Page 13

TWELVE

The team potluck dinner was being held at Roman Kinsey’s—the team’s director of player engagement. It was, Bellamy had learned, a bi-annual thing that Roman had started way back in his first season playing for the Trailblazers.

Roman’s waterfront home wasn’t much to look at on the outside—a modest two-story rectangle with red siding and white trim—but the inside was all hardwood flooring and family photos on the walls and children’s artwork on the fridge. Homey and bright and welcoming despite the gray day and the torrential rain.

Bellamy and Jason were half an hour late, owing to Jason being delayed—“Had to ask my professor a question after class,” Jason had said—but nobody seemed to notice, too busy chatting or eating or corralling wayward children.

Per the Come on in, Trailblazers sign taped to the front door, they’d let themselves in, eventually following most of the noise to the kitchen.

Bellamy looked from the overloaded table to the dish in his hands to the dish in Jason’s and mentally scratched his head.

“Maybe next time we don’t bring anything,” Jason murmured, clearly having the same where the hell should I put this dilemma as Bellamy.

Bellamy bit back a smile at the next time thing.

“Here, just move this,” CC said, emerging out of somewhere. He pushed a few dishes closer together on the table. “And consolidate these onto one plate.” He did just that, adding Tostitos and naan chips to a plate half-filled with crackers. “And voila. Space for two dishes. Also, hi. ’Bout time you arrived. I’m bored.”

Bellamy chuckled. He wedged his baked mac and cheese next to a seven-layer dip and added Jason’s spinach and artichoke dip that Bellamy had made next to it. “Somehow I doubt that. Where’s Hughes?”

“Talking golf with Dabbs and Roman. Who even likes golf anyway?” CC shot a hand toward Jason. “Hey. I’m CC.”

Jason took his hand with an easy smile. “Jason. I’m with him,” he said, giving a head jerk toward Bellamy.

And didn’t that make Bellamy want to kiss him stupid, right here in front of everyone.

CC gaped at Bellamy. “Seriously? You’re dating someone already? But you just got here. I’ve been here five years and I’m as single as the day I arrived.”

Bellamy squinted at him. “Are you?”

“Um, yes .”

Huh. He’d thought maybe there was something between CC and Hughes, but maybe not.

As if he’d conjured him, Hughes came up behind CC. Resting his palm on CC’s lower back, he gave a chin nod to Bellamy and held out a hand to Jason. “Michael Hughes.”

“This is my boyfriend, Jason,” Bellamy said. A zing shivered up his spine. Boyfriend . He liked that word. And he figured since Jason hadn’t objected to it the first time he’d said it, he could keep using it at will. “And this is our team captain, Kyle Dabbs.”

“I go by Dabbs,” Dabbs said with a smile for Jason as he used a pair of tongs to add cold cuts to a bread bun he’d sliced in half. “Can’t remember the last person aside from my mom who called me Kyle.” His gaze narrowed on Jason. “Have we met before? You look familiar. You play hockey?”

“No, but my brother does,” Jason said. “Ryland Zervudachi.”

Dabbs’ eyebrows flew up to his hairline.

CC whistled low, and Hughes muttered a very accurate, “Well, shit.”

Jason nodded, his smile becoming a little forced. “Guess you guys know him?”

“We’ve played in tournaments together,” Dabbs said. “He’s very... zealous.”

Jason loosed a genuine laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Did Ryland’s head fly off when he found out about this?” CC asked, waving a hand between Bellamy and Jason.

“He doesn’t know. So if you could...” Bellamy made a slicing motion across his throat. “Not mention it? That’d be great.”

“At least until I’ve had a chance to talk to him,” Jason amended.

CC raised both hands. “He won’t hear it from me. I barely know the guy.”

“And it’s none of our business anyway,” Hughes rumbled. He gave another chin nod, this time at a slender man a couple of inches shorter and a handful of years older than Bellamy. He approached with a dark-haired kid on his back who couldn’t have been more than four or five. He had fair skin—the man, not the kid—dark blond hair, and pale blue eyes behind trendy glasses. “Hey, Cody,” Hughes said.

“Oh,” Bellamy said, recognizing the name. “Roman’s husband.”

“That’s me.” Cody smiled, making the freckles across his nose and the tops of his cheeks shift. “And you must be Bellamy Jordan.”

“Yeah. And this is my boyfriend, Jason. Thanks for having us.”

“Glad you could make it. Help yourselves to some food, and there are drinks in the cooler over there. Beer, juice, soft drinks, and we did have wine, but I think Gaff drank the last of it.”

“He’s a wine snob,” CC told Bellamy before drifting away. Hughes followed after him, because of course he did.

“And who’s this?” Jason asked, waving at the kid on Cody’s back.

“Our son, Quinn.”

Quinn gave a gap-toothed smile before hiding his head in Cody’s neck.

Cody shook his head, but his eyes held nothing but love. “He likes to pretend he’s shy.”

“Hey, Quinny.” Roman Kinsey himself appeared, all six feet of him with his shaved head, nose and eyebrow piercings, and full sleeve of tattoos on his right arm. At thirty-nine, he was as built as he’d been when he’d retired three years ago, after eleven and a half seasons as a Trailblazer.

Eleven and a half seasons. Bellamy had never seen two with any one team. Envy tightened his chest, but Quinn’s squeals of delight when Roman tickled him lightened his mood.

“Ella’s downstairs with some of the other kids,” Roman told his son, carefully placing him on the floor. “Why don’t you go play with them?”

Quinn scampered off, giggling.

Cody handed Jason a plate. “Help yourself. You vegetarian? If not, I recommend the beef skewers.” He led Jason to the other side of the table.

“That your guy?” Roman asked Bellamy.

There was something so quietly confident about him that simply standing next to him made Bellamy a little starstruck. “Uh, yeah. That’s Jason.”

“Ryland Zervudachi’s brother.” It wasn’t a question. Roman gave Bellamy an assessing look. “If that’s going to blow up on social media, your coach, GM, and the public relations people all need to know sooner rather than later.”

Well, shit, to quote Hughes. Bellamy hadn’t even thought of that. His sexuality wasn’t a secret, so that wasn’t the problem. The problem was Ryland making a stink over Bellamy and Jason’s relationship and things blowing up in the media before they’d had a chance to control the narrative.

Before he could go too deep down that rabbit hole, Roman continued. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now, see how you’re settling in. How are things going? Are your teammates treating you right?”

“They’ve been great. CC and Dabbs especially have been super welcoming. Dabbs and I are even neighbors now.”

Roman grunted. “I heard. I’ve been telling him for years that his dogs wouldn’t fly under the radar forever. It was just a matter of time before his landlord found out about them. You have any pets?”

“No. But I’ve always wanted a cat.”

Another grunt. “If you decide to get one, let me know. I have people who can pet-sit, board, or drop in for a visit while you’re on the road.”

“Oh, that’s . . . useful.”

Roman’s bark of a laugh landed like a dull thud. “Is there anything I can help you with? Anything you need?”

“Aside from my car?”

“It hasn’t arrived yet?” Roman pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Why the fuck is it taking so fucking long?” He made a note—possibly a reminder—then tucked his phone away with yet another grunt. “I’ll follow up first thing tomorrow. It should’ve been here by now.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Now grab some food and go mingle. And then grab more food, otherwise me and Cody and the kids are going to be eating this for the next two weeks.”

“Actually...” Bellamy looked around for Jason, a jolt of contentment and yes, maybe a smidge of love, rattling through him when he found Jason laughing with his teammates nearby. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What do I have to do to stay here?”

Roman quirked one eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You know my history,” Bellamy said with a shrug. “You know I’ve never been on a team long enough to call it home. So what do I have to do to stay on this team?”

“You like playing for the Trailblazers that much?”

“Yes,” Bellamy freely admitted, although the Trailblazers were only part of the reason he wanted to stay. His grandparents were a big part too, and Jason...

Jason was Jason .

“They’re the most welcoming team I’ve ever played for,” he said. “Usually I get traded and it takes days, if not weeks, to form any chemistry with my teammates, and the guys are... not cold exactly. But aloof. Pissed that one of their own got traded and they ended up with me instead. The Trailblazers are like...”

“A very large family?”

“Exactly.”

“I worked damn hard to make it that way.”

Bellamy’s jaw dropped. “ You did?”

“Right from the beginning.” Roman let out a sardonic laugh. “Almost from the beginning. I was made team captain after my first season, and I didn’t take that lightly. I wanted people to feel welcome, like they belonged, like they mattered, like they were being heard.”

God. It was like a fairy tale. Bellamy’s throat burned and he had to swallow past the lump before desperation made him beg this man to let him stay.

“The organization has been very careful to hire coaches who are willing to promote that kind of culture,” Roman went on. “It’s why we see so few trades. They happen, don’t get me wrong. But we’re trying to foster an environment where people like each other on and off the ice, and that doesn’t happen by trading half the team before the season is over.” Kinsey stepped aside as someone’s kid ran into the kitchen, snagged a bread bun, and disappeared just as quickly.

“Right, so...” Bellamy rubbed his forehead, every part of his body aching to belong —to the Trailblazers, to Jason, to Burlington, to his teammates. All of it. He wanted all of it. “How do I make sure I’m not one of those few trades?”

“You’re already doing it, Bel,” Roman said gently, as though he understood what it was like to want and want and want . To try and try and try . To reach and reach and reach but always have the goal slip right through desperate fingers. “You fit right in with your teammates, you play good hockey, you listen to your coaches, you show up when you’re asked to. You’ve even told Ryland Zervudachi to silently shove it by not responding when he antagonizes you. That takes character, Bel, to walk away when all you want to do is fight back.”

Bellamy didn’t know what to say or how to feel or even what to do with his hands, so he shoved them in his jeans pockets and nodded mutely.

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.” Roman ran a hand over his shaved head. “You want a magic solution that will convince the front office to let you stay. But there isn’t one. All you can do is what you’re already doing and maybe, at some point, negotiate a no movement or no trade clause into your contract.”

Bellamy’s snort of disbelief was inelegant to say the least. “Fat chance of that happening.”

“Hey.” Roman bumped their elbows together. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Daaaaaaaaad.” A girl stomped up to Roman. She was older than Quinn, though Bellamy couldn’t tell by how many years. She was maybe six? Seven? She had deep brown eyes and blond hair that fell to her waist in tangled curls.

“Ellaaaaaaaaa,” Roman repeated in the same whiny voice.

Ella clenched her tiny fists. “Quinn stole my jelly beans.”

“So steal them back.”

Bellamy didn’t quite bite back a laugh.

“But he ate them,” Ella said, cheeks red with annoyance.

“Go steal his jelly beans then.”

“That is terrible advice,” Cody said with a laugh as he joined them. He stabbed a finger in Roman’s direction. “You’re never allowed to give advice ever again.”

“Eh.” Roman shrugged, his olive-green eyes lit with humor. “We both know who’s good cop and bad cop in this family.”

Shoulders shaking with silent laughter, Cody pointed at Roman again. “You, no more advice. And you—” He turned to Ella. “No more jelly beans. You guys ate almost the entire bag. Here.” He grabbed a beef skewer from the table. “Have this instead.”

She wrinkled her nose at it, but she took it with a grumbled “Fine” before marching away and disappearing through a door Bellamy presumed led downstairs.

Cody faced Roman and planted his hands on his hips, clearly fighting a smile. “‘Go steal his jelly beans’? Really?”

“It’s what I would’ve done,” Roman said, grabbing the front of Cody’s T-shirt and tugging him closer.

“Of course you would’ve.”

Feeling decidedly like the third wheel, Bellamy left them alone and finally made himself a plate to eat, piling it high with a little bit of everything. Once he’d done that, he searched for Jason, eventually finding him in the living room with Gaff and a few other teammates. They were all giggling about something, and Bellamy faltered, that third-wheel sensation kicking in again.

But then Gaff beckoned him over with a drawled “Yo, Belster, get over here. You have to hear this.” And Jason smiled at him like he’d been waiting for him to show up, and now that he was here, everything was right in his world. He patted the couch next to him, as though he’d been saving that seat for Bellamy.

Bellamy went.

What else could he do when everything he wanted was right there for him to grasp for as long as he was allowed to hold on to it?