“Being a foster kid or having my foster dad be my hockey coach?” Ramsey asked wryly.
“Yes?”
Ramsey chuckled. “Sort of, yeah. I bounced around a lot. But then at nine, when I ended up with the Hood family, and the dad, Daniel, figured out I could skate? Could play when I stopped falling over every five seconds? I was safe.”
It was painfully easy to read between the lines. Ramsey had only been safe with that foster family as long as he played hockey. As long as heexcelledat hockey.
“It’s kind of amazing you didn’t end up hating it,” Nate said gently.
“Loved it from the first moment I got on the ice.” Ramsey’s voice was a mix of wistful joy. “I guess I was lucky that way.”
“Better than lucky, I’d say,” Nate said.
“Never wanted to be anything other than a hockey player, the moment I hit that ice. And I was behind, so I had to work harder, and I learned, too, that if I used my brain and worked smarter, that was even better.”
Nate could see that. He could imagine Ramsey being eleven or twelve and already smarter than everyone around him. A kid that didn’t have any advantages except that big brain, trying desperately to level the playing field until it was fair.
But even then, it was probably neverthatfair.
“That all makes a lot of sense.”
The corner of Ramsey’s mouth quirked up as they made their way around another turn. “Yeah? You feel like you’re close to unlocking all my secrets?”
Nate actually thought that maybe he was—he’d take at least some of the credit, but if Ramsey hadn’t ever wanted to share, he never would have. As for him? Nate knew he wasn’t much of a mystery, not like Ramsey was, but it was undeniable that Ramsey knew him now, inside and out.
Ramsey probably knew that Nate had already fallen in love with him. He’d probably known it the moment it happened and Nate couldn’t even be angry about that. All he felt was a dizzying kind of relief that Ramsey must know how he felt and he still kept wanting to be with Nate.
Nothing had sent him running for the hills.Yet. Maybeever.
“Maybe I am. Maybe I like it.”
“Just like it?” Ramsey’s smile was fully back now, light and joyful, and Nate wanted, suddenly and stupidly, to throw caution to the wind and tell him the truth.
Actually, I love it. I love you.
Because that was what his feeling had to be right? This bright bubble of light that seemed to be permanently lodged under his breastbone, that only glowed fiercer every time he looked over at Ramsey.
“No,” Nate said and didn’t elaborate.
Ramsey only smiled harder, and didn’t ask him to, which to Nate’s mind was definitely all the confirmation he needed that Ramsey knew the truth.
Knew the truthandwas doing the opposite of panicking about it.
“Can I ask . . .” Nate trailed off. Knowing he probably could. But still feeling unsure how to do it.
Of course Ramsey understood what he was asking, instantly. “Why was I a foster kid?”
Nate nodded.
“That’s pretty much the one thing everyone wants to know,” Ramsey admitted wryly. “The nice answer is my mom died, and there wasn’t a dad in the picture. The not-so-nice answer is she was a drug addict, probably couldn’t figure out who my dad was from the sheer number of possibilities, and then she did die, from an overdose.”
“God, I’m so sorry.” Nate wondered if he shouldn’t have asked.
But Ramsey only shrugged. “It’s awful, for sure. But if I’d ended up with her for longer? Who knows what I’d have gotten dragged into.” He looked over at Nate and squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t be a professional hockey player. I wouldn’t own a bar. I wouldn’t have ever met Wes. I wouldn’t be here, with you. Whenever I want to get angry about the things that happened to me, I remember all of that too. I remember that I built my own goddamn life, exactly how I wanted it.”
“Yeah, you did.” It was so fucking impressive. So many people looked at Ramsey and saw only the pretty face. Or assumed, because he was a hockey player, that he was dumb as hell.
But the more Nate saw of him, the more secrets he uncovered, the more in awe of the guy he was. The deeper he fell in love with him.
