Page 125 of Over the Line

“Oh. Shit.”

“Which means—look, it doesn’t have to be now. But we should…” I swallowed. “We should think about coming clean to Chris. Like sooner than later.”

Garrett shifted his weight, avoiding my gaze.

“We don’t have to tell anyone else,” I pressed gently. “The team—definitely not the fucking reporters. But we should be honest with him.”

He was quiet for an uncomfortably long moment. Then, to my great relief, he gave a slow nod. “You’re right. We should.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Chris has a ton on his plate right now, though. The baby is due soon, and I know he’s stressing about that.” Brow pinched, Garrett met my gaze. “I want to tell him. I do. But I’ve already lost him once because I fucked up. I’m terrified to do that again. And piling too much on him at the wrong time…”

“I get that.” I laced our fingers together. “Why don’t we wait until the off season?”

“You want to wait that long?”

“I want to go tell him right now and come out to the whole world.” Squeezing his hand, I whispered, “But the off season is the next best time. He’ll have had a chance to get into a groove with the baby. He and I won’t be feeling the pressure professionally.” I paused, then smiled as I brought his hand up to kiss his palm. “And we’ll have more time to get a feel for what we’re doing.”

He nodded as I spoke. “It’s only, what, three or four months?”

I smirked. “Depends on how far we get into the playoffs.”

He laughed. “I think we’ll manage.” He glanced around, loosening his embrace. “We should probably, uh…”

“Yeah. We should.” I touched his face and stole one more kiss. “Thank you, though. For indulging me.”

Oh God, that soft expression again. “You make it sound like this was one-sided.” He cupped my neck in both hands and kissed me, long and gentle, until I was breathless once more. When he let me go, he was grinning. “As soon as we’re back in Pittsburgh…” He winked.

I just shivered.

We shared one last look, and then Garrett left the garage. I lingered, letting him put some space between us.

As I paced, this time trying to calm down, I realized there were cameras down here. Those were about as unsurprising as my hard-on, but I’d been so caught up in needing a moment with him, I hadn’t thought much about them.

Luckily, as near as I could tell, we’d been in what appeared to be a blind spot. There was a camera fixed on the elevators, but we’d been far enough off to the side that it wouldn’t have seen much. The only other cameras in the vicinity were pointed in different directions.

It still made my blood turn cold because I couldn’t believe I’d been so careless, but I managed to calm myself down. And hey, it took care of that hard-on in a hurry, so there was that.

When I was sure enough time had passed that it wouldn’t be conspicuous for me to step off the elevator after Garrett, I went back up to the lobby.

In the elevator, I texted my dad.

Are you in the room or the bar?

Bar.

Be there in a minute.

As soon as the elevator opened, a nearby voice made my neck prickle. Ugh. Was it too much to ask for Jack Arlen to get, I don’t know, kicked into next week by a moose?

Probably, yeah.

And it was also apparently too much to ask for him to leave me the hell alone, because I’d just joined my dad in the bar when the asshole appeared beside us.

“Hey, Saints. Ben.” He took one of the open chairs at our table without asking. “I’m working on a story about the dads’ trip. Do you gentlemen mind if I pick your brains a bit?”

I minded, and I was pretty sure my dad minded, but no one needed a headline story about me shouting down a reporter in a hotel bar.

So I gave him a smile that I hoped came across as cold and fake. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

If he noticed my icy smile, he didn’t let on. “Well, one thing I’m curious about…” He turned to my dad. “What do you think of your son’s perma-bachelor lifestyle?” He smiled broadly. “Surely Mom and Dad have to be pushing for a wedding at some point, right?”