Katherine Blackmare

***

Michael came home to find Alex draped over the back of the couch. Panic hit him and he was across their living room in two steps—had Alex passed out? His phone was on the ground inches away from his fingers, had he been trying to call for help and fainted before he could?

“Alex?” Michael grabbed his shoulders, and Alex groaned under his breath. Michael, seriously worried now, fell to his knees. “Baby? What happened? Are you okay?”

Silence. Then Alex sniffled and shook his head. Michael was already pulling out his phone, ready to call an ambulance—hell, ready to bodily lift him and carry him to the nearest hospital if he had to—but then Alex said the last thing Michael was expecting him to say—

“I’m in love.”

Michael’s heart thumped. Was Alex trying to say goodbye to him? What the hell was going on? He cupped his husband’s face. “I love you too, Alex, but why…”

He trailed off as, to his absolute horror, Alex shook his head. “No,” he groaned, pointing at his phone below him. “With him.”

Numb and confused and hurt and terrified, Michael reached down with a trembling hand and picked up Alex’s phone only to see the picture of a man with dark hair, bright eyes, and sweating in Under Armor gear. He was smiling at someone off camera, and in another life, Michael might’ve been able to acknowledge that he was handsome. But right now, all he wanted was to rip the guy’s head off.

Voice low and shaking, he demanded, “And who the hell is he?”

“Scott Hunter,” Alex groaned.

Michael’s eye twitched. Could this really be happening? Was Alex ending their relationship? Was he confessing that he loved another man? Was he leaving Michael for someone else? Had he been cheating? No, it wasn’t possible. He knew Alex, he knew there was more to this, and if he could just think rationally for half a second he would know this conversation wasn’t what he feared it was. But he couldn’t think rationally, all he could hear was that Alex was using love to talk about someone else.

“Alex,” he spoke slowly, sure the entire house was about to start shaking. “Who is this guy?”

Alex shook his head, miserable, and groaned, “He’s an NHL superstar.”

“I—” Michael frowned. “What?”

“I’m in love with him, Michael.”

“What?” he shook Alex’s phone. “Where’d you even meet this guy?!”

Alex must’ve finally heard the panic and anger in Michael’s voice because he picked his head up, hazed eyes finally focusing on his husband as he frowned. “Heated Rivalry.” Squinting, he lifted his head a little higher to study Michael’s face better. “Why are you upset?”

“Why—heated—huh?!”

“Did something happen?”

Michael slumped, the gears in his brain finally back up and running as he put two and two together, and he looked back down at the photo of the guy. It was very… professional, like… a still rather than an actual candid photo. He looked back up at Alex, considering his pajamas, the throw blanket on the couch, the empty mug of tea. Alex wasn’t very good about having sick days. If he wasn’t kept busy, he would lose his mind. Michael had left him cuddled up on the sofa, remote in hand and a kiss on his cheek, encouraging him to watch some TV and relax for once in his life.

Suddenly, Heated Rivalry started to sound very familiar…

“Heated Rivalry,” he said slowly. “Is that that new show that came out?”

Alex’s lower lip trembled. “You told me to watch TV. ‘Relax’ you said, ‘it’ll be fun’ you said, why are you yelling at me?”

Michael’s whole body slumped with untold relief, and he slid a hand into Alex’s hair. His emotional filter was always gone when he was sick too. “I’m sorry, baby. You said you were in love with another guy and I shut down.”

“Ohhh,” Alex’s eyes shut with a grimace. “Now I’m sorry. I mean, I’m in love with Scott, but I’m not in love with him, you know? He’s just…” his eyes fell to Scott Hunter’s picture. “He’s so beautiful.”

“Okay,” Michael stood, jaw clenched. “Let’s just get you some food and painkillers, okay?”

“Okay,” Alex said through tears, wrapping his arms around Michael’s neck when the cowboy bent to carry him. His head on Michael’s shoulder, he murmured against his neck, “You’re still the most beautiful, Guerin.”

Michael’s lips twitched into a smirk at that. “Well, good.”

A sniffle. “Can I tell you about Heated Rivalry?”

“As long as I don’t have to hear about Scott Hunter,” Michael smirked, “you can tell me whatever you want.”

“Oh…”

Michael rolled his eyes, fighting his smile this time. The things he did for this man. “Fine. You can tell me about Hunter.”