Page 13

Chapter 13

“I’ve been thinking,” Finn said, his tone a little cautious, making worry spike inside Jacob, “that you should tell Sophie you’ll do Neal Fisher’s podcast.”

Jacob looked up at him from his spot against the boards. Finn was warming up and stretching, getting ready for their first solo practice session on ice.

This Friday was the last game before the winter break, and even after working together for three weeks, Jacob could already see the changes in Finn.

The way he held himself was different. The confidence in his eyes was different.

Over the break they’d have even more time to work together.

And even more time together for uh . . .everything else.

“Oh, you have, have you?” Jacob told himself to laugh, and it actually came out, lighter and more authentic than he’d expected. He’d only been over-obsessing about the podcast and if he should do it.

“It’s a good idea and you know it,” Finn said.

“Maybe.” Sophie had sent him two texts about it, and he’d ignored her call on the way here, to the rink.

He knew she needed an answer, and maybe Finn wasn’t wrong, it could be a good idea, but it was also a fucking terrifying idea, and Jacob wasn’t sure he was ready to give an answer either way.

“It is a good idea,” Finn insisted.

“Maybe you should be worrying more about this upcoming game than my PR strategy,” Jacob suggested.

Finn made a face and Jacob suddenly had a very bad thought.

“Sophie got your phone number at dinner the other night, didn’t she? She hasn’t been prodding you to ask me about this, has she?”

Finn didn’t even bother trying to lie. “She told me that you kept changing the subject whenever she’d ask about it, and if she tried to pin you down, you’d just ignore her.” He shot Jacob a reproachful look.

Jacob put his gloved hands onto his hips. He wasn’t proud, but it was a big deal, wasn’t it? He should consider it like the big deal it was.

Who are you fucking kidding? Kissing Finn was probably a bigger deal, and you did that with way less introspection.

“I don’t know,” Jacob said, knowing he needed to meet Finn’s honesty with honesty of his own.

“You don’t know if it’s a good idea to go on Neal Fisher’s podcast to come out or you don’t know if it’s a good idea to come out at all?” Finn asked. There was a complete lack of judgment in his tone, and bless him , but Jacob was fucking crazy about this guy.

When Jacob didn’t say anything—he knew he should, he knew the right answer, the true answer, but somehow it stuck in his throat—Finn skated over. Put his hands on Jacob’s shoulders.

“I’m sure you know this,” he said conversationally, “but being ready doesn’t mean being without fear.”

It was the most they’d touched since entering the rink.

Jacob hadn’t had to tell Finn that touching or kissing or even more would be a terrible idea here. Finn understood when it was time to focus, when hockey superseded their relationship.

But that hadn’t stopped Finn from kissing him in the car, before they’d walked in, his lips hot and lush against Jacob’s.

“I do,” Jacob said, nodding. Or at least he always had, when it had come to hockey. There’d been plenty of times he’d been so nervous he’d thought he might end up puking on the ice.

But fear had never gotten in his way of performing.

He’d never let it. Until now.

Finn knew it and he’d pointed it out as gently as possible. That feeling that Jacob tried to pretend he wasn’t feeling swelled inside his heart.

“Then you know you’re ready. You want to do this. And once it’s done, it’s done.”

“You ever listened to the podcast?” It was easier to ask this question than to contemplate any of Finn’s comments. Or to listen to the heartfelt support and loyalty in his voice.

“To Neal Fisher’s podcast? Yeah. A handful of times.” Finn shot him a grin. “You know when I did.”

“After you heard about it at the dinner.”

Finn nodded and Jacob swatted him on the chest. “Go finish warming up,” he said. “We’ve got work to do that isn’t hand-holding me through the closet door.”

“But I’m happy to, you know?” Finn said, shooting Jacob one last look full of tenderness and affection as he skated back over to the net.

Jacob knew he would, freely and without judgment.

“I know,” Jacob said. “And I’ll think about it. I’ve been thinking about it.”

But Finn was right; he’d been letting fear make him believe he wasn’t ready.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Moira. I know we talked today, but can you fit me in tomorrow? I only need ten minutes.

Yes, she texted right back. Everything okay?

It will be, Jacob told her.

A minute later, he got an appointment notification and was just adding it to his calendar when a noise behind him caught his attention. Zach had mentioned possibly dropping by, and he expected that was him.

“Just a second,” he said, and then looked over.

But it wasn’t Zach standing there.

It was Morgan.

Jacob froze as Morgan looked between him and Finn, finishing his stretches in the goal.

He knew the moment Finn saw his dad, because he froze, too.

All of them frozen, staring at each other.

Morgan unfroze first, of course. Pulled his hands out of the pockets of his leather jacket and waved at Finn like he was an assistant on one of his ESPN sets. “Get over here,” he called out.

It shouldn’t have pissed Jacob off.

Okay, no, that wasn’t true. It should piss Jacob off. The resentment crawling up his throat, along with anger and bitterness, was entirely justified. He just shouldn’t say any of it out loud because none of it was going to help the situation.

It would only piss Morgan off and make everything worse.

But it had been difficult swallowing down Morgan’s bullshit before, and now it was impossible.

“Don’t treat your son like that,” Jacob said, turning to his old rival.

Morgan looked . . .well, shocked , really. That Jacob was here? That Jacob was questioning him? How Jacob was questioning him?

At least Morgan probably assumed that this was only about hockey.

Imagine if he knew the whole story.

“He’s my fucking son, not yours,” Morgan snapped, temper heating his gaze.

Finn came to an abrupt stop, ice shavings curling under his skates as he stopped right in front of the boards. He gave Jacob an apprehensive glance before he said, “Hey, Dad.”

“You don’t answer your fucking phone, and turns out it’s because you’re with him,” Morgan said, shoving a thumb in Jacob’s direction. “ Him .”

Jacob gave himself a very firm lecture on how this wasn’t between him and Morgan, but Morgan and Finn, and then ignored it entirely. “ He is standing right here, and he has a name.”

“Dad,” Finn said, only a single word but Jacob could hear the warning in it. He hoped Morgan heard it too. Then he turned to Jacob. “Don’t start, okay?”

“I wasn’t starting anything,” Jacob said. But he kinda had been. Every single fucking time when they’d been playing—even at the All Star Game after Morgan was retired— he’d always tried to de-escalate while Morgan didn’t even know the meaning of that word. But now, he wanted to do the opposite. He wanted to finally land that punch, right into Morgan’s smug, annoying face.

But he didn’t, because Finn was asking him not to. With his words, yes, but with his eyes, pleading at him, too.

“Finn, what the hell is going on?” Morgan asked. “Why are you here with him? What could he have to teach you?”

Finn glared at him. “What could he have to teach me? Are you serious? After all the times I had to hear how fucking good he was? How he’d held you back? Kept you from breaking Gretzky’s record? And now suddenly he’s a piece of shit who doesn’t have anything to teach me?”

Morgan ground his teeth together, gaze sliding over towards Jacob. He wouldn’t look at him directly but Jacob knew what he wasn’t saying. “Do you think you could forget you just heard that?”

“Nope,” Jacob said. “Besides, I always knew why you hated me.”

“So what, you’re going to help my son now?”

“Finn,” Jacob said, keeping his voice light and easy, “I want you to go over and practice your angles, please.”

The look Finn shot him made it clear Jacob must think he was crazy if he was leaving them alone together. “What—”

“No,” Jacob said firmly. “Let me deal with this.”

“ This has a name, asshole,” Morgan said, and now he was looking at him. Of course. It was fine when Morgan did it, but not when Jacob copied him. “And I don’t want to talk to you—though don’t think you’re getting off that easily here—I want to talk to Finn.”

Finn looked from Jacob to his dad and then back again and nodded. “There’s not much to say, Dad. I asked him to coach me. He’s coaching me.” Then he actually fucking skated away, tossing off one last comment over his shoulder. “Just try not to kill each other, okay?”

Morgan’s expression was dubious. “He actually came to you and asked you and you said yes ?”

“Your son’s a very talented goalie. I’m just helping him out with his focus. A few of his more advanced skills. But Finn’s got what it takes. With or without me.” It didn’t really feel good to lie about this. How it had started out exactly that way, but had turned into so much more. But Morgan already looked pissed as hell already.

Imagine how he’d feel if he knew the truth.

Morgan crossed his arms over his chest. “Without you, that’s my fucking vote.”

“That’s the whole problem, you egotistical shit. You don’t get a vote.”

Morgan’s jaw dropped. “How dare you, I’m gonna—”

“No blood,” Finn yelled across the ice.

“I would have your ass on the ground right now, but Finn doesn’t want me to do it, so I’m not,” Jacob said conversationally.

“Oh, like you almost punched me at the last All Star Game?” No question about it, it was a taunt. Jacob knew Morgan’s words were a taunt, but they still riled him up anyway.

But they could rile him up all he wanted; he didn’t have to act on them.

“Never had to punch you to kick your ass,” Jacob said.

Morgan went pale as a ghost.

Shit. Finn had said no blood, but even though there wasn’t any visible red gushing out of Morgan right now, Jacob could still see it dripping down onto the floor. And he’d done that.

You dumbass, you’re supposed to be making him hate you less , not more.

“Listen,” Jacob said and reached out for Morgan, not to punch him, but to put a reassuring hand on his arm. But he’d barely done anything before Morgan was shucking him off, a hard look on his face.

“No,” Morgan said. “We don’t have to do this.”

He looked tired. Jacob didn’t want to sympathize with him, to wonder what his life had really been like after retirement. If it had been anything like Jacob’s—a constant struggle to feel relevant, even to himself. If all his accomplishments, going from success to success, had only been a smoke screen. Jacob didn’t want to know, and he definitely wasn’t going to fucking ask, either.

But now Jacob wondered, and that was almost worse.

“We’ve been doing this for years,” Jacob said.

“And I thought you were tired of it,” Morgan said. But he was the one who looked exhausted. Worn-out and worn down in a way that he’d never looked when he was playing. Back then, he’d been full of fire; always pushing, never giving an inch, lit from within by that drive that never seemed to slow down.

But time slowed everyone down. Brought everyone down to the same fucking level. Even Morgan Reynolds.

“I’ve always been tired of it,” Jacob admitted. It was too late for them to mend fences in more than the most superficial way. Especially when it was all going to blow up anyway, once Morgan discovered that he wasn’t just coaching Finn.

That he was in love with Finn.

Jacob’s knees wobbled, and they nearly gave out.

He had a feeling he must’ve gone just about as white as Morgan, because Morgan looked suddenly alarmed and it was him reaching out for Jacob now, steadying him.

“You alright?” he asked roughly.

“I’m fine,” Jacob said. Just freaking out because I love your son. No big deal.

Morgan looked at him more carefully. “You don’t look fine. You look like you’re freaking out.” He pursed his lips. Jacob knew what he was thinking. You’re freaking out because of me, and I can’t figure out why.

That was technically true, Jacob supposed. He was freaking out, in a very tangential way because of Morgan. But it was so much more than that. He loved Finn. He never wanted to leave him, and he never wanted Finn to leave him. And how were they ever going to get that happily ever after? It felt distant and frankly, just plain fucking impossible.

“Really, it’s . . .I’m fine.”

“You’re a shit liar.” The corner of Morgan’s mouth tilted up, so much like his son’s and yet so much like his own. “Always have been.”

“Yeah, well you’d know,” Jacob muttered.

“Come on,” Morgan said and actually fucking sat down in the first row of seats and gestured next to him. “If you’re gonna coach Finn, we should be able to sit next each other without wanting to commit murder.”

On still wobbly legs, Jacob boosted himself over the boards. Took the seat Morgan had indicated.

“Despite what you’ve always believed, I never felt a single murderous inclination towards you. Wasn’t ever worth it,” Jacob said.

Morgan laughed. “Wish I could say the same.”

“I get it, you know?” Jacob steeled himself. Morgan was going to hate this, maybe even more than anything else, even the fact that Finn had spent the last two nights in his bed, not really sleeping.

“Get what?”

“I get why you hated me. Easier to blame me than to blame yourself.”

Morgan said nothing for a very long time, just stared out at the ice, towards Finn, but Jacob didn’t think he was really seeing his son, because Jacob knew that look. Understood it intimately. It was a man unwillingly seeing the past play out in front of his eyes and yet unable to look away.

“Should really punch you for that one,” Morgan finally said, quietly. “But I won’t, because Finn said no blood, and despite what you think of me, what you think of me as a player and a father, I do love him. I want what’s best for him. And if you’re it, you fucking asshole, then that galls me but I’ll get over it.”

“I know.”

“Don’t fuck this up,” Morgan warned.

Oh, don’t worry, I’m already doing that. Regularly. With relish.

“I’ll try not to,” Jacob said.

Morgan’s gaze didn’t move, but Jacob thought he might actually be seeing Finn now. Finn as he was now, not Finn as a kid, and not as he imagined Finn might be. But Finn as he really was.

“You think he’s really good?” Morgan said quietly. So quietly Jacob barely caught the words.

“Of course I fucking do,” Jacob said, annoyed now. Because of course Morgan was questioning that. Why else would Finn have all these complexes? His father was the fucking origin of all of them. They’d probably blossomed from his own and of course, Morgan had never thought, not once, that he should protect Finn from them.

And he should have. He should have been a father first and a hockey player second.

“Good, it’s not just me, then,” Morgan said.

“What?” Jacob glanced over at him now, shocked. “You—”

“He’s going to be so great, and I’m so terrified of it. Of what it’ll do to him. Over time. If he’ll end up like me, like . . .”

“Like?” Jacob prompted, because he was too stunned to say anything else.

“If he’ll end up thinking that the best thing he ever did was on that ice and that nothing else matters,” Morgan said flatly.

Well, that answered that question.

Jacob supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised that Morgan had put up a smoke screen of happy success post-retirement. Or that it was all complete fucking bullshit.

“Well, that’s stupid,” Jacob pointed out.

Morgan glared.

“I mean it,” Jacob continued. “’Cause from where I’m sitting, the best thing you ever did is out there right now, thinking that you don’t believe he’s good enough. That he’ll ever be good enough.”

Morgan swore under his breath.

“Yeah,” Jacob agreed. “It is fucking bullshit.”

Morgan was quiet again. And maybe Jacob should let him sit here in that terrible, awful silence, contemplating just how he’d fucked his son up, but Jacob had to go work, to do the work to build Finn back up again. They didn’t have unlimited time, and he wasn’t going to give a minute more of it to Morgan.

“Listen,” Jacob said, “I know you don’t like this, but make your peace with it, because it’s helping him, and you know that. You were too good of a player to not see it now, even if it’s Finn that you’re looking at.”

“I see it,” Morgan said flatly.

“Good.” He rose, but a hand on his arm stopped him, the grip firm.

“Wait,” Morgan said. “You really aren’t doing this to fuck with me?”

“Morgan, I promise, not everything is about you. In fact, almost nothing is about you.”

Morgan opened his mouth and then snapped it shut again. Gave Jacob a sharp nod. “Understood,” he said. He looked pissed, but also resigned.

Jacob lifted himself over the wall and skated over to where Finn was working.

“Hey,” he said.

Finn paused, pushed his helmet up and gave Jacob a long leisurely glance from the top of the beanie he’d pulled on to the blades of his skates. “No blood,” he said.

Jacob winced. “Might be some metaphorical blood back there.” He hadn’t held back from speaking a few painful truths.

“Can’t say he doesn’t deserve it.”

“No,” Jacob agreed. Of course that didn’t make it easier. Finn didn’t entirely understand, because he was still young and hungry and eager, his whole career spread out in front of him, a blank page he could write on at will.

But Jacob found he understood Morgan a little too well, these days.

“Is he just going to sit there?” Finn wondered.

“Maybe he wants to watch you,” Jacob said and noticed as Finn’s whole body tensed. “Hey, hey,” he said, reaching out and giving Finn what he hoped looked like a friendly, encouraging pat to the arm. “It doesn’t matter that he’s here, or that he’s watching. You’ve got this, remember?”

Finn stared at him. “You believe that?”

Jacob was annoyed at Reynolds in general, for not believing in what they should be believing in—namely, Finn’s ability and his undeniable skill.

“Yes,” Jacob said.

Finn didn’t say anything.

“It doesn’t matter if he’s here or he’s not here. If he’s in New York or he’s here, in this fucking rink. You are still Finn Reynolds, one of the best up-and-coming goalies. You just had a shutout and you’re going to get a lot more. You had whole sequences in that game that were fucking poetic.”

“Good enough I should probably believe that on my own and not need the guy I’m fucking to pump up my ego?” Finn smirked.

Jacob didn’t need to tell him not to say it too loudly. Finn knew exactly what he was risking.

“Yes,” Jacob agreed.

“I’ll get there,” Finn said. He seemed annoyed at himself, that he’d needed the reminder.

But everyone needed a reminder. Hadn’t Jacob needed one, less than half an hour ago?

“Hey,” he said, catching Finn’s arm again, after he’d pulled down his mask. “Remember earlier when you said you’d hand-hold me out the closet door, no questions asked and no judgment?”

Finn nodded.

“Well, same goes here. If you need it, you’ve got it. No questions. No judgment.” Jacob paused. “Now, let’s see what you can do.”

His dad was still sitting in the same spot when they were finished.

Jacob shot Finn a look that said, you’d better go talk to him.

Finn returned with, I’d really rather not.

But Jacob just shrugged, which Finn was almost certain meant: I’ve already done my part.

He had, and in a completely exemplary way, too. Neither he nor Morgan had been bleeding at the end of it. Sure, Jacob had claimed it was more of an imaginary bloodletting, but Finn didn’t even know if his father’s skin was thin enough to be pricked by Jacob’s words.

“Fine,” Finn grumbled.

“He’s not going to go away,” Jacob said under his breath.

“Yeah, which is a whole other problem.”

“He’s got a lot on his plate, so it’s not like you’ll have to deal with him constantly,” Jacob said, probably optimistically.

But Finn didn’t feel nearly so optimistic. He knew his dad well enough to know he lived to shove sticks into wheels.

He downed the rest of his Gatorade and skated over to where Morgan sat. He rose and came over to the boards.

“Hey,” Finn said.

“Looking good,” Morgan said.

“Thanks,” Finn said. “If I say it’s because of Jacob . . .”

“I’d believe it, but I’d also believe it’s because you’re good, Finn.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Did he tell you to say that?”

“Would I ever say something just because Braun told me to?”

“Good point. What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming into town.”

The hesitation before his dad answered should have been enough of a warning. But Finn had had a hard practice—if anything, since orgasms had been introduced into the equation, Jacob had been even harder on him—and he couldn’t say he’d slept as much the last two nights as he should have, so he missed its importance.

“No, but I’m going to be here for a bit. Probably most of December. Some of January, too,” Morgan said.

Finn froze.

“It’s the holidays and I don’t have a lot of commitments at the network so I figured I could stay here, in Portland.” With you , was the unspoken end to that sentence. Finn heard it clear as day.

Finn didn’t know how to react. Or what to say. He definitely couldn’t say, but I thought Jacob and I would have lots and lots of time to practice hockey and also to practice being boyfriends.

“I’ve got that condo in downtown. I can stay there,” his dad continued like he wasn’t shocked into silence.

“Right,” Finn said, finally.

“So I won’t be in your hair, too much,” Morgan said.

Who’s he kidding? He’s totally going to cramp your style.

“The uh . . .last game before my break is Friday,” Finn said.

“I know,” Morgan said and sent him a chiding look that reminded Finn that he probably knew his game schedule better than Finn himself.

And that was true. God, that was true.

He didn’t want to lie to his dad, but what else was he going to do to get any time with Jacob?

“So you’re not going to lecture me? Or are you still working your way up to that?” Finn asked. Before, when he’d let himself be controlled by the fear of disappointing Morgan, he’d have waited, agonizing at everything his dad wasn’t saying. But he wasn’t going to live like that, not anymore.

“About Jacob? Well . . .” Morgan made a self-deprecating shrug. “I’m not happy about it. I get why you didn’t tell me. But then I sat here, watching you two, and I get it, now. You want to be the best. So you went to the best. It’s a very Reynolds thing to do.”

It was. And it wasn’t, all the same.

“Right,” Finn said.

Morgan shot him a look. “I thought you’d be happier that I’m not mad.”

“I’m thrilled. This is my thrilled face.”

“Finn,” Morgan chided.

“You just . . .you have your life in New York, and I have mine here.”

Finn told himself to ignore the disappointment that flashed across Morgan’s face, but he wasn’t expecting the hurt.

“You’re telling me you don’t want me here?”

“No,” Finn said, hating himself. Hating that he felt this way. Why couldn’t they just figure out a way to co-exist happily, peacefully? Without pain? Without all this fucking baggage?

Morgan’s face cleared. “I just . . .I missed you.”

“You missed me.”

“Finn,” Morgan repeated.

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to work my way around to this new style of parenting.”

There was that hurt again. And it suddenly, painfully, occurred to Finn that all of this was his father’s way of apologizing, without actually ever saying the words.

“I’m not that shitty of a father,” Morgan insisted brusquely. “No matter what you’re gonna claim—or what Braun’s gonna say.”

“What did Jacob say?” Finn knew he shouldn’t ask, but he couldn’t swallow the question down.

“Do you really believe that I don’t think you’re any good?”

Goddamn it, Jacob.

“I . . .I don’t know,” Finn said carefully. Told himself that he didn’t, in fact, know , so it wasn’t a lie.

His father had the nerve to look fucking shocked, like he’d just been electrocuted. “Finn, I think you’re amazing .”

“That’s not the way it comes across,” Finn said sullenly.

“I want . . .I want you to be the best. I want you to know what that feels like. It’s . . .” His father huffed out a hard breath. “It’s all I have to give you.”

Finn was unpleasantly reminded of what Jacob had said to him that first night. If he’s this hard on you, how hard do you think he’s on himself?

He hadn’t been able to forget that, even though he’d wanted to, more than once. And now he wouldn’t be able to forget this either.

“If you really think that, you’re full of more shit than I thought,” Finn said angrily.

He skated off, fast, going towards the locker room, hoping that one , his father wouldn’t be stupid enough to follow him in, and two , that if he was that stupid, that his famous face wouldn’t be enough to grant him access.

But as he was stripping his gear off, tossing it into the laundry bin, the person who approached wasn’t Morgan.

It was Jacob.

“What did he say?” Jacob asked, frustration edging his voice.

“Nothing,” Finn muttered. “Nothing more than usual.”

“He’s trying,” Jacob said.

Finn glanced up, in shock. Not expecting, after everything , for Jacob to ever take his dad’s side.

“I mean it,” Jacob said. “I don’t want to, but I do.”

“Well, that’s helpful,” Finn bit off sarcastically. He sat down on the bench.

Jacob huffed in frustration. “You know what I mean. I don’t blame you for being pissed. But I think it’s hard to hear what he’s actually saying versus what you’re expecting to hear.”

“Is that what you really think?” Finn couldn’t believe it. Jacob was taking his fucking dad’s side, not his. Even after everything.

“I think sometimes you can get stuck in a shitty situation and a shitty attitude, and not know the way out,” Jacob said. He hesitated, and Finn wanted to tell him to shut up, that he didn’t want to hear how suddenly sympathetic he felt towards Morgan. Not when he didn’t deserve it. But then Jacob kept talking. “It’s not the same, I know it’s not the same, but when I first retired I felt the same way. Stuck. Every day felt like an end, like the best parts of my life were already gone, and there wasn’t a way to get them back. I was done, finished .”

“You weren’t, though,” Finn argued. He didn’t want to defend the crappy way Jacob had thought of himself—he wanted to be angry at him, for taking Morgan’s side—but it was hard when he could hear the pain in Jacob’s voice.

“I know, but I couldn’t convince myself of that. I was stuck in that belief, and until I found Moira, who helped me see I was wrong, who gave me other things to focus on, I wasn’t going to get unstuck.”

“So what,” Finn said, annoyed but trying not to sound annoyed, because it wasn’t Jacob’s fault that he was making so much fucking sense, “you want me to go to therapy, too?”

Jacob shook his head. Sat down next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. It was platonic, but just . “I’m not saying therapy wouldn’t work for you, but maybe first, just try listening to what he’s saying. Interpreting it differently.”

“Okay.” Finn hated the idea, but maybe that was more that he could see what Jacob was saying than because he was wrong.

“What did he say to you that pissed you off?”

“He said he wanted me to be the best, because that was all he had to give me,” Finn muttered. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt, wouldn’t have stung nearly as badly, if Morgan hadn’t just said that he was good. Finn had been thrilling with the validation of that, then he’d unloaded the rest and it had almost felt worse as a result.

He’d . . .expected better?

Different, definitely.

Jacob muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, what a fucking idiot and then said, louder, “You ever think that maybe Morgan saying that isn’t about you, but is actually about him?”

“No,” Finn admitted.

“I told you, as hard as he is on you, he’s always been harder on himself. He doesn’t know how to be any other way, which honestly, that sucks for him, you know?”

“I don’t know, does it?” Finn asked.

Jacob shoved a gentle elbow into his side. “You know it does.”

Finn sighed. “Yeah. I guess so. So you think him saying that was about him more than me.”

“I’m not sure he knows how to be a good dad to you, Finn, but as much as Morgan has pissed me off throughout the years, the one thing I can’t doubt is that he wants to do right by you.”

Finn supposed that was true. He could acknowledge it, at least to himself, if not to Jacob. Definitely not to his dad.

“I guess . . .I guess so,” Finn acknowledged. “I can see it, if I squint.”

“As soon as he figured out that me working with you was to make you better, to help you, he didn’t give a shit that it was me. And I don’t have to tell you how he feels about me.”

“I know,” Finn said dryly.

“So when he says shit like, that’s all he has to give you, it means he doesn’t see his worth outside that rink. And . . .well, it’s not that I’m siding with him, Finn. But I know how that feels, and it sucks.”

Finn sighed. “I don’t want to feel sorry for him, damnit.”

“You don’t have to. You can and should demand better from him. But you should also give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Ugh,” Finn said and risked tilting his head down, resting it on Jacob’s big broad shoulder. “I want to tell you that you’re wrong but . . .I don’t know if you are.”

“Yeah,” Jacob said. “He can be a real ass.”

“I’m going to have to talk to him, aren’t I?” Finn wasn’t happy about it, but what Jacob said made sense. He was stuck in this horrible status quo. More of his conversations with his dad—in person, over the phone and in text—ended in frustration and anger than didn’t.

It didn’t feel great, though it had always been easier to place the blame on Morgan.

“Probably, yeah,” Jacob said.

“You think he’s still out there?”

Jacob nodded.

“Well, I’m gonna take a shower and then maybe I’ll try to catch him after,” Finn said, lifting himself up.

“Alright,” Jacob said.

Finn turned and grasped Jacob’s arm. “I . . .thank you,” he murmured. He wanted, so badly, to lean down and kiss Jacob. To tell him, with his lips, just how much he appreciated him. Coaching him and talking to him and believing in him. Even when he was wrong. Especially when he was wrong.

But they’d already risked touching enough—not just in this building, but with Morgan just outside.

Still, it would’ve been easier to say it with a physical gesture than with his words. Words didn’t feel like enough.

“You know I’m here for you,” Jacob said. “For you , to be one-hundred-percent clear.”

“I know.” And Finn did. He took one last risk, reaching out and squeezing Jacob’s knee.

“I’ll call you later tonight?” Jacob asked hopefully.

“Call? Call ? How old are you?” Finn teased.

Jacob grinned. “Old enough.”

“Yeah. Call me.” Finn leaned in. “Maybe we’ll even go wild and FaceTime.”

The heat in Jacob’s eyes stayed with him all through his shower and through getting dressed.

It kept him company as he walked out towards the front—and sure enough, there was his dad, leaning against the wall, gazing at a display case full of memorabilia of past Portland Evergreens’ teams.

“Hey,” he said.

Morgan turned, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“I—” Morgan started to say but Finn held up his hand.

“You’re full of shit, you know that?” Finn interrupted him.

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Am I?”

Finn smacked him. “You sure fucking are. You’re more than just hockey, you know that, right?”

“Jacob talked to you, didn’t he? God, I hate that guy.”

“No, you don’t,” Finn said, wishing it was true more than believing it. Maybe his dad really did hate Jacob. But he hoped not, because it was going to make everything going forward so much harder.

“Ugh, and then there’s that ,” Morgan grumbled under his breath.

“Stop being an asshole for ten seconds, okay? Listen to me. I . . .I appreciate you’re making an effort here.”

“Do you, really?” Morgan questioned.

And okay, that was fair.

“Yes,” Finn said firmly.

Did he love that Morgan had apparently moved to Portland because that was going to cramp the hell out of his relationship with Jacob? No, he did not. But he could appreciate that Morgan was trying.

How long had he wanted Morgan to be there for him, and it had never felt like he was? Or that his support had strings and requirements, benchmarks he’d always felt obligated to meet—or even worse, to exceed?

And yet here he was, giving his time and his attention and his support to Finn, without him even asking for it.

“Well, I am making an effort,” Morgan said testily. And maybe that was the problem, Finn realized. They were the same, in so many ways. That Reynolds blood holding true, from father to son.

“You can just be my dad, you know,” Finn reminded him as they walked out the front door together.

“I want to be,” Morgan admitted, and glanced over at him, worry creasing his expression, “but I don’t know how to do that.”

“You must hate that,” Finn joked, because it was easier to make light of it than it was to really think about what his dad was saying. I’m trying, but I don’t know how so I’m gonna fuck it up. A lot.

Not that he hadn’t already. A lot.

“It’s the fucking worst,” Morgan agreed. He glanced over at Finn. “I’m sorry if I do fuck it up. That I have fucked it up. Especially because I don’t think I even knew I was doing it.”

“Jacob must’ve really talked to you,” Finn said.

The apology felt good. He’d needed it and hadn’t even realized it, but there was more, too. More he needed. The action of continuing to show up, to be the father he’d never really been, before.

“And your mom,” Morgan said hesitantly.

“Oh. I didn’t know you still talked to her,” Finn said.

“Sometimes, yeah.” Morgan cracked a smile. “She’s good at setting me straight when nobody else can.”

“I’d imagine so,” Finn said.

“And so are you. And . . .as much as it pains me to admit it . . .apparently Braun is too.”

“How hard was that?” Finn questioned innocently.

Morgan made a face and elbowed him back. “Hard, okay? I’m never going to like him, but . . .I’m glad you have someone coaching you, who’s helping you. You look great out there. I mean that. As a dad. And a hockey player.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think you’d ever be able to not be a hockey player.”

“Probably not. But I’m trying.”

“Good,” Finn said, nodding.

“Come on,” Morgan said, “let’s grab some lunch.”