Page 29 of Depths of Desire
“I shouldn’t be saying this,” Lena blurted. “Summer told me because of you, because of that shitshow.”
“What did she tell you?” I asked.
“Nothing. She asked me how I handled it, and I told her it wasn’t anything for me to handle, you know? I think she wanted to know if she should say anything to Len or not. I told her to let him be. If he wants to talk about it, he can tell her himself.”
“Good advice in general,” I said. “But why would she even think…?”
Lena looked at me for a moment. “She just thinks he’s gay. Maybe because he never mentioned a girl. She asked me what I thought.”
“And what did you tell her?” I asked. I didn’t know Lennox’s parents. I had no idea if they would make a fuss. Small towns weren’t exactly open-minded when it came to their own immediate family, even if they touted pride for all those faraway kids in big cities. There was a duplicity to it when someone lived in a community like this, where everything could quickly become gossip and everyone knew everyone else’s business. We could all agree that gay was okay in New York and San Francisco. But in our homes? That just never happened. Because if it did, people wouldn’t stop talking about it.
Snips snorted. “What do you think? I told her it wasn’t any of our business.”
“Good,” I said. “Because it’s nobody’s business but his.”
She shot me a look that welled with sneaky questions, though, and I just turned away.
“He’s still crazy handsome,” she said matter-of-factly.
I wouldn’t out Lennox randomly just because my sister was cool enough to want to know if something had happened. Besides, I liked having last night to myself. I liked keeping it a secret. Liked holding it tight and all to myself.
“Come,” Lena said, patting the edge of the sofa next to the armchair. “It’s time to catch up.”
I turned back to her, with a smile impossible to completely push away from my lips, and joined my sister. My parents wouldshow up later. It would be fine. Nothing would happen, and nobody would say anything even remotely out of place. And in ten days, I would be back at Westmont, leaning over the edge of the pool, controlling my breathing and narrowing my focus on the only thing that mattered.
That should be enough.
SEVEN
LENNOX
The puck dropped,and everything else fell away.
I chased it down the rink with Easton and Rhett closing in from either side, blades cutting into the ice, bodies jostling for position, the roar of the crowd hammering the glass like a heartbeat. It was the final minutes of the third period, and we were still tied 2–2. We needed this. Not just for the win column, but for morale, for momentum, and frankly, for pride.
And for something I couldn’t quite name but felt clawing in my chest every damn day since we got back from break.
I caught the pass from Easton clean, flicked it wide to Rhett to bait the defense, then carved a hard curve to take the return and shoot. But the opposing goalie read it like a book, dropping low and catching it square in the pads.
Whistle.
Reset.
I skated away, jaw clenched, heart pounding. My lungs burned, but it wasn’t from the sprint.
It had been like this for weeks. Since returning to Westmont, I’d been a little…off. Not bad, exactly—my stats were solid, and Coach hadn’t said anything—but I felt it. The restlessness, the tension in my shoulders that didn’t go away after gym, and theedge in my voice that made Rhett raise his eyebrows more than once back at the dorm. Everything since the holidays had felt too loud, too bright, and not quite enough.
I lined up again, crouched at the face-off, sweat dripping down my neck. The arena lights blurred in the corner of my vision. The opposing center smirked at me like he knew something. I resisted the urge to cross-check him in the throat.
The puck dropped, and we fought like hell.
Easton called the play before we reached center ice, his voice a sharp command that sliced through the chaos.
“Cycle left!”
We moved like a machine—a well-oiled, desperate, pissed-off machine. Rhett drove hard into the corner and slammed his shoulder into a defenseman. The boards shuddered. I cut toward the net, ready for a pass, but the puck didn’t come.
Blocked again.
