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“Uh-huh,” King said, and it was very sarcastic.

But it wasn’t true.

Was it?

Nolan wanted to be known. He wanted connection. But at the same time, the idea of being known terrified him.

Conversely, the idea of being unknown equally terrified him because it meant going through life without a partner. Without someone by his side. Growing old alone and wondering what the point of it all was.

So either he kept everyone at arm’s length and guaranteed his own loneliness. Or he took a leap of faith and let people close enough to see all the parts of himself that had never really fit anywhere.

Jesus Christ, talk about an existential crisis. Eli would love this.

King set the letters on the coffee table and rose. “I’m heading out. What are you doing today?”

“I don’t know,” Nolan said, following King to the front door, where his overnight bag waited. “Work, probably.”

“Gross. No. It’s Sunday. Take Eli out to brunch or go visit your dad. No, scratch that, Eli’s more interesting, no offense to your dad. I’m texting him right now.”

“Texting . . . my dad?”

“Eli.”

A kernel of jealousy began to bloom in Nolan’s chest. “Why do you have Eli’s number?”

“That’s irrelevant,” King said as he typed. “I’m telling him you’ll pick him up in . . .” He gave Nolan a quick glance. “You smell like the sports bar, so an hour?”

“How do you know he’s not busy? He might have practice.”

King raised a very judgy eyebrow. “You work for the Trailblazers, ergo you know their schedule by heart. Do they have practice today?”

“No,” Nolan said, a tad reluctantly. “It’s their day off.”

“Which means it’s yours too. So. Clean yourself up and take Eli to brunch. Hanging out with a cutely freckled hockey player who’s as smart as he is ripped has got to be better than sitting around here.”

That did sound better than working. And he did want to see Eli.

And he was cutely freckled.

And as smart as he was ripped.

But at the moment, Nolan was focused on that first thing. He still needed to map out all of those freckles.

“Maybe I’ll get takeout and bring it to him.”

King gave him a salacious grin. “Atta boy.” He put his phone away. “Now give me a hug. I’m leaving.”

Laughing, Nolan did as asked, then opened the door for him. “Drive safe. Text me when you get home.”

“Will do,” King said, bounding down the porch steps with his bag over one shoulder. “See you in a few weeks.”

“Sounds good. Wait, what’s in a few weeks?”

“I’ll be back for another visit.”

Of course he would. “Maybe give me a little more than three minutes’ warning next time?”

“We’ll see,” King said. With a final grin, he got into his car.