Page 36

THIRTY-FOUR

NIK

I line up in the tunnel, at the back with only Bear behind me, and the knowledge that the roadie is almost over gives me all the strength I need. And if I happen to need more during the game, the excitement of finally seeing the place Charlie grew up in would do.

Meeting his family now . . .

I’m excited about it, of course I am. But I’m more nervous.

Waaay beyond nervous.

It was one thing meeting his brothers—that happened in an unplanned way and I didn’t have the time to really think about what it meant. Charlie and I had been hooking up for only two weeks then.

This time the anticipation is killing me, and not in a good way.

The crowd boos the second Jules steps onto the ice, and I can’t help but smile. I love hockey fans, they’re a little bit insane, just like me.

But strangely, the booing stops and cheers go up in the stands when Charlie steps onto the rink right before me.

I glide onto the ice behind him and frown when I see Charlie waving at the crowd like a pageant queen.

He even claps back at them... What the hell? I’ve never had this happen anywhere. It is his hometown, I get that, but still.

They really love him.

After his victory lap he goes over to the net to stretch with Bear, something he started after he got back on the ice in Seattle, and my grumpy best friend doesn’t seem to mind, weirdly enough.

I go about my business and start on my two laps around the rink, getting my head focused on hockey and nothing but hockey.

I barely see my teammates warming up with me, until someone in the crowd across the ice catches my eyes.

It’s Lou, and he’s looking around happily when a stupid fuck bumps into him, and he was looking right at Finn’s boyfriend, so I know it was on purpose. I take my time going over, waiting to see how Lou reacts—who knows, it could be some weird friend—but then I see him flinch when the stupid fuck raises his palm, and I see red.

Slimeball doesn’t get the memo, and he taps his stupid hand to Lou’s now pale cheek just as I get there and slam the boards with all my strength .

The people around them all gasp in surprise, or maybe horror at my reaction, but I keep my enraged eyes on the stupid fuck.

With his attention on me, and damn does it feel good to see fear in his eyes, Lou manages to step back from his clutches.

“Fuck. Off,” I snap at the idiot. His eyes open wide and I see a tremor go through his body, but he doesn’t go the fuck away. “No?” I ask quietly, threateningly. “You need me to come out there and show you the way out?” I shout at him.

I feel Charlie stop next to me, but I don’t take my eyes off the stupid fuck who dared touch Lou. After a second, he pats my shoulder and moves away, so my guess is he’s going to find someone to get this motherfucker out of the arena.

If they’re not fast enough, though, I’m gonna make good on my words.

“I said. Fuck. Off. Before I come out there. Leave Lou alone,” I shout again.

“Wh-what?” dickwad stutters and rears back. “You know Lou?” he demands, like he has any right to demand any fucking thing from me.

“That’s none of your business, asshole.”

For some reason my words seem to give him the impression that he has the upper hand here. He stands taller, pulls his shoulders back, and tilts up his chin like an asshole.

“It is my business since he’s my boyfriend. ”

I scoff at the same time Lou screams, “No, I’m not. I’m not your anything, dickwad.” I smile a little at how in sync we are, and enjoy very much when I see Finn standing behind the asshole.

“Definitely not his boyfriend,” Finn says, with Beau behind him looking as angry as I feel.

The stupid fuck takes a step toward Finn, and I tense my legs in case I really do need to get over there. No one’s touching a hair on Finn’s head. Not on my watch.

But my intervention seems to be unnecessary because two security guards appear behind the twins and take the asshole away.

I smile at Lou when he looks at me, still a bit pale but less scared than he looked before, and I wink for good measure then get back to my warmup rituals.

The game is fun, not easy, but the Chicago players definitely have some healthy respect for Charlie, enough that they don’t block him as hard so Spiderman and Milkman both get assists from him and we win the game.

No one bats an eye when both of us say our goodbyes and let them know we’ll see them the day after tomorrow.

They’ve all come to expect and accept without question that we spend every second together. That’s definitely made the whole hiding thing easier.

Even if Bear’s looks have been getting a little too searching since the fight in LA. Even if I have maybe been avoiding spending time alone with him. It hasn’t been that hard.

Charlie and I go to the visiting team’s family room, which is tiny in every arena since it rarely gets used, and we find Charlie’s brothers and Lou there.

I’m taken off guard when Finn launches himself at me as soon as I walk through the door. I look around to see Lou’s amused smirk and then Charlie’s as well.

“Thank you,” is all Finn tells me.

I don’t quite know what to say or how to react but Lou buys me some time.

“Aww,” he croons. Then he seems to get himself under control. “Yes, Santa. Thank you for your intervention.” I nod at him and make sure he’s okay now, not scared or distressed in any way. When I’m satisfied, I turn to Charlie and tell him with a raised eyebrow that I’m ready to head home.

“Yes,” he answers my silent plea. “Should we go?” he asks the rest of the guys. “We have a flight tomorrow night and I want to spend as much time as possible at home.”

“You can stay at my place,” Beau shouts kind of desperately, but since Charlie has kept me up to date with his situation, I don’t blame him. Charlie nods at him, I shrug, and Finn claps his hands.

“Let’s hit the road, then.”

It takes us a bit over an hour to get to the town—Crushville—and I manage not to let my thoughts on the town’s name come out when we pass the sign welcoming us. No need to offend anyone before we even get there.

“We’re going to my mom’s place first,” Charlie tells me, speaking softly in the back of the car. Poor Lou’s squished between us, but he’ll soon get to stretch his legs.

Speaking of Lou... He’s looking out the windshield with a dreamy expression, and even sighs wistfully when we drive down what Charlie tells me is Main Street. Looks like a normal street to me, but okay.

I guess it does have a lot of businesses on the sidewalks, all lit up, and it looks clean and well taken care of.

That’s nice.

I see a bar advertising that they make their own vodka, and that gets my attention. But after one turn and two tiny blocks, Beau’s parking the car in the driveway of an idyllic looking home.

Charlie told me how he bought his mom the house with his first paycheck from the NHL, and I see now that they chose the warmest looking one.

If I weren’t standing in front of it and seeing it with my own two eyes, I’d think it was fake, made for a movie, or something someone imagined.

There are flower beds by the front windows and a flower wreath hanging on the dark wood front door.

The front lawn has a set of swings that look like they’re actually used regularly, and there’s a mat to wipe your feet that reads, “Home Is Where a Heart Is. ”

I remember Charlie saying those exact words to his brothers when they came to visit him in Vegas. He said their grandfather—the oldest Heart—said it to them all their lives.

It seems too perfect to be true.

Too full of love.

Why does that have to be painful for me?

Why can’t it be only a warm sentiment?

The answer comes in the form of a buzz in my jeans the moment I step into the house right behind Beau. I grit my teeth against the urge to break my phone into a million pieces—that won’t do me any good—and then I focus on what really matters. Making sure Charlie’s mom falls absolutely in love with me.

Or at least making her like me enough that she doesn’t cry in horror when Charlie tells her we’re together.

I’d be good with that too.

Helen Heart looks a lot younger than the fifty-two years Charlie told me she’s lived. Her light brown hair is bundled up in a bun on top of her head, and she has an e-reader in her hand as she reaches up to hug Charlie. Even with her eyes closed, I can see the love she has for her oldest child just in the serene smile on her face.

“You had such a good game, honey,” she says with a little cheer in her voice when she steps back. Then her surprisingly blue eyes clash with mine over Charlie’s shoulder, and somehow her smile gets wider.

“Santa,” she cries and pushes Charlie aside so she can do a little run toward me with her arms outstretched, ready to wrap me in them.

I brace myself for her to change her mind and slap me for being mean to her son, but no. She stays true to her course and forces me to bend over when she gets a good grip on my shoulders.

She kisses my cheek noisily then hugs me as well. For a long moment too, not just a quick hug.

I feel the warmth penetrate my very soul then.

A mom hug... It’s always been something I’ve missed.

Closest I’ve gotten has been the few times Gab has hugged me for real, and that only happened when we won the Stanley Cup.

So I try not to beat myself up too much over the sudden dampness in my eyes, and instead I enjoy it.

“Your home is beautiful,” I murmur in her ear, then reluctantly let go of her when she steps back.

“Aren’t you sweet,” she croons and pats my cheek tenderly.

“I apologize for not bringing anything. They didn’t agree to stop so I could buy some flowers.”

Amusement fills her eyes even before I’m finished talking, so I know she saw right through me—I had to try, though.

“Oh, bullshit,” Beau cries from a very cozy-looking living room. “He’s full of pure bullshit, Mom.”

With the amusement firmly in place, she turns to her sons .

“I cannot believe you three. Poor man has come all this way to meet me and you won’t let him get me flowers. I wonder who raised you some days, let me tell you.” Her voice is full of laughter she can’t hide, but she still gives the performance her all by slapping her hands on her hips.

“I knew you were going to be on his side,” Charlie sighs with a shake of his head. “I’ll never be free now.” His words are super casual, but I have to hold my breath.

Is he going to do it now?

I don’t know if I’m ready for that. What if they change their minds about me during dinner? Or tomorrow? What if I say one of those insane things that come into my head and out of my mouth without my control? What if they hate me for how awful I was to Charlie at the start of the?—

“Free of what, honey?” Helen asks with a tilt to her head.

I feel my eyes open wide in panic when Charlie looks over to me, a serene smile on his face.

He has no doubts.

God knows why, he should probably get his head checked, but there’s not a single trace of doubt or hesitation in his expression.

“Free of his crazy ass,” he says with joy in every word, then he points at me. “If you like him now, you’re going to lose your head when you find out he’s my boyfriend, and then you’re never gonna let me break up with him.”

My lungs burn with the need for air, but there’s no way I can unfreeze to suck a breath in. All I can do is watch as eyes open... as realization hits them all.

“Did you just say he’s your boyfriend?” Beau asks slowly.

“I did,” Charlie answers back, calm as a lake and cool as a cucumber, the bastard.

“You gotta have a death wish,” Finn murmurs, and dread starts to cave my soul in.

Until I notice where his gaze is.

Pointed right at my crotch.

As one, Lou, Beau, and Helen —oh my God, I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole—all turn to look at my crotch as well, and I don’t stifle the urge to put my hands over it.

“Huh,” is all Lou says, tilting his head to the side in assessment.

“Stop looking at his dick,” Charlie snaps at them, but there’s humor in his eyes.

Seeing that breaks me out of my frozen state. It makes the insecurity disappear—at least for now—and I’m back to being myself when my mouth reminds me I have no filter.

“He is not that brave... yet ,” I add with a leer his way.

Like puppets, they all turn to Charlie, who covers his face with both hands and groans.

“Stop.” He mumbles the plea.

That’s when Helen snickers, followed by Beau, and then the rest of us are laughing until all the tension evaporates from the house .

“All right, then,” Helen says over the twins’ laughter, and claps her hands. “Lou and Santa, you two come help me in the kitchen. I’m gonna be surrounded by gorgeous men while I put the finishing touches on dinner. Charlie, don’t kill your brothers, honey,” she says, sweet as can be, then she walks away.

I exchange a thankful glance with Charlie, then offer a small smile to his brothers, and finally follow Lou into the kitchen.

He launches right into the pre-game story of how I saved him from the stupid fuck, with Helen’s rapt attention on every detail he gives.

“I did not know that was your ex,” I tell him as I dry my hands after washing them. “If I had...” I trail off with a scowl.

“You could not have been scarier, Santa,” Lou tells me with impressed, wide eyes.

“Thank you,” I say, taking it as a compliment, then I pat his small head.

“Ugh, don’t do that,” he groans and steps back.

“But you are a tiny human,” I tell him with a shit-eating grin.

He scowls and slaps his hips with his hands like Helen did ten minutes ago, then he tilts his head back and looks up at me.

“I am not tiny ,” he argues from way down there. “I’m a normal-sized human. You’re the giant.”

I smirk at him .

“Am I, though?”

“You two are a riot,” Helen says from the other side of the counter where she’s stirring something awesome smelling on the stove. Lou grumbles a little but lets his arms fall to his sides. “Now get to work, we have hungry boys to feed.”

We follow her instructions like good little soldiers, and soon enough we’re bringing all the food over to the dining table in the other room.

There’s not much talking while we all pile our plates with food and get our first few bites in, but when there is, it has a different vibe to before.

“So...” Beau starts tentatively. “How’s this going to work?” He wags his fork, pointing from Charlie to me, then back.

“What do you mean?” Charlie asks with a frown. “Like every other relationship works,” he defends.

“I don’t mean that,” Beau tells him, clearly exasperated by the fact that Charlie can’t read his mind.

Same, honestly.

“He means that you’re teammates and the NHL is... not great about queer people, so what’s going on there? Are you gonna tell the world? Make a big splashy announcement on social media?” My face contorts painfully at that idea. I hate social media.

Nothing but mean people in my experience.

“No,” Charlie immediately responds, which I’m thankful for. “We actually thought...” He trails off and turns to me. I pry his hand from his knife and lace our fingers together, squeeze once for support, and take it from there.

“We don’t want to mess with the team’s mood. We did that already at the start of the season. I did that,” I amend, deciding on going full American since this is Charlie’s family and I want to be myself with them. “So we’re probably going to wait to tell them until the end of the season. And we won’t be making any announcements to the world. It’s none of their business.”

There’s a pointed moment of silence and then Finn shakes his head and talks again.

“I’m going to have a lot of questions eventually about that switcharoo you do with your accent, but is it even allowed? For two players to be in a relationship? Doesn’t the NHL have rules for that? Or maybe the Pirates?”

“There’s nothing in our contracts,” Charlie tells him easily. “And we researched as much as we could find about the NHL angle, and found nothing.” He takes a deep breath for another pause. “So we’re gonna ask you guys to keep it to yourselves, though we are telling everyone who’s going to lunch tomorrow, but no one outside the family.”

“We won’t tell anyone, honey,” Helen reaches over me and pats our still-joined hands.

“Thanks Mom.”

That small gesture from her, and those quiet words from Charlie, break something inside me. I excuse myself and ask where the bathroom is, and walk out of the room as fast as I can.

Not because I have to go. I don’t.

But there’s something else I need to do.

I take my phone out of my pocket, and open the text thread with Max.

I haven’t deleted his messages since Charlie’s brothers came to Vegas and Beau blew up my world with one story from years ago. Charlie hasn’t told me about it, though I have to figure his actions from back then flitted through his mind at least once when I told him what Max did.

I don’t need him to tell me about it; I know he remembers because I know him.

Deep down, I know who he is.

And the bitch of it is, I know who Max is deep down as well.

It might be guilt moving my fingers, but it’s something at least.

I read his texts from tonight.

Max

Great game!

You guys look amazing, love you.

And for the first time in the five years he’s been messaging me sporadically, I answer.