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“Ma che cazzo dici? The fuck are you talking about?”
Nico appeared so genuinely confused that Bennett spelled it out. “Whatever this was—” he gestured between them “—is now over.”
“You don’t want to fuck anymore.”
The knot in Bennett’s throat threatened to choke him. How easy it would be to continue fucking this man and shove down all these inconvenient feelings. But that wasn’t fair to Bennett. He deserved more. And maybe it was time Nico knew it.
Bennett wet his lips, then made his confession. “I have feelings for you. Big ones.”
Nico’s olive complexion paled. “No.”
Not the reaction Bennett had been secretly hoping for. And of course, Nico was arguing about it. “Yes. It’s true.”
“But this is . . .” He shook his head. “No.”
“Unfortunately, repeating no doesn’t make those feelings go away, Nico.”
“You know why this is impossible.”
“Yes, I do.”
And he did. He really did. Bennett wasn’t out and he worked in a profession where queerness, gayness wasn’t accepted. God knew he wasn’t ready to be in a committed relationship with another man in front of the world, to be the first openly gay hockey player in the league. But he was in love, and men in love often believed in stupid, silly things.
Like how part of him had hoped that Nico might love him back.
He forced himself to shrug like all of this was inevitable. “Believe me, I tried to keep it from happening, but it did. And that’s why we need to stop seeing each other.”
Nico’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “Bennett. Bello.”
Bennett could hear the pity in Nico’s voice—and that made him feel a hundred times worse. “Don’t. Let’s just end it and move on.”
For a long beat they were both still and quiet, like neither one of them wanted to be the first to speak. The open kitchen felt too small, too warm. Bennett waited for Nico to say or do something, but each second that went by made him feel worse. A grand declaration of reciprocation wasn’t coming.
Finally, after what felt like several years, Nico exhaled and stared at the far wall as if it held the answers to all of life’s mysteries. “If that is what you want.”
The choice was being offered. Bennett could backtrack, return to being fuck buddies while he tried to exorcise his feelings. Deal with them alone, silently, never mentioning them when Nico occasionally stops by for sex. He’d never ask about the other people Nico might be sleeping with, either. And he’d never expect more.
Bennett couldn’t do it.
As much as this hurt, it was the right decision. Bennett knew it in his bones. So, with his throat scraping like chipped, rough ice, he said, “It’s what I want.”
Nico nodded, his eyes dull and guarded. “Then I wish you a happy life. In bocca al lupo.”
Bennett didn’t know what that meant and he wasn’t about to ask, either.
He just stood there, unable to speak, as the man he loved walked out the door.
A knock sounded on the office door. Nico was at home, alone in the house, trying to get work done, and no one should be bothering him. Without looking up from his laptop, he snapped, “Entra!”
“Ah. Still in a bad mood, I see.”
Filippo. Nico flicked him an angry glance. “Say what you need and get out.”
Foolishly undaunted, his cousin came in and shut the door, then slipped his hands into his pockets. “Are you ready to tell me what happened?”
Nico didn’t answer. Instead, he stood and went to pour another glass of whiskey, his third today. The liquor burned all the way down, warmth chasing away the perpetual chill in his chest. He retook his seat and considered lighting a cigar—or a joint. He hadn’t been high since he was nineteen, but maybe it was time.
Filippo wasn’t finished, apparently. “It’s obvious something happened.”
