Page 10

NINE

They decided to go in another direction .

Bellamy sat on the bed in his hotel room in Tampa and reread the email from his agent, his shoulders tensing with every word.

Spoke with Britt at Here, Pear, and Everywhere. They’re grateful you’re interested in helping them promote their business, but they decided to go in another direction.

“Fuck,” Bellamy muttered under his breath.

“Everything okay?” Dabbs asked groggily from the other bed, where he was trying to get in an afternoon nap before this evening’s game.

Bellamy forced a smile. “Yeah.” He grabbed the key card from the nightstand and tucked it in his wallet before turning to his roommate. “Sure you don’t want to come out with me and CC?”

“Nah.” Flipping onto his stomach, Dabbs hugged a pillow close. “I need a nap. You should take one too.”

Probably. Bellamy did love his pre-game afternoon naps. But he’d promised CC a day out, and it wasn’t like Bellamy would get any sleep anyway, not with his agent’s email bringing up too many questions.

“I’m good,” he told Dabbs. “I’ll see you later.”

“Make sure you’re back in enough time to change before heading to the arena,” Dabbs said, because the team captain didn’t take a day off, even when he was half asleep.

“We will.” Grabbing sunglasses and a hat, Bellamy headed out.

CC wasn’t in the lobby yet when Bellamy stepped off the elevator, so he crossed the street to Cotanchobee Fort Brooke Park and found a bench to park his ass on. With the temperature hovering around seventy-five degrees and the sun beating down on his shoulders, Bellamy first texted CC to let him know where he was, then he called his agent.

“Bel,” Maggie McDowell said, a hint of Texas twang to her voice. “I’ve been expecting your call. Sorry about Here, Pear, and Everywhere. I tried.”

“What happened?” Elbows on his knees, Bellamy blinked at the concrete path at his feet. “Our last meeting with them went great. The last I heard, they were drafting the contract.”

“They were.” The frustration in Maggie’s voice was clear. “But then they hired someone to do a risk assessment—not on you, mind. It was a general assessment for the company. Since they’ve only recently launched, they want to be cautious, which I can understand, but they flagged you as a risk.”

“How am I a risk?”

“Because of your rivalry with Ryland Zervudachi.”

Cursing, Bellamy pressed a thumb and forefinger into his eyes.

“I warned you about this,” Maggie said.

I know , Bellamy was going to say, but she continued.

“I warned you that the big sponsors probably wouldn’t care about the rivalry.”

“Because it puts me in the spotlight, which puts their products in the spotlight,” Bellamy recited tiredly. “I remember.”

“Do you also remember me saying that won’t be the case for every sponsor? For some, your rivalry will scare them. It creates a risk to their reputation. You do something shitty, and it reflects on the people who sponsor you.”

“I’ve never done anything shitty.” Aside from jumping Ryland during their first game, he’d only ever responded to Ryland, and always as politely as he could. Of course, they ended up in a fistfight almost every time their teams faced off against each other, and that certainly wasn’t polite , but even then, Bellamy was only responding to Ryland’s chirps. Not that that was obvious to anyone watching. To everyone else, it looked like Bellamy threw the first punch. No one saw that Ryland threw a verbal one first.

Maggie made a noise of agreement. “You haven’t, I’ll give you that much. But because Here, Pear, and Everywhere is just beginning to get their business off the ground, they’re worried association with you might look bad on them. So they’re stepping back from their sponsorship.”

Damn. Here, Pear, and Everywhere was a family-run business in Winooski that sold freeze-dried fruit that retained ninety-seven percent of the nutrients found in fresh food and contained no additional sugars, additives, or preservatives. The owners—Britt and her husband—were parents of four who’d been searching for better snack choices for their family. Not finding what they needed, they’d created their own.

Because they were just starting out, they couldn’t afford Bellamy much in the way of monetary compensation, but he hadn’t cared about that. One of the benefits of sponsorships was that they could increase a player’s visibility and help them build relationships with fans. As a new Trailblazers player, Bellamy didn’t have the relationship with Vermont’s fans that his other teammates did, and partnering with a local small business had been just the ticket to endearing himself to the local community.

“Sorry, Bel. I tried talking them around, but they want to play it safe.”

Bellamy dropped his hand, blinking at the spots in his vision. “It’s not your fault. I appreciate you trying. Hell, I can’t even blame them for their decision. Is there anyone else we can reach out to?”

“In Vermont? Sure, there are plenty of small and medium-sized businesses. The trick is finding one that fits with your brand. There’s a sports equipment store in South Burlington that I thought might be a good fit, but they carry brands you’re obliged not to promote, per your contract with Sport U Apparel. Although...” There was a tapping sound, like Maggie was tapping a pen against her desk, a habit that made Bellamy clench his teeth in annoyance whenever they were in the same room. “The store also carries Sport U’s products, which means we might be able to make a case to Sport U that this doesn’t technically fall under the heading of competitors you can’t promote. Want me to ask them?”

“Sure, thanks.”

“In the meantime, I’ll keep doing some research to see if another company might make a good fit. Your brand is all sports and food, which narrows down the pool. Don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

“Actually, there’s—” a maple syrup farm in Maplewood , he almost said, but he broke off before the thought could fully form.

He couldn’t go down that route.

When he’d suggested filming himself cooking with one of Jason’s syrups and posting it to social media, he’d done so thinking he could help Jason promote his new products. He hadn’t thought that partnering with Moon Meadows Maple Farm might also benefit him .

Of course, now that he’d thought it, he couldn’t unthink it.

Still, it was out of the question. He couldn’t risk Jason thinking he was using him for his own gain. Bellamy didn’t know the details about the people who’d used Jason to get to Ryland, but he didn’t need to. He refused to be yet another person who used him to get what he wanted.

“There’s a what?” Maggie prompted.

“Coffee,” he said quickly. “Vermont is all coffee, microbreweries, and maple syrup. There could be something there.” Vermont was more than that, but if they were going for something that fit his brand that wasn’t sports equipment, then coffee, beer, and maple syrup was it.

“Hm.” More pen tapping. “Where did you say your grandparents retired to?”

“Maplewood,” Bellamy muttered absentmindedly, spotting CC out of the corner of his eyes. He waved to catch his teammate’s attention. “Hey, I’ve got to go. Keep me posted about what Sport U says?”

“Will do. I’ve also got the contract from them for the video they want to shoot this summer. I’ll send it your way once I review it.”

“Thanks.”

As the largest provider of sports equipment and clothing in the country, Sport U Apparel sponsored more athletes than Bellamy could count. And because their founder and former CEO—who now ran the organization’s charity—was a bisexual man married to a man, they tended to sponsor LGBTQ+ amateur and professional athletes.

Including the one who dropped onto the bench next to Bellamy as he hung up. “Are you doing the video with Sport U this summer?”

“The one with all the queer athletes they sponsor?” CC nodded. “Yeah.”

According to their public profiles, Bellamy and CC both identified as pansexual, with CC’s also specifying demiromantic.

“So?” CC sprang up off the bench. “What are we doing today?”

“You tell me. They’re your winnings.”

“Yours, technically.”

Much to Bellamy’s delight, he’d won Gaff’s bet after his first game as a Trailblazer. He’d bet CC wouldn’t cry—and CC hadn’t cried. And because the Trailblazers did enjoy betting on their teammates, everyone who’d placed a bet had wagered upwards of fifty dollars. So now Bellamy was sitting on almost a thousand bucks in cash, and he figured he should spoil CC with some of it since he wouldn’t have it without him.

CC, being CC, bet against himself every game—and never won. Turned out, he really did cry over everything. He’d even teared up when Bellamy had offered to take him out with his winnings.

“No one’s ever offered to treat me with their winnings before,” he’d said.

Bellamy had never met anyone who wore their heart on their sleeve like Colter “CC” Clarke. How no one had trampled that heart was a mystery. Probably helped that CC had big, bulky, scowl-and-scare-the-children-with-a-look Michael Hughes in his corner.

“Why don’t we grab lunch on a patio at Sparkman Wharf?” CC said now, flicking his sunglasses from the top of his head over his nose. “And take in the rays, seeing as we won’t get weather like this in Vermont for another few months.”

“Sounds perfect.”

The Trailblazers were down by two with only four and a half minutes left in the game, which wasn’t an auspicious start to this road trip. In Bellamy’s experience, how a team started a road trip was often an indicator of how the rest of it went. They had five games over nine days—Tampa, Detroit, Dallas, Chicago, and Toronto—plus two travel days, and although Bellamy had felt surprisingly recharged after an afternoon in the sun with CC, despite the lack of a nap, now he was sweaty and disappointed and feeling the pressure from Coach Madolora.

Bellamy hopped over the boards for what he suspected would be his final shift of the night, hoping to make a difference. If a team was lucky enough—and skilled enough—sometimes sixty seconds was all it needed for a couple of back-to-back-goals. Other times it was a struggle to keep the opposing team from your goalie.

Tampa was so on fire tonight that it was almost like the Trailblazers were standing still. Bellamy was back on the bench in less than a minute, breathing like he’d skated for five times that long. Coach rotated between the first and second lines for the final two minutes of the game, but even their best players couldn’t match Tampa’s energy. The Trailblazers lost, much to the delight of the fans in the arena.

In the locker room, Coach gave a rousing we’ll-get-them-next-time speech before announcing they’d be watching video of tonight’s game when they landed in Detroit tomorrow.

“So we can pick apart everything that went wrong today,” Coach said, not unkindly. “Get some rest. Be ready for the bus at six a.m.”

“Six a.m.,” CC said with a groan. “I really hate six a.m.”

“You hate everything before ten,” Hughes told him.

Bellamy snorted a laugh and unlaced his skates. “Must make being a hockey player difficult for you.”

“I do like the pre-game naps, though,” CC said with a grin.

“You didn’t take one today.”

“I usually don’t in warmer climates. I’d rather get some sun than be stuck in a cold hotel room.”

Hughes looked over at Bellamy from over CC’s head. “He spent the first years of his life in Panama. Sun acts like an energy drink for him.”

“Cool,” Bellamy said. “I didn’t know that.”

CC nodded. “My mom is Panamanian.”

“Well, fuck a duck.” Gaff waved his notebook in the air, the one he used to collect the pre-game bets. “Colter Clarke, my friend. You won.”

“Won what?” CC asked, muffled through his jersey as he pulled it over his head.

“Tonight’s bet. Which nets you...” Gaff consulted his notebook. “Eight hundred and forty dollars.”

CC’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“You bet you’d cry four times and you cried four times. Unless someone else saw a fifth I didn’t clock?”

Naked but for a towel slung around his waist, Dabbs made for the showers. “I don’t think any of us were paying close enough attention to say for certain one way or the other,” he said over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

“Gimme.” CC held out a hand.

Gaff dropped the envelope of money into it. “Congratulations.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Bellamy asked.

“Drinks on me tonight, boys!”

Everyone cheered, though Bellamy found it hard to muster the energy to do anything but crawl into bed. “I don’t think a late night is going to help your hatred of six a.m.”

“It’s fine,” CC said. “Drinking my sorrows over tonight’s loss away will help.”

Bellamy couldn’t help but laugh. “I doubt that.”

They ended up at their hotel’s rooftop lounge, a bunch of well-dressed hockey players with no regard for the upcoming early morning wakeup call. After ten on a Monday, the place was virtually deserted, but according to Dabbs, this wasn’t the team’s first post-game foray to the lounge, and the staff knew how to handle them. Some of the Tampa players joined them too, and they took up every seat in the place.

They got kicked out at midnight—in the politest way imaginable—so the lounge could close for the night. True to his word, CC paid for everyone’s drinks, but Bellamy noticed he used his credit card instead of the cash he’d won.

“What are you actually going to do with your winnings?” Bellamy asked him on the elevator ride down to their floor. They were piled in with Dabbs and Hughes, everyone else having already returned to their rooms.

CC pumped his eyebrows. “Pay off my credit card.”

“Liar.” Hughes bumped their shoulders and winked at Bellamy. “He’s probably already donated three times what he won to his favorite charity. They provide resources for new immigrants.”

The elevator dinged as the doors slid open on their floor, and CC pushed Hughes out with an eye roll. “Stop giving away all my secrets. Night, guys.”

“Night,” Bellamy and Dabbs called after them.

Dabbs claimed the bathroom first, so Bellamy flopped face-first onto his bed and fished out his phone.

He had a missed text from Jason. From several hours ago.

Jason:

Sorry about the loss. Can you talk?

Aw, fuck. Bellamy had missed him. Scrambling up, he fumbled a quick response.

Bellamy:

I missed your text! I went out with the team for drinks after the game and things were a little hectic. Don’t suppose you’re still awake?

His phone rang a minute later.

“I didn’t expect you to still be up,” Bellamy said by way of hello. His stomach fluttered like this was his first crush, and he flopped onto his back, grinning at the ceiling.

“I’m on my way home,” Jason said in his ear.

“From . . . darts at the pub?” Bellamy guessed.

“No,” Jason said with a laugh. “I have a class at UNH on Monday afternoons. I ended up staying late to speak with my thesis advisor, and then I went out for dinner and drinks with some classmates.”

“Are you driving?”

“I’m on the hands-free.”

“Good, but should you be on the phone anyway? On dark and winding Vermont roads at midnight?”

“It’s fine. I’m almost home. How was your day? Aside from the loss, I mean.”

“Good.” Bellamy stretched his arms over his head. “It’s like late June in Vermont here. Summer weather.”

Jason whimpered. “Summer. I don’t think I remember what that is.”

Bellamy chuckled, the warmth of Jason’s voice in his ear sending those butterflies into a flying frenzy. “You will soon enough. Hey, we never finished that conversation from the other night.”

“Which one?”’

“About you coming over for dinner when I get back.”

“Fuck, I want to.”

“What’s holding you back?”

Silence on the other end, aside from the distant drone of car tires on pavement.

The butterflies in Bellamy’s stomach froze. He swallowed hard. “Ryland.”

“Ryland,” Jason confirmed. “I told myself I wouldn’t let his feelings get in the way of us, but...”

“He’ll be mad.”

“Yeah, but I can handle mad. The problem is, he’ll be hurt too, and...” A sound of frustration. “He’s my little brother. I never want to do anything to hurt him, but I can already see his thought process. ‘What the fuck, Jase? You’re dating a person I hate?’” Another frustrated sound. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“That he hates me? It’s not new information.” A knot of dread formed in Bellamy’s chest at the same time that his stomach swooped over Jason’s use of the word dating . “Do we need to...” His throat closed, and he tried again. “Do we need to take a step back from this?”

“No,” Jason said, so quickly and confidently that the knot in Bellamy’s chest eased. “Because I don’t want to let him get in the way of this. Which means I need to approach this delicately with him. I need to tell him about us sooner rather than later. The longer I wait, the more likely he’ll find out on his own if someone happens to snap a photo of us together and puts it online.”

Biting his lip around a grin, Bellamy’s heart threatened to soar out of his chest. “So... we’re officially dating then?”

“Well . . . I mean . . . I just figured . . .” Jason blew out an audible breath. “Wow, Jason. Open mouth, insert foot.”

Bellamy’s laugh held a hint of hysteria, and fatigue and happiness mixed together to make him lightheaded. “No, that’s what I want. To date.”

“Oh. Okay. Well . . . good.”

“Good.”

Silence settled between them for a moment. The sound of tires petered out as Jason no doubt parked in his driveway.

“Hey, Bel?”

“Hmm?”

“I’d love to come for dinner.”

There was that lightheadedness again. “Good.”