Page 35 of Ethan

“Uh, about that,” Ethan said, hesitating.

But then there was the problem with telling Hank that he’d kept their convos a secret, because Hank was important.

“What?” Hank just smiled at him, easy and carefree in a way Ethan already knew he wasn’t, most of the time, anyway. But right now, he’d gotten pretty much everything he’d been working towards for the whole freaking season.

He didn’t even know that Ethan was sitting here, suddenly sweating it out.

“You know how everyone’s always like,ooooh Barnes bros love each other so much and tell each other everything and like, can’t wait to play on the same team?”

Hank’s eyebrow hiked up closer to his hairline. “Not really, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Of course Hank didn’t pay attention to the nonstop media circus. Ethan had already thought he was fucking perfect, but now this confirmed it.

“Yeah.” Ethan waved his hand. “It’s a whole thing.”

“That sucks.” Hank’s tone had gotten more careful. Like he’d already guessed what was coming, and frankly, he probably had. Hank wasn’t an idiot, which again, was why Ethan had already mentally declared him to be the perfect guy.

Hot and smart and funny and really fucking good at hockey.

Nobody could blame him for having his queer awakening at the hands of a guy like that.

“Yeah, it does. But also it’s like . . . not true,” Ethan said. “Not entirely anyway. Not all the time.”

Hank didn’t say anything. Just waited Ethan out, who groaned a little. “I didn’t tell Charlie, okay? That we’re friends.”Friendswas a pretty innocuous term for what they were doing, but it was still technically the truth. Wally was right. Neither of them hadcrossed the gay chicken point of no return yet. Maybe they still would, but they hadn’tyet.

At least Hank didn’t look pissed when Ethan finally admitted it. He looked . . . like nothing. Like this was all normal. Like he hadn’t expected anything else.

Ethan couldn’t help but frown. “Like, that’s not okay, right? That I didn’t tell him.”

Running a hand through his hair again, Hank just sighed. “It’s not anything, Eth. You’re not required to tell your brothers everything.”

“Yeah, but you’re gonna be on a team with him.”

“And I’m gonna be on a team withyou,” Hank reminded him. The way he said it filled Ethan with an astonished kind of exhilaration. Like for Hank, playing with Charlie Barnes wasfine. Expected and normal. But playing withEthanwould be the real treat.

Ethan believed it; he really did. But it was hard to justacceptit. For his whole life, it felt like he’d been an afterthought. Avery and Charlie, first,especiallyCharlie, who’d been seen from the beginning as having the talent and the drive and the skill to go the furthest.

“But—”

“Bud,” Hank said, “I promise. It’s fine. I get it. Charlie’s kinda . . . well, intense about shit, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Ethan agreed.

“Then it’s not a big deal,” Hank said.

Maybe Ethan should let it go, like Hank said, and keep pretending that them texting nearly every day was no big deal, like hearing his phone vibrate in his pocket hadn’t started to become one of the most important parts of his day. But that wasn’t true. And Ethan didn’t reallywantto let it go.

“It’s a big deal though, to me, us talking,” Ethan said quietly.

Hank’s expression softened. “Yeah. We talk a lot.”

“I like it,” Ethan said, a little stubbornly. Maybe they couldn’tsayit. Maybe neither of themwascrossing the gay chicken line, but he didn’t want Hank to think he thought it was nothing, either.

“I do too,” Hank said quietly. “A lot.”

For a second, they both sat there, in their respective beds, in their respective states and respective time zones, and just . . . well,Ethanknew what he was doing. He was wanting. Wanting so much it felt like it might crawl up his throat and choke him. But in a totally normal way.Sonormal.

Maybe Hank felt the same way, too. It kinda looked like he might.