“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for… for being a safe place for me. Thank you for letting me be here. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” It’s vulnerable and earnest, such a juxtaposition from the coach who threw a headset at the wall after the game and nearly told a reporter to fuck off. This is who the real Shawn Holmes is—a man with the kindest soul and the gentlest heart. He pulls me close—closer to him, so we’re almost fused as one. I smile and close my eyes. Our relationship might be fake, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else either. Here with him
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