Page 52 of The Perfect Snipe

The tension in Wyatt’s face melts away and his jaw goes slack, falling slightly open. His eyes go wide, blinking rapidly, and then a hint of a smirk plays at his lips, like we weren’t just beating the shit out of each other. “Well, why didn't you say so?”

Sometimes I forget how easily he can flip his switch.

But before I can respond to the words that came tumbling out of my stupid mouth, someone else is knocking at the door.

“Everything okay in there? I heard shouting.” Ian’s voice filters through into the room.

Great. Just what I need. An audience.

Wyatt yanks open the door as I rub my jaw, wincing at the throb. The skin is tender, and I'm sure it'll bruise by morning. Fantastic.

“Oh, shit. You two were throwing punches?”

Wyatt waves him off. “Just a misunderstanding. Come on in. Leo’s just about to tell us how he's in love with Cat.”

“I didn't say love. I said I might be falling for her.”

The two exchange a look that makes me want to punch something, then Ian quirks a brow. “And what do you think that means, dummy?”

I groan, sinking onto the bed. The mattress dips under my weight, and I resist the urge to just lie down and pretend this conversation isn't happening. They make themselves comfortable, clearly settling in for a long conversation I'm not sure I want to have. Ian leans against the desk, while Wyatt sprawls in the room's only chair.

“Come on, Sparkles. Spill it.”

Hate that fucking nickname. More so, hate my daughter right now because it’s her fault I have it.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Don't know, okay? It's been a long time since I've felt like this.”

“How long?” Ian’s voice is gentler than Wyatt's, calming even. His steady gaze encourages me to continue, despite my reluctance.

I swallow hard, the words sticking in my throat. “Haven't had a real date or relationship since Wendy died.”

Wyatt's eyes widen. “Wait, you mean you haven't had sex since—”

“No,” I cut him off, irritation flaring. I like to keep things private. But they’re my friends and opening up to them is important. For me as well as them. Doesn’t mean it’s easy. “I've hooked up. One-night stands, usually on away games. But nothing real.”

Ian looks down, picking at his nails. “I can relate to not having dated in a while.”

“Yeah?” I ask, curiosity overriding my desire to end this conversation.

He glances at Wyatt, then takes a deep breath. His shoulders rise and fall with the motion, as if he's steeling himself forsomething. “Yeah. It's . . . well, it's complicated when you're bisexual and in the NHL.”

Wyatt grins. “You gonna be mad he kept that from you?”

I shoot him a glare. “No, of course not. I understand how difficult that is. My brother's gay, and it took him a long time to tell me.”

A knot tightens in my chest. Sometimes I wish my brother had come to me first, before our parents. Instead, his call felt more like a final farewell. It wasn’t long after that he shut us all out, because of my mother.

I turn to Ian. “Thanks for trusting me with that. Anyone else on the team know?”

“Just you two. Don’t know the others well enough to talk about it really. And Wyatt’s known since we were teens.”

I nod, shifting on the bed to sit up a little straighter. “If anyone gives you shit, or you want to tell them, or just need an ear—because we all know talking to Wyatt sometimes is an exercise in frustration—I’m here for you.”

The conversation hits a lull, but it's not weird or anything. Just... heavy. I glance over at these two knuckleheads, and it suddenly clicks. These two are more like family to me than I realized.

“While I know better than to actually speak this out loud . . .” I look right at Wyatt. “You were right.”

Ian groans and curses under his breath as Wyatt punches a fist into the air, smiling wide, then looks at me, brows furrowed. “Uh, about what exactly?”

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