Rafe continues, gentle but excited. “It’s not far from my parents’ place. I could fly out to you. We could actually celebrate, just us.”
I force a smile. “That’d be nice.”
“And,” he adds, eyes searching mine, “maybe… you could finally meet them.”
My blood goes cold. My heart stutters.
I keep my expression neutral through sheer athletic discipline—the same control that keeps me calm at the free-throw line when the arena is screaming. I cling to it now like it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
Meet them.
Rafe’s parents.
His childhood home.
The people who raised him. The people he loves. The people who—unlike mine—might actually welcome me.
I should want this. Idowant it. That’s what terrifies me. Because if his parents love me, if they accept us, if they look at me like a son-in-law instead of a disgrace… then the stakes change.
Then the secret becomes another orbit. Another risk. Another place I could fail.
Rafe watches me carefully. “Ollie?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah. I just….”
He softens immediately. “I know it’s big.”
I nod. “I agreed. A while ago.”
“You did,” he says gently. “And I’m not trying to force it. I just… I think it could be good. For you.”
I force my lungs to keep working. “What would you tell them?”
Rafe’s face shifts—serious now. Grounded. “The truth.”
My stomach flips.
He continues quietly, “I’ll go home after the game. Sit them down, and tell them in person.”
Cold settles under my ribs. “Tell them what?”
“That I’m married,” he says simply.
The word lands like a weight.
He reaches for my hand under the sheets and squeezes. “I’ll tell them it’s you. I’ll explain the privacy. The League. Everything. And then… you come.”
My mind flashes with worst-case scenarios even though I know his parents are supportive.
What if they hate me for making him hide? What if they think I’m selfish? What if they look at me and all they see is the reason their son has spent two years splitting his life into compartments?
Rafe’s eyes are bright now, hopeful, and I feel like I’m staring at a cliff edge. I don’t want to disappoint him. Fuck, I don’t want to be the reason he loses more. I don’t want his face to fall the way it did when I saidretire.
So I make myself nod. “Okay,” I say.
He exhales sharply, relief breaking across his face like sunlight. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I repeat, forcing steadiness into my voice. “I’ll do it.”
