Page 137 of The New Guy
Fuck. Is that even a choice I couldmake? I fight off a shiver.
“Why is this breakup so complicated?” Bess asks.
“Yeah—who is this girl?” Stoney demands.
I flop back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. It’s a really nice ceiling, with dark wooden beams making a pattern across the space. And I know without a doubt that I’d rather be back in my crappy little Brooklyn apartment. No question.
It hurts so much that I take a deep breath, and then jump off a cliff. “What if it’s not a girl?”
Immediately, I want to suck it back in. It’s been years—literally years—since I dared to talk about my sexuality with anyone in hockey.
And I’m afraid to even look at Bess or Stoney. So I stare up at the ceiling instead.
“Okay, not a girl, awoman,” Stoney says. “Sorry. My bad.”
Bess snorts. “Pretty sure that’s not what he meant, buddy.”
The ensuing silence almost kills me, and I give in and look at Stoney. He’s taking a sip of beer. And I see the moment he figures it out. His eyes widen. “Oh, fuck! Goddamn, man. My bad again!” He snaps his fingers. “You used to date a dude from some gym, right? Just before you got traded?”
My jaw unhinges. “You knew about that?”
“Roommates.” He shrugs. “Forgot my phone one day the boys and I were goin’ biking. Heard you guys in the bedroom. Kinda loud.” He shrugs again.
Bess laughs so hard that she chokes on her beer, while I roll face first into the sofa, wishing the room would swallow me whole.
“This new guy did a number on ya, eh?” Stoney muses. “Want me to key his car when we play Brooklyn?”
“No,” I say into the leather upholstery. “He didn’t do anything wrong. That was all me.”
“Oh, buddy.” Stoney sighs. “So what’s your plan to get ’im back?”
I lift my head. “I can’t get him back. He can’t move here. He has a job and a kid and family on the East Coast.”
“Oooh.” Stoney winces. “That’s rough. We might have to just drown our sorrows on this one, eh?”
“Yeah,” I grunt, because I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m all talked out.
* * *
Two beers later, Stoney gets up to leave. (“Gotta hit the hay and do it all over again tomorrow, eh!”)
“This is all in the vault, okay?” I say, following him to the door.
“Sure, sure! Don’t keep it all bottled up there, though. We can’t have you hiding out in this house all season. Nice place and all, but it makes you seem aloof.”
“Noted. Thanks for stopping by.”
“Oh, I’ll do it again. You got a great pad, Newgate. Can’t wait.”
I finally close the door on him.
Bess is cleaning up beer bottles and carrying the dip bowl to the kitchen.
“You don’t have to do that,” I insist. “I got it.”
“I’m sure you do,” she says. “I can already tell you’re one of my more high-functioning clients. Some of these boys can’t tie their own shoes. But do me a favor?”
“What?”
