According to my high-school football coach, every game was created equal. The first, fourth, and final games of any season should be played with the same amount of heart, grit, and intensity. Over the years, it had become my personal mantra. Sure, the championship qualifier was a big deal, but we wouldn’t have come this far as a team if we hadn’t worked our asses off all season. I paced the locker room like a caged tiger, pumping myself up before I called everyone into a huddle. When I had my rhythm down, I pulled my helmet over my head and signaled to Jonesie to give one of his ear-splitting whistles. Within seconds, I was surrounded by giants in full uniform. They were ready for action, but it was my job to rev them up and remind them what we were here to do.

“Whose house is this?” I yelled.

“Our house!”

“No one comes into this house to win. We gotta fight. What are we gonna do?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” they chanted in unison.

The walls shook and the locker doors rattled with the frenetic energy. I scanned my men with a note of satisfaction. Everyone in this room loved this as much as I did. I was proud to lead them into battle. Maybe that sounded overly dramatic, but this brotherhood was found on allegiance to each other and to something bigger than ourselves. If we fought together, we’d win together. Every time.

I stopped short at the lone figure standing in the back. He was suited up in full gear like everyone else, but he remained stubbornly silent. I held his gaze for a half second, then pumped my fist in the air and gave one last rally cry before leading the charge through the tunnel and onto the field.

The crowd went wild. Our stadium was small by anyone’s standards, but our games were generally well attended, and I could tell every seat in the house was spoken for tonight. Fuck, I was so damn glad I’d told Perez I wanted another season. I wasn’t ready to give this up. Just being here was electrifying, but knowing a large part of the frenzy had something to do with me was indescribable.

Everyone I knew was here tonight. My family, my friends…my boyfriend. I looked up at the home side bleachers, but there was no way to spot Rory at a glance. That was okay. Just knowing he was there was enough. I made an impromptu peace sign. If he was watching me now, at least he’d know I was thinking of him.

I jogged over to the sideline for a pre-game powwow with Perez and Flannigan when they flagged me over. Flannigan reminded me of an older version of Perez. He was a big barrel-chested man in his early sixties with a thick shock of white hair. Unlike Perez, he rarely smiled. He knew a fuckton about football, though. He’d played defensive tackle forty years ago in the pros and loved to debate the integrity of any defense strategy.

I caught the football my backup tossed and nodded while Perez went over our initial play calls.

“You ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

He chuckled at my formal tone. “Good. Hey, we’re going to announce your plans to stay on after the game in the locker room. We invited a local paper to cover it as an exclusive story, but we’ll save the press conference for after the championship game.”

“Press conference? Since when are we doing press conferences?” I asked with a laugh.

“Since you ended up being one of our top winning quarterbacks, that’s since when,” Flannigan replied gruffly. “I don’t know who’ll come, but we’ve invited the big guns to that game…LA Times, USA Today. We’ll deal with that when the time comes. Let’s concentrate on winning this one. I’m moving Jonesie to cover Butterworth so Moreno will take over for—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Flannigan glowered.

“Sorry, sir. But Moreno’s head isn’t in it. I think he’s pissed I called him out in practice again and—”

“All right. Jonesie stays. Sanchez will take over for Butterworth,” Coach said before stepping aside.

“What about Moreno?” Perez asked with a frown.

“Bench him until we need him.” Flannigan smacked his hand on his clipboard and fixed us both with a hard stare. “Let’s win this fucking game.”

And we did.

The final score was thirty-five to six. We dominated our opponent in every way possible. My arm was strong, my receivers were sure-footed and fast, and our defense was on fire. I didn’t think the stadium had ever been quite so loud. Our fans cheered wildly for us as we celebrated on the field, jumping and hooting on the sidelines. Jonesie and Sanchez hefted me onto their shoulders and carried me back through the tunnel into the locker room.

Cameras flashed as we drew closer but the noise level faded to an almost ghostly quiet. My ears were still ringing from the chaotic atmosphere on the field as we triumphantly charged the locker room. If I wasn’t so high from our win, I might have noticed the silence sooner. Or the panicky glances my teammates shot my way when Jonesie and Sanchez set me on my feet.

“What’s wrong with you guys? We just won the—holy shit.” I dropped my helmet on the nearest bench and stared at the graffiti spray painted on my locker door.

Faggot, Butt Prate, Cock Sucker…I cocked my head to study the sideways script. He misspelled pirate, I mused numbly.

“Who the fuck did this?” Jonesie roared. “I want a fuckin’ answer! Now!”

I heard him as if through a vacuum. The buzzing in my head seemed to worsen in the growing silence. The eerie calm before a storm. I reached out to touch the wet paint. It was a Pepto Bismol pink. Ugly color. I’d thought I was ambivalent about colors. But now I hated pink. Or maybe I hated the quiet. It was suddenly louder than the buzzing. I had to say something. They were waiting for me to speak up. I was their leader. If this was our house, I was the king. Not really, but…sort of. I swallowed around the grapefruit in my throat and slowly turned to face my teammates. I was met with wide-eyed gazes and a barrage of panicky questions.

“Do you think it was someone on the other team? I don’t see how they could have gotten in without security seeing them.”

“It had to be an inside job.”

“None of us would do this. We love you, man.”

“Someone needs to call the police,” an older voice said from the back of the room. “And get your coach in here too.”

The reporter. Great. Wow. I didn’t quite know how to quantify just how big of a shit show I’d walked into, but I knew it was epic. My friends and teammates, my coaches, and a reporter. Everyone wanted to point fingers right now or pledge their allegiance. But soon they’d start asking the obvious…why? Then would come the inevitable, “Is it true?” Let’s face it, this had the earmark of a crime of passion. It was personal. Only my locker was desecrated. Whoever did it was pissed at me. They wanted to bring me down and expose me as publicly as possible. I’d bet anything it was Moreno, but I didn’t have proof. What I did have was twenty-plus burly men waiting for my reaction.

I opened my mouth and closed it twice. I sucked in air like a fish on dry land and tried again.

“This is um…graphic. I guess that’s the right word. I think this is a bigger reflection of whoever did this than it is of me, but—”

“Exactly. We know you’re not gay, dude,” one of my fullbacks said. I couldn’t recall his name at the moment. Greg or Gray.

I sucked in another breath and noted Jonesie standing close by, like a sentry. The smallest tilt of his head communicated unflagging support. I curled my lips in a wan smile before addressing my nervous audience.

“Here’s the thing.…I am gay.” Silence. Okay, fuck. I couldn’t do quiet right now. I had to keep talking. I swallowed hard and continued. “I’ve been thinking about how to come out for a couple of weeks, but…this wasn’t what I had in mind. I haven’t told my parents or my sister yet. I haven’t told Perez or Flannigan or any of the other coaches or professors. And I didn’t tell any of you. I could say it’s because I was waiting for the right time, but the truth is, I didn’t know how to say it at all. To anyone. I hoped it wouldn’t matter because you already know the real me. The only thing you didn’t know is that I’m gay. It’s like realizing your neighbor has blue eyes for the first time. He can see the same whether or not you acknowledge his eye color. Does that make sense? Maybe not.”

I swiped my hand through my hair in a mixture of frustration and defeat. “Look…tonight was supposed to be about winning. We won and I’m proud of our achievement. We’ve had a great year. In fact, it’s been a great four years for me. I don’t use this phrase lightly, but I mean it when I tell you I’m blessed to be part of this team. You’ve been my family…my brothers for a long time. You’ve supported me on my off days, put up with my bullshit, and made me dig deeper when I thought I couldn’t go on. I’d like to think I’ve done the same for you. I was going to announce that I’d like to stay on for a fifth year but now, this might be awkward timing,” I said with a humorless half laugh before continuing. “I’m not sure how it’ll work, so I’ll say good-bye for now. Regardless of what happens, thank you. Thank you for being part of the best four years of my life.”

Silence.

I breathed it in as I turned to open my locker. Then I pulled out my workout bag, bowed my head, and walked out.

A muffled cheer erupted and someone chanted my name, but I didn’t stop. I rounded the corner and hurried to the parking lot with my head down. I didn’t want to gauge the levels of support I might have. I knew too well that it was easy to offer platitudes in crowded rooms.

The fluctuation of an adrenaline high to a serious low was like being drop-kicked from a twenty-story building. My hands shook as I yanked my jersey over my head. I didn’t want anyone to notice me now. I desperately needed space and anonymity…in whatever form was available.

I didn’t bother checking my messages until I was home. I showered and dressed in a pair of black sweats and an old college T-shirt and was just about to lie on the sofa and lose myself in video games when someone banged on my door.

“Christian! Open the fucking door!”

Shit.

I ran to unlatch the lock, shocked to find Rory standing there. He’d never been to my apartment. We’d always met at his place because he lived alone, and it was the perfect way to avoid the Max-and-Sky drama.

“Shh! You’re going to—”

Rory swept me into his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. He held me for a while; then he pulled back slightly and captured my face. “Fuck, I was worried about you. It was complete bedlam around the locker rooms. The police descended, evacuated and cordoned off the area. Some woman I think might be your mom was crying and…what the hell happened?”

“I came out.”

“And they sent a SWAT team? I don’t think so. Try again.”

Unbelievably, I laughed. I padded back to the sofa and typed a quick message to my mom to let her know I was okay before tossing my cell onto the coffee table and curling into a corner with a pillow clutched against my chest.

“Want something to drink?” I offered.

“No, thanks. I want you to talk to me.” He cast his eyes around the open living area. “Nice place, by the way.”

“Thanks. How’d you know where I live?”

“Max. I met him in the bleachers tonight. I was waiting for you to return my text, and we started talking just as all hell broke loose. I’m surprised you got out of there without anyone seeing you.”

“I’m pretty quick.” I shrugged weakly.

Rory flopped beside me on the sofa, snatched the pillow from my hands, and tucked me against his chest. “I know you are.”

I felt my muscles relax as he cradled my head and absently pressed kisses on my temple. He was a buoy in a storm. Literally. My cell phone vibrated noisily on the wood table, reminding me I had a slew of people who wanted answers. I supposed Rory did too, but unlike my parents, coaches, and teammates, he felt safe. For now.

I sat up slowly and told him what happened. The celebration, the graffiti, the silence, my exit speech. Everything. “I didn’t know how to handle it, but I didn’t want to deal with everyone, including the police, at the same time. So I said good-bye and left. Maybe leaving was cowardly, but…I couldn’t face everyone.”

Rory lifted my chin tenderly. “I get it. But you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I know. But I couldn’t deal with all that disappointment at once. My parents are super conservative and religious, Rory. They don’t want to know I’m gay. Even if they suspected I was gay, they’re the type of people who’d prefer not to talk about it. Ever. Did you know a reporter was in the locker room taking video? This is going to be everywhere, and there’s a good chance my folks will never talk to me again. Then there’s Flannigan and Perez. Their quarterback is gay. Quarterback. Not the kicker or the special-teams guy who rarely sees playing time. I’m the leader. I can’t be gay. I can’t—”

“Stop it. You are gay. And you’re a good man and a strong leader. Gay isn’t synonymous with weak, Christian. You know better than that,” he replied firmly.

I nodded. “Yeah, but I have to convince them. I’ve been trying my whole life but it’s not enough. I get good grades, but I suck at math. I’m a good quarterback, but I can only take it so far. Then what? I’m the gay son. The gay former athlete. I don’t know what comes next. I never did. I figured I’d graduate, move and start over where no one knows me, and I don’t have to worry about all the ways I’m never gonna be enough.” I swiped at my face as my fears gained momentum, leaving me feeling sick and dizzy.

“Hey, that’s not true. You had a crappy night and—”

“No. I had an amazing night.” I jumped to my feet and paced to the window before turning to face him. “I was a fucking god out there. I had a great game. Five passing touchdowns, Rory. Five. Most pros don’t do that in a single game. Sure, the competition wasn’t great, but we were still on fire. Do you have any idea how it feels to go from hero to having your entire team stare at you with pity and disgust and—”

“No one was disgusted. You’re projecting that. Those guys love you, Christian. I heard them after the cops came. They rallied around you. They support you. They’ve got your back. Do you realize how lucky you are?”

I hung my head in defeat and perched on a corner of the sofa. “In some ways, I know I am. But the rest…my parents, the coaches, my future…I don’t know where to start. Fuck, I wanna run away.”

“It wouldn’t help. You’d still be you. And if you ask me, that’s something to be proud of.” Rory furrowed his brow and gave me an intense look. “I know you feel overwhelmed right now, but you’re not alone. I’m here and—”

“But you can’t be,” I choked.

He drew back and cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“Perez hired you. You’re employed by the football program. Get it?”

“No.”

“Tutor and student. Look, I’m not a celebrity and I know it, but that reporter in the locker room was supposed to cover my return next year. It was going to be a big press moment for the school and…well, it didn’t go according to plan. I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out what’ll happen next. Police investigation, school investigation, and somewhere in all this I have to think about my parents. This is how they’re finding out I’m gay. Not cool. To a couple of straight-laced conservatives, this is a scandal. And my dad works for the administration. This is a shit show in the making.”

“Okay. When you put it like that, it sounds bad but I’m here and—”

“No. You’ll lose your job, Rory. They’ll want a story about the guy who works at the YMCA. They’ll drag you into a story that isn’t yours and tell lies and make us seem…dirty.”

Rory huffed belligerently. “I can handle it.”

“I can’t.”

An eerie silence crept from every corner of the room. It was oppressive and bleak, covering me like a heavy blanket in summertime. I wanted to kick it off, open a window, and undo the day. But couldn’t help wondering if I’d brought this on myself. All I knew was, I couldn’t bring him down with me.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

I pursed my lips, hoping to keep the flood of emotion at bay when I spoke again. “We have to go our own way. For now. Maybe, I can fix this and we can be together someday, but…not now.”

Rory went still. He didn’t move or breathe for a long, painful minute. Finally, his nostrils flared and his hands trembled. He flattened them on his thighs as if to stop the shaking. When it didn’t work, he stood and paced to the opposite side of the coffee table.

“I don’t want to go.”

“You have to. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to drag you through this mess,” I whispered unhappily.

“Baby, I get that this isn’t easy. I get that it isn’t what you planned. I’m sorry some asshole took a shot at you, and I’m sorry you’re hurting. It fucking kills me.” His voice hitched with pain. He paused for a moment before continuing. “But I want to tell you something. Being with you isn’t a crime. We’re good and we’re right. We’re exactly who we’re supposed to be and—”

“Rory.”

“No, let me finish. You are by far, the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I couldn’t believe my luck when I first met you, and I realized you were smart and funny and just a little dopey at math. I don’t know how this happened so fast, but I’m in over my head now. I want to slay all those fucking dragons and make things right. I don’t know what to do or what to say to make this better. But I want you to know that I’m here.” He reached for my hands and squeezed them tightly. “And I love you.”

I opened my mouth and stared at him in shock. “Love.”

“Yeah, love. I said it. Look, I swear I’m not trying to make this complicated. I’m not asking anything from you. I know you think you gotta do this by yourself, but maybe it’ll help to know that you’re not alone. Not really.” His voice was raw with emotion when he continued. “There’s always someone thinking about you.”

“Rory, I’m…”

He pulled me into a fierce embrace and held me close. Then he let go and moved to the door. “Go do your thing. If you need me, I’ll come. Day or night, call me. We can meet at Starbucks or throw a football in the park. Whatever. I can be flexible…I just—I don’t want to lose you, so if we can—”

“You’re not gonna lose me. I promise,” I choked, launching myself at him and holding on for dear life.

Rory ran soothing fingers through my hair while I sobbed big, ugly tears. When I finally calmed down, he kissed my forehead and gently pushed me away. He gave me one last longing look before opening the door and stepping into the hallway.

I closed my eyes as the lock clicked shut and braced my hand on the wall to keep myself upright. Everything in me ached. My bones, my muscles, my mind. I’d left part of my heart and soul on the football field, but the biggest part of me just walked out the door. I had nothing left. I was empty. Nothing inside me and nothing left to give. Nothing.

Just as I expected, all hell broke loose.

The reporter’s video clip of me coming out to my team in front of my vandalized locker was trending on social media. By Sunday afternoon, I’d become an unwitting sensation. I was a poster boy for LGBTQ athletes or an immoral sinner, depending upon whom you asked. I was followed to the gym and back, and again later that evening when I sucked up the nerve to visit my parents for our traditional Sunday night dinner. My father pulled back the curtain in the living room, then cast a disproving look between me and the photographer leaning outside the passenger side of a black Suburban. But he didn’t say a word.

My mom made idle conversation about the state of her mashed potatoes and a new recipe she wanted to try for the holidays. I didn’t know how to respond. If my presence was barely tolerated during a simple dinner, I doubted I’d be welcome during the holidays. After a while, she gave up. We sat in an uncomfortable triangle of silence until I finally said good-bye.

Which of course, was when my father decided to speak up. “I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow.”

“What meeting?”

“Administration has called a meeting with the athletic department to discuss what occurred yesterday. The detective assigned to the case may also be in attendance. I don’t know,” he said coolly.

“Detective?”

“Yes. They’re launching an investigation. If you know who did this, you should speak up and save the taxpayers some money. Was it a…lover?”

I didn’t think I’d ever heard anyone make a pleasant five-letter word sound like a vile four-letter one. I narrowed my gaze and let out a humorless huff.

“No. Thanks for asking,” I said sarcastically.

“Don’t take a tone with me, boy. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to this family?” he spat.

I studied the vein in his temple and marveled that it didn’t pop. “Yeah, I know what I’ve done. I also know what I haven’t done.”

My father glared at me with his fists clenched. “You have ruined our name! You’ve brought shame and disgrace to all of us. You didn’t have the common courtesy to deny those accusations. You didn’t stop to think of anyone but yourself.”

“I can’t listen to this. I won’t take on your guilt or shame. I’m proud of who I am,” I insisted.

“How can you be?” He shook his head angrily. “I don’t want to talk about this. There’s nothing more to say. That meeting is your opportunity to clear our name. I expect you to do it, boy.”

“I’m not a boy. I’m a man. And I have nothing to hide.” I paused on the threshold and gave my mother a nod I hoped passed for a civil good-bye before meeting my father’s gaze. “See ya tomorrow…Dad.”

Max took one look at me when I got home that night and made a giant pot of homemade hot cocoa. It was some special recipe with ancho chili that was supposed to enhance the chocolate flavor. I loved it. His mom used to make extra when I came over. And when we first moved in together, Max made it whenever he knew I’d had a crap day. He handed me a large mug, set a blanket over my legs, and passed me one of the X-Box game controllers. Unlike the oppressive silence at my parents’ house, this was nice. I could breathe here.

“I’m sorry, Chrissy. I’m sorry about Sky and—”

“Sky didn’t do it.”

“No, I didn’t think so. Not his style. But that’s not what I meant.” He bit his lips and set his controller aside, then shifted to face me on the sofa. “I’m sorry I let him in. I’m sorry it ended what we had. We were good together and—”

“No. We were kids, Max. We were never going to make it in the long run. We both know it. If it wasn’t Sky, it would have been someone or something else.”

“Maybe.” He waited a beat and asked, “Do you want me to go with you tomorrow? For moral support?”

“Thanks, but no.”

“What about Rory? He’d be there in a heartbeat.”

I shook my head slowly. “Yeah, but…I need to do this alone. And when you come out, it’ll be the same for you.”

“I’m gonna order a little less drama when I make my rainbow announcement,” he joked.

“Hey, do it when you’re ready, and do it on your terms.”

Max frowned. “This wasn’t on your terms. This was fucked!”

“Yeah, I know. And I’ve been sitting here feeling sorry for myself thinking how unfair this shit is, but I think I’m doing this wrong. I need to play offense.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Just thinking out loud.” I picked up my controller and gestured for him to do the same. “Let’s do this. I’m ready to kick some ass.”

Perez left me multiple messages over the weekend pledging his support. He reiterated it when we talked briefly Monday morning, but I knew his personal support didn’t necessarily translate to retaining my spot on the team next year. There were many more factors at play, and unfortunately neither Flannigan or Perez had a final say in the matter. Chilton was a private university. I knew the second I walked into that stuffy conference room with a handful of men in suits that my fate might have been decided before I even opened my mouth.

And forty minutes later, I was sure of it.

“Given the nature of this case…the vandalism to school property and the police investigating the matter as a possible hate crime, the board feels it would be prudent to advise the athletic department to withdraw consideration for Mr. Rafferty to continue as a fifth-year quarterback in the hopes that this will allow law enforcement to punish the responsible party and bring justice to the Rafferty family. It would also—”

“Bullshit,” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet.

“Christian!” My father hissed.

“No. This is wrong. I’d like to take the opportunity to remind you all of a few things. I didn’t commit a crime. A crime was committed against me, an LGBTQ member of your student body. I am responsible for four winning seasons that have resulted in three championship wins during my tenure as a student athlete here. I’ve gone above and beyond my duties as quarterback to ensure I’ve represented Chilton with honor, pride, and respect. So I’m sorry…you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t quite comprehend the supposed justice behind removing me from my position. I’m the best thing you’ve got going at the moment. You can hide behind your rhetoric of propriety and community standards, or you can wake up and take a look around you. I am a voice for this community…as an athlete, a student, and a leader. If you choose not to stand behind me, you stand against me and every minority at this school. Make no mistake, this was a hate crime. Deal with it responsibly. Don’t back down.”

I took a cleansing breath and looked around the oval conference table at the shocked expressions of the board members. Well, not everyone was shocked. My father looked apoplectic. But when I glanced over at my coaches and caught the reluctant humor on Flannigan’s lips and Perez’s huge shit-eating grin, I felt oddly vindicated. Fuck the rest of them. I loved football, I loved my time at this school, but I wouldn’t let someone else’s act of cowardice define my legacy as an athlete or a person. I was better than this. And I had much more to give.

“If you have any further questions, have your people talk to my people,” I said, gesturing to my coaches. “Please excuse me, gentlemen. I have a statistics test to study for. Thanks for your time.”

My father called my name, but I didn’t look back. I had nothing more to say, and I definitely wouldn’t apologize.

I raced out of the administration building and typed a quick message on my cell as I made my way across campus. It was a gorgeous day. The sun was shining, but it was cool and crisp, like a good autumn day should be. A few students gave me high fives and fist bumps. A few others shouted, “We love you, Christian!” or some variation of “You’re cool, man,” as I headed for my car.

I wasn’t cool or special, but I had my moments. I needed one more major moment today ’cause at the end of the day, I didn’t care about my place on the team or in my family. My future happiness depended on something and someone else entirely, and I was going to do whatever I could to get it back.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled up into the Starbucks parking lot. When I didn’t see Rory’s truck in the lot, my heart nosedived to my stomach. Maybe he changed his mind. I checked his text response again. I’ll be there. Rory never said anything he didn’t mean.

I checked my reflection in the window as I walked toward the entrance. I hated wearing a suit and tie. I looked like a dweeb in grown-up clothes. I hooked my finger in the knot to loosen it, pushed the door open, and headed for the counter. I placed my order before stepping aside to wait with my gaze trained on the door. Funny enough, I felt his presence before I saw him. I turned to thank the barista for my drinks, then looked up and there he was.

And just like that, everything fell into place.

I met Rory at our table by the window and set the cups down before taking a seat.

“What the hell is that?”

“A pumpkin spice latte,” I replied, biting my lower lip.

“I hate that shit.”

“It’s not yours, it’s mine.”

“You always get iced coffee. Something’s up with you,” he said suspiciously. “You look hot, by the way. Can I say that, or is that against tutor-student rules?”

“You can say it,” I replied with a smile.

He returned my smile with a weaker version, then tapped his fingers on the table. “Where’s your book?”

“I didn’t bring it. I just wanted to talk to you. I kind of panicked and this seemed like a good place and—”

“Is everything okay?”

“No.”

Rory furrowed his brow. “What happened? Did they kick you off the team or out of school? They can’t do that, you know.”

“Huh? No,” I replied, waving dismissively. “I wasn’t talking about football or school. That’s not important.”

“Then what—”

“I love you,” I blurted.

“I—”

“No. Please, let me talk. Everything around me is crashing and burning. I have to wait till the smoke clears to see what’s left, but to be honest…I don’t really care. Yeah, I’ll be sad if my football career is over, but it’s gonna end someday anyway. And I’m trying to come to grips with the idea that my family life as I knew it is over. I can’t change myself to make my parents happy. This is who I am. And I think I’m gonna be okay. But I’ll be a million times better with you.”

“Christ—”

“Wait. Let me say everything. You told me you’d fight for me. You said you’d stand by me. I knew I had to work through the BS on my own. So I stood up in front of a bunch of old guys in suits and I thought to myself, ‘What would Rory do?’ And you know what? I kicked ass and I have no regrets. You’re my rock, my teacher, my friend. I want to be that for you too. For the rest of our lives. I don’t care where we live, what we do…I just want you.”

Rory stood and pulled me into his arms. We held each other in a strong embrace until he pushed back slightly to seal his lips over mine. The kiss was sweet and full of promise. It marked a beginning of sorts. Our beginning.

We broke for air and grinned at each other like a couple of fools.

“I love you. You’ve always been stronger than you think, baby.”

“Maybe so.”

“Hmm. But you still have to pass statistics,” he teased.

I threw my head back and laughed before wrapping my arms around his neck.

I didn’t stop to wonder what we looked like to the average passerby. Two men engaged in a passionate embrace in a coffee shop in broad daylight. One dressed in a suit and tie and the other in casual jeans and a jacket that covered his ink. If anyone was offended by our public display, they didn’t say a word. Not that I cared. I was done hiding, and I was done worrying about what others thought. This man and the life we made were all that mattered. It was time to set my old worries aside, come out on the offense, and begin anew.