Tyler stared in Cross’s wake. “That’s the guy? LaCroix, huh? Seems like he’s a big deal. I wonder just how rich he is. Might be willing to pay for his privacy.”
Rusty almost grabbed Tyler and punched him. Sanity and a memory of the cameras kept him back at the last moment. “You keep your dirty hands off Cross and stay away from me. As for how rich he is?” A moment with Google would answer that question for Tyler, so he said, “If you try to out him or threatenhim, he’s rich enough to hire someone to bury you fifty feet deep and never be asked a single question.”
“Hm.” Tyler didn’t look half as intimidated as Rusty had hoped. “I bet a thousand bucks a week would be pocket change for that guy, huh? We could split it. You and me, baby.”
Rusty had no words left. He swung up into his truck, started the engine, and tapped the horn. If Tyler was too stupid to move, he could have his foot run over.
The lingering crowd meant Rusty had to back up carefully, a foot at a time. Tyler had stepped out of range, but Rusty didn’t like the way he was staring over at Cross’s shiny Highlander.Fuck, fuck, fuck that douchebag.His ridiculous brain reminded him that fucking Tyler was how this whole mess had started.
Shit! What if he outs Cross? That’d be all my fault.
He should’ve stayed away, shouldn’t have called Cross for help, shouldn’t have pulled a guy as good as Cross into the orbit of a slimeball like Tyler.How do I fix this?Rusty prided himself on being a problem solver, but he didn’t know how to solve this one.
He left the arena parking lot, merged into traffic, then pulled into a gas station a few blocks down and got out his phone. There hadn’t been an “I’m coming to your game” message on it when he’d hit the locker room, but there were a couple now.
~Waiting for you outside.
~Too much of a crowd. Is there somewhere we can meet for coffee?
Rusty thought about that. There were some decent coffee houses around, including some that weren’t sports fan hangouts, but he wanted more than that. He urgently needed to talk toCross about Tyler, and about them, whatever “them” meant. No way could he do that in public.~You want to come to my place? It’s not much but my landlady’s out of town.Mrs. Murinko was visiting her grandkids and they’d be safe from prying eyes.
He had to wait a few minutes of second-guessing the invite, before Cross texted back,~Sure. Address?
Rusty sent it, then pulled out immediately to make sure he got there first. He had no clue how he’d left the place, although his mom had ensured his dirty laundry never went on the floor. Dishes in the sink, on the other hand… He picked up his speed another notch.
He didn’t see the Highlander when he arrived, so hopefully he’d beaten Cross. But as he trotted down the steps alongside the house, the SUV pulled into the driveway behind his truck. With a sigh, Rusty waited for Cross to catch up. “Hey, you made it.”
“Yeah. I—” Cross paused beside Rusty’s pickup, staring into the bed. “Uh, there’s flowers in here. Are they yours?”
“Flowers?” Rusty bolted back up the stairs and grabbed the tailgate, staring in. Sure enough, the bed of the truck held a giant bouquet of flowers, mostly daisies, wrapped in white paper. He reached in and snagged the wrapper, lifting them out.
The paper had a red heart drawn in marker on the underside, with “MINE” written in capital letters inside the heart. Rusty searched between the stems, then shook the bouquet upside down, releasing a small shower of petals onto the damp pavement but no card or note fell out. Still, Tyler had said,“I brought you a present.”“Motherfucker.”
“Tyler?”
“Yeah, I’m sure of it.”
“What did he say to you before I arrived?”
“Called me his boyfriend. Acted like we were still dating. I bet he painted the truck, too. He said he ‘saw’ it. Just happened to be at the back of the parking lot on a game night, right?”
Cross stepped closer, glowering. “Did he make any threats?”
“No. He was being all pretend-lovey. Or… at least no threats to me.” Rusty’s throat tightened. “We should go in and talk. Down this way.” He stuffed the flowers in the trash can on their way around the house.
The sliding door let them into Rusty’s basement apartment. He took a quick look at his kitchen area but the worst seemed to be a couple of mugs on the counter. His bed wasn’t made but it was behind the divider so hopefully Cross wouldn’t notice. “Can I make you coffee or get a water or something?”
“Water would be good.” Cross gave him an appealingly crooked grin. “I spent a bunch of time yelling up in the stands.”
For a moment, Rusty was happy to have this be about hockey and pretend Tyler hadn’t happened. “Yellingforus oratus?”
Cross laughed. “A bit of both, honestly. You guys had a bunch of turnovers. You’re clearly the standout on defense, although Petrov and Nichols do okay.”
“Uh, thanks. They’re the first pair, so yeah, I’m not quite up there yet.”
“You could be. But they have a decent partnership going and I imagine your coach doesn’t want to split them up.” While Rusty let himself feel all gooey and warm inside at the praise, Cross turned in a circle. “Is this, like, a studio apartment?”
“I guess that’s what you’d call it. One big room and a bathroom. It works.” Rusty kicked off his shoes on the boot tray even though the concrete floor was cold through his socks.
