Chapter Twenty-Eight

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Hayes

S o…while I’ve been very vocal about not going public with my relationship with Rylan, now that he’s decided it’s not a good time to meet my friends, I realize how much this sucks. How much I truly want people to know about us…how I don’t want to feel hidden.

I got so inspired after talking with his mom, so hopeful, that now this change in direction feels like I was pushed off a cliff and I’m free-falling into the unknown.

When I look back on my relationship with Malcolm, I realize how little we actually did together. Considering I popped the question at a hockey game, obviously we went out, but now I see how careful Malcolm was with things we did—likely trying not to run into another one of his boyfriends. And while I know that’s not the case with Rylan, that the waiting makes sense and that I’m also not sure I’m prepared for the fallout when people do find out about us, it feels really bad to be a secret. That one minute he was going to meet my friends, and the next he isn’t. Being human comes with so many conflicting emotions. I don’t understand how anyone can look at the world in nothing but black and white.

I keep trying to tell myself this isn’t personal, that it wasn’t very long ago when I was one hundred percent on board with the whole secret relationship, but my insecurities are resurfacing from where I tried to bury them, sprouting and coming to life, telling me Rylan doesn’t want me, that eventually I’ll end up alone again.

Instead of driving to Donovan’s, I go home. I send him a message to let him know something came up and we won’t be there. I can’t imagine showing up alone after I told them I was bringing someone.

I sit in traffic because that’s what one does in LA, going at a snail’s pace to get home. I tell myself that maybe this is a good thing. Maybe Rylan and I were going too fast. I was supposed to be some kind of sex god, but instead I fell for the first guy to show me any attention, just like I did with Malcolm.

Rylan isn’t Malcolm.

After a hellish drive, I finally park at my building.

“Good evening, Mr. Rockwell,” the doorman greets me. “How was your day?”

My boyfriend broke up with me, and I’ll forever be alone! Okay, there’s a small chance I’m a drama king. “Not too bad. How about yourself?”

We make small talk for a moment before I head upstairs. While I enjoy talking with the doormen, as well as the security that comes with living in a building like this, I do like the privacy Rylan has at his house. Like how we can hang out on the deck or on the beach. Ooh, maybe I should get a cat! I never saw myself as a pet person. We never had one growing up, but I love Puck, and for whatever reason, the demon cat seems to love me too.

I walk around my apartment, which feels quieter than usual. Really, that doesn’t make any sense. I’m here all the time and never feel this way, but tonight I’m supposed to be with Rylan, Donovan, and Anthony— Stop it! What is wrong with me? Rylan’s worried about his job and decided he’s not ready to meet my friends. The end. But knowing that doesn’t stop me from feeling more alone than I have a right to be.

I cook myself some chicken and rice for dinner, then take my plate into my home office to do some work.

After I eat, I grab my cell phone and call my mom. We haven’t spoken in a while, and that’s something a good son should do more often, right?

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?” Mom asks.

“I’m good. How are you?”

“We’re doing well. It’s actually the perfect time for you to call. We’re leaving for Italy tomorrow for a few weeks.”

I frown. “Work stuff?”

“Oh, no. Just a vacation.”

I feel a little sting in my chest, but I’m not sure if I should. They’re adults. There’s no reason they can’t go on vacation without me knowing, but isn’t that something people usually talk about? Maybe it was last-minute and they planned it since we spoke. “I didn’t realize you were doing that.”

“Yeah, I told your father a few months back that we were going to do some traveling for fun this spring, and I didn’t allow him to change his mind because he’s too busy with work.” She chuckles.

That sting grows. I think about Rylan’s relationship with his parents. The way they talk about everything and how his mom knew about me before Rylan even told her. But then that makes me wonder if I have a right to be upset about my parents, when I clearly don’t talk to them either. They know nothing about the man I’m stupidly in love with.

“I’m, um…dating someone,” I tell her, and it’s just awkward. I can’t remember how I told her about Malcolm, but these kinds of discussions feel so foreign between us.

“Really? That’s nice. Are you feeling okay doing that so soon after everything that happened with Malcolm?”

It’s a valid question, especially when you consider that I am, in fact, carrying around baggage from my breakup, but it still rubs me the wrong way. I’m just full of conflicting emotions today, aren’t I? “Malcolm has nothing to do with me and Rylan,” I reply, as if I’m not freaking out myself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just want you to take care of yourself. That was…a messy situation. I don’t want to see you get hurt again, so just make sure you’re careful, all right? Take things slowly.”

Because I rushed into it with Malcolm. Because I proposed after eight months. In her mind—likely in a lot of people’s minds—part of the blame for this situation lands on my shoulders. “He’s a hockey player,” I find myself telling her.

“A professional one?”

“Yes, Mom. He plays for the Rebels. The very team I was watching when all my drama went down.” I’m being a dick, but I can’t seem to help myself.

Mom is quiet for a moment. “Hayes…are you sure this is a good idea? A professional hockey player? It’s going to put you right in the public eye again. Are there even any out hockey players? I don’t know how I feel about this.”

How she feels about it? Does she care about my feelings at all? “I love him,” I admit, which is probably the dumbest thing I could do—both admitting it and feeling it, if I’m honest.

Her silence says everything I don’t want to hear, but still she says, “I love you, Hayes. I’m not trying to hurt you, but you also thought you loved Malcolm. It’s been…what? Six, seven months since the breakup, and now you’re in love with someone else?”

“Rylan isn’t like Malcolm.” In my heart, I know that.

“And he feels the same about you? This Rylan?”

My stomach twists. Now it’s my silence that’s speaking a thousand words. Rylan likes me. He told me he does, and I feel it when we’re together. But like and love aren’t the same. “Maybe he will. I haven’t told him yet.”

“If he’s smart, he will,” Mom says, and I know she’s trying her best to be supportive, but all I hear is doubt. The worst part is, I can’t decide if it’s really in her voice, or coming from inside me.