Page 34 of Provoking the Punter

He should’ve done it that first day when they asked, but he been in shock. He didn’t know what he’d said. He wasn’t sure what he’d done the entire week—aside from Chester. He was blaming the stress.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, hoping it was Chester. He could go back to the room and be on his own for a bit, while the others finished dinner, and they could talk. But it wasn’t Chester. It was Caitlin asking him to come to one of the business suites.

Fuck.

“Message from your girlfriend?”

Garrett smiled, fully aware it was what Chester called the fake media one. He felt it in the tightness of his lips and cheeks. “I’ve got to take this.”

He walked away from the table and messaged that he’d be there in five.

He asked one of the staff where the room was, and she delivered him to the door. It was one of the small meeting rooms in the hotel. The table was big enough for four people to sit at, but there was only Caitlin, a laptop and some papers.

She glanced up. “Can you shut the door?”

His stomach dropped, but he did as he was asked.

Nervous sweat beaded in his armpits and ran down his sides. He was sure dinner rose halfway up his chest, ready to leap out of his mouth if he had to speak.

He sat opposite her and swallowed. “What’s…” He didn’t want to say wrong. “Up?” he finished, sure she was already three steps ahead, and judging him.

She’s one of the good ones.

He hoped Chester was right.

That it was only her, and not any of the coaches, was a good sign.

She turned the laptop to face him. At first, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, aside from Grayson and his wife having dinner. He frowned, and it took another second before he realized why the restaurant looked familiar. It was Bathtubs. Chester had mentioned the dinner. He’d been there that night. And there he was in the back right-hand corner with Chester, crouching next to the table as they talked.

“My photographer sent me shots from last night for me to approve before they’re published. I'm going to ask that he crop them to focus on the couple.”

These were paparazzi shots for Grayson. Everyone knew he’d been screwing around, and that his wife was not happy no matter what jewelry he gave her—he’d complained about the cost of keeping her quiet.

“I want to know why you were there.”

“For dinner. I wasn’t drinking.” He hadn’t signed a clause to say that he wouldn’t. Though he had been willing to.

“Chester spoke highly of you. I think his words were, ‘you can catch a football and hold a conversation’.”

He couldn’t help the rush of heat to his cheeks. All he could do was turn the laptop back to her and hope it wasn’t bloody obvious. “We had a good chat afterwards, and we have a bit in common. We both lost our mothers and have a difficult relationship with our fathers.”

She was studying him, as she knew there was something else.

This was the opening. She was holding the door open for him. Fuck, if she’d realized how many other people had realized?

“So it was just dinner, in a place you were familiar with?”

He stared at the table. It wasn’t actual wood, but wood-look laminate, and there was a big gouge right in front of him.

Just say it. Admit to being gay. Tell her I don’t want to come out. Tell her about Harrison.

His stomach clenched. “It’s queer friendly.” That wasn’t enough. His mouth dried. Now or never, Stevens. He glanced up at her. “I’m gay.”

She didn’t say anything. Her expression hadn’t closed off, and her eyes hadn’t hardened. It was as though she was waiting for him to say more.

“I should’ve told you when I first got here. You asked me if there was any potential PR blowback, but I didn’t even know which way my head was on. It was terrified of being cut before I even had a chance.”

“Is that why you were traded?”

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