“I stand with wanting you, caring about you, and being willing to figure out how to make this work if you ever decide you want to try.”
“And if I don’t? If I decide that the risks are too great?”
“Then I’ll respect that. But I won’t pretend I don’t feel what I feel.”
He nodded slowly, like he was accepting the terms of an agreement neither of us had explicitly made. “Thank you. For being honest with me. For trusting me with this.”
I stood up, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I must look in the vampire costume, having this serious conversation while wearing this stupid make-up. “I should go. Let you get some sleep.”
“Adan.”
I paused at the door. “Yeah?”
“What you said tonight… it means more to me than you know.”
“Good. Because I meant every word.”
As I drove home through the quiet Buffalo streets, I felt lighter than I had in weeks. Not because anything had been resolved or decided, but because I’d been completely honest about what I was feeling.
I wanted Nils. All of him, not merely the coaching or the stolen moments or the careful friendship we’d been building. I wanted the chance to see what we could be together if we weren’t constantly fighting against it.
And now he knew. Whatever happened next, at least we were both operating from a place of complete honesty about what was at stake.
That felt like progress, even if it didn’t feel like a solution.
But for tonight, it was enough.
17
NILS
Monday morning came with the kind of clarity that only followed a sleepless night of deep thinking. I’d spent all night replaying Adan’s words from the night before, the honesty in his voice when he’d told me he was falling for me, the way he’d looked sitting in my living room in that ridiculous vampire costume, putting his heart completely on the line.
I don’t want anyone else. Just you.
The words had been echoing in my head, impossible to ignore or rationalize away. And sometime around four in the morning, I’d reached a decision that both terrified and exhilarated me.
I was tired of fighting this. Tired of pretending that professional boundaries mattered more than the way I felt when I was with him. Tired of convincing myself that the smart thing was to keep running from something that might actually be worth the risk.
Adan had been brave enough to tell me the truth about his feelings. The least I could do was be brave enough to acknowledge mine.
Of course, as soon as I saw him during our private practice, I’d chickened out, and every minute had been exquisite torture. I’d never been so aware of someone else in my entire life, so physically tuned in to another human being. Like I felt him in my soul somehow—which was ridiculous and over the top, and yet.
He was about to head for the locker room when I finally found my courage. “Adan.”
He spun around. “Yeah?”
I skated up to him. “Come over for dinner tonight.”
His eyes lit up, even as his face stayed calm. “Are you sure?”
No. How could I be? “Yes. Seven?”
His eyes searched mine, and then he slowly nodded. “See you then.”
Now, standing in my kitchen at six-thirty, ready to reheat the Swedish meatballs I’d made according to myfarmor’srecipe, I was questioning the wisdom of this decision. Not because I didn’t want Adan here—I did, desperately—but because I knew that tonight would change everything between us.
There would be no going back after this. No pretending that we were coach and player, no hiding behind professional obligations or appropriate boundaries. Tonight was me choosing him, choosing us, choosing to see what we could be together if we stopped fighting against it.
