Page 120 of Shift Change

We danced while we waited. Chuck had mostly succeeded in turning me from a wildebeest into a man with rhythm, and we always joked we were practicing for our wedding. Sometimes we went wild with EDM, bumping into furniture and making Nana laugh, but slow dances were the best. Tonight, we chose “Love Is Here to Stay,” one of Nana’s old favorites that had become ours too. It wasn’t modern, but it said everything we felt much better than we could.

In the twilight, we swayed under the stars, surrounded by the perfume of phlox and roses. I let Chuck lead, breathing him in, resting my head on his shoulder, and surrendering to the strength of his arms. My mind drifted back to before I knew him, when I’d been so lost. Unloving and unloved, I’d lived for hockey because it was the only good thing I’d ever had. No one knew the real me because I never let them close. How could I, when I didn’t even know who I was and was too scared to find out?

Somehow, Chuck had found me anyway. He peeled back every layer and loved what he discovered underneath. Hockey still mattered, it always would, butChuckwas my greatest win. He was my real home, and it was time he knew it.

It was wild to think how far we’d come, especially considering we’d both spent most of our lives convinced we were straight. We’d told ourselves what we felt for other men was only admiration, competition—or nothing at all. About a year ago, we finally admitted it:bisexualfit us, not because we needed a label, but because it made sense.

We still noticed beautiful women, but that only meant we were human. There was a big difference between admiring a body and craving a soul, and I craved Chuck’s every damn day. We weren’t simply in love. We were two guys who’d stumbled into something bigger than either of us had ever expected, and now we’d fight like hell to keep it.

After dinner, we went inside, and Chuck headed for the basement to pick a movie. I stopped by our bedroom, my heart thudding as I grabbed what I’d need later. It felt heavier than it should have, as if it knew the stakes.

Chuck had promised to choose something romantic, and when I made it downstairs,Broswas already queued up. Of course he chose that one. We’d seen it so many times we could quote half the lines without thinking. Chuck patted the cushion beside him, and I sank down, curling into his side.

At first, everything felt easy. We laughed, said the dialogue with the actors, and teased each other about who was the bigger Billy Eichner fan. But as the movie rolled on, I couldn’t stop fidgeting. I fingered the hem of my shirt and practically wore out the legs of my shorts from running my hand across them. Sweat prickled at my hairline and crawled down my back, and when my stomach clenched into a hard knot, I wondered if the shrimp scampi had been a mistake.

Is it too soon? What if he says no? Oh fuck—what if he doesn’t want to?

I tried to tell myself there’d be no harm in giving things a little more time, maybe ten years or so, but although my jumpy nerves practically broke out in a cheer, the rest of me screamed a loud “no.” I didn’t want to wait any longer. I loved Chuck, and I wanted forever with him.

First, I had to get myself together and figure out how to put my thoughts into words. I’d never been good at that, and I wished like hell I’d written something and memorized it. Fuck that, though. The only things I’d ever been able to memorize were playbooks and code words to use on the ice. Unfortunately, feelings didn’t come with diagrams and drills.

“I have to use the bathroom,” I said, untangling myself from Chuck’s warmth. “Be right back.”

He nodded, keeping his eyes on the screen.

I ducked into the small bathroom off the laundry. After taking care of business, I stared at the sink before splashing cold water on my face. It helped, but only a little.

Back in the game room, Chuck was still laughing at the movie, his face soft and relaxed. Meanwhile, my stomach was doing jumping jacks. I paced slow laps along the side wall—back and forth, again and again. Each turn, I told myself, would be the last, but I kept going.

“Did I do something wrong?”

I stopped mid-step and faced him. He’d paused the movie in the middle of a bright, sunlit scene, and the glow from the projector spilled around him like a halo. He wasn’t laughing anymore. His brow was drawn tight, and he was chewing his bottom lip, something he only did when he was worried.

“No,” I said. “Why would you think that?”

“You haven’t been yourself since halfway through dinner. You’ve been quiet, twitchy even. Now you’re wearing a hole in the carpet and mumbling to yourself.”

“I wasn’t mumbling,” I said, although I probably had been.

“Yes, you were. Something about needing to tell me and stop being afraid.” His voice softened. “What’s going on, sweets? Are you mad at me?”

I felt bad for making him worry. “Not at all. I… Hold on.”

I rushed to the laundry room where I’d stashed it, heart thudding as I grabbed what I needed. My hands were shaking—no turning back now. I hurried back to him.

“What’s that?” he asked, eyeing what I was holding. “The underwear?”

The underwearreferred to the now infamous pair of neon blue boxer briefs. They had become a favorite toy that added unexpected spice to our love life.

His eyes sparked with interest. “You want to do it down here?”

“No… Well, yes, but not yet. I had to get them because…”

Fuck being nervous and acting like a bonehead.

Before I could second-guess myself again, I dropped to one knee and grabbed his hand. “Happy endings… I never thought they were meant for me. Growing up, I figured I’d always be the guy left standing in the rain.” I swallowed hard and made myself keep going. “Before you, I was lost—confused and depressed, trying to survive one day at a time. Then you crashed into my life and spilled coffee on me. Nothing’s been the same since.”

A wobbly smile tugged at his mouth, and he squeezed my hand.

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