Headstrong – Vino & Veritas Read Online Eden Finley

Categories Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance, Sports Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
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Center, then.

There are no words that could even begin to tell him to shut up without getting my ass fired, so I give him a curt nod instead.

“What are you doing now? Are you still playing?”

What does it look like I’m doing, genius?

“Your feet were like lightning, and your scoring record …” He keeps going, but it’s all white noise to my ears.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to, uh …” I begin to retreat but stumble in my rush to get away. I bump into the display, sending books flying to the ground. “Damn it,” I hiss.

I bend to pick them up.

He kneels to help, and our eyes meet. For a moment, I’m staring at someone I recognize. Someone I used to look at in the mirror. A young hockey player with awe in his eyes and excitement for the future ahead of him.

I almost hate to burst his bubble.

Almost.

“You want to know what I’m doing now?” I wave my hand around dismissively. “This. This is my life.” Bitterness claws at my throat.

“Wait, this? Only this?” He glances around the store with a confused look on his face. “But—”

“I don’t play anymore.”

The excited puppy of a man finally loses his awed expression, as if I just told him Wayne Gretzky died. Slowly, but surely, it’s sinking in that the guy in front of him is a has-been. A has-been who never got the chance to become a big thing in the first place.

I turn and put the books back on the shelves, hoping he’ll drop the subject.

I’m not so lucky.

“What happened?”

Read the room, dude. I glare at him.

His face falls even more. “Oh. Sorry. Right. Intrusive and stuff. I should, uh … go.”

I try my hardest to be polite as I say, “Hope that agriculture book works out for you. Have a nice day.”

Too bad mine is shot to shit.

2

Whit

I victory dance my way into the locker room, which is a talent in full hockey gear. I should get an award.

That is, until one of my teammates shoves me, and I fall flat on my face.

“I’m okay!” I call out.

Everyone laughs.

“Of course you are, Whit. You’re used to falling while wearing skates,” Jonah says.

The rest of the team snickers and lets out a collective “Oooh.”

I jump back up in one swift move, and I decide my award should be for most graceful.

I don’t point out I’m one of the only ones who actually scored on the ice during that game. Not that we needed anyone else to step up when our opponents couldn’t find the net if we drew them a map.

“Celebratory drinks tonight?” Cal asks and slaps my shoulder.

I hesitate because I had other plans. I’ve spent years avoiding going out with the team or putting myself in any situation that would risk revealing my secret before I was ready, but now it’s out, I should probably make the effort to bond with the team more. But not tonight.

There’s a reason I’ve been the flaky goofball around these guys. I wanted an easy college experience and to focus on hockey and my degree without worrying about watching my back or causing issues on the team.

Living in Vermont, I’ve never felt scared to own my truth, per se. Moo U is progressive, and Vermont was one of the first states to legalize same-sex marriage. It was never society holding me back, but my own need to get through the other challenges in my life first—like juggling school, hockey, and working on my family’s farm.

But this is my senior year, and my last season playing hockey, I realized I wanted to own who I am completely. So, during Christmas break, I came out.

First to my family, who were supportive. Maybe a little surprised but not all that shocked considering I’ve never had a girlfriend or spoken about girls. Dad had always thought I was a good boy who was focused on school instead of sex, but when I told them I’m gay, a lightbulb went on behind his eyes, as if he’d finally figured out my actions haven’t exactly been the textbook definition of a het college guy.

After the break, I came out at school. My classmates from my agriculture study group were cool with it, and my teammates were accepting but quietly wary. Or maybe I’m reading into the team’s reaction because, out of everyone, the testosterone-filled man-children are the most likely to have a problem.

I have made it a conscious effort to be the last in the showers since then. If anyone has a problem with me seeing them naked after all this time, they can cut their shower short.

I force a Whit smile, because they’re what I’m known for. My smiles are all teeth and dimples. I’ve heard for years they have the ability to make all the girls swoon, but I wouldn’t know anything about that. “I’m sitting this one out.” I grab my towel.


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