10. Wyatt

Anthony looked miserable when he walked into the house.

Not like someone who’d just done a major workout and was sore from head to toe. He didn’t seem sore or anything. No, it was the downcast eyes. The expression on his face that said he was a hundred percent done with everyone and everything. The way his shoulders seemed to hunch beneath the weight of his thin hoodie.

It reminded me of the way his whole demeanor had changed both times Simon had shown up since I’d been here. Where all he had to do was hear the garage door opener, and the dark clouds would start circling. The way he was shuffling through the motions of getting a glass of water, it was like the last few hours had utterly sucked the life out of him.

I shut off the TV and got up. With Lily trailing after me, I joined Anthony in the kitchen. “Hey. How was practice?”

“Not bad,” he said quietly as he pulled a glass down from the cupboard. “It’s always a little rough the morning after a loss.” He sighed. “Especially a loss like that one.”

“I didn’t think last night was that bad.” I rested my hip against one of the kitchen islands. “You guys only lost by two. That’s—okay, I don’t know much about hockey, but that didn’t seem really bad?”

“Nah, it wasn’t. We held our own, at least on the scoreboard.” Anthony pushed his glass under the fridge’s water dispenser. “Our goalie saved our asses, though, because the rest of us weren’t playing very well.” Shifting his gaze to his filling water glass, he added a quiet, “Especially me.”

That tracked, I supposed. The commentators had mentioned more than once that it was a genuine miracle Seattle hadn’t been scored on more than they had.

“Every man on this team had better be buying Beaus dinner,” one had mused after the goalie had damn near dislocated something making a save. “Calgary would be up by five or six by now if not for him.”

“You’re not wrong,” the other had replied. “Where is Seattle’s defense? Their blue line is sound asleep tonight.”

I’d managed to parse that the “blue line” referred to their defense. God, this was a complicated sport. And how many times had they mentioned that Anthony was having a rough night? That he’d been having a hard season, and last night was even worse? His coaches and teammates probably hadn’t been happy about that, so, yeah, I didn’t imagine practice had been fun for him this morning.

Anthony sipped his water and gestured toward the living room. We moved from the kitchen to the couch, and Anthony took one end while I took the other. Lily rested her head on my thigh. I left the prosthetic on; I usually did anyway, but there was also the part where even after four years, I still felt weird taking it off in front of new people. I’d been around a few too many in the early days who were silently but obviously creeped out by the sight of my leg ending abruptly a few inches below my knee, and those looks made my skin crawl. So even if I had been in the habit of taking it off when I sat down—some amputees did, some didn’t—I would definitely leave it on now.

I was about to ask Anthony when his next game was just to get the conversation rolling, but Bear picked that moment to hop down from the cat tree and flop onto Anthony’s lap.

“Oh my God, cat,” Anthony said on a theatrical groan. “You are way too big to be a lap cat.”

Bear just purred loudly and kneaded on Anthony’s leg. Anthony chuckled, scratched behind the cat’s ears, then reached beneath the armrest to open up the recliner. Bear seemed pleased by this and managed to spread out even more.

I chuckled. “How long before your legs go to sleep under him?”

“Not long.” He smiled for the first time since he’d come home, and he petted the enormous cat. “But I can’t say no to him being in my lap, so…” He shrugged.

“What about Moose?” I nodded toward the bigger cat, who was on top of the cat tree and fixated on something outside. “Is he a lap cat?”

Anthony pursed his lips. “Sometimes? He’s a little more aloof than Bear, but he has his moments when he wants to be cuddly.” He laughed. “I could do without him trying to sleep on my chest, though.”

“Oh, wow. I don’t think I’d be able to breathe.”

“It’s challenging, let me tell you. He usually just sleeps next to me, though. Or on the other pillow, since Simon hasn’t been…” His smile dimmed.

I swallowed. Things were obviously rocky between him and his boyfriend—that had been apparent the moment I’d met Simon. But if he was gone enough that Moose had started taking over his pillow, and Anthony was this miserable over even mentioning his absence…

Jesus. What is happening between the two of you?

That was none of my business, though. I was concerned, but Anthony and I had known each other for less than seventy-two hours. I didn’t want to rock the boat by putting my nose where it didn’t belong.

Anthony petted Bear for a moment, the cat’s loud purrs carrying all the way across the couch. Then he shook himself and seemed to come back to life, and as he looked at me, he cleared his throat. “Listen, one of my teammates is hosting Thanksgiving next week. I checked with him, and you’re more than welcome to come with us.” He tipped his head toward Lily. “Both of you.”

I blinked. “He—really?”

“Well, yeah.” Anthony shrugged. “I’m not going to just ditch you while we go celebrate the holiday. If you don’t want to go, that’s totally fine, but I’d be a shit host if I didn’t extend the invite, you know?”

“I…” Did he see me as a houseguest? Because while that might’ve technically been what I was, I was just someone he’d brought in out of the cold. He’d already gone a million miles above and beyond; it boggled my mind to think he felt obligated to do anything else. “You don’t have to take me along. I’m thrilled just to be indoors.”

“Well, the invite is open.” He smiled. “It’s a lot of fun every year.”

I hadn’t been involved in anything festive in a long time, and a Thanksgiving dinner with Anthony’s teammates actually sounded like a lot of fun. I absently petted Lily as I slowly warmed up to the idea. “And they really wouldn’t mind her coming along?”

“No, not at all.” He sipped his water. “I mean, she’s a service dog.”

“Yeah, but people can get tetchy about it. Businesses can’t turn her away or anything, but you can tell some of them aren’t happy about it. If someone doesn’t want a dog in their house…”

“Why do I get the feeling businesses are weird about it because of the”—he made air quotes—“‘service dogs’ that give the real ones a bad name?”

I groaned. “Oh my God, you have no idea.”

“I do, actually.” He rolled his eyes. “An old teammate’s wife had an emotional support dog, and he was the nastiest, meanest, loudest creature I ever encountered. She fucking loved shoving his certification in people’s faces and saying they had to let him in.”

I couldn’t hold back the military grade profanity that rolled off my tongue, followed by, “I swear the certification garbage makes things even harder for the rest of us.”

Anthony cocked his head. “It does?”

“Yep. We’re not required to have anything like that. But the more people throw these bullshit credentials around, the more people think they are required. So then they ask us for ours, and we don’t have them, and…” I muttered some more curses. “It’s a fucking nightmare. Then on top of that, their dogs are undisciplined and leave a bad taste in everyone’s mouth, so when I show up with Lily, they side-eye me.” I paused. “Well, and now they see a homeless dude with a dog, so…” I rolled my hand. “You can see how it goes.”

“Fuck,” he whispered. “I never realized it was that big of a problem. The fake service dog thing, I mean. Like I knew they caused issues with businesses, but I didn’t realize it caused issues for people with legit dogs.” He paused. “Though, when I brought up Lily to my teammate, he did kind of balk at first, because he remembers that other dog.”

I winced. “So he’s not comfortable with Lily being—”

“Oh, no, no, he’s fine with her. I told him she’s a legit service dog, and that she’s one of the best-behaved dogs I’ve ever encountered, and he was like, ‘oh, that’s cool then.’”

I admittedly beamed a little, stroking Lily’s back. “You hear that, baby? You’re the best-behaved pupper.”

She wagged her tail.

Anthony smiled. “She really seems like a great fit for you.”

“Oh, man, she is the perfect dog for me.” I tousled her ears. “I wasn’t sure about a Doberman, but the organization told me they make great service dogs. Especially since they get very attached to their people.” I chuckled. “The trainer said they get called Velcro dogs sometimes because of how close they stick.”

“Aww, that’s really cute. And yeah, I’d never heard of one as a service dog, but she’s obviously good at what she does.”

“She is.” I patted her, then sat back on the couch. “I was a little worried they were going to put me with a Shephard or a Malinois, to be honest. I was hoping for a Lab or something.”

“You don’t like Shepherds?”

“No, I do. But we had several with us in my unit when I was in combat. So waking up from a combat nightmare with that kind of dog right in my face…” I grimaced.

Anthony tensed. “Oh. Shit. I never thought about that. I’m glad they found you a different breed.”

“Me too. Fortunately they were great about screening people for their specific needs.” I swallowed. “Sometimes I wish I’d gotten something with a thicker coat, though.” I turned to him. “That’s why I was freaking out so bad the night I met you—she’s got such a thin coat to be sleeping outside in the winter, you know?”

“No kidding.”

“It was easier when we had a tent and blankets, but…”

“What happened to those?” he asked. “You said they were stolen, right?”

“Well…” I made air quotes. “‘Stolen’.”

Anthony raised his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

I focused on petting Lily to keep my blood pressure from spiking the way it often did when I broached this subject. “It’s not technically theft when the police do it.”

“When the—holy shit. The cops took your stuff?”

I nodded, running my thumb along the silky fur of Lily’s ear. “I’m usually pretty good at avoiding them, and I got lucky that I was never in a place they were ‘clearing out.’ But that luck ran out, and they got everything except my rucksack and my dog.”

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “What’s the point of that, anyway? Like, do they think if they confiscate your stuff, you’ll just… magically not be homeless anymore?”

“Well, I can’t prove it, but given the attitudes people have toward us—including the cops—I think the idea is just that if we don’t have shelter or blankets, especially this time of year, we won’t be anyone’s problem for much longer.”

“Anyone’s—” He tensed enough to startle Bear. As he petted the cat to settle him back down, Anthony murmured, “Are you serious?”

I shrugged tightly. “Like I said, I can’t prove it. But after spending a few months out there and seeing all the ‘solutions’ for homelessness in action?” I nodded sharply. “Yeah, I’d bet money that when they talk about reducing the homeless population, they don’t mean relocating or housing us.”

“Holy shit,” he whispered, and he shuddered. “God, I never realized it was that bad.”

“Neither did I.” Silence hung between us for a moment, and I regretted bringing it up. “I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “It’s a shitty subject, and—”

“No, don’t apologize. I really never knew how bad it was. I don’t like to be ignorant of things if I can help it, you know?” He scratched behind Bear’s ears. “I, um… I can help you get some of the things you lost. A tent, blankets, all of that.”

“What? No, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he insisted. “There’s still a lot of winter left. You and Lily shouldn’t be out there with nothing.”

“I…” It took a second for me to find the words. “I appreciate that. I really do. Just… you don’t have to do that. You don’t have to do anything you’ve done for me.”

He was already shaking his head. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I knew you and Lily were out there with nothing.”

I swallowed, not sure what to say.

“If you’d rather not,” he went on, “I won’t force you. But if you’ll let me, I’d be happy to take you shopping for the things you need. Whatever we can’t find, we can order.”

It was hard to put my finger on any one emotion rolling through me right then. Gratitude, yes. Shame, because I hated that I needed to accept to his offer. There was even a subtle spike of adrenaline not unlike when a mortar had landed close to my position, but far enough away to spare me any injury—that oh shit, I could’ve been so fucked feeling. What if I hadn’t walked into that particular vet clinic on the night this man happened to be there? What if I’d talked myself out of it like I almost had twice on the way up to the front door?

In a weirdly twisted way, that bitter cold snap on the heels of the cops stealing all my shit had been a blessing in disguise. Because of those two things, I’d been desperate, searching for a miracle, and I’d walked into the clinic on a night when Anthony didn’t have a hockey game and had taken his boys in for a routine checkup.

Lily licked at my hand, then put her front paws in my lap and nudged my chin.

“It’s okay, baby.” I petted her gently, willing my heartrate back down.

“You all right?” Anthony asked.

I nodded. “I’m good. Just, um…” I had no idea how to explain it to him. Not without losing my suddenly brittle composure. “Thank you. It’ll be a huge relief, replacing all that stuff. I wish I could do something to make it up to you, though.”

“Nah.” His smile was brilliant. “You’ve been entertaining my cats and you showed me a new way to season eggs.”

I laughed softly. That didn’t quite seem like a fair trade, but I’d take it. “I guess that’s a deal?”

“If you knew how many eggs I consume on a daily basis…” He made a face.

This time, I laughed with some actual feeling. “Okay, that’s fair.”

He smiled again. “We can hit the stores this coming week. I’m a little beat today, and I’ll be heading out on the road tomorrow night. But when I get back, you’re on.”

I straightened. “Wait, you’re going to be on the road? While I’m…” I gestured around us.

“Yeah, you’ll be on your own for a couple of nights.” He rested his hand on Bear’s side. “We play in town tomorrow night, then fly out right after the game. We’ll be back early in the morning on…” His eyes lost focus, and then he shook his head. “Whatever day. Wednesday, I think.” He laughed softly. “I lose track of the days. I’ll probably need to crash for a bit, but then I’m all yours for the afternoon.”

I studied him. “Are you… You really don’t mind me staying here by myself while you’re gone?”

Anthony looked me right in the eyes. “I’m not going to kick you out.”

I held his gaze. He held mine.

Finally, he seemed to realize how incredulous I was, and he sat up a little. “Look, I can’t give you a rational, logical reason why I’m okay with a stranger staying in my house at all, never mind while I’m gone. Maybe that makes me gullible or stupid or…” He made a dismissive gesture that was heavy with fatigue. “But the alternative is sending you and Lily back out…” He gestured outside. “I can’t do that. Especially not while it’s still this fucking cold out.”

I swallowed hard. I had no idea what to say. “I’d… If I could afford to grab a motel room or something while you’re gone, I would. I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck keeping me here while—”

“No, no. It’s nothing like that. I don’t feel obligated.” He met my eyes again. “If I’m being completely honest, I… like having you here.”

That caught me off guard. “You do?”

“Well, yeah.” He half-shrugged as a blush rose in his cheeks. “Ever since Simon moved out, this place has been kind of empty, you know? Even with…” He gestured at the cat stretched out across his lap. “It’s been nice to have someone around.”

“Oh.” I hesitated, then cautiously ventured, “So, you and Simon lived together, but now you don’t?”

His face fell a little. “We… I mean, he technically lives here? But…”

I watched him. The curiosity was killing me, but it was mostly concern now. He was one of the most easygoing people I’d ever met. One mention of his boyfriend, though, and it was like the weight of the world was suddenly pushing down on his shoulders. “Tell me if this is none of my business, but—”

“I dug into your business this morning,” he said with a dry laugh. “I don’t mind.”

“Fair enough, I guess.” I shifted a little on the couch, draping my arm across the back of it. “I’m, uh… I’m curious about you and Simon.”

What little humor there’d been on his face vanished, and he stared into his water glass.

“Seriously,” I went on, “if it’s none of my business…”

“No, it’s fine.” He sat up a bit, thumbing the side of the glass. “What do you want to know?”

Why you’re with someone who makes you that fucking miserable, for starters.

I kept that to myself and went with a more diplomatic, “You said he moved out?”

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. About six months ago. We’ve, uh…” He closed his eyes and sighed before turning an utterly exhausted look on me. “Things have been rough for a while. He moved into one of the spare bedrooms for a few months. Then he decided he needed some actual space, so now he’s renting a place in Bellevue.”

I almost whistled at that. Rentals in the Seattle area were obscene on a good day, and Bellevue was stupid expensive even by Seattle standards. Though Anthony and Simon were professional athletes who’d been able to buy a house in Medina, so sticker shock probably hadn’t been an issue.

“But you guys are still together?” I asked.

“In theory, I guess?” He laughed almost soundlessly. “The whole point of him moving out was to give us both some breathing room so we could work on things, but…” He trailed off as he shook his head. “We haven’t made much headway.”

“Damn,” I whispered. “Sorry to hear it.”

Anthony took a deep swallow of water. As he leaned forward to put the glass on a coaster, he said, “The worst part is that I can’t figure out if the problem is us.” He sat back again, propping his elbow on the back of the couch and resting his head on his fist. “Or if it’s the pressure our team is putting on us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Simon and I are the first out couple on the same team in the League,” he explained. “We’re not the first queer players by any means, but there weren’t any teammate couples before us. When we came out to the club, they told us in no uncertain terms that if our relationship caused any issues on the ice or in the locker room, one or both of us would be gone.”

I stared at him. “They’d just… kick you off the team? Because you and your boyfriend had a fight?”

“Not… I mean, it’s not that simple. And we’d still play hockey—just not on this team. They’d either trade one of us or… Well, they probably wouldn’t drop either of us down to the minors. Just trade us. Or waive us.”

“Waive you? What does that mean?”

“It’s…” He pursed his lips. “Basically, when they put a player on waivers, they’re telling all the other teams, ‘he’s yours if you want him.’ If someone grabs him up, then he just plays on that team. If they don’t, then he either goes to the minors, they trade him, or they terminate his contract.” Anthony paused. “It’s not quite that simple, but that’s the basic idea.”

“Wow. And they’d do that to one or both of you if you just had a fight or something?”

He exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. “They’d let it slide if we just had an off day or something. Teammates don’t always get along. It is what it is. But we’ve both been afraid to push it, you know? Like what if we’re having a minor rough patch at the same time our GM has a hair up his ass and wants to make a trade?”

“So you guys had to walk on eggshells ever since you came out.”

“Pretty much,” he said softly. “Our team—they don’t even know we’re living apart.” He gave a quiet, bitter laugh. “We’re really good at putting on the ‘everything is great’ face around our teammates. And the cameras.”

“Jesus,” I said. “That sounds like a ton of pressure.”

“It is. And it also turns out that people being more accepting of queer players is kind of a double-edged sword.”

“How so?”

“As soon as we came out, we got some backlash, but we also got a ton of support. And that support turned into people putting us on a pedestal. We ended up becoming the poster boys for queer players.” He rolled his eyes and reached for his water glass. “Half the players in the women’s pro league are engaged or married to each other, but the men’s league? It took us so fucking long to even be able to come out, so everyone either hates us for being queer, or they go so hard as allies that they put a ton of pressure on us.” He turned to me, his expression sad and tired. “All we wanted to do was be a couple and not hide. Now we have to hide when we go through normal couple problems.”

“Damn. That sounds miserable.”

“It is.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose before dropping his hand onto the cushion beside him. “I love what I do. Don’t get me wrong. But this whole celebrity thing?” He shook his head. “It’s fucking bullshit. I didn’t sign up for that.”

“I’ve heard people say being famous is overrated.”

“It’s highly overrated. And we don’t even have it as bad as the baseball and football stars, never mind actors or musicians. Aside from the really big superstars, we can mostly go about our lives without people giving us a second look. Like, we get noticed sometimes, but it’s honestly pretty rare.” He sighed, deflating against the cushion. “Or at least it was until we came out as a couple.”

“Were you already out as… I mean, were you already out individually?”

“Simon was.” A fond but sad smile crossed Anthony’s lips. “He’s been out and proud since he was in major juniors. I had a girlfriend from high school through my rookie season, so there wasn’t really any need for me to come out. After she and I split up and I started dating a guy… I didn’t want to hide. I’d never had to before, and I didn’t want to start then, so I came out as bi.”

I nodded as he spoke. “So it was kind of need-to-know for everyone else.”

“Exactly. And no one needed to know until I met Darren. When Simon and I got together, we kept it on the DL for a little while because we didn’t know if we could date teammates. There weren’t any rules about it, but that didn’t mean it was allowed, you know?”

I chuckled cautiously. “I distinctly remember one of my supervisors telling my platoon that just because there wasn’t a rule explicitly forbidding something didn’t mean it was allowed.” I rolled my eyes. “Not our fault the Army didn’t think to tell us—a bunch of bored teenagers and twenty-somethings—that, no, we were not allowed to surf on the backs of trucks or on top of Humvees.”

The laugh that broke through his funk made my breath hitch. “Oh my God. You guys really did that?”

“Pfft. Eighty-five percent of being in the military is doing incredibly stupid shit to pass the time.”

“Wow. You must have some stories.”

“A few, yeah. I think we made a few first sergeants go gray a decade or two early.”

“I can’t judge.” He snickered, eyes dancing with mischief. “I’m pretty sure my teammates and I have done that to a few coaches.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. Hockey players are not known for being the most well-behaved creatures on the planet.”

“Sounds like soldiers and hockey players are cut from the same cloth.”

Anthony pursed his lips. “I want to say we probably get into fistfights more often, but maybe I’m wrong?”

I rocked my head back and forth. “We definitely get more than two minutes in timeout for it. Assuming we get caught.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that fighting is five minutes.”

“Ooh, they mean business. Five minutes in the naughty box to think about what you’ve done.”

Anthony snorted. “Something like that. I swear it’s because we spend the first two minutes yelling at the other guy through the glass, so we they make us sit for another three just to calm down.”

I barked a laugh. “Wait, so you’re sitting next to the guy you were fighting with?”

“Well, there’s Plexiglas divider, but… yeah, pretty much.”

“Oh my God.” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “That’s hilarious.”

He chuckled, but as he picked up his drink again, he sobered. “Anyway, Simon and I—we know the League. They can look the other way over major stuff, and then turn around and say ‘jail for a thousand years’ because someone looked at a camera the wrong way. It’s… they’re not super consistent, but we didn’t really want to be the ones to test those waters, you know?”

“I can imagine. But you ended up coming out?”

Anthony nodded. “We decided we were better off coming clean than getting caught. And we were starting to make some noise about moving in together, so we figured we’d tell the team and let the chips fall where they would.”

“What do you think would’ve happened if they decided it was against the rules? Would they have disciplined you?”

“I don’t think so. Both our agents and the players’ association rep figured they didn’t have much room to punish us because, like I said, there was no rule explicitly forbidding it. Plus there’s precedence on the women’s league that couples can work on teams. So, worst case, one of us would probably get traded, and then we’d just do the long-distance thing.” His expression darkened a little as he watched himself absently swirling his water glass. “These days, I wonder if that might’ve been the best-case scenario after all.”

“Long distance?”

He nodded slowly. “It would suck to be apart, but we wouldn’t have all this scrutiny we do now. And maybe people still would’ve put us on a pedestal, but we wouldn’t have to live up to that pressure 24/7 like we do now.”

“Wow,” I whispered. “That has to suck. Especially when you’re not in a great place.”

“Exactly.” He ran his fingertip around the rim of his glass. “Plus it’s really fucking hard to fix your relationship when you’ve basically been told you can’t break up without professional consequences.” He met my gaze. “I’m not one to bolt from a relationship at the first sign of trouble, and I don’t want to break up. I love him. But I never realized how hard it is to dig into your problems and have the tough conversations and sort shit out when you feel like you can’t walk away. Like, what if we pull it all apart, and then we realize we can’t fix it? Or that we don’t want to? We’re stuck.”

“Jesus,” I whispered. “So you guys can’t split? Even if it’s amicable?”

Anthony shook his head. “I mean, it’s possible if we go to the higher ups and say, look, we’ve split up but can still function as teammates, and have everything be fine. But it’s also possible they’ll drop the hammer and boot one of us.” He swallowed hard. “And I’d bet my entire year’s salary that I’ll be the one to get the boot, not him.”

“How do you figure?”

He sighed, shoulders sinking. “Because he’s way more valuable to the team than I am. I think I’m a solid defenseman, but I’m no superstar. Replacing me is going to be a hell of a lot easier than replacing a hundred-point-per-year forward like him.”

I exhaled. “Wow. So you’re really between a rock and a hard place.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Especially because I like it here. I like Seattle. I like my team. Being traded and moved is part of playing hockey at this level, so it could happen anyway. But if I can help it…”

“That makes total sense. I had to change duty stations every three years, and it was rough. Makes it hard to feel settled, you know?”

Anthony actually brightened a little. “Yes! Exactly! I’m even afraid to make friends in a new place, because for all I know, I’ll be on a plane next week to play for some other team.”

I grimaced. “It happens that fast?”

“Oh, yeah. When I came to Seattle, it was at the trade deadline. I played a home game in Boston on Tuesday, was on a plane to Seattle on Wednesday, and played my first game here on Saturday.” He sipped his water. “Would’ve been even sooner if they’d had a game Thursday or Friday.”

“Holy shit! Don’t you even get a chance to practice with your new team? Get settled in? Anything?”

“You get at least one practice in. That, or a morning skate. But they expect you to hit the ground running. I just happened to come in when they had a couple of days between games.”

I whistled. “Hockey is intense.”

Anthony laughed and raised his glass. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” His shoulders fell again. “Well, aside from the part where I’m stuck in limbo with my boyfriend.” Before I could say anything about that, though, he rolled his shoulders and seemed to come back to life. “There’s an afternoon game on. If you want to watch it, I can tell you more about the sport.”

I recognized a subject change when I heard it, and I really did want to learn more about hockey, so I smiled. “Sure. Sounds great.”

The way his face lit up made my spine tingle. I kind of wanted to throttle his boyfriend next time I saw the guy. Who landed a man like this and made him that miserable?

You’ve got a keeper on your hands, Simon.

How can you be so fucking stupid?