Page 68 of Ethan

It was so shitty, to even contemplate that it might not be true. ThatEthanmight think it wasn’t true.

Ethan stared at him, like he didn’t know what to even say to that, and God, that was worse. The actual fuckingworst.

Hank couldn’t sit here and just look at Ethan anymore, not if there was any fucking chance that actually was real. He popped up, which meant, of course, that he had to let go of Ethan’s hand. But moving, beginning to pace back and forth in Charlie Barnes’ living room, did actually help calm some of his blooming anxiety.

“Are you fucking for real?” Ethan retorted, gaze following him. “Sure they can. And I’m sure that Inverness said that, too. I bet Inverness even said that you’d be the next up, when the Bandits need a d-man.”

Hank made a face. He did like Ethan’s honesty, even when it cut right through his own self-doubting bullshit.

“Yeah,” Hank muttered.

“Exactly.”

“Listen, it just wasn’t supposed to be this way. You know it wasn’t. I put in the fucking work—”

“I know you did,” Ethan reassured.

Hank threw up his hands. “Fuck, it justwasn’tsupposed to be this way. I was supposed to make the roster, and you—andyou—andyou—”He broke off. They’d never talked about it. Not exactly. Not explicitly.

He’d imagined, in some soft, pastel-colored fairy-tale kind of dream, that he’d do it tonight. Look Ethan in the eye and say,I like guys. I didn’t think I did, but I like you.

But that wasn’t happening. Not anymore.

It could still, someday, but by the time Hank made it back to New York, maybe Ethan would be tired of waiting. Tired of hanging around, hoping for Hank to get his shit together enough that they’d finally be on the same team at the same goddamn time.

He knew it was crappy to even think that of Ethan. He’d not seemed particularly fickle, not in the year they’d been talking. But everyone’s patience ran out, sooner or later.

“Me what?” Ethan said calmly, staring up at Hank like he wasn’t in the middle of a meltdown.

Okay, not a meltdown, maybe, or even a minor one, if you compared it to the kind of fit anyone else might throw, but forHank, this was majorly losing it.

“You know,” Hank retorted.

Never mind the date getting fucked up, this wasdefinitelynot how this whole confession had gone in his head, the hundreds of times he’d envisioned it.

Ethan shot him a look. “Maybe I don’t.”

Hank shot him a look right back. Ran a hand through his hair. “You do.”

“Okay, maybe I do. Maybe I want you to actually say it.” Ethan sounded a little annoyed, which was fair.

This whole situation was incredibly fucking annoying.

“It’s just . . . it was supposed to beme. More than that, even. It was supposed to beus.”

“You’re gonna get there. You’ll tear it up in Syracuse. I know you will, and then you’re gonna be back.” To Hank’s surprise,Ethan’s annoyance faded out of his tone, like he didn’t even mind that Hank had changed the subject.

“Yeah, but.But.I was gonna tear it up here. In New York.With you.”

Ethan’s face softened. “I know. I wanted it too, so bad, you don’t even know—”

But Hank knew. He fuckingknew. “Fuck, and not just that, I thought, this is the beginning of this . . . whatever this thing is between us.”

Ethan’s eyes found Hank’s, almost like they’d been magnetized. They were so fucking blue, Hank felt like he was drowning in them.

“Whatever this thing is between us?” Ethan asked softly.

“I was going to be smart. Iwassmart. I waited. I took my time. I focused on hockey.Youfocused on hockey, but God, I wasn’t smart at all, was I?” The realization hit Hank like a fucking freight train, hard and inevitable. “I wasn’t. I wanted to do this, but I didn’t. And I should have done it, every single day.”