by Amy Aislin
Roman’s eyebrows lowered. “I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, well. Like I said. Blind.”
Fuck, he really had been blind. Too stuck in his own head to notice what was going on around him. Too busy expecting the worst. Too angry to think clearly and realize that Kas would never out him like that.
In his defense, he hadn’t had any evidence to the contrary. Kas had seen him kissing a boy and the next day everyone knew.
One plus one equaled two.
Except . . . maybe not always. Certainly not in this case. This was now the second time today that his head had been forced out of his own ass, and he wasn’t liking the conclusion he was coming to—namely that he was a self-absorbed, unforgiving son of a bitch.
And it begged the question—if he’d been blind with Kas, was he being equally as blind with Cody?
“How come you didn’t think it was Coach Moore who outed you?”
“He said I should keep my head down and my sexuality to myself, and that we’d keep what happened between us.” What happened being kissing a figure skater whose name he couldn’t even remember.
“I wish I’d let you inside when you came by that night,” Kas said softly, so much regret in his voice it made Roman’s eyes sting. “Things would’ve been so much different. I’ve missed you, man.”
“Yeah,” Roman said around the growing lump in his throat. “I missed you too.”
“Even when you thought I was an asshole who outed you?”
“Yeah. Even then.” If he’d learned anything in the last several years, it was that it was entirely possible to miss someone you were angry with. “Which one of the guys do you think it was?”
Kas shrugged. “I don’t know. No one copped to it, but my guess is Denny. Always thought it was him, but I couldn’t prove it.”
“How come I was outed and not you?”
“Why would I be . . . Oh.” Kas shook his head. “No, they didn’t know about me. When I called them over, I told them only that I’d seen you kissing a guy and that I thought you were an idiot for doing it in plain sight. They didn’t know I was mad because I was jealous.”
Roman winced. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you were interested in me. Sorry too that I didn’t give you a chance to explain.”
Kas waved a hand. “Water under the bridge, man.”
So this conversation hadn’t gone at all as Roman had expected. Instead of feeling vindicated for giving Kas a piece of his mind or satisfied at finally having his questions answered, all he felt was . . . sad. Sad that he’d let his anger and hurt keep them apart for eight years. Annoyed with himself for being a blind, stubborn jackass. And yet strangely . . . settled. Like now that everything was out in the open, he could finally breathe.
Didn’t mean he still didn’t have a lot of ass to kiss, and Cody’s was just the beginning.
He rested his head against the back of the armchair, the back of the bandana digging into the base of his skull where it was tied.
“How’s the head?”
Roman blinked at the ceiling. “I think your walls are making it worse.”
Kas’s laugh sounded like it was startled out of him, as though he hadn’t expected Roman to make a joke. It was a good sound. A happy sound. A sound that reminded Roman of evenings spent playing video games and joking around in the locker room and doing homework together and watching bad movies at the local drive-in.
A sound that reminded Roman of eight empty years without his best friend. He let the anger stew for a second, hot and heavy in his chest, his hands clenching on the arm of the chair.
Kas had done a stupid thing, a mean thing. A thoughtless thing. They’d been kids, sure. Stupid teenagers making stupid, careless teenage mistakes. Was it okay to still be angry about that?
Yes. The man had outed him without his consent, violating a piece of his privacy, of himself, of his damn safety that he’d never get back. The thing about anger, however, was that it was toxic. Cancerous. It festered, embittered a soul. Roman had felt it happening to him for years as he sat on the edge of a metaphorical seat, a cliff, waiting for something to fuck him over. And he was so damn tired of it.
To forgive and forget? That would take time. To get back to a place where he called Kas a friend would take just as much.
But in the face of Kas’s regret, he could finally start to let go of the anger.
Cody was trying to make sense of his calendar app while Mitch drove them home from class mid-afternoon on Tuesday. How did people use their tiny virtual calendars for everyday life? With his shifts at the library, class schedule, assignment due dates, test dates . . . it was a mess already. Add in the speakers he’d managed to book starting next week and his calendar was a color-coded disaster.
He dropped his phone in his lap with a grumble, which was when a notification popped up reminding him to confirm dates with Roman.
Did Roman even want to do his talks anymore or was he ditching them like he’d ditched Cody?
“Oh,” Mitch said from the driver’s seat as he turned into their driveway. “We’ve got company.”
“Who?” Cody followed his gaze and spotted the very last person he expected to see sitting on their doorstep. “What . . . ?”
“I’m gonna go and find something else to do for an hour.”
“What?” Whipping his head around, he glared at his best friend. “You’re just going to abandon me?”
Mitch waved a hand at their visitor, who’d stood and was now shifting awkwardly on the front stoop. “I’m abandoning you to your future.”
Cody blinked at him. “That was lame. Like, the lamest thing you’ve ever said. What does Alex see in you?”
Mitch snorted. “I could ask you the same question. You’ve been with me a lot longer.”
God, that was true. “What does that say about me?”
“Stop stalling.” Mitch unbuckled Cody’s seatbelt, then reached over and opened the passenger side door.
“What are you—”
“Hey, Kinsey,” Mitch said, ignoring Cody’s very manly squawking. He turned back to Cody. “Out you go.” He shoved him in the shoulder and kept pushing until Cody slapped his hands away.
“Okay, okay. Jesus. I’m going.”
In short order, he found himself standing on the driveway next to their front lawn that was covered in snow that came up to his hips with nothing but his open winter coat and his cell phone. Mitch reversed out of the driveway, gave them a jaunty wave, and zoomed down the street with Cody’s beanie, gloves, backpack . . .
And the keys to the house.
Good thing it was one of those unseasonably balmy days that felt downright warm in comparison to the rest of the ball-snapping cold winter season.
Biting his lip, he turned to Roman. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Roman squinted against the sunshine, hands stuffed in his coat pockets. His eyebrow and nose rings glinted in the sun.
He looked . . . tired. Cody knew his team had been traveling since Saturday morning, so a little bit of exhaustion was to be expected, but the bags under Roman’s eyes looked like they could write their own novels, his skin was waxen, and the eyebrow and nose rings gave him the appearance of a sullen teen.
Cody’s heart clenched and he ached to reach out and smooth the lines on Roman’s brow.
“Sorry,” Roman said with a half shrug. “I should’ve called first. I can come back la—”
“No. It’s fine. You’re here now.” Cody kicked a tuft of snow off his boot. “Mitch left with my keys, though. Want to walk? It’s nice out.”
Roman glanced around as if just realizing that it was, indeed, nice out. “Sure.”
There wasn’t much to see on Cody’s street; one townhouse was a clone of the other with different cars, fire hydrants, electrical boxes, and snowmen marking any differences. They walked side by side, as close to the edge of the sidewalk as they could to avoid touching, although the arms of their puffy coats brushed more often than not. They passed Roman’s SUV parked on
the street farther up. Cody hadn’t noticed it when Mitch had driven past.
What was Roman doing here? It’d been a week and a half since they’d spoken, and Cody had more or less given up on him.
Okay, definitely less. He’d very much not given up on Roman, and despite Roman’s radio silence, Cody had planned on stalking the man at storytime later today if only to sit him down for thirty seconds to confirm dates for his two talks.
Now that the situation had presented itself, Cody didn’t know what to say. Roman was still wearing his scarf, though. That had to mean something.
“How’ve you been?” Roman asked.
“Good.” Their footsteps crunched in the thin layer of perma-snow covering the sidewalk. “Busy. You?”
“Same.”
Had their conversations ever been this stilted?
“Your team’s got a good winning streak going,” Cody said. He made a left at the end of the street, onto a semi-plowed gravel path.
“Yeah.” Roman’s chuckle dug into Cody’s heart. “Winning one made us want to win more, I guess. Our home games have been seeing higher attendance, so management is happy. And you? How’s Don’t Shut Down the Library, Assholes: A Speaker Series coming along?”
Cody chuckled, absurdly pleased that Roman remembered the too-long name he’d given his project. “Good. I’ve got a bunch of speakers lined up. Eileen, for one. She’s doing a session on library services. Someone from the Glen Hill College admissions office is going to give a talk to high school students about what colleges look for in applications. One of the fine arts professors at my college is doing a Photography 101 workshop.” He was rambling, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “Oh, one of the ladies from the tourism office is doing a ‘things to do in Glen Hill’ session to newcomers.”
“Glen Hill has a tourism office?”
“Uh-huh. You drive right past it on your way into town.”
“Oh.” A pause, then: “They need a bigger sign.”
The quip made Cody laugh.
The gravel path led to a deserted playground, and without discussing it, they headed to the swings and each took one. Now would be the perfect time to ask Roman if he was still doing his own talks at the library, but Cody didn’t raise the question, too afraid of the answer.
Clearing his throat, hands gripping the metal chain at his hips, Roman dug his toes into the hard-packed snow under his swing. “You’ve still got my talks scheduled?”
Well, if Roman was going to bring it up . . . “Yeah. If you’re still interested, that is.”
“Yes. Of course.”
Cody narrowed his eyes. “There’s no of course about it when you’ve been ignoring me for a week and a half.”
Roman winced. It didn’t make Cody feel any better.
“I owe you an explanation.”
“No,” Cody countered. “You don’t owe me anything you don’t want to give.”
That stumped Roman. His mouth opened. Closed. He blinked at Cody as if he was speaking a different language. “Okay, that’s . . . Thank you.”
Cody shrugged.
“I’d like to explain, though.”
Roman looked about as uncomfortable as he had at his first storytime, but there was no way Cody wasn’t going to listen to what he had to say. “Okay.”
“The guy you saw come out of the elevator when you were over that night?” Roman began after a short pause. He turned his swing to face Cody. “That’s Kasper Kowalski, recent trade from Vancouver.”
“I know. I recognized him.” After Cody had done some research, but still.
Roman nodded, lips in a flat line. “Kas and I played on the same major junior team for two seasons. We were best friends once . . . and he outed me to the team.”
“What?” Cody’s hands clenched on the chain of his swing.
“At least, I thought he outed me to the team. Turns out he outed me to a small group of our close friends.” Roman said close with heavy sarcasm. “And one of them outed me to the rest of the team. It was . . .” He shook his head, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “It was midway through our second season, and I had to suffer through teasing and bullying for a few months before I could get away. One of the other kids’ dad even told me I didn’t belong in hockey.”
Cody’s knuckles were white, the chain digging into his palms.
“I sort of . . . shut down after that. I told you once that my parents kicked me out? Well, this is why. They didn’t want a gay son, which meant I couldn’t go home when my host family ejected me. So at the end of the season, I left and tried out for the first ECHL team I heard of that was having tryouts. Worked my way up to the NHL from there.”
There was a lot missing from Roman’s tale. If he couldn’t go home and he hadn’t had Kowalski . . . Where had he gone? To another friend’s? A family member’s? There was an urgent need to ask unfolding in Cody, a need to know more about this man, the words right there in front of his eyes. But the fact that Roman had shared as much as he had said a lot. Cody wasn’t asking questions Roman might not be ready to give the answers to.
Roman continued. “For a long time— Actually, ever since then, I’ve found it difficult to trust people. So I didn’t even try. Didn’t get close to anyone. Didn’t want to know that someone might use my sexuality or something else against me.”
Something else?
“Until you.”
Cody’s head whipped up, throat constricting and stomach jumping. Color stained Roman’s cheeks, from the temperature or his emotions, it was hard to tell. His eyes were intense, and he looked like he wanted to jump out of his own skin, but his shoulders were slack and he held the chains loosely in his hands.
Cody swallowed hard. “I . . .”
“You made me think that some people are worth trusting. And just as I was ready to dive into the deep end with you, Kas showed up and . . .”
“And reminded you that people suck,” Cody said hoarsely.
Roman’s lips twisted humorlessly. “Yeah.”
Goddamn Kasper Kowalski. Cody hated the guy and they’d never even met. No wonder Roman had been avoiding him—Kas had thrust him back into People Are Not to Be Trusted Land and if he’d lived there since his late teens . . . It was hard to believe in the good in people when you had evidence to the contrary. Cody wanted to shout that he was good people, that he’d never betray anyone, that he could be trusted.
But that wasn’t what Roman had come here for.
“Okay,” he said, stomach sinking, blinking hard. “Thanks for explaining.”
Roman cocked his head. “You don’t want to hear the rest?”
“Oh.” Cody turned his own swing to face Roman. “There’s more?”
A small smile on his face that made Cody’s heart do jumping jacks, Roman said, “Yeah, there’s more,” and kicked out a leg to settle his foot against Cody’s.
Oh god, oh god, here we go. Please let this be going where Cody thought it was. Where he desperately wanted it to.
“I missed you, Cody,” Roman whispered, nearly stopping Cody’s heart. “More than I’ve missed anyone since Kas and I fell out. And it made me feel . . . special, in a way, that you kept trying even though I was essentially ignoring you. Made me realize that I already did trust you.”
“No essentially about it,” Cody mumbled.
Roman pushed off the ground with a foot and swung toward Cody, inserting one knee between Cody’s legs, the other trapping him on the right. Grabbing the chains of their swings in his hands, he held them close together. Cody, not knowing what to do with his hands, settled them on Roman’s hips.
“I’m sorry,” Roman rasped, his words ghosting over Cody’s lips. “That’s what I came here to say. I’m sorry, and if you’ll give me a second chance, I won’t throw it away again.”
Cody’s breathing hitched. Yes! Yes, yes, yes. Second chances, schmances. Cody already knew Roman was worth many more, though he had a feeling Roman wouldn’t need them.
He reached to cup Roman’s face, r
emembered they were in public, and put them back on his hips. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Roman’s tentative smile broke Cody’s heart and put it back together at the same time.
“Yeah. Okay. But.”
“But,” Roman repeated. He took a deep breath. “I can handle a but. Lay it on me.”
Cody jerked a shoulder. “If something like this happens again, where you get stuck in your own head . . . I need you to talk to me, even if it’s just to tell me you need some space. Being ignored makes me feel like I don’t matter.”
Roman blew out the breath he’d just taken, face folding into one of pain. “Cody. I’m sorry.” He pressed their foreheads together. “You matter. Of course you do. You matter the most. I’m the idiot who let myself get freaked out by the past.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot.” Cody rubbed a hand over Roman’s upper thigh. “I think you’re brave for pushing past the fear.”
Roman looked at him then like he was something magical. “You make me want to be braver than I am.”
The moment stretched and wavered; it was too long and not long enough. It was perfect in its tentativeness and imperfect in its uncertain future. It was at once scary and hopeful.
Roman’s gaze dipped to Cody’s mouth and lingered. Cody groaned, resigning himself to being the cold water on their moment, and pushed against Roman, sending them swinging in opposite directions.
“We’re in public.”
“Oh. Right.”
The playground was still empty, but they were in full view of about a dozen backyards.
Roman swatted his knee. “Let’s go to your place, then.”
“Aw man,” Cody grumbled, tilting his head back to stare at a sky slowly changing from blue to the bubblegum pink of early sunset. “Stupid Mitch still has my keys.”
Roman just laughed, and the sound was so carefree that Cody couldn’t do anything but grin back at him.
Roman was in the children’s section of the Glen Hill library when a commotion erupted near the checkout counter. Tucking the books he’d selected for tonight’s storytime under his arm, he headed in that direction.