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Noah’s jaw hardened. He let the door close behind him and marched toward Bennett, gesturing for him to go into the room. He all but shoved Bennett inside. “The fuck we will. I want to talk to you right now.”

Left with no other choice, Bennett went in and tossed his key card onto the dresser as Noah followed. The door closed with a snap. “We have to be up at nine, Brownie. And we have a game tomorrow night. We need to sleep.”

“Do not pull that captain shit on me. I want to know where the fuck you’ve been this whole time. I thought you were dead!” This was the angriest Bennett had ever seen Noah—and that was saying something considering Noah had the second-highest PIM total in the league. “I was ready to call the police. What happened up there?”

“Nothing,” he lied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his track pants. “We were talking.”

Noah’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “For three hours?”

“Yes. We were talking about the team and about the way he’s accusing all of you. I was trying to talk sense into him.”

“Who are you trying to fool? This is me, Benny. And the truth couldn’t be more obvious.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bennett was too wrung out for this conversation.

The silence stretched longer than usual. Noah didn’t normally hold back with Bennett—they’d known one another for too long—so his friend’s hesitation caused Bennett’s heart to speed up. What did Noah suspect? Did Bennett have I’ve just been fucked into the mattress stamped on his forehead?

He had to try to steer this in a familiar direction. “Let’s get some sleep and⁠—”

“You have sex hair,” Noah blurted. “And bite marks on your neck.”

Bennett felt dizzy, his palms growing damp like they were inside hockey gloves. Still, there was no choice but to deflect. “That’s crazy,” he said weakly. “You’re imagining things.”

“Bennett.” Noah’s heavy sigh sounded like disappointment and confusion and everything Bennett never wanted to talk about. “Come on.”

What was he supposed to say? Bennett didn’t have a speech prepared, or an answer at the ready. Maybe he should, all things considered, but he hadn’t imagined Noah—or any other teammate—would ever find out. It left Bennett’s brain swirling in a cycle of terror, unable to process, and his only play was to put this off until later. “It’s been a long night. We should talk in the morning.”

“Benny, just answer me. Are you sleeping with this guy?”

There it was, out in the open—the question Bennett had dreaded since realizing he was a gay hockey player. He was now living his worst fear, a waking nightmare surrounded by landscape paintings and cheap oak furniture.

Tongue thick, he lowered himself onto the bed and clutched the mattress. The sound of his breathing echoed in his ears, a rush of white noise that signaled the collapse of his nervous system. “I . . . ”

The sentence drifted off, trailing, the lie unable to form.

He didn’t want to lie to Noah, but he was incapable of telling the truth. This was the very thing he’d hidden his entire professional career. He didn’t hate being gay, but he hated being a gay pro hockey player. And if he admitted it now, that would be the only thing he’d ever be. The only thing people would ever see.

“You can tell me, man,” Noah said in the gentlest voice imaginable.

It made everything worse. Bennett dragged in a shaky breath, his nails digging into the bedspread. His eyes began to burn, so he rubbed them, hoping Noah wouldn’t notice. Fuck, was he going to start crying?

Spiraling in indecision and fear, Bennett stared at the shitty carpet and tried to keep his emotions under control. Fuck, why hadn’t he planned this better? He should’ve texted Noah hours ago that he was okay. It was selfish and stupid of him to think his friend wouldn’t be worried.

“Noah.” Soft and ragged, the two syllables were ripped from the depths of Bennett’s closeted soul. The other words, the admission, locked down for so long, wouldn’t come, not even to his closest friend. They were stuck in Bennett’s chest, burning and twisting, buried for nearly two decades, until he couldn’t breathe.

I can’t do this.

He was going to throw up. Why wasn’t Noah leaving? How much longer would the two of them stay here in silence? Please, for the love of god, let the floor open up and swallow me whole already.

Noah spoke next. “Okay, I understand.” He walked over to where Bennett was sitting and rested his hand on Bennett’s shoulder. “But I need you to hear this anyway. I’ve known you for twelve years. You were the best man at my wedding. I love you like a brother and that won’t change just because of who you happen to sleep with.”

Bennett tried not to lose his composure. He cleared his throat twice before he could speak. “I-I can’t. Maybe soon. But not now.”

“I’m not forcing you to. I would never. And I promise to never bring it up again. It’s your choice when and if you ever want to talk.” After one final squeeze, Noah’s hand fell off Bennett’s shoulder and he dropped back a step. “I will say this, though. If you are sleeping with that guy, what the fuck are you thinking? Because he’s dangerous.”

“He won’t hurt me,” Bennett said, feeling the need to defend Nico. Except once the sentence was out of his mouth, he realized it wasn’t a denial. Not quite an admission, either, but very, very close.

Noah dragged his hands through his hair. “You don’t know that. Jesus, he’s in the fucking mob.”