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“But a lot of people assume you and I are together. This is going to end so badly for him.”
“Mac will make some reference about how he moved in with us—with you. It’ll put a stop to the rumors of you and me.”
The lack of emotion in Bash’s voice unsettled me. As much as Mac needed public acknowledgement, I knew Bash didn’t. But something still wasn’t right. We need to have a family meeting. I didn’t like this uncertainty of who I could be affectionate with in public. Hiding one relationship while embracing the other felt all wrong.
We needed to hash it all out and come up with a solid plan. Mac and Bash were my everything. Every time I had to dim our love, it ate at me. It was no way to live.
“We need to talk when we get home. I was looking up some stuff and that other team we played against—the Brawlers—their forward is dating that player who retired last year and they’re in a relationship with a woman. It’s basically our exact situation and they’ve been received really well. I don’t think we have a lot to worry about, do you?”
Bash didn’t say anything. I didn’t really expect him to have a positive response, but he never ignored me.
“Bash?”
I tugged his arm, but he was stiff.
I followed his gaze that was locked on the ice.
Mac was sprawled out and time slowed down to nothing as our team medics rushed to him.
My heart jumped to my throat and I couldn’t speak. I grasped Bash’s hand, not caring what anyone else around me thought.
My only concern was Mac.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sebastian
I ran. I’m not proud of myself, but it’s true. As soon as Mac was carried off the ice and Em was distracted with getting to him, I booked it.
With the lights off, I sat in a corner of the kitchen, reminding myself Mac wasn’t Rob. He had a team of professionals concerned with keeping him safe.
But that slam was worse than any I had ever seen. The image of Mac as he flew into the boards wouldn’t leave my mind. He had looked like a rag doll as he slumped onto the ice.
I shivered, unable to stop my teeth from chattering as I pictured it over and over again.
It mixed with the sight of Rob lying in bed. He hadn’t gotten up for breakfast—not terribly unusual. But then he missed lunch, and I had a bad feeling.
When he wasn’t answering, I blew through his door. But it was too late. There hadn’t been a team of doctors there that day. Just me.
And I had failed him.
I remember screaming for help. It could have been five minutes or five hours. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that amid grieving the loss of my best friend, I had a sore throat and lost my voice.
The rest of the days were a blur as Em and I barely got out of bed. Why was I alive and he wasn’t? It was the hardest thing for me to come to terms with. Knowing I woke up the next morning and he didn’t. To face his sister and comfort her when I was drowning in my own grief.
He died instantly, according to the coroner. It didn’t matter what time I found him.
But I still blamed myself.
If I hadn’t hesitated when I questioned why breakfast didn’t get him out of bed, he could still be here.
I gripped the cool stainless-steel counter and tried to center myself. It had taken a lot of work to get to a point where I could function after his death. I couldn’t go back to that place again.
But seeing Mac sprawled on the ice while I watched helplessly had brought up memories I didn’t want to remember.
I let myself get too close to him. I didn’t know if I could handle losing him.
From day one, I knew loving Michael Connor was a mistake. His nickname was Mac Savage, for fuck’s sake—it wasn’t as if he played small.
