Fabian sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at his laptop screen. The blinking cursor in the YouTube search box dared him to type the words he had promised himself he wouldn’t.
Nothing good can come from this, he told himself. Then he shook his head and typedRyan Price fight.
God, there were so many results.
Price Destroys Comeau.
Ryan Price Top Fifteen Fights.
Ryan Price Most Devastating Fights.
Ryan Price Gets Revenge.
Price vs Harvey... BRUTAL!
Fabian looked away. He couldn’t click on any of them. He didn’t want to know this side of Ryan.
But itwasa side of Ryan. A big side. The only side that most of the world knew, apparently. Shouldn’t Fabian face it?
He took a shaky breath, and clicked on theTop Fifteen Fightsvideo.
It opened with Ryan wearing a red jersey—Fabian wasn’t sure which team it was—and circling another player in a white jersey who was several inches shorter. Both players had their gloves off, and the shorter guy was removing his helmet. He gestured to Ryan to do the same, and Ryan smiled at the guy before removing his own helmet and letting it fall to the ice. It wasn’t a warm smile, and it wasn’t the sweet, shy smile that Fabian loved. It was a cold, mocking smile that looked all wrong on Ryan’s face.
In the video, Ryan kept circling the other man, waiting and watching, fists raised like a boxer’s in front of his face. The other player finally lunged at him, and Ryan hit him hard with three quick punches to the side of his face. The other man was swinging wildly, but almost nothing landed. A second later, he was on his back, and Ryan was on top of him. Then the refs came and broke it up.
Cut to the next clip where Ryan was wearing an orange jersey. He was glaring at his opponent, his face showing real anger. There was no fanfare before this fight; Ryan just grabbed the front of the other guy’s jersey and started punching the guy’s face. When it was over, the camera showed a close-up of the defeated man’s bloody face, and then Ryan’s bloody hand as he skated to the penalty box.
Fabian closed the window. He couldn’t watch any more of this.
But he had to, didn’t he? He couldn’t pretend this part of Ryan’s life didn’t exist. He couldn’t tuck himself against Ryan’s strong body at night, and kiss his sweet smiles, and shiver under the caress of his enormous hands, without accepting that those hands, and that body, were also used for...this.
He couldn’t be with a man if he only allowed himself to see the best parts of him. It wouldn’t be fair to Ryan or to himself. If he was serious about this relationship—and he was—he had to be brave enough to take the rose-colored glasses off.
He tried to psych himself up. He could do this. Maybe he could even try to find it...sexy? He had friends who were very hot for professional wrestling and MMA fighting. This wasn’t any different, was it?
He was about to reopen the browser and watch another video when his phone lit up with a text. Fabian realized his eyes were wet when he tried to read the blurry message. He quickly wiped them.
Ryan: Hey. I’m here. Early. Sorry.
He checked the time and saw that Ryan was almost an hour early for their date. Fabian wasn’t ready at all.
Fabian: You’re outside?
Ryan: Yes.
Fabian closed his laptop and rushed to the door. He probably looked like shit—no makeup, eyes red, and he was wearing pajama pants and an oversized white T-shirt. When he opened the front door and found Ryan standing outside, holding a bouquet of flowers, he didn’t care. He cupped a hand over his mouth and felt fresh tears stinging his eyes. Thiscouldn’tbe the same person he’d just watched in that video.
“Hi,” Ryan said shyly. “I thought you might like these.”
Fabian threw himself into his strong arms, careful not to crush the flowers.
Ryan chuckled. “Miss me?”
Fabian’s reply was a slow nod against the wool fabric of Ryan’s coat. Ryan kissed the top of his head and said, “Everything okay?”
“I just really needed to see you. I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here too.”
