Page 57 of Puck Me Twice
I snort.
“Also, I think it would be better if we can’t be overheard or interrupted, and we might need some privacy.”
“Privacy? For what? Do you seriously think I’m going to screw you for old times’ sake?”
He scoffs. “Trust me, Nessie, that’s not what I’m after.”
My hands on my hips, I turn to him. “Excuse me?”
He opens his mouth to argue, then stops. “Let’s get some coffee and chat.”
There’s a cafe across the street, and we walk in silence out of the training facility and down the street. It’s chilly out, and I pull my coat tighter around me like I can magically wring out more warmth from the fabric.
At the coffee shop, I order a latte and Robby gets a green tea before he heads toward the comfortable armchairs by the window.
He opens his mouth, then pauses. Starts again, then stops.
“Spit it out,” I snap. “I don’t have time for this.”
Robby sighs. “What I’m going to tell you—this is in no way your fault, and it has nothing to do with you. I just think you deserve an explanation.”
My eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
His eyes flick to mine. “I’m gay.”
Uh… what?
“I’m gay,” he repeats. “I’m out to friends and family, but not in the league, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread it around quite yet.”
“But—we—”
“I didn’t know until after we broke up,” he rushes to admit.
I cross my arms. “Yeah. You want to talk about that? On my fucking birthday?”
He winces. “I was a dick.”
“Yeah, you were, fuckhead,” I snap.
Robby shakes his head. “I deserve that. I do.”
His words echo in my head. He’s gay. He’s not interested in me. Maybe he never really was.
“So what was I? Just a beard?”
“No. Not at all.” He sips from his tea, scratching at his jaw. “A few weeks before… everything, we went to dinner with my parents. Remember?”
I do. They asked about my intentions with their son and our future relationship plans, most likely to find out if I was a gold digging whore or if I actually had feelings for him. His parents were not kind to me when we got together, and they didn’t warm up to me over the two and a half years we were together. They didn’t like the idea of me with their son, holding him back from the sport he loved for the sake of my love for him.
Because I did. I loved him.
Past tense. Loved.
“You told them we wanted to get married.”
He winces. “I did, yeah.”
“So what changed?” I demand.
