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“True. Other things we could do, though.” I do what he says, settling in across the island from him. Though I was partly kidding with my offer, I was mainly serious. He looks unbearably sexy, in that damn oversized hoodie and sweatpants.
He peeks up at me through his lashes, before looking back down at the cutting board and continuing to chop. “Other things.” He repeats.
“Lots of other things.” I tell him, grinning.
“Stop distracting me, I’m using a knife.” He mutters, staring hard at the cutting board. I snort, but cease teasing him and settle in to just watch. I can work on distracting him later.
In true Corwin fashion, the stew tastes like something I could have ordered off of a menu. He shakes his head when I tell him this, frowning down at his bowl like it offended him.
“No, it’s not quite right. Sam’s was better.” He tells me.
“The hell it was.” I scoff. “No offense to Sam’s culinary skills, but there’s no way he’s on the same level as you.”
He smiles half a smile at that, punctuating it with another disbelieving shake of the head. The reminder of the earlier conversation with Troy and Sam chases the smile away quickly, though, and he remains quiet for the majority of dinner. Later, after we finish cleaning up, I lean a hip against the wall and watch as Corwin systematically shuts off all the lights.
“Do you want to watch a game?” I ask him, mentally tallying which NHL teams are on tonight.
“No, let’s go upstairs.”
Corwin reaches for my hand. I squeeze his palm against mine, firming my grip, and barely refrain from lifting his hand and kissing the back of it. Probably I should be embarrassed by the sheer number of romantic notions I have about Corwin at any given time of the day, but I don’t.
When we reach the bedroom, he lets go of my hand slowly; his fingers slide from between mine and skate across my palm, like he’s savoring every millimeter of contact. I expect him to change into his pajamas, so I start pulling off my own clothes. I’m down to my pants when I notice Corwin hasn’t moved, and remains fully dressed.
“What’s up?” I ask, pausing.
“Do you want to come out to the team?” He asks me, and I raise my eyebrows at him. I can see his chest expand in a deep inhale before he continues. “You said you didn’t mind keeping this a secret for me, but what do you want?”
“I’ve never told any of my teams that I’m bisexual before.” I remind him.
“Right. But was that because you felt like you couldn’t, or because you didn’t want to?” Corwin sits down on the end of the bed, knees wide and elbows resting on his broad thighs.
It takes me a second to respond. It’s a good question, and a distinction I haven’t given much thought to before now. I speak slowly, still working through my feelings as I voice them. “I guess it was mainly because I knew the news wouldn’t be well received. If I’d had close friends like Lawson or Troy, I would have, without question.”
He nods, clearly expecting this answer. “We’ve got a good group of guys. There really hasn’t been a lot of trouble, with Troy and now Sam.”
“Apparently not,” I muse, “I didn’t even know Troy was gay until I got here, and he told me. He might be the only openly gay player in the NHL and nobody knows about it.”
I’m still standing awkwardly in the center of the room while he’s sitting on the bed. Removing my pants, I toss all my clothes into the hamper and join him. Immediately, Corwin holds his hand out to me, palm up. Smiling, I link our fingers together. This time I don’t bother holding back, and bring our joined hands up to my face, kissing the back of his. He tracks the gesture, eyes blazing. I pull his arm over the top of my leg, resting our hands squarely in my lap.
“So, if you wanted to come out, you could do that. We could do that.” Corwin’s grip tightens incrementally, though his tone remains calm. “You don’t have to keep hiding, because of me.”
“Mm.” I swipe a thumb over his knuckles. The offer is genuine, though I know him well enough to know it’s not something he’d be comfortable with. “I don’t think anything needs to change, Corwin. It’s nobody’s business but ours, who we’re with.”
“Are you sure, though?” He asks, words betraying the nerves that his expression conceals.
“I’m sure. I don’t care who knows about us, beyond my family.” I wait until his eyes meet mine. “Perhaps one day we can visit them in Canada. Fair warning, there are a lot of them.”
He stares at me for so long I wonder if he’s going to reply at all. Just when I’m about to speak again, Corwin opens his mouth. “You want me to meet your family?”
“Of course.”
“Do they know?” His eyes are wide and intent on mine. “That you’re with a man?”
“Yes. Notwhichman though.” I nudge his shoulder with mine, trying to get him to crack a smile. “That’s going to be a nice surprise. Be ready to sign some autographs and talk some hockey.”
I get a partial smile at that, a quick flutter of movement at the corners of his lips.So serious tonight.Placing my free hand on the bed behind me, I lean back and angle myself to have a better view of his face. I wish I had another hand to slide up the back of his hoodie along the ridge of his spine.
“I’d like to meet them.” He tells me, and I smile wide enough for both of us.
