CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The energy in LA's arena was palpable.

Excitement thrummed in Dom's veins as he skated around the Fisher Cats' half of the ice during warmups. It felt oddly fitting that they were up against the LA Suns for the final round of the playoffs.

Tonight was game one and although the arena was packed with LA fans, there were pops of white, green, and black scattered throughout the crowd.

He let himself remember his first game in this barn, nearly two decades ago. The wins and the losses that had piled up over those years. The Cup he'd lifted here, the Conn Smythe trophy he'd won that season as most valuable player.

He'd dazzled crowds here, nearly twenty thousand people cheering his name.

Ol-son, Ol-son.

Tears pricked Dom's eyes when he remembered teammates he'd lost touch with, friends he'd hidden so much of his life from.

He thought of every moment that had led him here and he was grateful for them all.

He'd made mistakes. Made a lot of them over the years.

But he had one last shot at a Cup.

Sure, he was forty years old. Maybe he was washed up like some of the fans complained and would never score another goal. He certainly had no expectation of ever being an MVP again.

But he was a part of this team.

Part of something greater.

And this time, the man Dom loved was watching the game in Dom's apartment. But not alone. Shea was watching with Charlie and August and Antoni. With Elena and Birdie and Natasha and the other SAPs.

When the team returned to Toronto for games three and four, Shea would be in the stands, cheering for Dom. He'd wear his jersey and shout his name and if Dom did something notable on the ice, the cameras would know to focus in on Shea's face, might even mention him in the broadcast.

Dom was private about his life, sure. But there was a difference between privacy and shame and he'd been ashamed before.

Ashamed of who he was, who he loved.

He caught a glimpse of someone in a green jersey, waving a rainbow flag. There was probably some fan out there somewhere wearing his jersey, waving a pride flag in support of him .

Fewer of them than there were for Dustin or Nico or Felix or Jonah or Matty, sure. But somewhere out there, someone who'd never met him was proud of him for coming out.

He'd spent years signing autographs and feeling like a fraud. He got asked for fewer of them now than he used to, but he had a feeling the next signing would feel very different.

As Dom skated laps, absently firing pucks toward the net, he scanned the crowd, wondering if he'd see more people in Fisher Cats jerseys waving rainbow flags.

He was unsurprised to see the usual collection of celebrities and wannabe celebs peppering the crowd, especially in the lower bowl.

Who the hell else could afford playoff tickets here?

Dom's gaze skimmed over a few vaguely familiar faces before he blinked, returning to one like a magnet drawn to iron.

His chest went tight, the sucker-punch of feeling leaving him winded.

He knew those dark eyes and that smiling mouth and the way he threw his head back when he laughed.

Christian Patton.

He looked … younger than Dom remembered. Which was crazy because years had passed since they'd last seen each other. And yet, Dom had forgotten how young Christian had been when they met.

Twenty-two.

A decade older now, he still looked achingly young and fresh-faced.

It shifted the narrative in Dom's head of Christian as someone worldly and experienced. Someone who'd known exactly what he was getting into when he and Dom got involved.

But maybe he hadn't.

Now Dom wondered if it was naiveté that had made Christian unable to understand Dom's fear of coming out. His inability to grasp how private Dom truly was.

Because it was hard to reconcile the guy sitting in the stands to the one who had cruelly threatened to out Dom.

Who'd demanded money to stay silent about their relationship.

Dom watched as Christian laughed and leaned his head on the shoulder of the guy next to him for a moment, a gesture of careless affection that Dom had always denied him.

The guy kissed the top of his head, holding him close before they straightened.

"Hey, you okay?"

Dom glanced over to see Dustin peering at him with a worried frown. "Huh?"

"Are you okay? You paused in your warmup. You never pause."

Dom swallowed and reached up to rub his face with his gloved hand, obscuring his mouth from the cameras. "Christian's here."

"Oh fuck."

"Yeah. Threw me for a fucking loop."

"You okay?"

"No, but I'll deal with it after the game."

Dustin nodded. "Okay. Well, let me know if there's anything I can do."

Dom nodded, turning away, but Dustin caught his elbow.

"I mean it."

Dom met his gaze. "So do I."

Dustin let go and Dom returned to his warmup routine, determined to put Christian from his mind.

This was the playoffs. There was no room for errors.

Nothing existed except for hockey. Not his ex-boyfriend, not the worry over Joe selling info about their private lives.

Win or lose, Dom's time on the ice was winding down and he intended to make the most of it.

"Olson, someone's here to see you!" a voice called out, following the game.

"Be out in a sec!" he shouted back. He finished fiddling with his hair, washed his hands, then grabbed his toiletry kit.

"Old teammate?" Matty asked with a smile as he turned to go.

"Could be." Dom shrugged, because the truth was, he had no idea.

But somewhere, in the pit of his stomach, he knew. Had known this moment was coming since he saw Christian in the crowd.

Dom had made it through the game okay. He hadn't wowed anyone with his play but he hadn't totally fucked it up either and the team had managed a win. That was all that mattered.

He tossed his kit in his bag, then squared his shoulders and walked toward whatever lay outside the doors.

Most of his teammates ignored him, too wrapped up in what they were doing to pay attention, or assuming—like Matty had—that a former teammate had stopped by to see him.

Only Dustin's gaze was heavy with concern and Dom shook it off. He'd talk to Dustin later.

He had to face this first.

When Dom stepped through the doors into the hallway, Christian stood a few feet away, dressed in an LA Suns jersey, skinny jeans, and sneakers.

His expression was hesitant.

"Hey. Wasn't sure if you'd come out," Christian said, then winced. "Wait, no, I didn't mean—"

Dom laughed because it was so fucking ridiculous that that was the first words they'd spoken to each other since their breakup. Yet fitting, somehow.

"Yeah. I know what you mean," Dom assured him.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Christian bit his lip, stepping closer. "Do you have a minute?" He peered up at Dom, who had a sudden flash of memory of leaning down to kiss Christian and the way Christian had to rise on his toes to meet Dom's mouth. "Just to talk."

"Here?" Dom raised an eyebrow.

"If that works for you."

"Sure. Maybe down here a little ways."

"Of course." There was a bitter little twist to Christian's mouth.

Dom winced, wanting to explain that he wasn't hiding Christian from anyone. He didn't want to air their entire history out to everyone who might walk by. But he didn't say anything, just walked a few feet down the corridor, then leaned against the wall, waiting to see what came next.

Christian did the same on the opposite wall, his gaze sliding across Dom's body. "You look good."

"Thank you. So do you."

"You must love him a lot, to come out for him," Christian said softly, the sadness in his eyes the only indication of how he truly felt about it.

Dom opened his mouth, unsure of what to say.

What finally came out was, "I hurt one man by denying who I was. I didn't want to hurt a second."

It was the simplest truth he could manage. And maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe it was too little, too late. But that didn't mean Dom shouldn't try.

It was why he'd been willing to risk it all when Joe tried to blackmail him. And so far, it was working. JockGossip had been quiet.

Christian's throat bobbed, his eyes closing tightly for a moment before he nodded. "I'm glad you found someone," he rasped.

"Are you?"

Christian hesitated, and then the bitterness and hurt seemed to flow away. "Yeah, I am."

"I saw you earlier, in the crowd." Dom admitted. "You looked happy."

"I am." Christian's face went soft, glowing and peaceful in a way that Dom had never seen before. Something Dom had never given him. "We're married."

"I saw." Dom nodded at the slim silver-toned band studded with small diamonds on Christian's finger. "Congratulations."

Christian glanced down at it. "Thank you. And congrats on the win tonight. You have a real chance of winning the—"

He must have seen the look on Dom's face because he stopped abruptly. "Sorry, didn't mean to jinx you."

"No, it's okay," Dom lied.

It wasn't okay and Christian knew that but Dom appreciated the thought.

"Sorry." Christian winced. "About more than that, I mean. About—about all of it. I'm sorry."

Dom shook his head. "No, I should apologize. You were clear about what you wanted in a relationship and I—I couldn't give that to you. But I was too selfish to end it."

"Maybe. But what I did …" Christian shook his head. "That wasn't right."

Dom felt a little bit of coiled tension leave his body. "What'd you do with it?"

He blinked. "The money?"

"Yes."

Christian's mouth curved up in a little half-smile. "Funded my first queer indie film. I'm a director, you know."

Dom hadn't known. He hadn't followed Christian's career, hadn't wanted to know anything about it. Had only wanted to forget any of it had happened.

"Seems appropriate," is all he said aloud.

Christian shrugged. "The film did well. Which led to the next project. And then the next. I found the success I was looking for, if not quite the way I expected."

"I'm glad I could help you get there." And, oddly enough, Dom was. However angry he'd been for all these years, however bitter and resentful, it felt good knowing he'd helped Christian.

"Even though I—I blackmailed you for it?" Christian's eyes went a little watery.

"I wish you'd asked," Dom said softly. "Or taken what I'd offered."

He'd offered to pay for acting lessons, vocal coaching, whatever Christian needed to land the kind of acting roles he wanted.

Christian had always accused Dom of trying to buy his silence.

Maybe Dom had been, on some level, but it didn't make him any less glad that Christian was doing well now. Because under all of the anger and resentment that had filled up Dom's heart for years, there was love.

Old love.

Long-in-the-past love.

The kind of love that would never—could never—be reignited. But it was love. And Dom had spent years ignoring that. Ignoring how much it had hurt to be treated that way by someone he loved so much.

A tear slipped down Christian's cheek and he wiped it away, his wedding ring glinting in the light. "I wish I had too."

"It all worked out though, I guess."

"Yeah." Christian's smile was wobbly. "I guess so."

"You can forgive yourself. You know that right?" Dom said roughly.

Christian stepped closer, looking up at him. "Can I?"

"Yeah. I'm going to try to forgive myself."

It didn't matter so much if they forgave each other. Dom just didn't want to carry this feeling around with him for the rest of his life. He'd carried it too long already.

Christian took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes closing for a moment before he looked Dom in the eye. "That's all I wanted."

"For me to forgive myself?"

"For you to be yourself. Happy and—and not so …" He made a vague gesture with his hand like he didn't know how to put it into words.

Dom nodded because he didn't know how to put it in words either but he got the gist. Whatever he'd been before, he wasn't that now.

He didn't want to be that anymore either.

"I want you to be happy too," Dom admitted.

"Thanks. I am." He swallowed audibly. "Anyway, that's all I wanted. To apologize."

"Thank you." Christian turned to go and Dom fell into step beside him.

"I'm glad you came by tonight."

"Yeah?" Christian glanced over, his gaze searching.

"Yeah. I think we both needed this."

It was closure.

Maybe there was more they could talk about. But in the end, did the details truly matter? Was there any point in dredging up any lingering hurts? Better to leave it like this, let it go.

Christian nodded, then reached out, softly touching his hair. "The silver suits you."

"Does it?"

"Yes." Christian smiled. "Or maybe it's being yourself that does."