33. Anthony

I felt a lot better about things with Wyatt after we talked it through. There was no way in hell I was throwing him to the wolves if we decided we didn’t want to be together. Our situation was uniquely complex, but we were both rational adults. Wyatt wasn’t going to take advantage of me helping him. I wasn’t going to take advantage of him having less power in the situation. We cared about each other as much as we were into each other, and I fully believed we could navigate this without losing sight of that.

Of course, I’d thought a lot of those things about Simon, too, and that had blown up in my face. Then again, in retrospect, there had been a power imbalance between us, especially in the beginning, and I realized now that Simon had taken advantage of it.

Between his salary and his endorsements, he made a lot more money than I did. While I’d been perfectly happy with a more modest house in the suburbs, he’d been the one to decide we should drop five million on a house in Medina. That amount had been staggering for me. But nothing says “first world problems” like “I only make three and a half million annually,” so he’d steamrolled over my concerns, and now here we were. We’d dropped a substantial down payment on the place, and the mortgage was manageable with one or both of our salaries, but he’d never missed an opportunity to remind me how much more he’d contributed than I had.

Now that he’d moved out, he’d decided it was unfair for him to pay for two places, so he only paid for the one he was living in. Fine. I could handle the mortgage. It wasn’t like I was a huge spender anyway, and the payments weren’t breaking the bank. But I hadn’t come from money. My parents had driven themselves into debt to help me chase my hockey dream, so even now that I had a shitload of money, frugality was a hard habit to break, at least when it came to spending money on myself. I’d bought my parents a house and made sure they were living the good life, and I spared no expense if a friend needed something. But I still winced at the cost of my suits or putting gas in one of my cars.

Simon knew that. At first, he’d acted like it was endearing. He’d said he liked that I was careful with money and didn’t spend like crazy.

But looking back now, I had to wonder if there was more to that.

At the time, I just hadn’t wanted to fight about his expensive tastes or the price of the house. I’d been trying to keep the peace and find a way back to solid ground with him. Money had never been a hill I wanted to die on when we still had so many other hills left to fight over.

In hindsight, though, there was something insidious about the pattern of Simon and money. Pressuring me into a mortgage that he knew would make me anxious. Buying me a bright red Ferrari for my birthday, knowing the insurance would be expensive and I would rarely drive it for fear of damaging it or driving up those rates. Encouraging me to use his tailor for my bespoke suits instead of the way more reasonable one whose work was just as good.

More than once, when I’d been at my breaking point and brought up the possibility of splitting up, he’d run me through a tally of all the financial things that would be purely my obligation going forward. He’d remind me that we’d have to sell the house, but he’d frame it as something we needed to do because I couldn’t afford it on my own. I could afford it on my own, but he knew his way under my skin.

“You’ve only got two years left on your contract,” he’d ominously reminded me a few times. “If they don’t extend you, where are you going to find the money to pay for this place on your own?”

“You don’t think they’ll extend me?”

“Maybe they will. But look at your stats. There’s half a dozen prospects they can bring up who can replace you, and without your cap hit, they can easily grab a defenseman from somewhere else in the League. Do you really want to be on the hook for this place and a new one if you get traded?”

That didn’t make me want to stay with him, per se, but it did make me back down because I’d suddenly be worried about my professional future instead of my relationship. The next thing I knew, we’d be back to fighting about something else, he’d be threatening to leave, and I’d be bending over backwards to get him to stay.

Christ. That was exhausting just to think about. Why the fuck had I put up with it for so damn long?

Well, that was an easy enough answer…

“I don’t want to see you get traded or waived because we can’t work out a stupid argument,” he’d said, voice full of concern. “We can get through this, Anthony. We’ll be fine. And our careers won’t suffer. Especially yours.”

What a dick.

More and more, I understood that my relationship with Simon was a big part of why I was so concerned about the power imbalance with Wyatt. I was terrified of making him feel the way Simon had made me feel: trapped and powerless.

Clearing the air with Wyatt left me a lot less anxious about things. Knowing he had family and a support network helped, too; he didn’t want to be a burden to them while his father was sick, but at least he had people. If we split up, I’d make sure he had what he needed to get to Portland and stay on his feet, and he’d be close to people who loved him and cared about him.

Now that we had all that out of the way… holy shit, being with Wyatt was amazing. In the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, we fell into a perfect groove. We watched hockey together. We cooked together. We even started working out together in my home gym on those days when it was too shitty out to take the animals for a long walk.

I’d let him borrow an old laptop so he could apply for jobs, and that also meant we could Skype or Zoom while I was on the road. Or, well, we tried to, anyway; rooming with Simon made that a challenge, but we snagged every chance we could. When Simon was still in the room, we’d instant message or email back and forth.

I loved coming home to my cats excitedly greeting me, but I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed coming home to a person who was happy to see me too. Maybe it was just the honeymoon phase, but there was something to be said for walking in the door and seeing Wyatt’s eyes light up instead of giving me a cursory “oh, it’s you” glance.

The first time Wyatt had a night terror while we were in the same bed, he’d been mortified.

“I’m so sorry,” he’d whispered, still shaking as I held him against me. “I wish I could tell you this doesn’t happen often, but…”

“It’s nothing to be sorry about.” I’d held him closer and kissed the top of his head. “It’s trauma. Not a character flaw.”

He’d sighed heavily and hadn’t said a word. I could read between the lines. He understood it was beyond his control, but he was afraid it would scare me away, or that I’d get tired of it. The next morning, when I’d been bleary-eyed and sucking down coffee, his worry and regret had been written all over his face.

“Wyatt.” I’d wrapped my arms around him and kissed him softly. “I’d much rather lose that sleep than have you going through that alone.”

“I’m not alone.” He’d gestured at Lily, who was sitting beside him.

I’d smiled down at Lily before kissing Wyatt again. “I’m glad you have her. But you have both of us now. I’m not going anywhere because you have nightmares.”

I meant it, too. In fact, I worried about him whenever I was on the road now. He did, however, have Lily, and I reminded myself that she was great about waking him up and cuddling with him until the shaking stopped.

With or without his nightmares, I wouldn’t have traded sleeping next to him for the world. I didn’t know what I felt for him yet. Where this was going. How much staying power it had.

But day after day, night after night, I was happily drawn to him. I couldn’t get enough of the sex. Of the closeness. Of the easy conversations and comfortable vibe.

It was way too soon to call this thing love.

But day after day, night after night…

I fell just a little harder for Wyatt.