Iwasn’t—
The room felt too hot, too crowded,too loud.
I tried to loosen my collar, but the T-shirt I wore didn’t have one. I mumbled something about needing air and pushed back from the table, weaving through the restaurant toward the exit.
Outside, the Calgary night was cold and sharp, the January air biting at my cheeks and nose. I leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant and tried to breathe.
This wasn’t happening.
This couldn’t be happening.
I wasn’t having some kind of existential crisis in the middle of a road trip because my teammate gave a speech about love.
I definitely wasn’t connecting Erik’s words to my own feelings because there was nothing to connect.
Jacks was my friend.
Just my friend.
I was straight, damn it. Wecouldn’tbe anything more than friends.
The fact that he was the first person I thought about in the morning and the last person I texted at night meant nothing.
The fact that I’d touched his face and felt my whole world tilt on its axis meant nothing.
The fact that I was standing outside a restaurant in Calgary, heart racing, palms sweating, trying to convince myself that none of this was what it obviouslywas—
“Shaw?”
I turned to find Tyler in the doorway, backlit by the warm glow of the restaurant.
“You okay? You took off pretty fast.”
“Fine. I . . . needed some air.”
He stepped outside, letting the door swing shut behind him and cupped his hands to blow warmth into his skin. For a moment, we stood in silence, breath fogging in the cold.
“Erik’s speech was something, huh?” Tyler said.
“Yeah. He’s really happy.”
“He is.” Tyler paused. “It got me thinking about when I figured things out with Kerry. How terrifying it was and how much I tried to convince myself it wasn’t real.”
I said nothing.
“The thing about denial,” Tyler continued, “is that it works great until it doesn’t. You can tell yourself a story for months, years even, but eventually, the truth gets too big to ignore.”
“What are getting at, Ty?”
“Okay.” His voice was gentle as he raised his palms in surrender. “But if you ever do want to talk about it . . . whatever ‘it’ is . . . I’m here. No judgment. Just a friend you know has seen it all and might be able to help or understand or . . . listen.”
He gave me a quick nod and went back inside, leaving me alone with the cold and the dark and the growing certainty that I was in way, way over my head.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Of course it did. Jacks could probably feel waves of angst flowing out of my body and pulsing all the way to Tampa.
Jacks: Bar’s dead tonight without you guys. How’s Calgary?
I stared at the screen for a long time.
