Page 82 of From Coast to Coast

He blows out a hard breath. “Thank god.”

“I got fired.”

“Remy!”

“Listen to me for a second, just listen. Technically, I did break my contract agreement. And while I know that if any other player got into a fight at practice, they’d get a slap on the wrist and be sent on their way. I know why they’d already decided to get rid of me and?—”

“Yeah, because ofme,” he says hotly.

“No, Gray. Because they’re narrow-minded asshats and they’d rather cut ties than deal with the media storm and whatever else involved with another queer hockey player. It’s onthem, not you, and not me. Them. Do you understand?”

“I understand that, sure, but it doesn’t change the fact that if I’d only?—”

“If you’d what? Kept hiding who you were? You and I would never have gotten together if you were still in the closet when I signed. The only reason you were on that dating app is because you were out.”

“True,” he admits. I jump back in before he can come up with an argument.

“I don’t like it here, Gray. I didn’t like it from day one. You were theonlything that was enjoyable here. Does it suck thatI’m the one being forced to leave when Petterson will still have a job tomorrow? Yes. But I’ll get signed by another team.”

“Sure, but any contract they offer will probably be shit. They’ll be able to negotiate you down because of how your last one ended.”

“Well, you can be my sugar daddy,” I respond cheekily. Grayson laughs, but it still sounds like a pale comparison to the real thing.

“I feel shitty about this,” he says. I want to hug him so fucking badly. I want to bury my face in his wide chest and squeeze all the tension out of him.

“I miss you,” I reply, when what I meant to say was something consoling. He chuckles, which is a happy accident, but I’ll take it.

“I miss you, too. Think you can swing a contract with Vegas or Utah? Something close to Colorado?”

“Listen, babe, I’ll play forfreeif it means playing for a team close to Colorado.”

“Yeah, no, don’t sign that contract,” he chuckles. “You’re sure you’re okay? You’re not regretting…anything?”

Guilt does its best to cut off my air. I’ve been freaking out these past couple of months, trying to figure out who I am and what label I can apply; trying to decide which identity is me and what that means for the future. Of course Grayson would wonder if this mess is causing me to question whether the correct label isstraight, if only because it’s the easiest.

“I do not regret you, Gray. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”

EPILOGUE

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Grayson

Standing at the window,I press my forehead to the glass and try to get a better view of the walkway down below. It’s no use. I can’t see anything except beach. Stepping back, I pull my phone out of my pocket and check for any text messages. Nothing.Wasn’t their flight supposed to land a couple hours ago? I knew we should have picked them up from the airport.

“Shouldn’t they be here by now?” I call, raising my voice enough for Remy to hear me.

“You’re underestimating California traffic.”

“We should have picked them up.”

Remy steps into the room, wearing his usual board shorts and bare feet. He put a shirt on as a concession to company coming over, even though I told him he didn’t have to bother. None of us are going to remain fully clothed for long. Not with the ocean right outside the door and a beautiful sunny day just waiting to be enjoyed.

“They’ll get here soon.” He steps up behind me andwraps his arms around my waist; a kiss between my shoulder blades before resting his cheek on my back.

Relaxing into his hold, I reach back and rest my hand along his upper thigh. It’s a month post-season, and a month since Remy and I started our summer together. There are very, very few months that rank as highly as this one. My skin is darkened and my hair has natural highlights from repeated saltwater and sun exposure. I’ve learned to SUP board and I’ll paddle around idly while Remy surfs. I have more board shorts than just the black ones, and have developed calluses on the bottom of my feet from walking barefoot on the hot sand.

But the best part of the past month is Remy. It’s waking up smelling coconut shampoo and feeling his presence in the bed without having to reach for him. It’s touching him, laughing with him, and arguing with him. And, of course, it’s our seemingly unquenchable desire for each other. I keep waiting for it to die down—to not feel a physicalpulltoward him every time he walks into a room.

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