He taps my shoulder and clucks his tongue. “I’m being real with you. You gotta give me the same.”
“You’ll end up hating me if we live together,” I admit, linking our fingers and rubbing my cheek on his head.
“Most important thing: don’t mess with the do.” He guides my head to his shoulder, away from his braids. His cousin did a new zigzag pattern in his hair. “And Theo, be real. What do you think I’m going to find out about you? That you have a competitive streak bigger than Texas. That you can be an asshole. That you don’t like it when people disrespect you. Newsflash, I already know. Are you hiding some weird kink or do you like to store your dirty socks in the stove?”
“Does fucking your stepbrother count as a weird kink?” I laugh, but I can feel Jamal’s disappointment in not taking this seriously. “I’m sorry,” I mutter.
Jamal unlinks our fingers, and before I protest, he puts his arm around me. “I get this is new for you. It’s new for me too, but if we’re not locked in, we’ll be ripped apart.”
“You’re right.” It takes a minute to get my thoughts in order. “You put so much pressure on yourself to be a role model, and I’m going to fuck that up. People don’t like me, and they’ll hate us together. And John sounds so sure he can ruin me. None of that should hurt you.” I lean into his warmth and enjoy his fingers grazing my shoulder.
“For real, I’ve been should-ing myself my entire life. I strive to be a role model, but I take it too far. I think about what people will say over what I want. Theo”—he tilts my face up—“I want you. And you mean more than strangers’ opinions, so I’m rethinking my life strategy.”
“Don’t change because of me.” My heart stops, stumbles, and then picks up three times as fast.
“How do you think relationships work?” Jamal turns his torso to face me.
“As long as people love each other, it isn’t work. Right?” Immediately, I doubt my answer but don’t have a better one. A hockey stick to the face for bringing up the word love sounds about right. I’m announcing I’m a disaster who doesn’t deserve him, but I could, possibly, be falling for him. I’m in such denial; it’s pathetic.
“Love is a verb and a noun. Feelings aren’t enough if you aren’t actively showing someone you love them. My moms and dad tell me they love me, but I believe them because they show me. Moms worked hard every day but found time to help me with my homework and make me dinner. My dad worked full time plus at the AHL rink. Sometimes love is leaving work early to watch yourson play, and sometimes it’s coming home at eleven from your second job. You don’t fall in love and things magically slot into place like a sappy movie. You have to choose who you love and then choose how to show them.”
Jamal stares at me expectantly, and I’m failing whatever test this is. I know it, and he knows it. I don’t have wise words or a gift to give or any reason for him not to kick me out. My dick had gotten hard listening to him talk about love, but panic is a huge downer.
“Do you know how I know you care about me?” he asks, and I glance at my semi. “Besides the physical.” He leans back but pulls his legs up into my lap. “You told Drake anyone who touches me in the rink is yours.” I open my mouth, but he continues. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re my personal enforcer. You leave me gifts. You came to my room to help me even though I was rude to you. You covered for me when Benz noticed you in my sweatpants. You do a bunch of little things that add up to you understanding and respecting me. Although you don’t think you’re good at this, you are.”
His mocha fingers trail down my arm, and I’m speechless.
After a long silence, I stumble over my words. “I’m not… I can’t…” I shut my eyes and blurt out, “How are you so good at this?”
Jamal presses his forehead to mine. “Fuckingyearsof therapy and examining my thought patterns and anxiety. I’m still a mess in progress, but I learned some things along the way.”
“I don’t know jack shit,” I confess.
“You got this.” He kisses my head, and my phone buzzes.
“My agent.” I let it go to voicemail and then listen to the fake-friendly message asking me to call him to sort the miscommunication with my family.
“You have to fire him.” Jamal’s nostrils flare as his anger rises. “He works for you and has no business—”
I silence him with a kiss. “You’ve done so much for me. You got me a new bank account, a credit card, and are letting me crash hereso I’m away from John.”
“See, you get it!” His eyes light up, but his face falls. “You might not be ready to come out, but we need a plan. Worst-case scenario, tomorrow’s headlines are about us. Who do you want to tell first?”
“My mom.” I rub his leg draped over me. “She should know, but…I might lose her. She’ll choose John’s money over me in a heartbeat.”
Jamal scoots over onto my lap and wraps his arms around me. “I’m sorry you have to go through that.” It’s a relief that he doesn’t contradict me or try to convince me I’m wrong. “Try calling her now. Not to tell her but to check in. Have a few good conversations before the hard one.”
One arm stays around him as I grab my phone and dial my mom. It goes straight to voicemail. “Hey, Mom, it’s me. Call me when you get this.” She won’t, but I tried.
“You know me not telling people is about me not you, right?” I give him a bone-crushing hug.
“I know, Kitten. We’ll tell the team when you’re ready. No rush.” He stands and lifts me with him. “Let’s go to bed.”
Chapter 31
Jamal King
It’s our last home game before a few days off and then another road trip. Glancing in Theo’s direction is a mistake because his ass dimples flash and flex as he puts on his base layer shorts. I’ve been so careful, but those dimples are to die for. They curve deliciously under my tongue.
