“I should head out.” He stood, brushing off his jeans. “Let you get some rest. But seriously, thanks for letting me help. It’s nice to do something useful with my hands for once.”
“Thank you for the soup and for this.” I gestured at the completed shelving unit. “You’ve been incredibly kind.”
“Anytime, Coach. Feel better, okay?”
“I will.”
After he left, I stood in my living room looking at the new cabinet and trying to process what had happened. Adan had come to my house, brought me soup, helped me assemble furniture, and made the entire experience feel so natural that I’d almost forgotten why it was problematic.
Almost.
But now, alone again with the scent of his cologne still lingering in my living room and the memory of his hands working beside mine, I couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.
I was falling for him. Not the physical attraction I’d been trying to rationalize away, but something deeper. I liked his kindness, his work ethic, his dry sense of humor. I liked the way he approached problems with determination and refused to give up until he’d figured them out. I liked his stories about his family, his dreams about traveling, his honest confusion about life beyond hockey.
I liked the person he was when he wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone.
And that was exactly what I couldn’t afford to feel.
I was playing with fire. Every boundary I crossed, every personal moment I allowed, and every time I let myself enjoy his company beyond our professional relationship was all leading toward something that could destroy everything I’d built here.
But as I looked at the cabinet, solid and functional and somehow beautiful in its simplicity, I couldn’t bring myself to regret this afternoon.
Even if I should.
Even if continuing down this path would eventually force me to choose between my growing feelings for Adan and everything else in my life.
Even if I was starting to suspect which choice I might make.
7
ADAN
The team meeting Monday morning started like any other with twenty guys sprawled across the locker room benches while Coach Brennan stood in front with his clipboard and that expression that meant business.
“Alright, boys,” he said, his voice carrying the authority that could silence a room full of hockey players in seconds. “Community service day is this Saturday. Non-negotiable, mandatory, and it counts toward your eligibility requirements.”
A few groans echoed around the room, but most of us had been expecting this. Millard College required all athletic teams to do one day of community service, and hockey was no exception.
“I’ve got the sign-up sheet here with different projects around the city,” Coach continued. “Food bank, elementary school reading program, habitat restoration, youth center maintenance work. Pick something that speaks to you, but remember that you’re representing this program and this college.”
The clipboard started making its way around the room, guys claiming spots at various volunteer locations. When it got to me, I scanned the options quickly. Most of my teammates were going for the easy stuff: reading to kids, sorting donations at the food bank, basic manual labor that didn’t require much thought.
But one entry caught my attention: handyman work at the Buffalo Queer Youth Center. They’d listed painting, minor repairs, and general maintenance, all the kind of practical work I enjoyed. Plus it was helping kids who probably needed it more than most. I signed my name next to that project.
“Good choices, everyone,” Brennan said when the clipboard made its way back to him. “You’ll be working in pairs, and I’ll match you up based on your selections.”
He started reading off the pairings, and I half-listened while mentally preparing for a day of manual labor with whatever teammate had also chosen the youth center project.
“Rivera, you’ll be with Coach Anders,” Brennan announced. “Queer Youth Center maintenance.”
I looked up, surprised. I hadn’t seen Nils’s name on the sign-up sheet, and I was pretty sure none of my teammates had picked the same project.
“You can’t go by yourself and no one else signed up, so a staff member has to accompany you,” Brennan explained, catching my confused expression.
Nils was standing near the back of the room, looking apologetic about the arbitrary assignment. But when our eyes met, he nodded in a way that suggested he was okay with the pairing.
I was more than okay with it. The prospect of spending a full day working alongside Nils, away from the formal structure of practice and training, made something warm spread through my chest. We’d been building this easy friendship over the past few weeks, and the idea of having uninterrupted time to hang out and talk sounded great.
