After I knock, Noah answers the door.
“He’s not coming with you guys,” he says quietly. “He doesn’t want to make it worse for you, and he definitely doesn’t want to have to justify all of you being on the team and all that other bullshit.”
“We get it,” I say. “But thought we’d try anyway.”
From what little Noah’s told us about how Jackson’s doing, we know he’s still hurt, and we can understand it. He thought he was making progress. He played his heart out last season, and the team has a championship ring to show for it. But now it’s like he’s back at square one and last season didn’t matter.
Noah looks over his shoulder and then back at us. “It’s not that he doesn’t support you two—”
“We know,” Talon says.
We’d prefer showing a united front on this, but we completely understand if he can’t face the team yet. We figured it’d be easier doing this in a casual environment than when we have to report for training camp.
Noah sighs. “I’ll talk to him again. I think it’ll be good for him to see the team is still the same team he was on last year, minus the few closed-minded assholes.”
“Thanks,” I say, but when the door closes, we don’t bother waiting around.
We both know he’s not coming with us, and who could blame him?
The stalkery paparazzi are waiting for us outside the bar as expected. There’s no real secret way to invite fifty-odd people somewhere without word spreading. Especially when we don’t know how many of those fifty people are on our side.
We hold hands and wade through the crowd, because we can do that now—hold hands in public. And while it’s ruined by camera flashes blinding us and people yelling inappropriate questions at us, we’re facing it together like we promised.
It’s not easy—not by a fucking long shot—but it’s out there now, and we just have to deal with it.
Talon and I wake up next to each other knowing whatever comes we’re ready for it. When either of us worry it’s getting too much, the other is there to block tabloid sites and hit us over the head to snap out of it.
Which I might need right now as we step into the safety of the bar and away from the cameras, because I’m freaking out again.
Talon squeezes my hand. “You still with me?”
I nod, unable to form words, which he picks up on and immediately knows I’m lying. Of course.
He pulls me close to him. “What do you need from me? To give you an out, tell you to snap out of it, or hold your hand tighter?”
Talon couldn’t be more perfect. His willingness to give me what I need without hesitation still amazes me, even though it shouldn’t. Talon’s always been like that even when we were just friends. I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Just don’t leave my side.”
“Done. Let’s get this over with.”
As much as I’d like to keep holding his hand, I know it’s not smart. We should ease the guys into this and not throw it in their face.
Approaching the tables with a lump in my throat, I’m thankful Jackson didn’t end up coming with us, because when we’re spotted, the whole group goes silent, and as if sensing the tension in the air, the entire bar seems to quiet down too.
I quickly do a head count, and of the main guys from the team, only about half are here. Fifty-fifty isn’t bad, but it’s not really what I was hoping for. I’ve been hoping one thing we expected would surprise us by being the opposite or not as bad as we’d thought, but nope. Hasn’t happened yet.
“There’s one way to make an entrance,” Talon says and forces a laugh. “We’re gonna go get drinks.”
Talon pulls me by my shirt sleeve toward the bar.
“Chicken out?” I ask.
“Yup. You? You didn’t say anything.”
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t Jackson want to come when we’re having so much fun already?”
I snort.
“Okay, I got an idea.” Talon gets the bartender’s attention and orders a shot for everyone back at the group of tables they’ve taken up.
“We’re gonna get them drunk?” I ask. “Because giving angry, testosterone-filled guys liquor might not be the best idea to get them on our side.”
“The way I figure it, they made the effort to come here, so they’re willing to hear us out, at least. We’ll give them a peace offering and tell them we’re still the same guys we were last season.”
It’s a solid plan, but when does my man ever stick to those?
We place the trays of shots down on the tables, and the guys are more welcoming this time, so the first part of the plan works.
But as they go to reach for the drinks, Talon says loudly “Go ahead. Unless you’re scared being attracted to guys is in the alcohol and you might catch it.”