Page 79 of From Wink to Kink

"Interesting how? Did you do lots of yoga? Make any new friends?"

And what do I say then? 'Well, Matthew, funny you should ask. Turns out it was actually a sex retreat. Oh, and I may have fallen for a professional hockey player who has anger issues and a heart of gold. We had a whirlwind almost-romance and then I panicked and ended things because I'm terrified of getting hurt. How was your week?'

Yeah, that'll go over well.

As the plane begins its descent into San Francisco, I feel a mix of relief and dread. Relief to be home, to be back in my comfort zone. But dread at the thought of facing my normal life with all these new, confusing feelings swirling inside me.

The seat belt sign dings, and the flight attendant's voice comes over the intercom, welcoming us to my city. As I gather my things, I can't help but glance a couple rows behind me, where I know Chuck is. For a wild moment, I consider waiting for him at the gate, telling him I've changed my mind, that I want to give this—and us—a shot.

But then I remember the paparazzi, the constant scrutiny, the fundamental differences in our lives. I remember my fears and insecurities, all the reasons I decided this wouldn't work.

So I hurry off the plane as soon as we're allowed. I power walk through the airport, not looking back, telling myself it's for the best.

As I step outside to hail a cab, the cool San Francisco air hits me, a stark contrast to the humid heat of Costa Rica. It feels like a bucket of cold water, shocking me back to reality.

This is my life. Books, dinner at home with Dad, the occasional wild night out with Matthew. It's safe. It's comfortable. It's what I know.

So why does it feel like something's missing?

As the cab pulls away from the curb, I allow myself one last glance at the airport. Somewhere in there is Chuck Newcomb, the man who turned my world upside down in just one week. The man I'm walking away from.

I face forward, and face my future. It's time to go home. Time to move on.

But as the familiar San Francisco skyline comes into view, I can't shake the feeling I’m losing a piece of myself. A piece thatwill always belong to a certain hockey player with a crooked smile and a heart bigger than he lets on.

40

CHUCK

The momentmy skates hit the ice, everything else fades away. The confusion, the lingering scent of tropical flowers and the buzz of giant insects—gone, and thankfully replaced by the familiar chill of the rink and the sound of blades carving through frost.

It's been two weeks since I returned from Costa Rica, two weeks since I last saw Ruby. Two weeks of throwing myself into training with an intensity that surprises even me.

"Newcomb!" Coach Thompson's voice booms across the ice. "My office, now!"

I skate over, my mind racing. What have I done now?

But when I enter his office, the man is grinning.

Didn’t expect that.

"Sit down, son," he says, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "I've got to ask you something."

I lower myself into the seat. "What's up, Coach?"

He leans forward, his eyes narrowed. "What the hell happened to you in Costa Rica?"

I freeze, my heart pounding. Does he know about Ruby? About the mix-up with the retreat?

But before I can stammer my response, he continues, "Because whatever it was, I want to bottle it and give it to the whole damn team. You're like a new man out there, Newcomb."

Um, what?

Relief washes over me. Fuck yeah. I’ve redeemed myself, at least until I mess up again.

But my relief is chased by a pang of... something. Sadness? Regret? Nah. Fuck that. I push it away.

"Maybe I am a new man," I say, aiming for nonchalant. "The retreat was... enlightening."

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