Page 76 of Speak in Fever
"We could tell them the truth," Percy says, surprised by how steady his voice sounds. "That we're together. That you're important to me. That I'm in love with you."
The last part slips out before Percy can stop it, three words he hasn't said before but that feel inevitable now. Rath's eyes go wide, and Percy feels a moment of panic—too much, too fast, too presumptuous.
But then Rath is kissing him, urgent and grateful and full of relief. When they break apart, Rath's smile is soft and wondering.
"You love me," Rath says, like he's testing the words.
"I do," Percy confirms, and it feels like the easiest thing he's ever said.
"I love you too," Rath says quietly. "I've been terrified you were going to get tired of me when the season ended. That without hockey keeping us together, you'd realize this was all just convenient and temporary."
The confession breaks something open in Percy's chest. "Rath, no. This isn't convenient. This is—" He searches for the right words. "I want to be with you."
They sit in silence for a moment, letting the weight of the confessions settle between them. Outside, Percy can hear the sounds of late afternoon—traffic, voices, the ordinary world continuing while his own world has just shifted fundamentally.
"My parents are going to lose their minds," Rath says eventually, but he's grinning. "In a good way, I think. They've been asking about you for months."
"They have?"
"I may have mentioned you once or twice," Rath says with studied casualness. "Just in passing. Every phone call. For the entire season."
Percy laughs, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. "What did you tell them?"
"That you're an incredible captain. That you make me a better player. That you're funny and smart and kind and that I—" Rath pauses, color rising in his cheeks. "That I was pretty sure I was falling in love with you but didn't know if you felt the same way."
"Your parents know you're in love with me?"
"My mom knows," Rath corrects. "She has a sixth sense about these things. She's been dropping not-so-subtle hints about how nice it would be to meet this wonderful captain I keep talking about."
The idea of Rath's mother wanting to meet him sends a warm flutter through Percy's stomach. "What about your dad?"
"Dad's... coming around. It took him a while to understand, but he's trying. And honestly, the fact that you're team captain probably helps. He respects that you're a leader."
Percy can hear the complicated history in Rath's voice, the careful way he talks about his father's acceptance. It reminds Percy how lucky he is with his own family, how easy it will be to bring Rath home with him.
"My parents are going to love you," Percy says confidently. "My mom's been asking when she gets to meet someone special, and my dad—well, he'll probably want to talk hockey with you for hours."
"Are you sure?" There's vulnerability in Rath's voice, the fear of not being good enough or welcome enough. "It's not going to be weird, bringing home your secret boyfriend?"
"You won't be secret anymore," Percy points out. "That's kind of the point. No more hiding, no more pretending we're just teammates."
Rath considers this, his expression growing more serious. "That's a big step. Are you ready for that? For people to know?"
It's Percy's turn to think carefully. Coming out to his parents, to his hometown, to the extended network of family and friends who've known him his whole life—it's not a small thing. But ashe looks at Rath, at the hope and fear and love written across his face, Percy realizes the decision was made long ago.
"I'm ready," Percy says simply. "I want people to know that I'm with you, that we chose each other."
Rath's smile is brilliant. "Okay. Yes. I want to come home with you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I want to meet your parents and see your childhood bedroom and hear all your embarrassing stories. I want to train with you and wake up next to you and not have to worry about anyone seeing us together." Rath pauses, his expression growing soft. "I want to spend the summer learning how to be yours when hockey isn't there to complicate things."
Percy kisses him again, deep and thorough and full of promise. When they break apart, he's already mentally planning—logistics and travel arrangements and the phone call he needs to make to his parents.
"There's a lake," Percy says suddenly. "Back home. My parents have a cabin there, nothing fancy, but it's quiet and private and beautiful. I used to go there when I needed to think or when hockey got overwhelming."
"Sounds perfect."
