Page 45 of The Callahan Effect

I had no voice to give him. No whispered name, no broken confession. So I gave him my hands.

They slid beneath his shirt, finding the hard planes of his back and the heat gathered beneath his skin. Mason shuddered against me. His fingers tightened at my waist. He pulled back only far enough to look at me.

"Still okay?"

I answered by sliding my hands behind his neck and drawing him back into another kiss. When we finally separated, he rested his forehead against mine as he struggled to steady his breathing.

His hands remained around my waist, holding me as though letting go was no longer an option, yet I could feel the tension that had replaced the easy certainty we'd shared only moments earlier.

"I don't want to ruin this before it's even started," he admitted. "But there's something we can't ignore."

I waited, my attention never leaving him.

"Patrick Callahan isn't just your father. He's my coach. He's responsible for whether I play, how much ice time I get, and whether I reach the NHL. If we're together, I don't ever want anyone believing I'm getting special treatment because I'm dating the coach's son."

I understood. The thought had already crossed my own mind.

Then we tell him.

Mason stared at the screen and slowly nodded.

I don't want him hearing it from somebody else. If we're honest from the beginning, there are no secrets.

Mason slowly exhaled.

"I've spent my whole life avoiding conversations like this. No one in my family knows I'm gay. None of my friends know either. Back home it was easier to hide behind hockey because everyone expected that to be my only priority."

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

"My father has always had a very clear picture of the son he wanted. NHL. Wife. Kids. The whole thing." His mouth twisted into a faint, humourless smile. "I'm pretty sure this wasn't part of his plan."

I rested my hand against his chest before answering.

You don't have to tell them until you're ready.

He covered my hand with his own.

"But I don't want you thinking I'm ashamed of you."

I shook my head.

I don't.

His shoulders relaxed a fraction.

"I just need a little time with my family. Coach is different." He glanced toward the closed door before looking back at me. "He deserves to hear it from us because he's both your father and my coach."

I answered without hesitation.

Tomorrow.

He searched my face, making certain I meant it.

"Together?"

Together.

The last of the tension eased from his expression.