It was no surprise that after that, we’d switched off our phones, refused to turn on the TV, and spent the day crashed out on our private porch.
But there was no more hiding.
Sitting in the private jet I’d happily shelled out for when Micky talked me through the reality of what would be waiting for me in Vegas, I squeezed Nate’s hand. The Strip’s lights sparkled and shimmered in the beginnings of dusk.
“You’ll be fine.” Nate was trying so damn hard, but his nerves shook his voice, strained the syllables of his words.
“This is going to be a nightmare.” I whipped my head around to see his face. “I’m so sorry.” For so long, I’d managed to dodge the press. I’d spent years being an expert at evading them—not getting too wild, not taking on endorsement deals, never saying anything that could be misconstrued. It was no wonder I’d been struggling with and questioning my life in America.
I’d been exhausted.
Sure, there’d been photos over the years of me with no-strings dates to functions, and yes, there’d been a couple of close calls out of the handful of times I’d sought out a willing mouth. But through it all, I’d stayed out of the limelight as much as possible.
It wasn’t unusual to be described as a recluse. It would all change the moment our bubble broke and we stepped into the dry heat of Vegas. Once we did, America would know the real reason for me hiding.
My chest ached, my breathing speeding up.
“Hey.”
I dragged in a painful breath but struggled to fill my lungs. Nate then filled my vision. Out of his seat, he kneeled before me, one hand on my chest, the other on my cheek. “Ryan.” His voice cut through the ringing in my ears, and his outline came into focus.
“You’re going to be okay.” There was no shake this time. No quiver. With an unwavering gaze, he continued, “Just breathe and know you’ve got this.”
Focusing hard on drawing in air, I slowed my breathing, exhaling after a couple of beats. I followed the same pattern, relieved when the pain gripping my lungs eased.
“I need you to listen to me.” He waited until I nodded before continuing. “This, all of this, is just noise. You hear me? None of it is real. It doesn’t matter what photos are taken, what anyone shouts or prints. It’s all just insignificant noise.”
God, how I wanted to believe him, but he didn’t know the world I lived in. And I’d done a god-awful job at preparing the both of us for this. His gaze narrowed, and I wondered if I’d spoken aloud, but I realized my boyfriend could simply read me too well. The thought was just enough distraction to remind me how lucky I was to have him. To have Nate’s heart, his friendship.
“I love you.”
Nate twisted his mouth for a beat, but he finally dropped his frown and smiled. “I love you too. And I know you don’t believe me, and I also know this is going to be a shitfest and overwhelming, but I want you to answer me truthfully.”
Drawing my eyebrows together, I said tentatively, “Okay.”
“Could anyone say or do anything to stop you from being gay?”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“You think it’s a stupid-as-fuck question?”
“Yes.”
“Good. So there’s fuck all anyone can say or do that will stop this part of you from existing. Being queer is one important part of what makes Ryan Broadwater so epic.” My heart leaped a little at his words, loving just how incredible this man was. “There’s also a part of you that is a kick-arse basketball player, a loving brother, uncle, and grandson, a great friend, a man who thinks he’s funnier than he really is—”
“Hey,” I challenged with a laugh. “I so am too hilarious.”
Nate arched a brow at me. “You’re so much more than one part of you. You have hundreds of quirks and traits and skills all combined. And nothing that the gossip rags, or Joe Blogs on the street or watching a game, can say will change that. Or do you think otherwise?”
He was right. Of course he was. The truth of his words registered. It didn’t mean what happened as soon as we got off the plane wouldn’t be exhausting or stressful or absolutely invasive, but only I could dictate and control my reactions and how they impacted me.
“You didn’t add how having a smart, sexy boyfriend has reshaped my heart.” The words were sappy, and perhaps any other day, I would have cringed or laughed and likely taken the piss. But I meant them. And from the look Nate directed my way, he knew it too.
The voice of the captain filled the cabin, asking us to strap in and take our seats. We did so, once again holding hands.
We were heading to Henderson Airport, where a security team would be greeting us. While I expected some press to be milling about outside the gates, we aimed to keep my arrival quiet.
As the wheels touched the tarmac, my attention drifted once more to Nate. “There’s no one else I’d want to do any of this with.”
