28. EASTON

TWENTY-EIGHT

EASTON

Everything is so up in the air that it's impossible to tune out the world and only focus on each other.

Oh, we fucking try. It's an entire day of frotting, blowjobs, and handjobs. We don't stop touching, even between rounds. We make food while only wearing underwear and eat breakfast and lunch at my dining table with our legs brushing up against each other and our feet intertwined. But even with all the distractions of us hanging out and spending quality time together, the reality is still there, like a barrier between us.

I can understand why a lot of the wives and girlfriends of players don't have their own careers or why Lane and Vance have jobs that keep them close to the game and teams their partners play for. It's because being a professional athlete means you're gone so much of the time that you could be living in the same house and still call it a long-distance relationship.

No matter what position Knox gets, it's going to keep us apart physically, and maybe he's right and it's too early to promise anything, but giving up before we even try is not an option for me.

The timing might be shit, but Knox is everything I've wanted for so long that having him for a brief amount of time isn't good enough for me anymore. I thought I'd be okay with a fling or one night, but I'm not.

I've gone so long pining after him that if I had to do it again for nine to ten months out of the year, I could do it with my eyes closed. If eight weeks is all we get in person, I'd make those eight weeks count.

It's not like I've had the urge or even the opportunity to be with anyone else since joining the NHL, and while I thought that was what I wanted ever since coming out, I was wrong. I only want him.

I can go without physical touch from another person.

I can't go without him.

These thoughts should scare me with how fast they're coming, but I'm not surprised by them.

Saying I've been in love with him since I was twelve this whole time, I thought I was exaggerating that innocent, lust-filled, hormone-induced version of "love." But after being with him, I'm pretty sure I've not only fantasized over Knox since puberty, but I think I've legit been falling in real love with him. Bit by bit. When he finally admitted he had a thing for me too—however small—that was it for me. That was me jumping in with two feet. My heart took the leap, and now it's too late to do anything else.

I'm all in.

I just need to show Knox that we can make it work if we both put in the effort.

"You're thinking about it again, aren't you," Knox says, taking his last biteful of the sandwiches we made for lunch.

"I can't stop thinking about it. I'm excited for you, no matter what happens. You're one step closer to your dream job."

"Which will push me one step farther away from you. From us. From any real chance of having something we never thought we could. "

"Nope. It's fine. It'll be … fine."

Knox stands and clears our plates, taking them to the kitchen counter behind us. "You know, we might not even need to worry about the job. I have let myself go this summer. I'm going to be fucked when I get back on the ice." He holds his love handle on his right side between two fingers. It could barely be called a love handle at all. "I need to get back down to twelve percent body fat to even get the job."

I stand and approach him, boxing him in so his back is against the counter and my hands are on either side of him. "I know one way we can build up some stamina." I waggle my eyebrows.

"I'm not going to say no to sex, but all the sex in the world probably isn't enough to get me back to where I need to be."

I pretend to be shocked. "You're so dirty-minded. I meant we should go use the practice rink and start back on your training."

Knox throws his head back. "If you're anything like your brother, this is not going to be fun for me."

"I'm worse than Connor. I'm way faster than he is."

"Are you sure you want to do this? I'm warning you now, there's a very real possibility of seeing me throw up."

"You say that like I haven't seen that before. Remember when you and Connor were seventeen and snuck out to a party and you both came home trashed? You took turns vomiting into a bucket." I pretend to be wistful. "Ah, memories."

He screws up his face. "Ah, PTSD."

"Anyway, just saying, if I still found you attractive after that, it's safe to say you could do about anything in front of me, and I'd still want to kiss you. You know, after you find some mouthwash."

"Okay, fine. You can take me skating."

Considering he says he's so out of shape, Knox is still going, even after two hours on the ice.

Hell, I'm starting to get tired. I'm used to one- to two-minute shifts, not this skating back and forth forever nonsense he has to do. Though, it's not as if the officials skate as hard as we do. When we're on that ice, we have to push, or the other team will get by us too easily. They need to keep up, but his focus is on staying alert and reacting fast enough to get out of the way of play.

Both of us are drenched in sweat, but there's a part of me that's determined to make him break. It must be my competitive side coming out to play.

"You know what I think we need?" I ask.

"A moment to catch our breath?"

I laugh. "Is that you giving in? Admitting defeat? What happens if your first game back on the ice goes to overtime? You've got at least another forty minutes before you can rest."

He groans but doesn't ask to quit, and this is the exact reason I know that no matter what happens, if we both really want it, we can make our relationship work. We don't know the word "quit." Though, I do remember there was a point in Connor's and Knox's adolescence where they said they were both going to make it to the NHL and play on the same team. I never got the story behind Knox wanting to ref instead.

"Come on," I say.

He's sluggish until he sees I'm headed for the exit, and then he catches up quickly. "We're done?"

"Nope. We're having a break. Even refs get intermission."

There's a defeatist vibe coming from him as he hangs his head and walks as gracefully as someone can wearing skates to the nearby bench.

Our practice rink is obviously smaller than the arenas we play in, but there's some seating here for when the media come to watch or when the rink is open for the public to use. Luckily, it's closed today to the team for anyone who wants to keep warm and limber for tomorrow's home game.

"What's up?" I ask him.

"Maybe I don't have what it takes," he says.

"What are you talking about? You're already a ref, you keep up with the games, you're?—"

"For the women's league."

"Am I going to have to call sexist on this bullshit?"

"No, but the season is shorter, there's not as many teams, which means there's not as many games, and having to work at the restaurant during the off-season to be able to afford to live during the season means I'm not as fit as I should be. Maybe I'm not at the level I need to be at."

I look him over. "Knox, you've been on the ice for over two hours without a break. I was only messing with you when I said you need to last another forty minutes. You're fit enough."

"It doesn't feel like I am."

I'm at a loss for what I can say to make him realize it's all in his head, but I try anyway. "What are you scared of?"

He cocks his head at me. "What do you mean?"

"You're having doubts, which I understand, but I think you've just proved you're still on top of your game, so why is your head telling you you're not?" Then it hits me. "Wait, you're not having second thoughts about accepting the job because of me, are you? Because if you did that, I would never forgive myself for holding you back. The same as I wouldn't forgive you if you told me to choose between you or hockey."

He scoffs. "That's an ultimatum I wouldn't win."

"You severely underestimate the hold you have over me."

"Are you saying you wouldn't choose hockey?" He looks at me incredulously.

"No. I'm saying it would be an extremely difficult choice, and then I'd hate you for making me use my brain to think."

"But the answer would be hockey, wouldn't it? "

I grit my teeth. "Why are you making me answer that? This is all hypothetical."

"You don't have to answer it because I know the answer will be hockey. You and your brothers … you are hockey. Me? I love to be a part of it, but it doesn't have to be my everything."

"Is that why you quit when you did?"

Knox's mouth opens and closes like he's trying to find the right words to say but is coming up short. "I quit when I did because I'd convinced myself I wasn't good enough."

Ah. "Like you're trying to convince yourself that you're not good enough to be a ref in the AHL?"

His lips quirk. "Touché."

"Again, I have to ask. What are you scared of?"

"You mean other than failure? Only making it a few games until they realize they made a mistake and fire me? Making a fool of myself?"

"I really want to say you make a fool of yourself daily, but I get the feeling you need supportive Easton now, not snarky Easton."

He places his hand on top of mine. "What if all I need is boyfriend Easton?"

I like—no, love —the way that sounds, but it's also a lot of pressure if he's saying what I think he's saying. "You mean right now, don't you? Not in a you'll turn down the job, quit the PWHL, and be a server forever just to be with me? Because the first one I can handle. I can't handle being the one responsible for you quitting everything you've worked so hard for. Especially when you're this close to getting it."

"I …" Knox rubs the back of his head. "I don't see a way where I get to have it all."

"Because you think I won't be able to handle long distance, or you won't?"

He's starting to piss me off. Doubts are normal, hesitance is justified, but it's almost as if he doesn't want to see any possibility of making it work, and if he's like that now, what will he be like after a couple of months apart?

"What kind of relationship could we have if we only see each other for eight weeks of the year?"

"A tailor-made one that doesn't fit a lot of people but will for us because it's what we both want?"

Knox is silent.

"It is what we both want, right?" I ask, but I don't want to hear the answer because I'm terrified the answer is going to be no.