Logan
The facade of the Royal Hotel glittered with glass and polished marble, outlined by the array of floodlights scattered through the landscaping.I hesitated as Miles parked, not reaching for my door handle.
“We don’t have to,” Miles said.
“Yeah, we fucking do.”I reached over and ran my fingers up Miles’s inseam.I was not going to chicken out again.
“Okay, so one more question.King size or two queens?”
My brain ground to a halt on that one.I knew what I should say.“You don’t fit in a queen bed.”
“I’ve slept in a single.”Miles peered at me.“I want to be with you.I don’t want you freaking out.”
I cleared my throat.“Surprise me.”I hated that I was too chickenshit to say, “Get a king.”Maybe once we were inside.
“Sure.You know, you don’t have to come up to the desk with me.You can wander round the lobby and join me at the elevator.”
“Fuck.”I rolled my head back and peered at the dark sunroof.“Ihatethat I’m such a coward.You must be so sick of me.”
“I’m not.”Miles set his hand over mine on his thigh.“I’m mad, but not at you.Or not mostly.Some, because yeah, you fucked up and I’m probably going to bitch about it a bunch more times.But mostly, I’m mad at the rest of them.”
“Them?”
“Your fucking team, for not doing everything they could to make the locker room a good place for Dolan, where you’d feel safe too.The league, for their tepid support of Edison that didn’t make you hope for better.The entire world, really.If I was a girl, you could take me out to a club and we’d dance, and the worst we’d get would be, ‘Boy, Vally’s date is one fuckin’ homely woman.’”
I snorted a laugh.
“But if you’re seen out with a guy, you have to worry about what will the team say, and will being visibly queer affect your career, and will some fan throw a brick at you in the parking lot, and will the media blame every fuck-up on the ice on you being gay?”
“That,” I agreed.I’d tried to avoid all the stories about howthe gaywas making Edzie slump, every time he had a bad game, but man, the backlash was vicious.Like, can’t the guy have a fucking off night without someone saying he’s “distracted” by his boyfriends, or worse?
Miles glowered.“It’s not right and it’s not fair.That bullshit makes me ragey.I want to punch someone.”
“You can’t punch all the homophobes in the world.Or even in hockey.”
“Nope,” Miles agreed.“Although if you ever need Mortenson’s nose broken, let me know.He’s a lot bigger than you, but he’s not bigger than me.”
I laughed, some of the storm of butterflies in my gut settling.“Morty’s not important.No assault.”
Miles cupped my face in one huge hand.“I can’t change the world for you.I can’t even tell you that you’re wrong to be afraid.Maybe it would be the last straw for the team if they were debating cutting you, I don’t know.All I can do is stand beside you, however you’ll let me.”
I turned my head to kiss the base of his thumb.“That’s more than enough.Let’s go find a bed before we put our backs out trying to fuck in a backseat.”
We walked into the lobby, damp from the rain and dressed in jeans.This was the kind of place that had chandeliers and plush carpet and didn’t seem to care if the right people walked in with wet shoes on all that luxury.I felt like a grubby intruder.
Miles strode forward and I stuck to his side.He didn’t even glance around.Of course, it was his kind of place, him and his fellow millionaire players.Maybe he’d been here with some other hookup, this past year?Maybe he knew they were discreet from actual experience.I decided I was never going to ask.
As we approached the check-in desk, Miles tilted his head, inviting me to head over to a cluster of upholstered chairs around an actual fireplace.I shook my head and led the way to the desk.
The clerk greeted us, told Miles he’d see if they had open rooms, and I saw the moment when he clocked who Miles was, saw a slight widening of his eyes followed by a glance up and down both of us.I almost panicked, but the guy’s voice slipped upward half a step and his smile went flirty.He asked, “Two beds or one really big one?”perfectly politely but with a glint in his eyes.My gaydar was practically ringing a gong.
“One king,” I said, before Miles could answer.
“Good choice.”The clerk scanned his screen.“Okay, yes, third floor.I’ll get you the keys.”
Miles handed over his credit card, and the clerk nodded at the name but made no comment as he got Miles’s signature and passed over the little envelope with room cards.When the paperwork was done, he smiled.“Room service is open twenty-four hours.The restaurant closes at eleven but the bar serves food till two.The pool’s on Basement Level Two.Your room key gets you inside.Check the folder on the dresser or the QR code on your key for all our amenities.”His smile tipped up at one corner.“Enjoy your stay, gentlemen.”
“We will,” Miles assured him.“Doing okay?”he murmured to me as we headed for the elevators.
