Page 40 of The Retreat

“I honestly have no idea.”

There’s an excitement in the air when we enter the fencing building. Every day is closer to the season opener. Since most of us were on the team last year, we get changed into practice gear.

“Any idea who the new captains are going to be?” Isaac asks.

“No idea, and honestly, as long as it’s not me, I don’t care.” The last thing I need is to add team captain to my list of duties.

“You don’t want to be a captain?”

“I’m not exactly captain material.”

Ryan Abbott comes in to get changed and winks at me. Oh well, hello there.

I wonder…

“Hello Ryan, how was your summer?” I smile at him, standing just a little too close.

“You know how it is. Mother insisted on a month in Italy.” No wonder he’s so tan.

“Yes, mothers are the best at ruining our plans.”

We leave the locker room shoulder to shoulder and head toward the bleachers to wait for Coach.

“Uh Colin?” Isaac whispers, but I ignore him. Ryan brushes a hand on my arm and tingles break out along my skin. Fuck, I haven’t been touched, even a simple one like that, in weeks. I’m dying for it.

Leaning toward him, I inhale the expensive cologne the epee captain wears and whisper in his ear. “We’ll have to get drinks after practice. I want to hear all about Italy.”

“Boys,” Coach Kennedy calls through the space, and we all turn toward him.

“We will be selecting captains in two weeks, all the team members will take a vote, and I will take those into consideration.” He claps his hands together. “Now, let’s get to work and see how much you all slacked off during break.”

I smile at Ryan, little touches here and there. Nothing indecent, just correcting posture while coach finishes talking. This could be the answer to all my problems.

But then Coach says, “We are lucky to have a national team fencer among us. Owen will be joining us for practice for the foreseeable future.”

My head snaps around to find my husband seething.

What is his issue? Not like he wants it.

I lock eyes with him and keep talking to Ryan. He gets closer, picking a little piece of fuzz off my shirt as he drops his voice to a flirty tone. I don’t stop him, tearing my gaze away from Owen. He doesn’t want me, so he can’t be mad someone else does.

FIFTEEN

Owen

I’d received dozens of emails, calls, all of which were requests for interviews. They’ve become incessant. I can’t escape them. All because I’m now the accidental face of gay sports as the first out national team fencer. But I’m a fucking fraud and taking space from real queer people. It makes me want to disappear even more intensely than ever before.

The pressure of this whole “out and proud” shit isn’t for me, even if it were true. I hate being the center of attention. I hate when anyone recognizes me as a person most of the time.

What’s worse is it’s stressing me out so much I know Colin feels it. He’s a shell of his joyful self, and I hate that he has to deal with me.

Why do I have to exist?

“This shouldn’t be me. It should be you, or Colin.” I sit in Oliver’s corner office with my knees pulled into my chest, trying not to have a panic attack.

“It is Colin.”

“He wasn’t invited.” I stare. “Were you even listening?”

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