Page 60 of The Best Parts of Him
Lynne snorted a laugh at that. “People online are wondering if he’s with you to steal team secrets.”
Indignation flared on Ryland’s behalf, red-hot and knife-sharp, but Lynne didn’t let him comment before she continued. “And other people are speculating about the ethics of two players from opposing teams dating, but it’s not like there’s a rule against it.”
“Ryland hasn’t—and would never—ask for team secrets,” Dabbs blurted. “And I haven’t given him any.”
“Of course you haven’t.”
The easy dismissal of that problem eased one of the knots in Dabbs’ stomach.
“What kind of statement do you want to make?”
Andddd the knot was back. “Do I have to make any statement?”
“No,” Lynne conceded as Dabbs’ phone rang with an incoming call. Ryland. Hell, he’d probably seen the photo too. Dabbs declined the call and sent him a quick text.
Dabbs:
Call you back in 5.
“But Ryland went live from Burlington a couple of times while he was staying with you—including once with your dogs—when he should’ve been recuperating from his injury at home in Columbus,” Lynne said. “People are going to put two and two together whether you make a statement or not. You don’t have to put out a statement right this second, but in the next few hours would be ideal. You’ll be able to get in front of the worst of the gossip that way.”
A text from Bellamy landed in his notifications, and he clicked the message to open it. Bellamy had included a screenshot of Dabbs and Ryland kissing at the airport—no doubt the same photo that had Lynne all in a tizzy—along with a series of eggplant emojis.
A surprised laugh burst out of him.
The photo was . . . quietly sexy. The photographer, whoever they were, had captured them mid-kiss, one of Dabbs’ hands on the curve of Ryland’s ass, the other buried in Ryland’s hair. Ryland stood on his toes, one hand gripping Dabbs close, fingers white-knuckled. Their eyes were closed and their lips clung, and what went through Dabbs’ mind was Goddamn, we look good together.
With that thought in mind, he told Lynne he’d get back to her about the statement and called Ryland.
chapter sixteen
When Bellamy returned from the Trailblazers’ road trip the following day, he brought half the team along with him. They filed into their apartment one after another like a conga line that had lost its way. They greeted Dabbs with various exclamations of “Dude! Good to see you on your feet,” and “I’ve been dying to talk to you about this woman I’m seeing. I seriously need your advice,” and “You’re looking good, bro,” and “You and Ryland Zervudachi, huh? Good for you, man,” and “Dabbs, did you see that sick game against Minnesota?”
The dogs were thrilled to have company again. Bellamy’s kitten, on the other hand, took one look at the crowd and fled upstairs.
“I’ll go check on her,” Gaff said, taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time.
“Sorry,” Bellamy said, after Dabbs had gotten a detailed summary of the team’s entire week away, including a minute-by-minute breakdown of the winning goal against Minnesota, the argument everyone overheard Prinnie having with his wife over the phone, and the kick-ass tapas restaurant some of the guys had found in New Jersey.
“I tried to convince them all to go home.” Bellamy watched their teammates settle on the couch, armchair, and floor of the living room now that they’d given Dabbs a play-by-play of the previous week. “And when that didn’t work, I told them you were still recuperating, but everyone saw the post of you kissing Ryland at the airport. They weren’t buying what I was selling.”
“That’s okay. It’s nice to see everyone.”
The separate statements he and Ryland had released hadn’t been statements in the technical sense of the word. They’d agreed that a statement was too formal for something that shouldn’t have been news in the first place—they weren’t the first queer couple in the NHL. They were the first queer couple who played for different teams, but that wasn’t anywhere near as scandalous as when the news had broken that the Vancouver Orcas’ head coach was dating the father of one of his players.
Still, Dabbs and Ryland had published separate social media posts acknowledging their relationship in a way that reflected their individual personalities but wasn’t too overt.
Dabbs’ post was a photo of the pumpkin they’d named Bellamy even though it looked nothing like Bellamy.
@RylandZervudachi spent a few days with me while I was recuperating from an appendectomy, and he carved this pumpkin for my front porch. It’s supposed to look like Bellamy Jordan, but let’s just say Ryland’s talent lies more in stick handling than in pumpkin carving.
The double entendre had made them both giggle like schoolchildren.
Dabbs had had his commenting turned off for years, so he didn’t have that to worry about, at least.
And Ryland’s post had featured a selfie he’d taken of himself with Castle and Cosmo on one of their trips to the dog park. Ryland wore his pink-and-turquoise sunglasses and his Columbus Pilots hat, and he was crouched in the grass, Castle licking his cheek and Cosmo nosing at his leg for attention. Ryland looked like he couldn’t think of anything better than having the attention of a couple of Pomeranians, and the dogs looked equally as enamored with him.
My boyfriend’s dogs like me as much as he does. In fact, @KyleDabbs, I think they might like me more than they like you. Not that it’s a competition. (It’s definitely a competition [winky face emoji.])
