced toward the elevators, but everyone had gone. It was only us, the muffins, and a bored server rearranging bowls of fruit. “I don’t know if I’m gay or bi. Maybe I’m something else. I might never find a word that fits.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know that now.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “What I do know is that I want to date you. I like you a lot, and I think about you all the fucking time. I look for you whenever I walk into a room.” I drew in a breath. Saying things didn’t come easily to me. Ryan knew that. He waited while I dragged the words into order. “I don’t want to hide this. Us. Whatever we’re becoming.”

His smile faded around the edges. “Even if people talk?”

“They’ll talk for a while, then someone will get traded or punch someone on the ice, and they’ll talk about that instead.”

“It might not be that simple.”

“I know.”

“You’re a professional hockey player.”

“Minor league.”

He touched my arm. “You’re still a professional, Gids. People watch you. You have sponsors, fans, and management telling you what you can put online. You can’t pretend none of that matters.”

“I’m not pretending.”

Ryan’s fingers stilled. “Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’ve considered all of it.” I lowered my voice even though nobody was near enough to listen. “I’ve thought about someone asking me in an interview. I’ve thought about the guys knowing. I’ve thought about management calling me into an office and asking if this will affect the team. I’ve even thought about my family finding out.”

“What would they say?”

I didn’t know. “I’m scared,” I admitted. “Not of you. Never you. I’m scared of everything that comes with letting people know something real about me.”

Ryan’s expression softened. “You don’t owe anyone that.”

“No, but I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t care about anything beyond hockey. I’ve done that for years. I let everyone think I was reserved and private because it was easier than telling them I could barely get out of bed some mornings. I hid the scars. I hid how bad things got. I hid what happened with Ethan and let people make up their own reasons for why I never went home.”