I’m being selfish. Reckless. I’m also spiraling, and Drew and Gerard can sense it.
They’re both staring at me in the way you look at a dog who’s chewed through a power cable and lived to tell about it. I know what they’re about to say next, because they’re not just my teammates—they’re my brothers, and brothers always close in for the kill.
“Oliver, you know we love you, right? You’re like our mom.” Gerard steps closer, his massive frame somehow managing to come off as gentle.
“I’m not anyone’s mom.”
“You made a dentist appointment for Nathan last month because he kept complaining about his tooth.”
“I was being a responsiblefriend! I?—”
Drew holds up a hand, cutting off further argument. “The point is, you take care of everyone. It’s what you do. It’s who you are.” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “But sometimes, when you’re busy taking care of everyone else, you forget to do the same for yourself.”
I busy myself with straightening the dish towels hanging from the oven handle. “I’m fine.”
“You went nine months without hooking up because you were too focused on the team.”
“That was a choice.”
“Was it? Or was it easier than dealing withwhoyou actually wanted?”
The kitchen goes quiet. Outside, the late afternoon sun descends, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. In a few hours, that sky will darken, and the moon will turn red, and Ryan will be here, ready to stare up at the sky while I stare at him.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” I admit. “Ryan’s been through so much. Losing his mom, his dad being absent, moving constantly, and never having a place where he belonged. He’s finally starting to open up and let people in. If I push for something more and it goes south…”
“Who says it’ll go south?” Gerard interrupts.
“History. Statistics. The fact that I’ve never successfully maintained a relationship longer than three months.”
“Those weren’t relationships,” Drew points out. “Those were extended hookups with varying degrees of emotional involvement.” He pushes off the refrigerator and crosses to stand in front of me, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Oliver, listen to me. I spent months convinced that what I felt for Jackson was impossible. That I’d ruin our friendship if I admitted it. That I didn’t deserve something real because I’d spent so long being casual about everything.”
“This is different.”
“How?” Drew’s gaze is steady, unwavering. “You have feelings for someone. Real feelings. The kind that makes you clean kitchens obsessively and plan romantic stargazing sessions disguised as educational opportunities.”
The dish towel in my hands twists itself into a rope without my realizing it. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”
Gerard makes a sound that’s half laugh, half disbelief. “Oliver. Dude. Have you seen the way Ryan watches you? He looks at you like you hung the moon. Which, given his astronomy obsession, is probably the highest compliment he can give.”
Drew nods. “At the Grotto, when you two were dancing? The rest of us could have been on fire, and Ryan wouldn’t have noticed. His entire world narrowed down to you.”
It hits me all at once—Ryan at the Grotto, his shoulders finally dropping their tension, swaying with surprising grace once he stopped overthinking. The way his fingers had tensed briefly against my palm before relaxing into my grip. How his eyes had caught the dim lights when he’d admitted, voice soft but steady, that he was actually enjoying himself.
“Tonight isn’t about me,” I say, but the conviction in my voice is wavering. “It’s about being there for Ryan. Being thefriendhe needs. I want to give him something solid, someone he can depend on.”
“And you can,” Gerard says gently. “You can be the most supportive, reliable, amazing friend he’s ever had. But you can also be honest with yourself about wanting more. Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Gerard’s right.” Drew claps a hand on my shoulder. “Being there for Ryan doesn’t mean burying your feelings. It means being present, being genuine, and letting things develop naturally. If something’s meant to happen, it will. And if it doesn’t, at least you’ll know you were authentic.”
My neck cracks softly as I roll it from side to side. “When did you two get so wise?”
“I’ve always been wise,” Gerard announces. “People just get distracted by my butt and don’t notice.”
Drew rolls his eyes. “I learned from experience. Painful, drawn-out, unnecessarily complicated experience. Trust me—the honest path is easier, even when it doesn’t feel like it. Now, hop in the shower—you reek of cleaning chemicals.”
As soon as they walk out of the kitchen, I thunder down the hallway, my feet heavy on the worn hardwood. I kick the bathroom door shut behind me with enough force to rattle the mirror on the opposite wall.
The Hockey House bathroom is a monument to the absolute bare minimum of hygiene. The tile grout hasn’t been white in years. There’s a permanent ring around the tub that no amount of scrubbing will remove (trust me, I’ve tried). And someone—I suspect Gerard, given its size—has left a single sock draped over the shower head. Grimacing, I flick it off with two fingers and twist the faucet.
