“Are you well?” Ilmari murmurs, one hand brushing my hip as we stand at the sink washing dishes.
I nod, my hands in the soapy water scrubbing a plate before I hand it over to him.
He takes it silently. “You’re worried.”
“Of course, I am,” I reply, not daring to look at him. “This is unsustainable. We all know it.”
As soon as Harrison stepped out onto the back patio to take a call with his restaurant, Caleb filled us all in with the CliffsNotes version of what happened in the laundry room this morning with Novikov and Morrow. And I let the guys know what happened with Poppy in my office.
Jake whipped out his phone, instantly going online to check out the gossip for himself. He’s been in ‘minimize it’ mode ever since. ‘This is fine, babe,’ he’s said at least ten times. ‘It’s no big deal.’ He said it all the way out the door, determined to go get us all ice cream, which apparently is his cure for any crisis or malady.
No big deal. Right. NHL players are spreading the rumor that Jake and Caleb are finally out as gay. Meanwhile, the celebrity tabloids are saying we’re in a tragic love triangle. The gossip is only finding fuel with the puck bunnies, no doubt thanks to delightful creatures like Aspen Albright. In less than 24 hours, they’ve apparently spread the rumor that I spurned Jake’s proposal in favor of Caleb. They’re calling me crazy for ditching a player for an equipment manager, saying all kinds of horrible, disparaging things about Caleb and his position.
The only one who seems to have escaped the fray so far is Ilmari—thank god. He doesn’t need this attention now. Not when the FIHA scouts are still here.
“I think you need to get some distance,” I murmur, still not looking at him.
“What does that mean?”
Letting out a shaky breath, I glance up. “You haven’t been dragged down in this yet. You can still break away.”
“Break away?”
“Please, Mars,” I press, holding his gaze. “I know how hard you’ve worked to keep your privacy intact. But nothing about me is private. I wish to god that it were,” I add with all the sincerity I can muster. “But I never had that luxury.”
He’s quiet for a minute before saying, “What does distance mean, Rachel?”
I flinch, hating his use of my real name. “Mars, this doesn’t have to be your fight,” I say. “You’ve got a career to think about. Not just your NHL contract, but the Olympics, remember? If this blows up any bigger, if you get pulled into it…” I shake my head, tears in my eyes.
“I’m not afraid of celebrity magazines,” he mutters.
“It’s not the tabloids that should worry you, Mars. It’s the NHL press. There’s a whole world of hockey fans out there that won’t understand us. They’ll get vicious and cruel and seek to tear us down. Ask Harrison if you don’t believe me,” I say, pointing out the glass doors to where we can see him pacing on his phone. “It’s already started with Jake and Cay—all these rumors about them being gay. And it’s not just blogs and media hacks, Mars. It’s other players. You heard the gossip this morning. You had to shut it down.”
“The rookies need to learn to keep their mouths shut,” he mutters darkly.
“This is bigger than a few chirping rookies and you know it. If the gossip gets bad enough, the FIHA will pass on you, Mars. They’ll pick a safer option, someone not tied to an unstoppable human storm of bad press.”
“So…are you telling me to leave?”
His tone is tearing me apart. “I’m not telling you to do anything. And I don’t want you to leave I—god—” I turn away from him, shoving my hands back into the soapy water, scrubbing furiously at the next plate.
I can feel his eyes on me, daring me to look at him.
I’m saved by the front door. The alarm chirps as the door opens and closes.
“Hey, babe, they didn’t have the sorbet you like, but we found this almond milk stuff!” Jake calls from the entryway. “It’s got cookie dough bites and I thought—whoa—what the hell is going on?” He steps into the kitchen, Caleb following just behind, with Poseidon hot on their heels. Their worried gazes dart between me and Ilmari.
Caleb drops the bag of ice creams on the island. “What happened?”
“Rachel would like for me to leave,” Ilmari mutters.
“What the fuck?” Jake gasp. “Rach—”
“Kulta, no,” I say, grabbing his arm. “I’m trying to protect you—”
“You’re trying to manage me,” he growls, pulling away. “You’re trying to make decisions for me. I make my own decisions, Rachel.”
“But I can’t bear it,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I cannot bear the idea of ruining your life. Of stripping something from you that you’ve spent a lifetime protecting. You want privacy, Ilmari. You want hockey to be the story of your life, not who you’re dating. You want to play in the Olympics—”
“I want you,” he counters, grabbing me by the shoulders. The heat of his anger crackles like a fire. We’re both panting, my head tipped back as I gaze into his stormy blue eyes.
“Mars,” I whisper, trying to put everything I feel into the word.
“Don’t call me that again,” he growls. “You don’t call me that ever again. They can, but not you.”
I gasp, confused. “Mars, what—”
“That is not my name,” he shouts. “My partner will call me by my name. Say it.”
I jolt in his arms, heart pounding. “Ilmari,” I say on a breath.
“Say it again.”
“Ilmari.”
“Who am I to you, Rakas?” he asks, his voice lowering, deepening with such great feeling. “When people ask you who I am, what will you say?”
I lift my arms, pressing my hands against his chest, my right hand splaying over his heart. It pounds furiously beneath my hand. “You want control? You want a say in what happens next? Then tell me what you want. Who do you want to be to me—”
“I want you to stop being so damn afraid all the time,” he shouts, both hands cupping my face, holding me captive. “You can’t hide away all your life, Rakas. You can’t stop the bad things from happening—to yourself, to your brother, to any of us. I know because I’ve lived the same as you, trying to keep my life small. Really all I did was build myself a cage. And then I trapped myself inside that cage and told myself the bars weren’t real.”
His words split me open, digging down to the hidden truths I keep buried so deep. Because he’s right. I’ve let my fears become a cage. Fear of failure. Fear of losing control—of myself, of the narrative around me, of my success. Fear of the unknown. Fear of disappointing my family. Fear of always being known as the worthless, talentless Price.
“I am afraid,” I admit, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I think I’ve been afraid all my life.”
He nods, raising a large thumb to brush away my tears. “Then that is what I want, Rakas. I want to be the one to carry the burden of your fears. Your doubt, your worry, your insecurity—lay them all on my shoulders. I am strong enough. I will not bend. I will not break. I will carry them for you so you can be free, mun leijona.”
More tears fall as I wrap a hand around his wrist, leaning into his touch. “What does that mean?”
“It means ‘my lioness,’” he replies. “For that is what you are to me, and have always been: a fearless, dark-haired lioness. Look at yourself through my eyes, Rakas. Through Jake’s eyes. Through Caleb’s eyes.”
I shake my head. I want to be strong enough. I want to believe I could be this person they all see.
“I see you, mun leijona. They see you too,” he adds, gesturing at Caleb and Jake. “You would brave any danger for those you love. Climb any mountain, leap from any clifftop. A love like yours is wild and dangerous. You need men who will not seek to harness you or break your spirit. You need men who will protect you. Who will provide a safe space for you to love as freely as your heart will allow. We are those men.”
Jake and Caleb step around the island, coming to stand beside him. I’m fully crying now, ugly tears streaming down my face as I reach for them both, my hands clinging to their t-shirts. Caleb’s hand goes to my shoulder, while Jake cups my face, gazing down at me so tenderly.
“Place yourself in our care, and we will never stop fighting for you,” Ilmari says. “We will never stray, never waver. We will seek no exit. Love us and watch how we love you in return. One family. One unit. Unbreakable.”
I look to Jake, waiting for him to speak.
His hands brush gently against the soft skin of my cheeks. “You know I love you, Rachel. I may not say it as fancily as Mr. European Accent over here—which, thanks for that, by the way,” he adds at Ilmari with a glare. “You don’t speak ten words together for weeks. But then the two times you do speak, you make speeches that should be printed out and sold with a free at-home pregnancy test—”
“Focus, Jake,” Caleb mutters with a shake of his head
“Right—shit—” He turns back to me, and I can’t help but smile at his antics. “Baby, I love you,” he says, sobering the mood. “You’re my whole fucking world. But keeping this quiet is killing me. I’m so done. I wanna be public with you—them too,” he adds. “I’m all in. I wanna own this story and run with it. I want to get out ahead of it and show all the doubters that this can work.”
But then he’s glancing warily at Caleb. “What do you think? You’re the most private one of all of us. What we’re doing here might get pretty intense. It’ll drag you into a harsh spotlight…”
I face Caleb, taking his hand. “Jake is way underselling it,” I say. “The press will get worse before it ever gets better,” I explain. “Since we’ll be such a novelty, the scrutiny will last twice as long too. They’ll hunt down ghosts from our pasts—exes, family, friends, former teammates. They’ll tell wild stories. It’ll be awful,” I admit, heart in my throat.
“You’d all be risking your jobs every day,” I go on. “Family might turn on you, friends will distance themselves. Teammates, coaches, owners—hell the whole League might turn on you.” I hold my gaze on Ilmari and Jake. “Everything you worked a lifetime to achieve…they can take it from you. With enough bad press, they’ll bury us alive.”
“Our jobs are ours to risk,” Ilmari replies. “If we say it’s worth the risk, you have to put your trust in us that we will handle it.”
“I’m not worth it,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes again. “I’m not worth this—”
Caleb steps in, grabbing me by the shoulders. “Enough. Alright? Don’t you dare fucking say that again. Rachel, this is not just about you, or haven’t you realized that yet? We’re not risking it all for you. We’re risking it for this,” he says gesturing around. “Us. We may call you a queen when you’re riding our cocks, and god knows we’ll treat you like one every day for the rest of your fucking life if you’ll just shut up and let us, but this is a democracy. We’re all in this for our own reasons.” He glances at the guys. “I say we vote.”
I gasp. “Vote?”
“Yeah. We vote on going public,” he explains. “No more hiding out. No more secrets,” he adds, holding my gaze, his double meaning clear. Oh god, he’s going to do it. He’s ready to tell Jake how he feels.
“You know my vote,” says Jake. “I’ve been all in since Seattle. I’ll go on all my social media platforms right now and shout it from the rooftops—”
“No,” Caleb says quickly. “We get through tomorrow’s game. The Finnish scouts are still here for Mars. And tomorrow is Toronto,” he adds.
Jake’s gaze darkens. “Don’t fucking remind me.”
“We get through tomorrow,” Caleb says again. “Then we make a plan.” He glances around at all of us. “Agreed? No one says a word until after tomorrow.”
Ilmari nods, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Fine,” says Jake.
Caleb looks to me. “Hurricane?”
I nod, taking a deep breath. After tomorrow. Meaning this is our last night of peace and quiet. The calm before the storm. “Let’s all go to the beach,” I say. “Let’s walk under the full moon, just us and the ocean.”
“And Harrison?” Jake asks, glancing over his shoulder to where my brother is still outside, gesticulating wildly while he shouts into the phone, no doubt making a chef cry.
I smile. “He can watch Sy til we get back. Right now, I just wanna be with my guys.”
