27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Luke

I’m on a date with Cody. Okay, let’s just repeat that while I pinch myself. I. Am. On. A. Date. With. Cody. In my hometown. How did this happen? I mean, I know how it happened. We drove to the lake an hour ago after breakfast. I’m aware of the logistics because I’ve skated on this exact lake every winter of my childhood. But I mean, how did this happen? How did all my dreams come true in a matter of a weekend? How did I go from being a guy who knew he liked other guys but had never experienced actual attraction to being a guy who can’t stop thinking about a six-foot-four blond with the most amazing gray eyes and a shy, adorable smile? Beats me, but I can’t recall ever being this happy and just… elated.

Cody skates toward me, red like the most beautiful wild winter flowers blooming across his cheeks, his freckles lighting up against his pale skin, his eyes almost as blue as the ice beneath us. I bet he has more freckles in summer. I bet he has freckles in other places than across the ridge of his pointy nose. Places I haven’t fully explored yet. I know they’re sprinkled across his shoulders, and his back, too, and I can’t wait to go swimming in the summer, the July sun making them sparkle like tiny stars. Maybe there’re some behind his knees too. Or on his thighs. There are so many things I don’t know about Cody. So many things that I’ve yet to discover and explore. But I know the most important thing there is to know . He’s mine . Cody Mitchell is mine, and it’s the best feeling in the world knowing that.

“Hey,” he laughs in my face as he comes to a halting stop in front of me, his skates tearing a cloud of crystals from the ice.

“Good, right?” I laugh back at him, my gloved hands automatically reaching for him, clasping his flaming cheeks. This urge to be close to him, to touch him constantly. It’s all-consuming. It’s like an addiction and just getting through breakfast without ruffling his hair or pressing a kiss against his chin was an act of Sisyphean proportions.

“The best,” he pants, his lips so pink and puffy against his pale skin, puffs of white air bursting from his mouth. “What’s it called?”

I shake my head. “You’re impossible,” I chuckle.

“What?” he looks at me all innocent and doe-eyed, and a thousand winter birds take off in my chest, their wings basking, causing my heart to flutter. If I didn’t know any better, I would think I have a heart disease. But with the regular health check-ups, I’m pretty sure I don’t. It’s just Codyopathy . Your heart flutters uncontrollably when in close contact with a guy named Cody.

“I’ve already told you twice,” I sigh, rolling my eyes.

“So? I’ve got other…” he pauses, smirking, while his eyes move across my face until they land on my mouth. And my lips fucking tingle. Cody gulps audibly. “ Things on my mind.”

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, a needy edge to my voice. “Like what?”

“You know what…” And although it should be impossible, I think he blushes even more. He looks down at the ice, the surface layered with lines from skaters before us. He’s still so shy, my Cody. Still so unsure of himself outside the rink. I move my hand to his chin and tilt his head, forcing him to look at me. “Luke…” he breathes, milky-white air dancing in front of his lips, carrying my name toward me.

“Yeah?” And I swear to God my voice hitches at the look of sheer adoration in his eyes. Shit , do I look at him the same way? Because if I do, we’re so screwed when we get back to Colorado. Everyone with a functioning pair of eyes will be able to tell, won’t they? They’ve probably already done the math, whispers a small voice in the back of my mind, as I recall the commotion that one photo of Cody and me made in the locker room.

“Tell me again,” he pleads, his voice so frail and vulnerable and just lovely. He is lovely.

“Lovers’ Lake,” I croak. “It’s called Lovers’ Lake.”

“Why?” he asks, all innocent, but I’m on to him now. He didn’t forget. He so remembers the story I told him this morning as we were scarfing down a tower of pancakes and piles of crispy bacon and the fluffiest eggs to ever fluff. Yeah, my mom knows how to make breakfast for champs. But I pretend not to know that he’s playing with me. Because his eyes are so bright, and his voice carries a hint of longing that makes me putty in his hands. That makes me want to always say whatever he needs to hear and do whatever he wants me to do.

“Because it’s where lovers go.” Cody nods, biting his bottom lip. “To ask their sweetheart to be theirs,” I rasp.

“But…” he trails off and I know what he’s about to say. It’s written across his face. The remnants of doubt that I haven’t—yet—managed to banish from Cody’s mind. But I will get there. In time, I’ll chase away all his demons that tell him he doesn’t deserve this. That he can’t have whatever he wants. Licking my lips, I take on the first demon out of what I suspect are many.

“Will you… will you be my sweetheart, Cody?” I say, my hand still resting below his chin, my gloved thumb brushing carefully back and forth.

An entire palette of emotions washes over his face, but I’m not worried. I already know what’s in his heart. I know him. Eventually, he nods, his voice barely audible when he speaks. So shy and tender.

“Yes,” he nods eagerly. “Of course I will.” Then something flashes in his eyes that I’ve only ever seen on the ice. Determination. “I want that more than anything.”

“What are we gonna do when we get back?” Cody is the first to burst our pink bubble of kisses and tentative endearments when we lie on my bed hours later. I’ve tried out a variety of names for him, but I think my favorite—and I think Cody’s too—is baby . The good old classic. He’s my baby. My Cody.

“What do you want to do?” I hum against the top of his head, his hair still damp from his shower. He showered in the guest room’s ensuite while I showered in mine. We could’ve showered together. It’s not like we haven’t before; after a game or practice. But it’s different now that we are together. Now that he’s my… boyfriend . Holy shit, I have a boyfriend. I don’t want to move too fast and scare him now that I finally have him. I want Cody to set the pace, and I don’t think he’s ready to shower with me yet.

“I… I want to keep it to us for a while,” he whispers against my collarbone, his breath so warm. “But I don’t want to hide either,” he rushes out. “If someone asks us or finds out, I’m not gonna lie. I won’t lie about what we are, Luke.” His voice is steady as a beat as his hold tightens around my waist.

“I won’t lie either,” I speak into his soft, shaggy hair that smells like the ocean and something that is just him. “And I’m good with staying on the down-low for a while.” I want to have Cody to myself for as long as I can. I mean, I want to tell my family, but aside from that, there’s only one other person I trust enough to tell. Who I want to tell. Riley. “Is it okay if I tell my parents? And Riley? I trust him completely.”

Cody nods against my chest. “Sure.”

“Yeah?” I push him away from me carefully. I need to see his face. He blinks his eyes open, a wet sheen covering the intense gray.

“Yes,” he nods, his voice so frail. So…

“What’s wrong, baby?” I feel like my heart is shattering into a million little pieces when he looks at me like that, all sad and lost. Like last night when he opened his heart to me and told me about Danny. It nearly killed me, feeling his pain so vividly. But it also cemented something between us. Something I know we both felt. It was like we connected on a deeper level. That he let me be there for him, sharing his sadness with him. Still, Cody can’t look like this. It fucking hurts my heart. I see his lips moving, but I can’t make out his words. “What, baby? What is it?” I swipe at a stray tear underneath his left eye and fear grabs my heart in a tight fist. What if he’s changed his mind?

“I don’t have anyone to tell,” he says, setting off an avalanche of tears down his face. Shit. I pull him against me, wrapping myself around him as he trembles against my body. “I don’t have anyone but you, Luke,” he hiccups into my neck. “How fucking sad is that?” he cries. Shit. An unprecedented protectiveness grows inside me, and I want to tear down the whole world in my search for anyone who’s ever hurt this beautiful, beautiful boy. Who’s ever hurt my Cody. Who’s ever made him feel anything less than what he is. I don’t care if it takes me the rest of my life—they will pay. Then a thought breaks through my anger. Not out of pity, but out of… affection. An endless amount of affection that I have for him.

“You can tell my parents,” I speak against his ear, my lips connecting with his soft skin.

“What?” He mumbles against my neck. I release him from my hold, my hands flying to his cheeks, cradling them. I look into his watery eyes, confusion painted across his face.

“You can tell my parents,” I repeat.

“I can’t do that, Luke,” he counters, but there’s no fight in his voice. “They’re not…” he trails off.

“They already love you,” I say. I love you.

“They can’t,” he croaks.

“Why not, baby?” I ask.

“They just… they just can’t.” He tries to look down, look away from me, but I hold his cheeks in a firm grip.

“Why not, Cody? What’s so unlovable about you?”

“I…” he licks his lips. The tears have stopped, but he’s still shivering. “I don’t know,” he finally says.

“Exactly,” I smile, leaning in, pressing my lips against the corner of his mouth. Salt hits my tongue, reminding me of Cody’s devastating truth. He has no one. No, that’s no longer true. He has me now. And my parents. And the team. Well, I hope we have the team when the time comes. I push that away for now. “Let’s go tell them now,” I smile, getting up from the bed, pulling Cody with me.

“Now?” he blurts, brushing a hand through his wayward locks.

“Yeah, why not?” I grin goofily.

“Okay…” Cody nods, looking a little dazed. Then something flashes through his eyes and a fraction of a smile forms at the corner of his mouth. “But you tell Coach,” he smirks. “When the time comes, you tell Coach.” Oh shit.

“We can tell him together,” I mumble.

“No fucking way, Lucky,” he laughs. “Not in a million years,” he walks toward the door. Lucky. Huh. That’s new. But it fits, I guess. Because I do feel lucky as I head down the stairs, trailing after Cody, on our way to tell my parents that I have a boyfriend.

I have a boyfriend.