Page 98 of On Thin Ice

In my worst moments, I really hated some of those videos.

I wouldneverquestion Bell’s devotion to LGBTQIA+ causes or how he felt about his own queerness, but there seemed to be a new level of … camp and sass in them that I hadn’t noticed before he’d joined the Aces.

It almost felt like by being one of the few openly queer athletes in the league, he wanted to be even moreextraabout his sexuality.

It sometimes felt like he was flaunting it, daring people to react.

And part of me couldn’t help wondering if this was why the trolls had come crawling out of the woodwork with that PR series we’d been forced into. If Bell had waved a rainbow flag one too many times, daring the bulls to charge.

On the other hand, I also recognized it wasn’tjustabout building his brand or increasing his follower count. There was history baked into all the decisions he made when it came to this stuff. Deep down, I understood that part of it went back to what his parents had done to him, how they’d tried to stifle who he was at his core.

It didn’t take a PhD in psychology to understand that a lot of Bell’s more dramatic behavior—the eyeliner, the glitter lip gloss, the snark and sass—were a big old “fuck you” to them and all the religious zealots like them who espoused similar values.

But I couldn’t lie to myself either.

That persona—the one that seemed to come out only when he had his iPhone pointed at his face—rubbed at something uncomfortable in me. Made me wonder if all the noise he made about his sexuality was putting an unnecessary target on his back.

On my back, too.

Still, despite my misgivings, I couldn’t pretend that Bell didn’t get more out of it than just thumbing his nose at his family. He legitimately enjoyed the business side of being an influencer. This was a business for him, even if I didn’t fully grasp it.

Though it wasn’t for lack of trying.

He’d tried explaining it to me once, but my eyes had glazed over when he started detailing how the algorithms were in a constant state of flux and how tirelessly he worked to stay ahead of them. Frankly, it sounded like a full-time job, and I was often exhausted just thinking about how much time he spent on it outside of hisactualcareer as a professional hockey player. Surely he could get someone to manage it all for him.

I realized my silence had stretched too long when Marjorie shifted in her chair, the soft scrape against flagstone pulling me from my spiral of thoughts.

“Sure,” I said.

“You know how Jax and I have been working on expanding my brand this year?”

Marjorie nodded politely, but I didn’t miss the way her eyes flicked to me for a beat. I was sure she could read my expression:Actually, no, I hadn’t known that.A small knot formed in my stomach as I realized Bell had never said a word about pursuing additional sponsorships or media opportunities, at least any that I recalled.

He cleared his throat, looking suddenly bashful, his eyes flickering with apology as he seemingly came to the same realization I just had—he hadn’t been as forthcoming with that information as he should have, especially considering how our relationship was becoming increasingly serious. This may have started off as just fucking, but neither of us could pretend emotions weren’t involved now. “Anyway, all our hard work has paid off.”

I arched a brow. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, his gaze bouncing between us like he was trying to decide if we were ready for this. Then he smiled—slow, deliberate, and a little dazed. “I’ve been asked to be the face of a new underwear campaign for REND.”

Marjorie blinked. “Is that a thing I should know?”

“It’s like the queer-inclusive version of Calvin Klein,” Bell said, his tone slightly breathless. “Up-and-coming, but already huge with Gen Z. Hyper sleek branding, super body-positive. Their holiday campaign was one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

Ah. I knew them.

He had shown me a really slick video from the company a week or so ago, where each person featured was an influencer he was familiar with. So he’d been testing the waters without telling me what he was pursuing?

It opened with extreme closeups—a non-binary DJ from Berlin whose fingers were adjusting a dial on their mixer, a plus-sized ballerina from Harlem’s pointed toe in mid-relevé, and a trans comic book artist’s hands delicately inking a page—before the camera slowly pulled back to reveal each of them comfortable and confident in their skin. Err, their underwear. The final scene brought everyone together for a holiday dinner, an inclusive celebration of chosen family and community that made Bell tear up the first time he’d watched it.

When I’d finished watching it—not unaffected, thank you very much—he’d looked at me and said, his voice so damn earnest, “I want that.”

At the time, I assumed he was talking about holiday dinners where everyone was happy and well adjusted, but now I wondered if maybe he’d actually meant he wanted to be in a campaign just like that one.

“They want me for the summer campaign, and it’s gonna be even bigger than what they did for Christmas. Similar concept, but bigger ad spend in more markets across the globe. A print campaign, too, with a billboard in Times Square over the Fourth of July weekend.”

“A billboard?”

Bell grinned, finally brushing the blond strand of hair off his forehead. “Yeah, and that’s not all.”

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