Instead of answering, he blew out a breath and said, “The more people who know about us, the bigger the risk is someone will slip up.”
I could have pressed him on the deflection—probably should have—but the point of this conversation wasn’t to bring up all the ways I was jealous of Wyatt Hastings.
So I followed his lead, saying, “No one’s going to slip up.”
He exhaled slowly, giving me a look that was equal parts exasperated and affectionate—the kind of look that said he couldn’t believe I was this fucking oblivious, but he found me adorable anyway.
“I’llslip up,” he said softly. “You really think I can sit there and not …” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Every time I look at you, I give myself away. And you’re just as bad,” he continued. “You look at me like—“ He stopped himself with a shake of his head. “They’ll know, Taylor.”
He wasn’t wrong. Iknewhe wasn’t wrong. Every time Sebastian walked into a room, my whole body reoriented toward him like a compass finding north.
And yet ...
“Bell would never out me—or you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I fucking do.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “He’s married to his former teammate—a gay man who was in the closet his whole damn life. They had a secret relationship for like a whole season before Ethan retired.”
Surprise flashed over Sebastian’s face before morphing into recognition. “Wait. I think I’ve heard of them. Is Ethan the guy who wrote that book after he came out a few years ago?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“Oh, shit.” The sharpness left his face all at once. “I saw an interview with him once. It was … hard to watch. And uh …” He scratched at his eyebrow. “Wyatt was kind of obsessed with the guy.”
Everyone in hockey knew Ethan’s story—or at least the broad strokes of it: the assault by his teammates when he was ateenager, the years of hiding afterward, and the way he’d fought like hell to keep his sexuality a secret until he met someone worth coming out for—but it surprised me to know that someone like Wyatt Hastings had followed it too.
Then again, it was probably safe to assume that a man who’d carried on a years-long affair with another man would be interested in learning about a public figure who wasn’t as straight as he’d always pretended to be.
But Wyatt’s interest wasn’t the point. The point was that people knew Ethan had survived his past. That he’d come out the other side of it with a life he loved. Amanhe loved.
The point was that neither he nor Bell would ever break our trust.
“He’s happy now. He and Bell both are.”
Bell’s story wasn’t mine to tell, though it wasn’t hard to find if you looked hard enough. It wasn’t as harrowing as Ethan’s, but it was still pretty tragic. Thank god they’d found each other.
“They get it, Sebastian. They understand what this is like.”
He was silent for a long moment, his eyes flicking over my face and his shoulders losing some of their tension. “You really want to go to this dinner?” he asked, his voice low.
“Yeah. I do. Bell’s my friend, and those are in short supply for me. Also, I?—”
I pressed my lips together. There was no good way to say what came next.
“You what, Taylor?” he pushed, his hands gripping the edge of the counter behind him.
Shit.
This conversation had already gone off the rails. How would Sebastian react to finding out that Bell already suspected there was more to our relationship than meets the eye? More than Sebastian intended for anyone to ever know?
Fuck it.
“I think Bell knows about me—or at least suspects.” I held my breath, waiting for him to react.
He nodded once, quietly absorbing this information, and when he spoke, it wasn't the reaction I expected. “I’m keeping you from being your authentic self, aren't I?
“No.” I closed the space between us, reaching for his hand.
