Page 48 of Misconduct Zone

“Yeah?” Dylon’s head rests on his arm on the pillow next to mine so our faces are inches apart.

“They are brave in a way I could not have imagined at their age.” My fingers reach out and sweep the hair out of his eyes.

“I wonder if a place like that would’ve helped me understand my sexuality better. I feel foolish not knowing until you.”

“It’s because I’m so great,” I say with his Michigan accent, and his answering grin is enough for my heart to split wide open to tuck him inside. “I cannot be the only man you want.” He flushes like the teen did earlier, and jealousy bites me. “Who else are you interested in?” My light tone masks my possessiveness.

“No, not interested,” he rushes to say. “But I recently noticed another man was attractive in a sexual way. But not to have sex with. Like, more than being objective. Oh God. I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” His eyes focus on the ceiling, and he scrubs his hand over his face.

I chuckle. “You can find other men attractive. You are not oblivious.” I leave out the part where I will want to tear a man limb from limb if he’s interested in more than looking.

“More big words,” he teases. “You can look too, but no touching anyone else. Ever.” His fingers walk up my chest.

“Since you came to live with me, I haven’t been interested in anyone else,” I admit.

“Did me being here prevent you from dating? Men or women?”

The answer is complicated. “I made my choice of my free will, and you are not responsible for that. I did not desire to date anyone so I did not.” That is the absolute truth. I’m not sure he’s ready to hear that I already had feelings for him before he moved in. Or I expected to have an unrequited crush until I found someone else to love. Now that I have had him, I will never get over him.

We kiss but it’s late and we have an early morning skate.

I sigh and bury my nose in his armpit. His potent smell is strongest here, and I wish I could bottle it up. But I would miss the real thing. I will never settle for a cheap imitation.

“What do you want to do after hockey?” I ask, surprising myself.

“Shut your mouth.” He rears back to make eye contact. “I’m playing hockey for a couple more decades or until they have to take my body off the ice on a stretcher,” he jokes.

“Please do not say things like that.” The image of him on a stretcher still haunts me.

“Hey.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’m joking to cover up there isn’t a plan.” He sighs. “All the seminars we’re forced to attend that help us plan for after.” He says “after” as a dirty word. “But I’ve always felt doing that was planning for failure in hockey. There are many reasons I pushed myself too hard when I injured my shoulder, and one of them is that I don’t have an exit plan. Retirement can fuck off.”

I lift up to comfort him, and his eyes are flat, a dull green with none of the vibrant hues that spark warmth in them.

“Not everyone plans the same way. You said you’re saving money, and that will afford you time to figure things out.” I gather him in my arms and entwine our legs.

“It could end in an instant. Jayce walked away on his own terms and used his skills for a position in the organization. But Patrik’s concussion last season could’ve ended his career with no choice in the matter. Bam. Just done. If that was me, what would I do?” His voice goes up an octave at the end.

“We can talk it through,” I say, confused about the turn this conversation took.

“No. My mind’s going down an unnecessary rabbit hole.” He shifts so our groins align, and my dick perks up. “Hello there.” Dylon grinds against me.

I shift my hips back. “Tell me about the rabbit hole.” The American saying makes me smile.

“I heard you talking about coming out with the kids, and I want that someday. I’m not ready yet, and I feel like a coward when I could make a difference in kids’ lives by being honest. But I haven’t figured myself out yet.” He holds me tight when my impulse is to pull away. He cannot come out as an obligation for me.

“Our relationship is new. I’m not questioning my sexuality, but maybe how it fits into the public aspect of my life. It’s not me and you. It’s me and you, our family and friends, like everyone else, but then we have the team, the NHL, the fans, and a shit ton of media attention.” His fingers play with the short hairs at the base of my skull.

“It is a lot,” I agree reluctantly. All the reasons I haven’t discussed my preferences. “Being straight is the norm in our society, and I have not said or acted in a way to dispel that. I have been attracted to the same sex since I can remember. So if one of us is the coward, it is me.” I hope my admission does not change his perception of me.

“You are one of the bravest men alive. You’re loyal as fuck and the entire team’s protector.” He rolls on top of me, eyes flashing. “Don’t say you’re a coward.”

My fingers trail the muscles of his shoulders and arms. “You should not say it either. I am so proud of how strong you are.” His forehead wrinkles. “You dedicate your time and energy to positive things, always see the good in people, and faced a career-ending event with determination and grace.”

He bursts out laughing. “Grace? You must have amnesia because I was a total asshole in the hospitalandwhen you brought me here. I’m grateful you didn’t toss my sorry ass out on the street.”

“You were appropriately angry at yourself for getting into a situation that took your control away. I only thought about taking you out with the trash once or twice.” My smile refutes my words.

We are quiet, lost in thought for a few minutes, but before he drifts off, he needs to know how much I care.

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