Page 55 of From Coast to Coast

Remy

It would probably be overlydramatic to say that the first few weeks following Grayson’s departure are the worst of my life, but while I’m living them, it becomes hard to think of a time when I was more miserable. I feel worse than I did after my divorce. Hell, I feel like Grayson and I are goingthrougha damn divorce.

Practice has become a lesson in biting my tongue, as Calgary morphs into a completely different team post-Grayson. It’s painfully evident that Zolkov, Gordon, and I are the only people who miss him—the rest seem to be happier with him gone. The locker room has become a veritable parade of men strolling around naked, apparently far more comfortable showing off skin now that the gay man is no longer in their midst. Jokes are tossed about more carelessly, as well—each one creeping closer to homophobic as though they’re testing the waters.

It’s sickening, and walking into the locker room neverfails to make my stomach churn with discomfort. I know it’s not the case, but it feels like every jackass in the league plays for this fucking team and I’m stuck with them. They’ve already started making noise about wanting to offer me a contract extension, but I’m leaning toward turning it down. I’ll take the uncertainty of free agency before I agree to another year playing with Calgary.

The best part of my day is when I talk to Grayson. By some miraculous, unspoken agreement, we’ve called each other every single day since he left. Sometimes we video-chat for hours, while other times we’ve only got a couple of minutes to spare. No matter what though, I hear his voice and it’s enough.

The last time we video-called, Grayson had tentatively asked if I’d met someone. I’d nearly laughed. When I told him no, he wasn’t quick enough to hide the naked relief on his face or the happiness in his voice.Me either, he’d said, and that was the last we’d spoken about it.

But I can’t get the conversation out of my head, nor stop picturing the wariness in Grayson’s blue eyes when he’d asked. He’d told me it wouldn’t be fair for us to keep to our agreement and that I should see other people, but I keep coming back to the expression on his face when we were on the video call. No matter what he told me before he left, it’s clear he doesn’t actually want me to be dating someone new.

Unfortunately, this leaves me in something of a panic spiral. I told Grayson I wasn’t ready for anything beyond a casual relationship and he’s respected that, but that means it’s up to me to make a move if that changes and this is where I’m getting stuck. Am I ready to be in yet another committed relationship so soon after my divorce? Or am Iconfusing lust with love and getting attached to Grayson simply because he’s new and exciting and different?

Fuck if I know.

My phone buzzes, and speak of the devil, it’s Grayson. My stomach flutters with nervous energy, like a teenager getting a text message from their crush. Not wanting to keep my crush waiting, I open the message.

Grayson

Late practice tonight, can I call you in a couple of hours?

Remy

Sure. We finished early here, so I’m already home. I’m here whenever you’re free. Video call?

Grayson

Definitely.

I leave it at that, knowing he’s too busy for chitchat, but missing him more after that simple exchange. He’s happier in Colorado than he was in Calgary—I could tell days after he’d moved. He’d had nothing but good things to say about management and the team, an excited lilt to his voice as he talked about his first few days of practice.

I’m happy for him and I miss him desperately.

Filled with a nervous energy, I pace my living room and consider going down to the apartment complex gym to burn off some steam on the treadmill. Having just come from practice, though, I don’t think sweat therapy is going to do the job today. I need real therapy, which, in my case, means Alex.

“Remembered me, have you?” He answers the phone with a terse rejoinder, making me smile. I’m already glad Icalled him. Alex may love giving me a hard time and complaining about my tendency to word vomit on him, but he always has my back and gives good advice. He doesn’t let me get away with any shit, and that’s exactly what I need right now.

“Missed me?” I ask cheerfully, and am treated to a heavy sigh.

“To what do I owe this lovely and unexpected pleasure?”

“I’m fucking lonely,” I tell him, lying down on the floor and stretching my legs up the wall. The sight of my feet has me thinking of the way Grayson fucked me during our all-night sexcapade.Which is not something we need to be thinking of when we’re talking to Alex.

“Well, what are you doing talking to me, then? Go out to a bar or something. Picking people up works the same in Canada as it did in California, Remy.”

“I don’t want to pick anyone up.” I rub my heel against the top of the opposite foot, idly giving myself a few seconds to compose my thoughts. “I just want Grayson.”

Alex is so silent I have to bring the phone away from my ear and check that the call is still connected.

“What ended up happening with you guys? You’ve been pretty radio silent. I’d kind of assumed things burned out.”

I laugh. The idea of things burning out between Grayson and me is absurd. If anything, each time we’re together gets hotter—better than anything before. I want him more now than I did at the beginning.

“Definitely not.”

“So…you’re together?”

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