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“So what happened with your parents after all of this went down?” Dakota asked, because he wasn’t sure how the hell to answer Gavin’s question about if he’d properly apologized to his brother. “After Thad was arrested and went to prison?”

His heart ached for both Gavin and Thad, and all they’d been through. What a horribly messy, complicated situation.

“Ugh.” Gavin tipped his head back and sighed. “They told me I’d destroyed our family. Called me selfish.”

He swallowed hard enough Dakota could hear it, his throat working for a moment before he spoke. “They told me never to come home. That I was dead to them.”

“Oh, Gavin.” Dakota reached out, threading their fingers together and squeezing. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you blame them?”

“Yeah, I do,” Dakota said. “Because they should have listened to you about what actually happened.”

He shrugged. “They already believed I was a lost cause, that my behavior was out of control. This was proof they were right.”

“Okay, but …” Dakota shook his head. “They should have believed you that Thad falsely confessed.”

Gavin looked away. “They never gave me the chance to tell them.”

“Well, they should have given you that!”

“Why? I’d already proven what a fuckup I was.”

“You were still their kid!” Dakota protested. “They should have given you a chance to tell your side of the story.”

He shrugged. “Even if they had, I doubt they would have believed me when I’d already lied to them a thousand times. About where I was going and who I was with and what kind of shit I was up to. They had no reason to trust me.”

“Gavin, why do you want to see the worst in yourself?” he pressed.

“Because I don’t deserve any better,” he snapped.

“Of course you do! Jesus, haven’t you gone to therapy or anything?”

“Uh, for a while, yeah.” Gavin swallowed. “But it wasn’t until later. After I was done playing hockey.”

“Okay.” Dakota frowned. “So what happened there?”

“I, uh, I played for Montreal Thunderwolves AHL team for a while. My head was a mess, but I kept trying to convince myself I was doing the right thing, doing it for my brother, you know? I managed to do well enough to get my cup of coffee in the NHL but I—I felt so fucking guilty the whole time. I didn’t deserve to be there. I should have been in prison and Thad should have been skating for LA but instead, I was living my dream, and he was rotting in some cell. It was so fucked up. My play went to shit and I … I couldn’t fucking do it any longer. The guilt was eating me alive. I was actually fucking relieved when they finally sent me back down.”

Dakota squeezed his hand.

“It all fell apart after. I spiraled. I went back to the partying and the drugs and the fucking around. I figured what did it matter? What was the point of anything? Needless to say, that didn’t exactly impress the team, and after it was clear I was totally checked out, they let me go.”

Dakota frowned. “Wait, but there’s the player assistance program, right? They help guys who are struggling. Weren’t you eligible for that? Or did that come after your time?”

Gavin managed a faint smile. “Calling me old again, huh?”

Dakota shot him a look. “You know I’m not.”

“No, the program had been established by then. But it’s voluntary. You have to want to get help. And I—I didn’t. Not then, anyway.”

“Oh.”

“So the team let me go.”

Dakota winced.

“Yeah, that went about as well for me as you’d expect. Things got even worse for a while. I was on a path to self-destruction until … until my former AHL coach—Norman Hardy—tracked me down in the off-season.”

Gavin smiled faintly. “Norm showed up at my front door and dragged me to a diner by my ear. I confessed some of it and we drank shitty coffee while he lectured me that I was disrespecting Thad by behaving this way. I didn’t—I didn’t want to hear it at first. Didn’t want to listen to what he said. But he—he had this gruff way about him. He was caring, but he didn’t tolerate any bullshit and something he said—it finally got through my thick skull I was … I was going to end up in prison or dead if I didn’t change something.”

Dakota offered him a small smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand again.

“Norm told me if I wanted to change, wanted to start over, he’d help me. He believed there was more to me than being a fuckup, a washed-up draft bust. And that’s how I found myself living in his spare room. He got me cleaned up, got me working out regularly again, and seeing a therapist. Once he was sure it was sticking, he pulled some strings to get me a position as an assistant scout.”

“He sounds like quite the guy.”

“He was.”

“So, do you feel like the therapy helped?”

Gavin nodded. “Yeah. For sure. I was able to get my life back on track. I got my own place again and Norm and my therapist, they convinced me to get a business degree.”

“While you were still working as a scout?”

“Yeah.” Gavin laughed ruefully. “I about killed myself trying to juggle both, but I did it. I suppose that’s when my overworking habits really kicked in.”

Dakota scoffed. “Oh, like you weren’t already driven? Come on, any kid who makes it to the NHL must already have a serious work ethic.”

“Sure,” Gavin agreed. “I did. But I took it to the next level then. I channeled everything into remaking myself, my life, my image. I got fit again, I started doing all this self-improvement stuff. I wanted people to see the new me. I wanted to prove I’d changed.”

Dakota nodded.

“After I had my degree, I was able to move up to a full-time scouting position, and then assistant GM with Concord and then, eventually, to the position I have now.”

“What you’ve done, it’s impressive,” Dakota said softly.

Gavin smiled faintly. “I couldn’t have done it without Norm.”

“Do you still stay in contact with him?”

“I did until he died last year.”

“Ahh, I’m sorry about that.” Dakota stroked his thumb across the back of Gavin’s hand.

“Thank you. He was a good man.” Gavin shook his head slowly. “He was wrong about one thing though.”

“What’s that?”

“That my family would forgive me.”

“Oh.”

“After I got the position in Concord, Thad was out of prison, and my life was on track again … I thought maybe if I reached out, they’d … maybe they’d be ready to forgive me, you know?”

“They didn’t?”

“No. They’d moved away, changed their numbers, but I was able to track them down again with the help of a PI. When I called, they hung up on me. I tried writing a letter, but they mailed it back to me, unopened.”

“Damn,” Dakota whispered.

“So, I gave up.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“They’ve forgiven Thad but—but I guess they’re never going to forgive me,” Gavin said hollowly.

“And you still feel guilty.”

“Yeah.” Gavin looked down at their clasped hands. “I suppose I always will.”

“Do you think maybe that’s why you go so hard all the time? Like, you’re punishing yourself?”

Gavin shrugged. “It’s possible. I’ve always been like this though. Ever since I was a kid. Whatever I do, I want to do it as fully and intensely as I can.”

“Fair enough.”

“But you might be right too,” Gavin said thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

“I understand why you feel guilty,” Dakota said softly. “But don’t you think it’s time to really sit down and talk to Thad about it? Clear the air, once and for all?”

“Probably.” Gavin sighed.

“Would you like me to help you?”

“Would you?” Gavin looked up, studying Dakota’s face.

Dakota nodded. “Of course. And, if it helps, I have some experience with … with complicated family situations. When Violet came out—our parents weren’t supportive. They didn’t understand her or what it meant to be trans. I was pissed at them at first—and rightly so because no matter what they should have supported her—but I eventually realized maybe there was a way I could help them understand.”

Gavin nodded.

“Violet—she didn’t need to take on anything else. She was just trying to live her life, you know? But I could be a bridge between them. I could do the hard work for her. And it took time, but they got there. Not in time to see Violet and Jeff get married, but in plenty of time to meet their first grandchildren.”

“That’s something.”

“It is.”

“And we all have regrets, especially my parents. But—but better late than never, right?”

“True.”

“So, I’m not pushing you to do this, Gavin. I don’t want us to have that kind of relationship. I don’t want to tell you what to do any more than I want you ordering me around. But I’m offering to help if you decide you want it. If you want to reconcile with your brother and you want my help, I’ll do my best.”

“Yeah,” Gavin said hoarsely. “I’d like that.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Gavin released a shuddering breath.

“How do you feel?” Dakota asked, sliding closer.

Gavin frowned, like he was seriously thinking about the question. “I don’t know. Relieved, mostly. This is really the first time I’ve told anyone the whole story in one go. With Norm, and in therapy, I guess it kinda trickled out in bits and pieces, little dribbles of information as I opened up.”

“You never told Rory?” Dakota asked, surprised.

“No. I think because he was so image-focused, I didn’t feel comfortable with it. I felt like—like if I did, he wouldn’t look at me the same anymore.”

Dakota winced, because that was not a healthy relationship. And while he didn’t have a good track record either, the longer he lived with his sister and her husband, the more he saw what kind of relationship he wanted. What it truly meant to be a supportive partner or spouse.

Bryce hadn’t been one for him. Rory hadn’t been one for Gavin either. But maybe they could be better together. Maybe opening up to each other this way was a sign they were on the right track.

“Are you glad you told me?” he asked.

Gavin nodded. “It’s a relief. I think there’s been this sort of underlying worry you’d find out somehow. That you’d be disappointed in me if you did.”

“Gavin, no,” Dakota said tenderly, reaching out to cup his cheek. His whiskers were sharp and prickly against his palm. “You making mistakes, you being human … that doesn’t disappoint me. Honestly, it makes me care about you more.”

He took a deep breath. “But now I need to tell you something.”

Gavin lifted his eyebrows and Dakota let his hand fall away. “What’s that?”

“I had a feeling there was more going on with the situation with your brother. After we went to the club in LA, I told you I thought Thad had seen us, right?”

“Yeah.” His brow was still furrowed and Dakota resisted the urge to smooth away the lines with his fingers.

“He—he said, ‘Be careful with my brother. He’s not who you think he is.’ At the time, I had no idea what he was talking about. But this was it, wasn’t it?”

Gavin nodded. “I assume so. I can’t think of anything else he’d mean. There are no more skeletons in my closet now, Dakota. You’ve met them all.”

“Good.” Dakota leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I don’t want there to be secrets between us. Not if we’re doing this for real.”

Gavin reached out, pulling him close, wrapping him up in a tight hug as he whispered. “I want this to be real.”

The hug felt good. Grounding, like it was anchoring Dakota to him. And he—he wanted that.

Dakota had been wary of letting himself get close to anyone, letting himself trust anyone.

He’d been afraid to let anyone see the messy parts of himself. It was a relief knowing Gavin had those messy parts too.

Gavin was so much more than a handsome, successful, polished man with a high-powered job, a daunting fitness routine, and what appeared to be the perfect life—albeit one that was slowly killing him.

He was more human now.

It was easier to imagine how their lives might fit together going forward.

“Thank you for telling me,” Dakota whispered. “I know you worried it would make me think less of you, but it didn’t. It only made me care for you more.”

“Dakota,” Gavin whispered against his hair, his voice strained, like he was too emotional to say any more.

But that was okay, because sometimes there was a place for words and sometimes there was a place for touch.

And as Dakota slid his hand up under Gavin’s shirt and tilted his head so their lips could softly meet, touch was what they both needed.