Page 46 of Off-Ice Misconduct (Daddies of the League #8)

Ace

D oes he know he know he wears Mom’s death on his face like that?

Or maybe I’m the only one who can see it.

The dad before—the one who called in sick to his own office to watch Friends reruns with me when I was sick and booed out the refs on my behalf at games—used to radiate joy.

The man across from me now, seated under the bright bistro lights, has tightness around his eyes that never fades.

Something always clenched as if smiling hurts.

Other than that, he looks good. Healthy, tan—he just got back from business in Hawaii—and a fit appearance that speaks of his gym dedication. He may not have been an athlete in the way Mom was and I am, but he works out religiously and plays a few recreational sports with friends.

I walked into this Sunday morning brunch on a high.

Last night with Luke was the best night of my life.

My world flipped upside down and rearranged itself.

I’m totally falling for him, and it’s something I’m getting more comfortable with all the time.

There isn’t something wrong with me. It was like Mom always said when she talked about “the right person”.

For Luke, all the scary shit’s worth facing.

None of those fears have left me, I’m just willing to face them.

For him. For us.

Do I tell Dad about Luke yet? Probably not. It’s still too new. And dating your professor is something to gently introduce to your dad, even to a very open one like mine.

Calm down, McKinnon. You’re acting like a second-grader with his first crush.

But we’ve done all our small talk shit, neither of us too keen to tread any deeper and start another argument, and I feel like I want to share something special with him. Maybe it would help us bond again? I miss what I used to have with Dad.

“I met someone,” I say.

He raises a brow because even before Mom died, I didn’t broach relationships. “And?”

“It’s, uh, it’s still new. But I’m seeing him officially.”

Both my parents are bisexual, so that helped a lot growing up.

For starters, I didn’t have to “come out” like a lot of people do, and they never assumed my sexuality.

When I didn’t relate to either the gay or straight crowds completely, I had them to talk to about it.

Bisexuals are a breed all our own, and they were able to teach me the ins and outs.

Because of my parents, I could relate and be authentically me.

Dad sets his fork down. “This is serious.”

“I think so. I’d like it to be,” I admit.

Dad sighs, and for once it’s not the tired kind.

Those features that were all tight? They soften, and there’s a flicker of that warmth I haven’t seen for months, maybe longer.

He’s … smiling and that unseeable connection that used to spark so easily wavers between us.

Even when Mom’s death was fresh, we had this—that feeling of “just us, two people who loved Mom, trying to get through the wreckage she left behind”.

We were heartbroken, but we were together.

“I’m, uh, I’m seeing someone, too.”

My fingers freeze mid-reach for my water. He’s what?

It’s natural for my hands to form into fists, squeezing until the knuckles turn white. A razor-sharp stab slices through my heart, and the air goes thin.

“What about Mom?” I ask. My voice isn’t loud, but it feels sharp. Dangerous.

“I’ll always love Grace. Forever. She would have wanted?—”

“It’s him, isn’t it? Your assistant.”

He flinches.

And then it comes in a flood, all the bits of information he’s trickled into our conversations, things about incense and ties. Fuck, Dad took up yoga because of the man, that should have been my tip off. Even Mom couldn’t drag him to a yoga class.

He glances away, then at me, and then away again as if he’s trying to force himself to look me in the eyes. He picks up his coffee, realizes it’s empty, sets it back down, and swallows his cowardice, finally focusing on me.

“It was casual at first?—”

“And he’s your employee, and he’s my fucking age.” My voice rises.

Later, I’m gonna get an award for being the world’s biggest hypocrite, I know. But I can’t make sense of it. I feel sick, tamping down hard on the urge to vomit. This is about Mom.

Dad taps his finger on the table. “He is those things. I tried to stay away from him, Ace?—”

“But oops, your dick fell into him?”

“ Ace .” His tone dips into warning. Dad looks around. Guess that was kinda loud.

“Or maybe he seduced you like the gold-digging slimeball he is.”

“It wasn’t like that. He’s not a gold-digger, Ace.”

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’d do this to Mom. At least date someone your own age.”

Dad exhales slowly. At least one of us is calm, I guess, but he’s watching me as if he’s searching for the kid I used to be.

“So,” he begins, quiet and almost reluctant, “you’re really not gonna like this next part.”

My stomach drops.

“I asked him to marry me when we were in Hawaii.”

“You were …” My brain’s malfunctioning. I can’t process that fast enough. “I thought it was a business trip.”

“It was. He was there, working for me. It was impromptu because it was so beautiful and he was … well, maybe I can tell the story another day. It just happened.”

“It all just happened, I fucking guess,” I supply with extreme sarcasm. With how distant we’ve been, this feels like the final push. Like he’s leaving me and Mom behind. “Hope you’re happy with your new life.”

Tossing my cloth napkin down on the plate, I stand, chair legs scraping loud. People are watching, but I don’t care.

I make the mistake of looking at him. His jaw is tight, eyes glassy. There’s no fight in him—only the ache of loss. I recognize it, but I don’t get it.

What’s he losing? Our relationship died with Mom. And with how fast he gets over things, I’m sure he’ll forget about me by this time tomorrow as he rides off into the sunset with his hot assistant, East.

I leave. He doesn’t follow.

After the worst father and son brunch in recorded history—I’m sure of it—I slump my ass back to the house.

Someone’s got to be around to pump me back up, tell me things with my dad aren’t hopeless and shit like that.

The door to my and Bender’s room is closed, but I don’t think anything of it.

He must still be asleep. From what was said in the group chat, it was one hell of a night. I don’t envy any of their hangovers.

I slip in quietly, and then I freeze.

Bender isn’t alone, and I can’t make fucking sense of what I’m seeing. He’s snuggled around Shep, a very naked Shep. It’s not unusual to see Bender around a warm body, but naked Bender around naked Shep? No way Huddy would be okay with this. What the fuck do I do?

Stepping backward, I fumble, knocking into the dresser. Shep stirs first. He squints until his groggy brain figures out it’s me.

“Oh, shit. Ace, wait. I can explain,” he whispers. Why’s he being so careful about waking Bend? The two have been enemies since they met and had to form a truce just to get through being on the same hockey team. This had to be a drunken hate fuck.

Right?

Shep slides away from Bender, or tries to. He fidgets a little, and Shep leans over to whisper something in his ear. Whatever he says makes them both smile, Bender still with his eyes closed, and it convinces him to let Shep go for what’s clearly understood as temporary.

“Okay, what the actual fuck?”

Shep finds his sweats and a shirt and drags me into the hallway. “Hudson and I broke up two weeks ago,” he says.

The floor tilts.

Looks like everyone’s doing shit weeks ago and not telling fucking Ace.

At least there’s heart-wrenching pain in his voice and I’m fucking glad for it. Those two were fucking meant to be. Them breaking up is like love ending. As in all love. Forever. Does it even exist if Shep and Huddy don’t?

I was already near tears after brunch. This sends me over the edge, and I wipe at the stupid wet stuff. I can’t believe I’m crying about someone else’s breakup. How ridiculous am I? It’s got to be the climax of too many emotions, piling on top of each other.

“You can’t have a one-night stand with Bender,” I tell him. Bender’s been through some shit. He’s not getting his heart broken, too.

“First of all, too late. Second of all, Bender can decide what Bender wants.”

My jaw sets, and fierce protective instincts burn to the surface.

Under normal circumstances, sure, Bender would decide what he wants, but Bender’s …

Bender. I’ve done my best to shield him from getting his heart sliced in two all my life.

Actually, I’ve done my best to keep all trouble away from him since the day we met.

Does that mean I think Shep is trouble? Fuck, I don’t know. I trust Shep, just not the situation.

“Why didn’t anyone fucking tell me?” I hiss.

“You’ve had a lot going on, man. We were gonna tell you, but?—”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Not long. Hudson and I broke up two weeks ago, and I sorta noticed … anyway, this just happened last night.”

From the way he doesn’t know how to explain anything, I guess it must be as new as he’s saying. Possibly even a one-night thing … but the way he whispered in Bender’s ear a minute ago …

“Hudson’s been coming to our games.”

“We’re still friends. Best friends. We still love each other, just not the way we used to.”

“And you can just do that?” I’ve never heard of that working out.

“It’s not easy, but we’re trying. Part of the reason we held on so long is because of how much we love each other. We didn’t want to lose each other.”

“If you’re in love, you work shit out, not sleep with Bender,” I whisper yell.

“The issue is we don’t know if we’re in love anymore. The love has changed to something less romantic. We’ve grown way apart—that’s what my sister calls it.”

I wanna talk to this sister of his. Maybe I can hold her responsible.