Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Sky?”
“How did you know?”
Harry pointed at his eyes and winked. “I see things. You’re not as sneaky as you think.”
If he told me there were cameras in Bailey’s office, I might actually vomit. I gave him a shaky smile instead.
“Oh?”
“You’re both rather smitten. It’s easy to see if you’re looking. It’s easy to ignore if you’re not. Your mom was wondering when—”
“My mom knows?” I raked my hand through my hair and started pacing again.
“She doesn’t know for sure. But she’s rather sensitive to your happiness. She’s noticed you’ve been…”
“Less of a dick?” I supplied.
Harry chuckled lightly. “Something like that. Does your black eye have anything to do with your news?”
“Sort of.” I touched the tender skin under my left eye, then sank into a barstool and told him everything.
“Sounds like nothing has to change if you go to that party tonight. Is that right?” he asked gently.
“Maybe, but…I don’t want to go.”
“You can straighten it out with your team tomorrow or Monday. You have a friend to cover for you and Sky won’t stand in your way, so—”
“But that isn’t what I want.”
“Hmm. What’s stopping you from going after everything you want? Obviously, it’s fear. But what are you afraid of? Your team’s reaction, losing your friends, losing family? You’re not a fear-driven person. You like to rock the boat. What’s stopping you?”
I pursed my lips hard, but I couldn’t keep the tears at bay. My eyes welled and my throat closed. I swallowed around the ball of emotion and looked away.
“My dad. He wouldn’t like this. He didn’t want me to be like this. He wanted me to be better than him. A better skater, a better athlete…it was all about hockey and hockey players aren’t gay,” I choked.
Harry didn’t speak immediately. He let my words linger in the air between us until they dissipated and evaporated. Then he leaned forward and gave me a sharp look.
“You know that isn’t true, Colby. And you know your dad loved you more than he loved the game. The game was his connection to you. It was currency. Something to talk about when distance threatened to pull you apart. It wasn’t a measure of love. You know that.”
“Every message is about hockey. I listened to them so often. ‘Hey buddy, practice hard. Hey buddy, get a hat trick for me. Hey buddy, I want you to kick ass at your game today.’ None of them are about me. So, I’ve been waiting for a sign from him to let me know he wouldn’t give up on me or think I was weak if I admit…”
“If you admit what?” he prodded.
“That I’m in love with a guy,” I whispered.
“Hmm. What does your gut tell you?”
I licked my lips and let out a ragged breath. “I want Sky.”
Harry lifted his brow then smiled and gathered my teacup before heading for the sink to rinse it out. He squeezed my arm as he passed and said goodnight. I think he mentioned something about the alarm and maybe bacon too, but my head was spinning again. But in a good way.
If anyone told me I’d spend an entire Sunday hanging out with Harry and my mother of my own free will, I’d have said they were high. But I did. I picked up my mom from the airport with Harry after breakfast and went shopping for succulents. Mom put me to work planting in the garden while she bored me to tears with stories about my aunt’s family and cousins I hadn’t seen in years. But at one point she crouched beside me wearing her big floppy gardening hat and a pair of gloves and bumped my elbow.
“Just so we’re clear, I like him. A lot.”
“Who? Harry?”
“I love Harry,” she gushed, chuckling when I rolled my eyes. “But I like Sky. And I love you. Be happy, my darling.”
I smiled, then tickled her until she quit giving me gooey looks. And later that night, after I’d texted my friends and my coach and assured them I was relatively sane and that I’d be at practice Monday, I started making a new plan.
Today was an ice day. I had more reservations about making a scene on the ice than I did about saying the words. This was holy ground to me. This was where I came to do battle. To fight and to win. Not to talk about my fucking feelings. But this wasn’t about feelings. It was about truth. And it wasn’t until I’d strapped my skates on that it struck me as poetic and kind of perfect to tell my truth here. I did a couple of laps to warm up. I didn’t put my earpods in. I needed to be completely aware of my surroundings…the cut of the blades on the pristine ice, the echo of the AC unit, and the hum of distant conversation. The noise was getting louder. It was almost time.