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“For an out hockey player.” For the things he told me to be real. It’s as far as I can go. As much as I can admit, because there’s no way I’m going to tell him that if I found what I was looking for, I’d have hit the gas and driven straight through until I got to him. I’d have begged for a second chance.
Squinting off into the distance, he nods. “At first, I guess I was kind of torn up and confused. What happened with us felt like a lightning strike. I’d never experienced anything like it before, and it took a while before I could even think about anyone else. And then…” He squints at the sky. “Hell, I’d been so sure about us. And being wrong? It made me doubt things some. Wonder if maybe I’d been wrong about more. If maybe what happened between us was just a fluke.”
I rub at the pain in my chest, the soul-deep scar I gave to both of us.
“So you went back to dating girls?”
He lets out a quiet laugh, staring down at his hands. “Let’s say, I confirmed that I’m bisexual. I’m physically attracted to women. Been a few nights here and there. But when it comes to guys, I’m physically and emotionally attracted.”
My mouth goes dry. “You’ve had relationships with men?”
“Two.”
“I didn’t see anything.” My ears are ringing, and my chest feels like an anvil is parked on it.
“The first lasted a few months but wasn’t meant to be. Different lives and directions. Probably a little too easy to let go. If it hadn’t fizzled, I think we would have been open about it, but he wasn’t big on PDA. So while it was happening, no one noticed anything more than a couple guys hanging out now and then.”
I try to imagine it but realize I don’t want to. Still, I have to know. “The second?”
“The second was almost a year. He wasn’t out. Isn’t out. He said maybe someday, but I went into it with my eyes open. Even so, pretending for all that time is rough, you know?”
But he’d done it. For almost a year.
If I’d believed him. If I’d trusted, maybe we—
I shake my head, because that’s a train of thought I don’t think I can afford to follow sitting right in front of him. “Is that why it ended?”
He looks away but not before I see the hurt in his eyes. I don’t like it.
“There were a lot of reasons. But his not wanting our relationship to be public wasn’t really one of them. His cheating on me though… definitely was.”
“Trevor, man, I’m so sorry. When did you break up?”
“Few months ago.”
About the time he was playing with the Slayers. I want to ask him more about it. But there’s no missing the subtle shift in his body language, the way he closes off. Like he’s still protecting this jerk.
So I stick to the only question that really matters.
“Are you over him?”
“Him? Yeah. It? I want to be, but that kind of betrayal has a way of sticking with you.” A breeze blows through, tossing his hair around his face. “What really catches me up, though? The part that I resent the hell out of but can’t seem to get past, is this concern that if I come out, it changes things for him. Puts his secret at risk.”
“How do you mean?”
"Everyone knew we were friends. He’s terrified if people find out I date guys, they might draw conclusions. That even if they don’t exactly know… what if they ask him about me? About whether he knew? How he feels?”
“So now you… what? Feel like you can’t come out?” I reach across the scarred wood and take his hand. I only let myself hold it for a second, just long enough to offer the smallest comfort before giving him back his space. “It’s admirable that you want to respect his privacy, but I think you can do that and still live your own life. If anyone asks him about you… he can decide what he wants to say about it.”
The look on his face says even if he thinks I’m right he isn’t comfortable with it.
Spearing a hand through the overlong mess of his hair, he swings his legs out from the bench to stand. “You know, I’ve had a hard time making peace with that. Part of me felt like, without a good reason, what’s the harm in giving him more time to put some distance between us? But maybe he’s had enough time.”
Abandoning our coffees on the bench, I rise with him. “What changed your mind?”
His eyes meet mine, and the air in my lungs catches behind everything I’m seeing there.
He steps closer, moving into my space so there’s less than a foot separating us. Dappled sunlight plays across his brow, the crooked bridge of his nose, and those brawny shoulders, highlighting one perfect spot and then the next. Making me want to touch, to reach out and wrap my hand around the back of his neck, fist his shirt, and drag him in for a kiss.
