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“When are you heading to Chicago?”

I lift my head and grin at him. “You too? My sister suddenly knows my schedule as well. It’s all very confusing for me.”

Parker wrinkles his nose and nips my cheek. “While you’re gone, I’ll spend a few days at home. The apartment shouldn’t be empty for too long.”

“Of course,” I say immediately, a wave of guilt washing over me. I’m claiming Parker for myself, however it suits me best. Sure, he’s not forced to, but he still plans his life around me.

“By the way, I asked Simon about my vacation.”

“And?” I look Parker straight in the eye.

“He’s not happy about it, but he gave in. I’m getting a week.” He raises his eyebrows. “But I want ten days.”

I nod, my lips pressed together. “And you’ll get them.”

He beams at me. “Yes.” Parker runs his fingers through my hair again. “Have you talked to Blake about the vacation in Belgium yet?”

I stare at him. What did he ask? “We’ve got way more important things to deal with right now than discussing what to do after the Cup.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I don’t have the patience for that kind of nonsense right now.”

Parker flinches and nods dismissively. “Sure.” He pulls his hands back, and my words slowly sink in.

But he’s already turning around and walking out of the kitchen.

I quickly reach out and grab his wrist to hold him back. “Parker, wait.” I rush after him, and the sudden sideways movement shoots a jolt of pain through my thigh. Fuck.

I force myself to swallow the cry of pain. “Parker, please.”

He stops and turns my way, eyes boring into mine.

“I’m sorry. That was shitty to say, totally unwarranted. I’m in a terrible mood because things aren’t going well. And I’m an asshole for taking it out on you.”

He nods. “You are.”

“Pucky, my Puckling. If I could, I’d take it back. I’m so happy that you’re taking care of our vacation so we can spend time together when I have some time off from my strict schedule.” I intertwine our fingers and squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Parker sucks in his lower lip and lowers his chin. “Yes. You did.”

“Can I try to take back what I said?” I lower my head and search for his gaze.

He shrugs one shoulder and finally gazes at me. “Go ahead.”

“Okay.” I take his other hand too. “I’m happy that you’re thinking about a future with me. Even though I’m not capable of doing that right now because I’m stubbornly focused only on the things right in front of me. I’m afraid we’ll get knocked out of the playoffs; I’m afraid of being outed; I’m afraid of not being good enough for you. I’m not used to having so little control over anything in my life, and I’m taking it out on the one who deserves it the least. On the person I love the most. The person who would never talk to me that way. Instead of facing my fears and sorting through what they’re doing to me, I snap at the man by my side. The one I want to protect from all evil more than anything in the world.”

Parker rolls his eyes. “That last sentence was too much.”

I try to smile at him, even though my panic is paralyzing my facial muscles.

He steps toward me and presses a feather-light kiss to my lips. “Okay. You did good. I can’t tell you how to deal with your emotions, but . . . ”

My head drops of its own accord, and I avert my gaze from his. “In the back of my mind, I’m always thinking, what if we don’t win? Blake will be furious. My disappointment will be boundless. Not just because we lost, but because a whole year is slipping through my fingers. I’ll have to postpone coming out. We’re losing time. Believe me, that’s the last thing I want.”

Parker sighs. “There are quite a few rules in your life that you’ve set for yourself. You don’t have to achieve anything specific to . . . ”

I cut him off and place my hand on my chest. “I know that in here. But society sees it differently. There’s no point in turning a blind eye to it.” Not only society. The league, the fans, too. I don’t know what the team thinks.

Parker runs his finger over the spot between my eyebrows. “Don’t limit yourself like that. You don’t have to rush into anything, but you’re focusing only on the negative.”

“Not negative,” I object. “I’m being realistic.” I grip his hands tighter. “And I see that. I don’t have the slightest desire to hide away in the closet any longer. I want out. But something like that last game makes me afraid everything is slipping through my fingers again.”