Especially that last one.
We make it two times around the rink before Kolby finally starts to open up.
“So I guess you got the part about my family being Mormon and my parents kicking me out when I told them I was gay.”
“Yeah, that much I got.”
“What my big-mouthed sister didn’t say is that my boyfriend was supposed to come out with me. We had it all planned. We were going to tell our parents then meet at the Greyhound station and hop a bus to Vermont.”
“Why Vermont?”
“I’d been accepted to Moo U with a decent scholarship that made it possible even without my parents’ support. Not easy, but possible. The plan was for me to go to school and for Layton to take a gap year. He was interested in animal husbandry, wanted to work on a farm. At least, that’s what I thought he wanted.”
I’m almost afraid to ask, but I have to. “What happened?”
Kolby stares at the zipper on my jacket, like he’s ashamed to look me in the eye. “He never showed. I waited for hours. I tried texting him, but he wouldn’t answer. Finally, I broke down and called Hannah. She was the only one who knew about me and Layton. She said he left me a note saying he couldn’t do it.”
Anger boils up inside me. A note. This asshat left him a note. He didn’t even have the decency to tell him to his face.
I want to find this fucker and pound some sense—and some fucking manners—into him. But I know that’s not what Kolby needs right now. He needs my understanding, not my outrage.
I skate us over to the boards and slow to a stop, and he stops with me. “You get that that’s on him, right? He’s the bad guy in this scenario. Not to mention an idiot for not realizing how good he had it with you.”
“I couldn’t go back home,” Kolby continues, almost like he hasn’t heard a word I said. “That bridge was burned to the ground. I didn’t have much choice but to go through with the original plan, only without Layton.”
“Do you have his address?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need you to defend my honor.”
“I’m not going to beat him up. I’m a forward, not a defenseman. We’re lovers, not fighters.”
“Then why do you want his address?”
“So I can send him a thank-you card. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be here, with me.” I drop Kolby’s hands and skate closer to him, backing him up until he’s against the boards. Then I nudge my knee between his legs and wrap my arms around him so we’re pressed together from chest to thigh. “On second thought, a card isn’t enough. Maybe I should send one of those edible arrangement things. You know, with the fruit dipped in chocolate.”
Kolby’s eyes darken and his voice goes all deep and gravelly. “Then I guess I should send something to your ex too. What does he like?”
“Himself.”
“Anything else?”
“He was always a sucker for cheap beer and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.”
“Done.” Kolby raises a hand to cup my face. The wool of his mitten is rough against my cheek, but I’m not complaining. “He definitely didn’t deserve you.”
“I guess we both have something in common, then. Because that Layton jerk didn’t deserve you, either.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him earlier. And the stuff with my parents.”
“I was upset for a hot second. Then I thought about it and realized it’s not really any different from coming out. Like you said that night at the Biscuit, only you can decide if, how, and when to tell people about your backstory.”
“Backstory?” His mouth curves up at the corners.
“Isn’t that what they call it in those romance novels you like to read? Like in the one you gave me, when Conrad finally admits to Alden that he—”
“Woah, spoiler alert,” he says, gently touching his mittened fingers to my lips. “You’re supposed to give it to me when you’re done, remember? It’s been a while since I’ve read it, and I want to experience it fresh all over again.”
I take his hand and lower it, pressing it against my chest, right above the spot where my heart beats furiously against my rib cage. “Then it’s yours, any time.”
