Page 107 of Playing His Game

Adam had never had someone special to cheer him on before—not for real. But he’d gotten a taste of how that might feel, and now he knew he wanted it. Not when he retired, not in a few years, not when hockey made it convenient. He wanted it now, however it complicated his life. He wanted the deep conversations and the silly ones, the lazy sex and the against-the-wall sex and the trembling vulnerability of real intimacy. He wanted Mo’s defensive, campy aggression and the real man who lived beneath it, waiting for someone to see him.

He wanted someone to challenge him to ask for more for himself—someone to remind him he didn’t have to settle.

“Hey,” he said after a moment. “Don’t the two of you have somewhere to be?”

16

Mo checked his phone one last time before closing the shop, but neither Mads nor Jorts had texted anything new since that afternoon’sMessage delivered, followed by the emoji giving a salute. Not that Mo expected him to suddenly switch allegiance and start feeding Mo insider information, but a hint might be nice.

No dice, though, so he double-checked the equipment was all switched off, flicked the sign to Closed, and grabbed his keys. Access to his apartment was via an external staircase, which would suck when the Phoenix sun started baking the parking lot, but Mo knew Gerry wasn’t charging him the going rate for rent, and Mo wasn’t in a position to be picky.

He might have to start paying more attention, though, because the second the door locked, a voice behind him said, “Hey,” and he jumped three feet and dropped his keys.

“JesusChrist.” He gave himself a second to make sure he wasn’t dying of a heart attack before he picked up his keys and turned around.

Adam stood in the parking lot, leaning awkwardly against the car Mo helped him pick out, somehow managing to look incredibly edible and extremely awkward. He’d tried to tuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans, but he had so much junk in his trunk they didn’t really fit, so his shoulders ended up around his ears.

Mo’s heart tried to have another episode. He licked his lips. “Hey. Uh, hi.” He really wanted to say,Thanks for coming, but oh my God, you couldn’t have texted first?but he didn’t want to throw away his second chance right out of the gate.

“Hi,” Adam replied. “Uh, sorry for just—dropping in. I didn’t think that through.”

“Maybe not.”

“Can I give you a ride home?”

Mo’s heart pounded. “Not unless your new car goes up stairs.”

Adam frowned, and Mo motioned for him to follow around the side of the building up to the second floor and his new digs. As Adam stepped inside, Mo couldn’t help but notice how much the kitchen/living room looked like neither. He didn’t have a table or chairs, and all the crap he hadn’t yet found a home for littered the counters. At the other end of the open space, the “living room” had a couch, but only because Gerry had shifted his old one here when he upgraded. Otherwise the room was less comfort, and more piles of boxes, bags, and shop tools light enough to carry up the stairs. His largest tools were still in Oleander and Rose’s garage.

Adam hadn’t grown up in a mansion—he wouldn’t judge, Mo told himself. He mostly believed it.

He fought the urge to wipe his palms on his greasy coveralls. “You want something to drink?”

“You said you wanted to talk.” Adam crossed his arms, then uncrossed them and tried to put his hands back in his pockets. “So talk.”

“Right.” Okay, so, getting right to it. Adam’s body language suggested he was nervous too. Mo took a deep breath. At least he couldn’t make anything worse. “I didn’t know. About the sale, I mean.” So smooth. Jesus. He ran a hand through his hair. “I had no idea what my parents were up to or why they wanted us to keep quiet about our breakup. I don’t know anything about their business. Ever since I refused to take a job there after graduation, I’ve been cut out. I never lied to you while we were together.”

“Okay.” Adam nodded, and his shoulders lowered a few inches so they were no longer around his ears. “That’s, uh, that’s good.”

Not good enough, maybe. Mo forced himself to blurt out the rest of it. “I’m sorry my parents are assholes who made you think I was using you for shady business deals.” No, that wasn’t right. He took another breath. “No, I’m sorryImade you think that. I should have been more honest with you.”

Adam rubbed his jaw. The hint of a flush had crept into his cheeks. “I might have overreacted. Turns out emotional dysregulation is a concussion symptom.”

Mo strangled a laugh. “No shit?” He didn’t want to mock, but he’d witnessed that mess firsthand.

Nodding, Adam scuffed a shoe across Mo’s ugly carpet. He seemed to be staring at the wall to Mo’s left. “I also might have been waiting to be hurt.”

His breath caught as hope twisted in his stomach. “Oh?”

“Ever since Christmas, I’ve been… expecting more heartbreak.” Adam still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Wait—“More?”

“I realized I wanted it to be real—wantedusto be real.” He finally looked Mo in the face, and Mo could clearly read the pain in his eyes. “And then you said we should break up before I could say anything.”

Oh fuck. A sharp, self-deprecating laugh escaped Mo’s mouth before he could stop it. More hurt flashed across Adam’s face, and his guard went back up even as Mo stammered to explain. “Shit, sorry, that—I was laughing atme.” He took a step forward. He wanted to reach for Adam’s hands but didn’t know if Adam would accept his touch—or what he’d do if Adam pulled away. “I told myself I didn’t want to hurt your family, that they shouldn’t get attached to me when our relationship wasn’t real. But really, it’s my own heart I was afraid of breaking. Your family’s acceptance and all the happy, fun holiday stuff… I wanted it so bad, it hurt. But that would’ve been okay if I didn’t already have feelings for you. And knowing it was fake…”

“Yeah.” Adam’s shoulders dropped and a small smile hovered around the edges of his mouth. “It’s why I wanted to ask you to date me for real.”