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CAM

Sitting on the couch in Pittsburgh Rebels pajamas, Zane furrowed his brow at the TV. “Dad’s having a bad night.”

Beside him, Zach scowled and nodded.

They weren’t wrong—Trev was on another planet. He’d been playing so well after that bumpy first night, but now… Jesus. We weren’t the only ones who noticed, either.

“I’m not sure what’s going on with Trevor Allen tonight,” a commentator said. “He hasn’t had a single shot this game, and he seems to be going for a new personal record for turnovers. And if Petrovich hadn’t been on his toes, there would’ve been an own goal against Pittsburgh for sure.”

“I don’t know, Joel,” the other replied as the camera watched Trev and three other players battling for the puck against the wall. “But I tell you what, if I’m Coach Larson and my second line center is playing like this tonight, he’s playing on the fourth line in the next game.”

“Or he’s spending some time on the bench,” the first said. “Because this isn’t what anyone expects from Trevor Allen.”

“Well, I hope Tim Chatsworth is ready for some second line minutes, because he’s probably getting promoted soon.”

“Then let’s hope Allen gets his head together, because Chats on a good day still doesn’t hold a candle to Allen on an off day.”

The commentators continued remarking on whether Trev or Chats was worthy of that spot and how the team was in trouble if Chats was the best they could do to take Trev’s place.

As they yammered on, Zane frowned. “I don’t like it when they talk about Dad like that.”

“I don’t either,” I admitted. “It isn’t nice.”

“They just don’t like him because they can’t play like him,” Zach declared.

“Is that right?”

He nodded sharply, glaring hard at the screen. “Dad’s boyfriend says that announcer guy was healthy-scratched more than he ever played.”

“Oh really?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

“It means he was benched,” Zane said in that “oh my God, what did you think it means?” tone that kids did oh so well.

“Oh,” I said. “So he sat on the bench most games instead of playing hockey?”

“Duh,” Zach said with total seriousness. “His team wanted to win. ”

I snorted. These were definitely Trev’s children.

But this was also definitely not Trev’s night, and I was worried. When we’d exchanged texts this morning, he’d been himself. Later, though, his responses were brief and kind of… disengaged? Not like he was blowing me off, but like his heart wasn’t in it.

Just like his heart wasn’t in the game right now.

My stomach knotted with worry. As the camera followed Trev skating toward the bench with a defeated look on his face, that worry intensified.

Where are you tonight, Trevor?

I wasn’t any less worried when the game was over. They’d gone into overtime, and ultimately lost in a shootout. None of Trev’s mistakes had been terribly costly tonight, aside from some turnovers that had resulted in scoring chances, but he hadn’t really helped much either.

When he FaceTimed with the boys after the game, he looked and sounded exhausted. Still obviously thrilled to see them, but like he was ready to collapse, too. And I didn’t think it was just from the game.

While I supervised the twins brushing their teeth afterward, I texted him.

Hey. Want to FaceTime again? With just me?

The reply came as I was tucking the boys in, and I read it after I’d stepped out into the hall.

Yes please. In my hotel room now.

Give me a minute.

I headed into my own bedroom, shut the door, lay back on my bed, and sent the FaceTime request.

One thing became apparent the instant he was on the screen—the smile he’d put on during his call with the boys had been doing a lot of heavy lifting. Now that he wasn’t trying to pretend everything was okay, the fatigue really came through.

“Hey,” I said. “I wanted to ask without the boys around—are you okay?”

Trev sighed and wiped a hand over his face, letting even more exhaustion come through. “Yeah. It was just a rough fucking night.”

“So I noticed.”

He grunted. “Bet Zach and Zane noticed too.”

I acknowledged that with a subtle nod but added, “They’re absolutely sure your next game will be better, though.”

His smile was halfhearted at best. “Glad they still have faith in me.”

“Of course they do.” I paused. “What’s going on, though? Just an off night, or…?”

Trev stared at something off-camera for a moment.

Then he deflated a little more. “What’s going on is that playing on the same team as my ex’s new boyfriend fucking sucks.

” Trev sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“And the fact that he’s a dick about it…

” He trailed off, waving his hand. “I don’t know what to do. ”

I winced. “That really sucks. Doesn’t anyone do anything?”

He gestured dismissively. “My teammates got on his ass about it. I’m sure he’ll cut back a little around other people, but any chance he gets, he smirks at me and just gives me these looks…” Trev rolled his eyes and growled something the phone didn’t pick up. “I’m so sick of his bullshit.”

“What about your coaches, though? I’m surprised they let that kind of crap slide.”

Trev pursed his lips. “I think they know. They definitely know I’m… off my game. But I’m not sure I actually want to bring it up to them.”

“Why not? Because of everything you said about it affecting other queer players?”

“That, and also because at the end of the day, if they want to separate us…” His shoulders slumped. “If they want to separate us, they’ll have a much easier time unloading me than him.”

I stared at him. “What? But… I mean, you’re on the second line and your stats are way better. Why would they keep him?”

Trev exhaled as if this whole line of conversation exhausted him. “The short version is that I signed my extension while we were low on cap space. In theory, I could probably be pulling another million, maybe even a million and a half every year.”

I whistled. “Damn.”

“Eh.” He shrugged as if $1.5 million wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Then Chats came onboard. The thing is, we’d just lost one of our most expensive players to free agency and the second most expensive had retired.

Our GM had cap space burning a hole in his pocket, and that was when there were still some concerns that Martin wouldn’t come back after his hip surgery.

” He blew out a breath and rolled his eyes.

“So instead of chasing down some top-notch players or signing players he could use for trades, he signed Chats for way more than he’s worth. ”

“Ooh, so it was like a perfect storm.”

“Yep. An injured captain, a stupid GM, and a cocky bottom six forward who was happy to relieve the team of valuable cap space.”

“Your GM sounds like a dumbass.”

“He was. Oh God, he was. Fortunately, they fired him last season.” Trev rolled his eyes. “Shame they didn’t drop the axe before he traded a future Hall-of-Fame goalie, let a generational talent defenseman walk during free agency, and signed Chats to a six-year deal.”

“Holy shit,” I breathed.

“Right?” Trev scratched the back of his head, then let his hand fall into his lap. “So if shit really hits the fan and they want to separate us, it’s going to be a lot easier to offload the cheap top six forward with a year left on his contract than the overpriced bottom six with four years left.”

“That sounds…” I made a face. “Would they really do that? I mean, can’t they like fire him or something?”

“They can terminate his contract for cause, but I don’t think they’d go that far with this. Not unless it gets really out of hand and starts disrupting the locker room.”

I inclined my head. “It isn’t doing that already?”

He made a noncommittal noise. “We’re a couple of grown-ass adults. I doubt the club is interested in policing something like this. They’re probably just quietly hoping we’ll unfuck it ourselves without anyone having to intervene.”

“Do you think that’s doable?”

“Maybe? I’m just trying to stay away from him as much as I can. I really just need to learn to ignore him. This is… I don’t know. It’s just childish, being this fucked up over someone acting like an asshole.”

I wanted to tell him that wasn’t true at all. That he shouldn’t have to just knuckle through one of his teammates being a jerk. It wasn’t childish to be pissed off that a coworker was creating a hostile work environment.

I got it, though. Even if it was perfectly justified, it felt childish. Been there, done that, in the time between my breakup and when Daniel had gotten me fired.

I wished more than anything I could hug Trev right now. Being this far away when he was this out of sorts—that was frustrating.

Before I could say anything, Trev pressed back against the headboard and swallowed. “I think I’d be a lot less fucked up over this if I wasn’t also struggling with being away from the kids.”

Oh. Oh. Yeah. That would throw someone off the rails.

“I bet that’s hard,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say. “They’re looking forward to you being home, though.”

His smile wasn’t even close to halfhearted. “They’ll be at Bryan’s when I get back.”

My heart sank. “They will? Oh. Right. Yeah, they will.”

Frowning, he nodded. “And they’ll come back to my house just in time for me to go on another road trip.”

“Jesus. Bryan won’t let you adjust the custody agreement at all? Not even with this many road trips on top of each other?”

“Not without going back to court,” he muttered. “And if we do that, I suspect he’s going to try to angle for full custody.”

“Do you think he’d get it?”

“Don’t know.” Trev looked right at me. “But I don’t want to take the chance and find out.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can understand that. At least it’s only for half the year. Once the season’s over, you’ll be home.”

“That’s true. I just hope they can wait that long. Like they don’t start thinking I’m?—”

“They don’t,” I said gently. “Trust me.”

His eyes begged me to mean that.

“They don’t,” I repeated. “They’ll be thrilled when you get home. I promise.”