Page 17 of On Thin Ice

“It’s just been . . .” Jacob swallowed hard. “Awhile for me, okay? And you’re making it hard—”

“I hope that’s true, too.”

“Ugh,” Jacob complained. “I’d ask why you’re doing this, but I already know.”

“Yep,” Finn said cheerfully.

“If I coach you, nothing else is happening.”

Finn lifted his hands over his head. “I didn’t say it was.” Though he was a little disappointed. Whowouldn’twant Jacob Braun in their bed?

But if the coaching was all that was on offer, he’d take that, no questions asked.

Jacob flushed. Or maybe it was the hot water he was currently hiding in. “Right, no. Of course not. I just—”

“We can keep it professional. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my hands to myself,” Finn promised.

“That . . .I didn’t say yes,” Jacob argued.

“Surely I can do something for you, too. We’ll make it an exchange. You coach me to be a great goalie and to pretend like Morgan Reynolds doesn’t exist, and I’ll—”

“Don’t you dare say you’ll hop in my bed,” Jacob said between clenched teeth.

He hadn’t been about to, butthatwas an idea. For a split second, Finn let himself contemplate thatveryenjoyable exchange.

But he shook his head. “I wasn’t going to,” Finn said. “Whatdoyou need help with?”

“If only you had this confidence when you’re between the pipes,” Jacob groused.

“I know. It’s a character flaw.” Finn paused. “One we’re going to correct.”

“Oh, we are, are we?” Jacob rolled his eyes. Sipped his wine. “What if therewassomething you could help me with?”

“That’s what I keep saying,” Finn said.

Jacob tapped his fingers on the edge of the tub. “You came out.”

“Was I everin?” Finn wondered. He’d never made some big announcement or anything. He’d just lived his life. Neverworried about what people would say aboutthat. He hadn’t any extra bandwidth, not when he’d spent so many hours and brain cells focused on being Morgan Reynolds’ son.

Being gay had felt easier, weirdly enough.

“I’m trying to get there.” Jacob sounded strangely apologetic, like it washischaracter flaw that he’d been stuck in the closet—even though it was more a symptom of the times and the career he’d chosen than him being a good, or a bad, person.

“Okay,” Finn said.

“I think I could use some advice and guidance that’s not coming from my agent or my PR. They’re overly focused on making a big deal out of it—”

“It’s not a big deal?” Finn wondered. Not judging, but genuinely curious.

“I just want to fucking live. I couldn’t for so long and . . .and I’m ready now.”

Finn nodded. He didn’t know what that felt like—but then maybe he did, after all. He just wanted to be able to pull his skates on, pick up his stick and take his place on the ice without that litany of questions. Questions he asked. Questions everyone else asked.

And maybe he couldn’t silence those. But he could silence his own fucking brain.

“Here I thought you were going to ask me to do somethinghard,” Finn said.

“Finn—” Jacob warned.

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