“There’s nothing in your contract saying you can’t get outside representation, but any jobs your second agent gets you, you’re obligated to pay ten percent to Alan’s firm until your contract with the Warriors is up.”
My five-year contract that still has four years on it. That’s millions of dollars to the assholes who are trying to get me to stay quiet about me and Miller.
A true agent who had my best interests at heart would’ve stayed and talked to me that day instead of bolting and lawyering up over the contract. That only made me want to get out of it more.
I have to report for training camp soon, and Miller and I haven’t even sorted our shit out yet either.
For the first time in my life, I’m not in control, and I have no idea how to handle that.
Leaving the meeting dejected, I begin to think Miller’s right. Maybe this is too much. It’s not like he’s here telling me to fight this. He’s probably happy they’re trying to put a stop to me coming out.
And maybe that’s what I have to do? Just … keep it to myself. Even if I’ve never felt this way about another person in my whole life and I want nothing more than to celebrate that.
It’s not lost on me that this is the type of shit the entire LGBTQ community has gone through for decades. I’ve only had a taste of it, and I’ve never experienced anything more difficult. No one should have to defend who they want to be with. Ever. They shouldn’t be worried about image, their career, or what anyone else might think or say.
I thought being a celebrity was invasive enough—I could handle that—but this … the only way I see Miller and I surviving this is if we’re in it together.
I’m distracted by my thoughts as I enter the hotel room, and I don’t notice it right away. My shoes and socks come off, and I dump my phone and wallet on the table in the entryway before freezing at the sound of someone in my bedroom.
Why the fuck is there someone in my room?
I should totally run away, right?
“Hello?”
Shit, I totally just became the stupid chick in a horror film.
It’s probably housekeeping or something, but now, all I can think of is some masked serial killer is going to kill me.
Because I’m completely rational when I’m confused. Clearly.
It’s not a maid in a hotel uniform or a serial killer who steps out of the bedroom door.
No, all six-foot-five and wide-as-fuck Shane Miller stands there, his impressive arms folded as he leans against the doorjamb.
“How did you … where were … and … you’re here?”
He grins. “You’re not the only one who can flirt their way into somewhere.”
I itch to go to him. I’ve never missed someone so fucking much in my life. We may have spent most of this year apart, but being stuck here has been the hardest. Before, it didn’t really matter where we stood with each other. But now … now, everything is different because the man standing before me is my world. He’s all that matters.
Miller takes tentative steps toward me. “I came to tell you—”
“Don’t,” I say and rush him. Within a second, my mouth’s on his, and my tongue pushes past his lips.
Miller lets me have what I want for about three seconds before he’s pulling away way too soon.
“No, no, no,” I murmur. “No talking.”
He pulls back even more. “We have to.”
Damn, that can’t be good.
Miller wouldn’t fly across the country to break up with me, right? If he wanted to do it in person, he’d wait for me to … Shit, it’s not like he’s gonna do it at training camp. Or over the phone or text.
The look on Miller’s face almost has me dropping to my knees and begging him not to do this.
Instead, I blurt, “You were right.” At the same time, he says the exact same thing.
“What?” I ask.
“Have you ever wanted something so fucking much that when you get it you’re scared it’s not really happening, or you’re worried you’ll mess it all up, or you can’t actually believe you have it?”
“Umm … no.”
“You’ve never thought to yourself that instead of having constant dread hang over your head that it’d be better to give up completely because at least then you’d have an answer?”
“Still no.”
Miller huffs a laugh. “Bottom line is, I want to be with you. I don’t want to live without you. I’m not even sure I’d know how to anymore.”
Exhaustion weighs down my words. “I want the same thing, but it doesn’t have to be publicly. After all this contract drama, I can more than see your point.”
“Going that well, is it?”
“We’re not even out yet, and I’m already dealing with the blowout from it. And you were totally right in saying I have no idea what it’d be like, because the mere fact I have to fight a team of people who are supposed to be on my side means this is just the beginning. It’s only going to get worse. Turns out I have no idea what to do when I don’t have control of a situation.”