18. Wyatt

Nothing would ever compare to the way I’d felt the first time I saw Anthony’s enormous house. That relief and the realization that I really had a place to sleep that night—yeah, nothing beat that.

Still, after Thanksgiving, that house sure was a sight for sore eyes.

Don’t get me wrong—the day had been a blast. I’d loved hanging out with the Bobcats. I’d eaten some amazing food. It had reminded me a lot of holiday celebrations with my Army buddies and their families in my old life.

But I was still relieved it was over, and not for my benefit.

The breath Anthony released as he pulled the Land Rover into the garage spoke of bone-deep exhaustion and relief. Simon side-eyed him from the passenger seat, but he didn’t say anything, and Anthony either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Simon was out of the car before Anthony had even shut off the engine. By the time Lily and I stepped out, the engine of Simon’s SUV was already roaring to life. He didn’t say a word, didn’t give either of us a second look—just backed out and left.

I watched Anthony as Simon drove away, and the fatigue and relief were both coming off him in waves now. As if the self-preservation and stubbornness that had been holding him up all day were finally starting to give. His team wasn’t around anymore, so he didn’t have to pretend he and Simon were okay. Simon wasn’t around, so Anthony didn’t have to keep things civil. That second thing had seemed like a struggle the whole way home; they’d both been dead silent, same as they had this morning, except the silence had been even chillier. In fact, they’d both been a little pricklier around each other ever since they’d gone out to the car to bring in some cases of soda.

I’d spent time pretending I wasn’t screwing someone because neither of us wanted to get in trouble at work. The Army could be weird about those things. But holy shit, I’d never had to pretend I was with someone in order to keep my career on the rails. I didn’t know how he did it, but given the way he was barely holding himself up right now, it clearly wasn’t easy.

“You all right?” I asked.

“I’m good.” He blew out a breath. “Just glad to be…” He gestured toward the empty space where his ex’s car had been.

Yeah, he didn’t need to spell that out. I was glad Simon was gone, too, and I wasn’t the one who had to pretend to like him.

He turned to me. “Did you have a good time?”

“I did.” I smiled, hoping my own fatigue didn’t show. “It was a lot of people, but your teammates and their families are nice.” I chuckled. “And shooting hockey pucks was fun.”

That got a faint laugh out of him, and as he pocketed his keys and hit the button to shut the garage doors, he said, “Yeah, there’s never a dull moment when you get all of us together. Especially if there are sticks and pucks involved.” His smile faded a bit. “It’s a lot more fun when…” He made another gesture toward Simon’s parking space.

“I bet” was all I said.

Anthony exhaled as we started up the steps to the kitchen door. “It is so good to be home.”

I didn’t blame him at all for being this worn down. Even when the conversations had been light, especially over dinner, Anthony had seemed on edge. As much as he’d clearly been trying to convince everyone he was relaxed and happy today, the cracks had shown from the moment Simon had arrived this morning. Throughout the day, they’d been more obvious. I couldn’t tell if he’d been getting more frustrated, or if he’d just been struggling harder to keep the mask in place. Now that he was home and Simon was gone, he seemed to be able to breathe.

He pushed open the kitchen door, and he was immediately greeted by chirping and purring. Bear and Moose both stood on the nearer kitchen island, tails up and backs arched as they kneaded the tile and talked over each other.

In an instant, the tension and fatigue in Anthony melted away. While I busied myself taking off Lily’s vest, he smiled and scratched both of his boys behind their ears. “Hey, guys. Did you miss me?” More purring. More chirping. Moose walked in a circle, almost knocking Bear off the counter. For his part, Bear decided to throw himself down on his side, but he misjudged where he was in relation to the sink. Despite a valiant effort to catch himself, he tumbled into the sink, where he promptly sat down and looked around as if to say, “I meant to do that.”

Anthony chuckled and kissed the idiot cat’s head. “I didn’t pick you for your brains, buddy. Don’t worry.”

Bear just purred and arched his back, turning in circles in the sink as Anthony petted him.

The cat was hilarious, but more than anything, I was relieved to see Anthony smiling again. The difference between the version of him practically dragging himself in from the garage and this—happily showering his cats with attention—was startling.

The enthusiastic reception from his cats brightened his spirits, but it didn’t last. The cats were quickly distracted—Moose by his food bowl, Bear by Lily—and without them to hold his attention, Anthony deflated back to something closer to his earlier misery.

Eyes closed, he rubbed the back of his neck. “God. I am exhausted.”

I winced. “I’m sorry. It… If I’d known it would stress you out so much, I would’ve—”

“What?” He met my gaze. “It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe not, but can you honestly tell me today would’ve been just as tiring if I hadn’t been there?”

He opened his mouth to speak. Then closed it and looked away.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I appreciate you taking me, but I didn’t want…” I had no idea how to finish that.

“No.” Anthony shook his head slowly, flattening his palms on the island’s tiles as if he needed something to anchor himself. Or hold himself up. “It’s… The issues were between Simon and me.”

“But having me there didn’t help.”

“You’re not the one who would’ve made life easier by being gone, though,” he muttered. Then he exhaled and let his head fall forward. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“Wrong with—what do you mean? Your ex is stressing you out. Anyone would be stressed out in your situation.”

He didn’t gainsay me.

As he started making us both some coffee, I thought about how he’d been progressively more miserable throughout the day. I had to wonder if Simon even noticed. He’d seemed pretty miserable himself, but I hadn’t seen Anthony antagonizing him. Simon had thrown a few subtle digs and barbs, and at least twice, I’d caught him shooting Anthony a sour look that would knock Anthony’s mood down a notch or two. I could’ve been biased—I didn’t spend much time around them together, and I’d had much more interaction with Anthony than with Simon—but a lot of the bullshit between them seemed to be moving in the same direction.

I shifted my weight, leaning on the counter to take some weight off both my prosthetic and my left leg, which was a little sore after I’d spent a lot of time standing today. “Look, tell me if I’m out of line here, but…” I chewed my lip.

Anthony pushed a cup of coffee toward me, and his forehead creased as he silently waited for me to go on.

I took a deep breath. “I might be biased because I’ve only ever seen you guys when things are off, but based on what I’ve seen…” I hesitated. “Dude, Simon seems toxic as hell.”

I braced for him to put me in my place, either lashing out in defense of Simon or himself. Maybe both.

Instead, he deflated a little more, and he wiped a hand over his face. “I want to say he isn’t. He’s…” Anthony stared at the counter with unfocused eyes. Then he shook his head. “God, I don’t even know anymore. We were so unhappy together for so long, it’s hard to tell where the problems even started.”

I don’t know, man,I thought. Looks pretty obvious from where I’m standing.

But I just said, “It sucks you can’t get away from him.”

Anthony grunted. Then he shook himself and gestured at our coffee cups. “Let me get some cream and sugar.”

I knew a subject change when I heard it, so I let it go. Verbally, anyway. It was impossible not to keep thinking about it. As we polluted our coffee and moved into the living room to take a load off, as we hung out with Lily and the cats, my thoughts stayed squarely on Anthony and today.

I felt bad for him. I really did. He couldn’t get away from his asshole ex, and even when he tried to hide it—especially now when he was exhausted after a long day in Simon’s presence—he was obviously miserable.

Not all that long ago, fear and destitution had cultivated some deep, bitter cynicism. I couldn’t imagine sympathizing with anyone who had a roof over their head, no matter how fucked-up their situation was. If someone wasn’t using a piece of dirty cardboard over concrete as a mattress, then they could cry me a goddamned river over their “problems.”

Of course I’d known life wasn’t that simple. Everyone had their crosses to bear. As one of my Army buddies had said, “Someone else having three bullet holes doesn’t make my one bullet hole hurt any less.” Homelessness had just left me angry at the world and short on sympathy for anyone. Such was life when you were cold, hungry, and sleep-deprived.

But even when I was warm, well-fed, and well-rested, there’d always been a part of me that turned up my nose at the rich. It started with growing up lower middle class in a wealthy area. It festered as an enlisted soldier being ordered to war by officers at the behest of wealthy politicians and defense contractors. It grew into malignant rage at a society that let people sleep on sidewalks beneath buildings owned by billionaires who didn’t pay taxes. And when those billionaires had the cops move us someplace else… I mean… fuck everything, right?

Now here I was, staying in the enormous house of a man paid literal millions of dollars to play hockey. Tonight, I’d be lying in a warm bed on thousand thread count sheets in his guest room. I was enveloped in both his wealth and… his kindness.

Anthony didn’t have to take me in. He sure as shit didn’t have to keep me here for going on two weeks. He didn’t have to bring me along to a holiday gathering so I wouldn’t be alone, knowing full well he’d catch hell for it from the man no one knew was his ex.

Maybe that was why it didn’t feel weird to feel this sorry for him. Yeah, he was rich as hell. Yeah, he had fancy cars and a huge house in Medina and purebred cats that probably cost more than the rent on my old apartment. Yeah, on paper, he was everything I’d resented in this unfair world that had run me through the meat grinder.

But my God, he was also the sweetest, kindest soul I’d met in a long, long time.

And none of his wealth or status changed the fact that he was fucking miserable right now.

All because he was shackled to a man who treated him like shit.

The ache in my chest was right up there with that empathetic pang for my fellow soldiers when being away from their spouses and kids got to them. It was that powerless feeling of wishing I could help someone, knowing it was out of my hands, and wondering how the fuck those who could fix it didn’t bother. It was seeing the biggest, toughest Marine cry because it was the third year in a row he’d missed his little girl’s birthday.

No, Anthony wasn’t stuck in a warzone. He wasn’t in danger or afraid he wouldn’t survive. He wasn’t homeless or wondering where his next meal would come from. But three bullet holes on someone else didn’t make his one hurt any less, and it was plain to see that Anthony was hurting. For all he’d said he felt less than he’d expected about breaking up with Simon, he had some serious feelings about having to pretend they hadn’t broken up. He was a damn good actor, playing the happy boyfriend in front of his teammates and their families, but I’d seen that mask slip more than once.

No amount of big houses or fancy cars or multimillion dollar hockey contracts could touch how much this was wearing him down.

Unaware of all the places my mind was going, Anthony teased Bear with a toy, laughing softly as the big idiot threw himself around in pursuit of the colorful pompom. Anthony was still tired, still weighed down by today, but he was also adorable and sweet.

I sipped my coffee and pretended my stomach wasn’t wound up in knots.

You found a career that values what you do, Anthony.

How the hell were you with a man who can’t see what you’re worth?