He gives me a kiss on the temple, the gentle show of affection sending heat to my face. As he heads to the bathroom in the master suite, I roll off the couch. My muscles complain as I stand, strongly reconsidering the move. Still, I should at least figure out where my phone is so I can tell Alexei to leave me in peace in a cuddle pile with Jamie.
I find it on the kitchen counter, near where we had made pancakes after finally leaving the bedroom. As I unlock it to text Alexei, I'm blown away by the number of notifications – missed calls,emails, and more missed texts than I've ever had before. It's been, like, three hours – what could have possibly happened?
Soon enough, the panic rises inside me.Did someone die? Or worse, get traded?
Before I can dive into the messages to figure out what's happening, the phone starts buzzing in my hand.
JackKinkaid.
Well, that doesn't exactly reassure me. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I answer the call as I walk back into the living room.
“Hey Jack, what's up?”
“Ethan! Glad to finally get a hold of you.” Relief is evident in his tone, but so is something else. Stress, maybe?
“Yeah, sorry. Saturdays off are a rare beast, just taking advantage of it.”
He hums distractedly. That's certainly not a good sign.
“So you, uh, haven't seen anything?”
“Not until about five minutes ago when I opened my phone and it was full of notifications. What's up? Did I, uh, get traded?”
Please say no.
“Oh, hell no. You know I've got you locked up tight in Minneapolis.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. I know it had been a big point of negotiation during my last extension, and that we'd ended up sacrificing a little money for one of the most secure no-move clauses in the league. Still, shit happens, and teams are willing to do what's necessary to move the pieces they need.
“Ok, what's up?”
Jamie is walking out of the bedroom now, his phone in his hand. He looks...pale? I gesture to him, beckoning him over to the couch again, wanting to feel his warmth again.
“Are you in a private place?”
“Yeah, like I said, I'm just hanging out at home today.”
“Are you, uh, alone?”
I swallow thickly, not really sure how to answer that.
“You can speak freely.”
He pauses, as though trying to interpret my failure to answer his question.
“There was an article onThe Neutral Zonethis morning.”
My heart plummets to my stomach, and I think of all the times I thought for sure I'd hear those words. Then here, today, while I'm feeling safe and warm, they snuck up on me.
“What does it say?”
At this, Jamie is the first to answer, sliding his phone into my lap.
There, on the screen, is a picture of us in the park. I swipe left, and find more pictures – us at the playground, Jamie laughing at something I'd said, me staring at Jamie in soft adoration.
The article itself is far less damaging. I have access to lawyers just like every other professional athlete, andThe Neutral Zoneknows it. They aren't going to come out publicly and justsay it. They'll hint and insinuate and, yes, publish pictures, buthey, do you think these guys are fucking?is a step too far even for them.
I realize Jack's started talking again, walking me through the article.
