2. EASTON

TWO

EASTON

The first official meetup of the Queer Collective for this charity event is being hosted at Dex and Tripp Mitchell's penthouse. And while the event is for a great cause, I don't think that's why Ezra pushed so hard for it. Especially considering we're supposed to be raising funds for a hockey camp for underprivileged kids in Vermont, and he chose Vegas, of all places, to host it.

No, I know what this is. It's Ezra wanting to party with us all while looking like he's doing something amazing.

Not that I'm complaining about it. I'm just happy to be included. I've been wanting to come out for what feels like forever, but having the family I do, we all decided—and by we all , I mean my parents and Connor—that I needed to establish myself first as a player before letting people pass judgment on who I sleep with.

I love my family to death, I really do, but there's protective, and then there's overprotective. Our parents are like the momagers of hockey, and everything to do with our careers is calculated and timed.

When we were teens, Lachie and I wanted to rebel against the control they insisted on having over our lives, to the point I think Lachie only realized he was bi because he wanted to send a big fuck-you to Mom and Dad by hooking up with a guy with the intention of being caught.

Like he's queer out of spite.

Obviously, I know that's not how sexuality works, but I like to think spite and being petty controls the universe that way, and I'm low-key proud of my little brother for making it work for him. While I'm not as high-strung and responsible as Connor, I'm not as reckless as Lachie either. Yet. Some days, Connor pushes me toward the idea.

But again, we come from an amazingly supportive family and shouldn't complain. I only wish I had more freedom over my private life. That's not an option when you're a public figure who's easily replaceable at any given moment.

"And that's when the fireworks start," Ezra finishes saying. We're all in Tripp and Dex's living room, either on couches or on the floor, depending on what order we turned up for this thing. I've been sandwiched in between Asher Dalton and Ayri Quinn from Buffalo on a decent-sized couch.

I tuned out about twenty minutes ago when he said something about living out his Willy Wonka fantasy and surrounding himself with skating Oompa Loompas for the pregame show.

"Fireworks …" Dex says, brow scrunched. "Inside? Even I know that's not the smartest idea you've ever had, and that's saying a lot."

His husband, Tripp, rubs Dex's shoulder. "I know you get shit for supposedly being the dumb one in this group, but for real, I think you need to pass your crown over to Ez on this one."

I hide my amusement behind my hand. These guys are cool.

"I asked Gabe, who's a firefighter, if it would be an issue, and he said no, I should go for it." Ezra says this as if he's so proud of checking on all the details .

Aleks, who plays for Seattle and is Gabe's partner, says, "Yeah, he was fucking with you. It's his favorite pastime, watching the chaos that comes with hanging out with the kind of upstanding citizens us pro hockey players are."

"You don't need to worry about the fireworks," Anton cuts in. Anton rests on the armchair Ezra's dictating from and wraps his arm around Ezra's shoulder. "I nixed that with the organizers behind the scenes as soon as Ezra mentioned it." When they're standing, they're around the same height, but Anton is clean-cut with neat black hair while Ezra rocks his chaotically put-together style.

"You what?" Ezra turns to his boyfriend. "They told me it was all confirmed."

Anton looks smug. "I might have also told them to tell Ezra that all his bad ideas were confirmed."

The gasp that leaves Ezra's mouth is so dramatic I can't help laughing. "I don't get my Oompa Loompas? That will make my purple Willy Wonka suit look ridiculous."

"The fact you can tell between the ridiculous purple suit with tails and any of the other loud suits you have in your closet is concerning, but the Oompa Loompa thing actually stays. They all loved the ‘theme idea.'" He uses air quotes. "Not realizing it's you wanting to look like a dictator."

"Good. I get to keep my minions." Ezra's face lights up. "Wait. How late is it to turn them into minions instead?"

"Way too late," Anton says. "The whole arena is supposed to be turned into a Willy Wonka wonderland."

"Fine. The next one, I can have minions, and I'll be that Groot dude."

Anton sighs. "Gru. Groot is a whole different franchise."

I watch as they all give their input over the charity match and take close interest in how the different couples in the room are comfortable enough to give affection, even in the smallest capacity. It's a freedom I've never had and one I crave.

I've had my fair share of secret hookups, of doing the DL boyfriends thing, and I didn't like it. Not only because I've wanted to be out and proud and felt like I was forced into a box that was way too small for me, but also because I didn't care if it got out. It's almost as if I wanted to get caught so then it would take the decision out of my parents' hands.

Oppressing someone with love is still oppression. Even if it's because they want to protect us. They had a reason, a valid reason, and if I'd thrown a hissy fit and did what I wanted anyway, they would have supported me, but now that I'm out, I want to take advantage of not having to look over my shoulder every time I want to get my dick sucked.

The freedom almost doesn't feel real.

The annoying buzzing sound that I found out earlier is Tripp and Dex's doorbell goes off again. I was one of the first to arrive because excited? Me? Never. But knowing what time it is and that all of the Queer Collective guys are here, it can only be one of two options behind that door. My brother Lachie, who flew in with my parents yesterday and said he'd come by later, or Connor, whose flight landed about twenty minutes ago.

I'm really hoping it's Connor because he's bringing his best friend, one of the officials we asked to ref our charity game, and the man I've been in love with since I was about twelve years old.

Knox Addison.

I held on to my crush and swallowed it down for so many reasons: no one knew back then I was gay, he was Connor's best friend, but most of all, I assumed he was straight with all of his girlfriends I'd seen him with.

And then, one fateful day when I was sixteen and on an app I really shouldn't have been on at that age, I came across a profile and a picture of a torso I immediately recognized because I'd watched that naked torso every summer as the person attached to it jumped into the reservoir near our houses .

When Knox and Connor were in freshman year of college, they got stupid tattoos. Not matching, thankfully, because I'd never be able to look at Knox's tattoo and not think of my brother had they done that. Connor got his jersey number—19—on his pec, even though Knox told him a billion times there's no way he'd be able to stay the same number when he made it to the NHL; statistically, it wouldn't happen. He was apparently adamant the fates would make it happen.

And now, here he is, number 61 because neither of us ever imagined being picked up by our home team Colorado, where number 19 is retired, thanks to Joe Sakic being a legend. Connor tells people it's upside down because that's how all the ladies read it while they're riding his face.

Sure, I can't be seen holding a boy's hand, but he can say shit like that, and no one even blinks. Do not even get me started on the hypocrisy of the world of sports and toxic masculinity.

Knox's tattoo is way more dignified. He went with a basic pair of hockey skates down his rib cage. They're large, and the shading is a work of art. Which is how I knew exactly whose torso I was staring at on a gay hookup app.

I, being dumb and sixteen, had included a photo of my torso where you could clearly see the bottom half of my face.

And when I'd messaged the profile with a simple word: "Knox?"

He'd replied with, "Easton Persephone Wayne Gretzky Ann Kikishkin. What are you doing on here and does your brother know?"

I would have been scared had it been anyone but Knox. Even though he was Connor's best friend, he was loyal to everyone. I knew if I'd told him I was gay, he wasn't going to tell a soul.

That's the story of how we came out to each other and how I realized that fate was a cruel, cruel bitch. Because not only was my dream man single and queer, but he also happened to be off-limits.

No amount of flirting or jokes about him being in love with me will ever make him break. Like I said, he's loyal to everyone. Which means we have zero chance of ever even hooking up because Knox wouldn't betray Connor or the rest of my family like that.

It goes to show we're not meant to be after all because the man I end up with would not be so easily intimidated by my family. Don't get me wrong, they're intimidating as hell, but my guy wouldn't care. He wouldn't back down. My guy will always have my back first. I guess a dream man can't have everything.

That aside, Knox is almost the perfect man.

And as Tripp opens the door and Knox and Connor trail inside, I'm reminded of how perfect he is.

While most people think that tall, dark, and handsome makes the ideal man, all I have to say is they're wrong. It's the fairer-haired guys with the sexy freckles that make me weak in the knees. Knox used to be teased about having red hair and freckles, but as he's aged and his hair has turned to a strawberry blond and the freckles have faded to a point they accentuate his high cheekbones and make his square jaw even more prominent, they're the traits that have everyone falling at his feet and begging him for sex. Or, at least, that's what happens in most of my dreams.

Like the god that he is, in every one of those dreams, he dismisses each of the desperate losers on their knees, walks through the crowd, and chooses me.

In reality, the world I currently live in, he walks into the living room, sees me, smirks, and that's when I know I'm in trouble. Because whatever he and Connor have planned, I know I'm going to hate it.

Connor and Knox approach a side each and tell Quinn and Asher to move over, throwing themselves in between me and them .

Connor gives me a noogie. "What's up, little brother?"

Asher leans around him. "Say the word. I know a few hit men who could take him out."

This is why Asher and I have bonded quickly. Being the younger brother of one of the best players in the league? There are always comparisons. He gets that. He's only slightly more bitter over it than I am, but either way, I know he has my back.

"You do?" Connor's voice creeps up a notch.

"I might have looked into it a time or two when West has pissed me off."

Connor turns his head to look at me. "I can't tell if he's being serious or not."

"No one can tell if he's serious," Quinn says, now on the other side of Knox.

I make the mistake of looking in his direction, which means I catch Knox's blue eyes.

Knox's cocky smile is still in place, and when he leans back on the couch and then switches his focus to everyone else in the room, I already know whatever is about to come out his mouth will be embarrassing.

"Hey, has Connor told you all about the time Easton wrote to Lea Michelle from Glee , asking her to marry him?"

"I still can't believe I didn't realize he was gay sooner," Connor adds.

There's no doubt in my mind Connor put Knox up to this, but I don't really see their plan here. To embarrass me? For what reason? Everyone in the Collective has partners, and they're all monogamous. I know because I asked.

If I didn't know any better, with the way they're sitting, them slipping embarrassing facts out to screw with me … those bastards are trying to cockblock me.

Thirsty Easton is thirsty. Sue me.

Plus, Ezra is here. Nothing they have on me could come close to Ezra … existing .

But the point still stands. Who are they trying to cockblock me from when there are no cocks to block?

Or maybe they're taking this big-brother routine to a whole new level. When I joined the Collective, I was warned they could be a lot. Well, Collective, meet Connor Kikishkin and the man I will never have a chance with because of him.