Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend 4)

“And how’s that?”

Miller cups my cheek, his thumb tracing my unshaved jaw. “Happy.”

I relax and lean into his touch. Miller deserves pure happiness, and I want to be the guy to give it to him.

* * *

The call comes a few days later, and it turns out Damon was right. Miller’s agent was looking to drop him. It gets to Miller, and I can tell he’s trying to put on a confident front. Having Damon ready to sign him helps, but I notice the shift in training, and it’s obvious the reason he’s still a tiny bit slower than he should be, not lifting as heavy as he was before his injury, and his all-round sluggishness isn’t because he physically can’t do it, but because his head’s still not on right. It’s all mind over matter at this point, and he isn’t fully recovered from the hit his fighting instinct took when he tore his hamstring.

So, I push him harder every day, and he pushes me even harder at night. We venture out of our bubble occasionally to hang out with Damon and Maddox, but mostly, we train, fuck, and hang out.

It’s almost exactly like it was in college except for one glaringly obvious detail. We don’t need anyone between us now, because we know each other is enough. More than enough. The thought of sharing someone with him again actually makes my gut burn with possessiveness I never knew I had.

“Holy shit!” Miller says from my living room.

I’m fresh out of the shower with nothing but a towel around my waist. “What?” I call out.

“Talon, get in here.”

“What is it?” I scrounge for some clothes in my drawers.

“Just …”

“Just what?” Now I’m getting annoyed. How hard is it to tell me what he wants?

“Get your ass out here now, Marcus.”

Marcus. Not Talon, not Marc. Marcus. Well, shit. I abandon my plan to get dressed and join Miller on the couch.

And there’s a sight I never thought I’d see anytime soon.

Caleb Sorenson and Ollie Strömberg, two gay hockey players, coming out on national TV. Together.

“Whoa” is all I can say.

“Isn’t Ollie one of Damon’s clients?” Miller asks and takes out his phone.

I don’t answer him, not only because I don’t know the answer, but because I can’t take my eyes off the press conference.

A million things run through my head at once. My initial thought is the world is finally changing and people aren’t going to care about closeted athletes coming out, but if the NHL is anything like the NFL, this could be a one-off thing. These two guys might come out, and then nothing else happens. Everything will stay the same, and we’ll still have to watch our every move.

I hate my brain goes there, because this should be an encouraging moment.

Miller’s phone beeps. “Okay, so the deal is they aren’t together together according to Maddox. They’re just coming out together.”

As Miller says that, Ollie admits on camera he didn’t even know Caleb until tonight. He’s coming out because of Caleb—because he doesn’t want him to have to do it alone.

Have we been going about this the wrong way? Should we come out in support of Jackson instead of thinking we’re protecting him?

Miller’s hand lands on my knee. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking when does Jackson get back from Fiji?”

“He got back a few days ago.”

“We need to talk to him.”

* * *

A few days later, we arrange a meeting at Damon’s offices with Miller, Jackson, and me.

Jackson enters the reception area with a confusion line across his forehead, which soars into his hair when he sees Miller and me.

“Is this an intervention?” Jackson jokes. “Or are we meeting about Talon’s ego being nowhere near big enough. I agree, we should come up with ways on how we could stroke it more.”

“Who invited him?” I grumble. Oh wait, I did.

“What’s this really about?” Jackson asks.

Miller and I glance at each other.

“Ah. You two finally pull your heads out of your asses?”

“You said to tell you when I’m ready to talk about it,” I say.

“I did. I’m wondering why my agent needs to be involved …” Jackson trails off as the reason becomes clear. “Y’all comin’ out publicly?”

Miller looks around the empty reception area. “Wanna keep your voice down a bit?” The only person here is a girl behind the desk, but she’s on the phone and doesn’t pay attention.

“We’re here to talk to you about that,” I say.

“What have I got to do with it?” Jackson asks.

Before we can answer, Damon appears. “You boys ready?” He tips his head in the direction of the hallway for us to follow him.

When the door’s shut, Damon takes a seat in his big boss chair. Jackson and I sit opposite him, but Miller wanders around the room, staring at Damon’s sports memorabilia on his shelves.