Page 150 of Secrets on Ice

“I’m aware.”

He leans back. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I tell him.

He leans forward. “To bad, we are. This is me, Sully. I’m asking you to talk to me as your friend, not as your captain.”

I put my fork down. I look at my best mate across the table, the guy I’ve played beside for years, the guy whose sister I’m in love with, and I know there’s no version of this where I get to keep hiding.

“You don’t want to hear this,” I say.

“Try me,” he says, giving me a stern look.

So, I do.

“I’m in love with her.” It comes out flat, almost a relief to finally say it out loud sober, in daylight, to him. “I have been my whole life.”

He doesn’t move or react, he just watches me.

“It’s not a new feeling,” I say. “It’s one that I have pushed down and hidden deep inside since the day she married Kevin.”

Emmett’s left brow rises in surprise.

“It’s always been her, even since we were kids. There’s never really been anyone else, not properly. I’ve just gotten good at pretending.”

He nods and mulls over my words. “How long has something been going on?” His voice is careful, even.

“Since Maine.” I make myself hold his eye. “We’ve been … I don’t even know what to call it, on and off. And I know she’s your sister, and I know she just got out of a marriage. I know the timing is a fucking disaster, and I’m not going to sit here and pretend it isn’t … I just … fuck … I’m an asshole.”

Emmett’s quiet for a long moment.

And I can’t stand it, the silence, the not knowing what he’s thinking. “Look,” I say. “If you want to hit me, hit me. I mean it, I’ve been lying to you for months. I’ve been sneaking around with your sister behind your back. If you want to knock me out for it, I won’t even put my hands up. I’ll take it, and I deserve it.”

Emmett looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Sully.”

“I mean it, do it,” I tell him, standing up.

His brows scrunch together. “I’m not going to hit you, you idiot.”

“You should, it will make you feel better, I’m sure.”

“I’m not a fucking St. Pierre.” He says it flat, because we both know exactly what he means. He’s the one who got dropped in his own apartment. I saw the aftermath of that secret coming out. He knows what that felt like from the floor. “I took that punch. I’m not handing it out.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t deserve his leniency.

He leans back and drags a hand down his face, and for a moment he just looks tired, and older than he is.

“You want to know what I actually think?” he says.

“Maybe … not really.”

“Too bad.” He looks at me. “I think if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

My chest constricts.

“I mean it,” he says. “You think I want some stranger sniffing around my sister after everything Kevin put her through? You? I’ve known you most of my life. I know exactly who you are. There is no one on this earth I’d trust with her more than you. And you proved that in Vegas.” His jaw tightens. “That’s not the problem.”