The unresolved tension from this afternoon hung over everything like Portland’s fog—present, unavoidable, obscuring the path forward while making every step feel uncertain and charged with possibility.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Griffin
Sunday morning arrived with rain that made Portland look more like a watercolor painting than a real city. I stood in the private terminal at PDX and watched our jet being prepped on the tarmac while mentally running through tonight’s game plan against the San Jose Lasers.
One-day road trips were the worst—all the travel fatigue compressed into eighteen hours, with barely enough time to adjust before the game.
“Griffin?”
I turned to find Wesley approaching, his messenger bag slung over one shoulder and a coffee cup in the other hand. Slim suit trousers skimmed toned leg muscles as he walked.
“Morning.” I kept my voice neutral despite the way my pulse kicked up.
“I was thinking… do you want to practice your speech on the flight? Get comfortable with the delivery before tomorrow?” Wesley’s smiling face was eager, enthusiastic in that way that made even routine tasks seem exciting.
My immediate instinct was to play it cool, to act like itwasn’t a big deal either way. But the truth was, I wanted nothing more than to spend the flight sitting next to Wesley.
“Yeah, that works,” I said, aiming for casual and probably missing. “I’ll save you a seat.”
Wesley’s smile was warm. “Perfect. See you on board.”
The boarding process followed the usual hierarchy—GM and coaching staff first and seated in the front, then the players, finally the support staff, media, and guests. I filed onto the jet and nodded to Laasko and Holloway as they claimed seats together.
The plane’s interior was configured for comfort rather than capacity—wide leather seats that reclined generously, plenty of legroom, small tables that folded out for card games or meals. The kind of private aviation that reminded you professional sports was a business worth billions.
I grabbed an aisle seat on the right side, leaving the window seat empty for Wesley. Then I stripped off my suit, tie, and dress shirt. Travel days meant switching to comfortable clothing the moment we were on the plane if we wore a suit.
I was reaching for the jeans in my duffle when I felt eyes on me. Wesley had just boarded and frozen in the aisle, his gaze locked on my briefs with an expression that made heat spread through my body.
Our eyes met. Wesley’s widened and his cheeks flushed before he quickly looked down, suddenly very interested in the floor.
He’d seen me in the locker room before in nothing but a towel, but everything felt different now—charged with an awareness that hadn’t existed before I’d told him the truth. Despite every boundary we’d tried to establish, the distance between us kept shrinking.
I quickly pulled on my jeans, then a soft gray Henley,trying to ignore the way my hands shook. The hunger in Wesley’s expression had been gone too fast for me to be sure I’d really seen it, but was real enough to make my body respond in ways I couldn’t afford on a plane full of teammates.
Wesley slid into the window seat, his movements stiff, like he was being careful to not accidentally touch me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I should have waited until you were dressed.”
“It’s fine. It’s not like you haven’t been on a team plane before. Or in a locker room.” The words came out more casually than I felt.
“Professional courtesy,” Wesley said, his voice slightly strangled.
I reached into my bag for my pill case, trying to be discreet as I palmed a small white tablet. But Wesley noticed—of course he noticed, because the man seemed to see everything.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low.
I hesitated, then figured there was no point lying to someone who already knew my biggest secret. “Airsickness medication. I get motion sickness on planes.”
Wesley’s expression shifted to concern. “That must be tough with all the flying you do.”
“It’s manageable. Just one more thing to work around.” I tried for a dismissive tone, like it wasn’t a big deal, but the admission felt heavier than it should. Another vulnerability, another weakness exposed to the one person who already knew too much.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Wesley said, and the words carried weight beyond the immediate context.
Another secret he was keeping. The medication, the airsickness, my sexuality—Wesley was becoming the repository for every truth I couldn’t share with anyone else.The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it felt like relief.
The engines powered up, that distinctive whine of a jet preparing for takeoff. I swallowed the pill dry and tried to focus on the speech notes Wesley was pulling up on his laptop.
