Page 15

Chapter 15

Jacob shouldn’t have been surprised to see Morgan in the hallway outside the locker room before the Evergreens’ last game pre-holiday break.

But before he could ask why he was here—before he could demand that Morgan not go into the locker room and derail Finn’s last-minute mental preparations—Morgan turned to him and said, “I see you’re officially on the team, now.”

Jacob was surprised for a second and then remembered the dark green jacket Finn had given him that he’d swapped for his own black puffer without a second thought. If Finn wanted his logo plastered all over him, owning him, then Jacob wasn’t going to argue about it.

“Yeah,” Jacob said. “It’s . . .uh . . .easier.”

Nothing was actually all that easy about this, though the easiest part seemed to be the one part they hadn’t confessed to Morgan yet.

Morgan didn’t look convinced. “I could still kick your ass.”

“Yeah, but you won’t,” Jacob said with an eye roll. “You don’t even sound like you mean it, anymore.”

Morgan frowned.

“Though maybe you never really did.”

That frown deepened, and Morgan opened his mouth, no doubt to dare Jacob to meet him after the game outside the rink and they’d settle this like men, not like ex-hockey players, but Jacob interrupted him before he could. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go find our seats.”

“You’re not sitting on the bench?”

“What am I gonna do for Finn on the bench?” Jacob questioned. “Besides, he’s got this. He doesn’t need me—and he definitely doesn’t need you.”

Morgan looked like he really fucking hated that, but it was just the God’s honest truth, and maybe he knew it too, because instead of arguing, Morgan actually followed him.

Now that Finn—and Gavin—knew he was coming to games, they’d gotten him special access tickets, right down by the ice, within easy reach if Finn did need to talk to him, during a timeout or at either intermission.

There’d been a pair waiting at the box office for Jacob, but Bryan had the kids tonight and couldn’t get away, so he’d intended to sit alone.

But Morgan was right there, following him like an unexpectedly lost duckling.

Jacob sighed and turned to him. “You wanna sit with me?”

Morgan bristled.

“It sucks to watch, to just watch, I know. Might be better if we’ve got—”

“Don’t you dare fucking say it won’t be so bad if we’ve got each other,” Morgan interrupted.

“Or you could go sit wherever the fuck you want, instead,” Jacob said.

For a second, Jacob thought Morgan might do that, probably using his very famous face to get whatever the fuck he wanted, but to Jacob’s surprise, he made a painful, aggrieved sigh and actually followed Jacob to their seats.

Jacob decided he wasn’t going to press his luck and didn’t say anything as they sat down. They could sit here in silence, and at least that would mean they wouldn’t get kicked out for fighting.

Theoretically.

But to his surprise, again, Morgan turned to him as the anthem finished and said, “It’s so fucking annoying how right you are. It’s absolute shit to just sit here and watch.”

Jacob knew he should be trying to get on his boyfriend’s father’s good side, even if it was basically totally fucking impossible, but despite that reminder, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“Funny how that’s not how it seems whenever I turn on ESPN and you’re right there, offering all these fucking opinions.”

Morgan ground his teeth together. “At least I’m doing something with my life.”

“Yeah, I guess anyone can talk about hockey.” What are you doing? the voice inside Jacob screamed.

He could feel Morgan’s anger taking form and shape next to him. If he chanced a glance over at him, he’d probably get punched. And this time, he might actually deserve it.

“Funny how this whole time, everyone insisted you were innocent and the nicest fucking guy and our rivalry was my fault , like you weren’t always right there, baiting me. Just like that.” But Morgan didn’t sound all that pissed. More amused anything else.

Like he was more than ready to have been proven right.

Jacob winced. “I didn’t mean to. Then, anyway.”

“And now?”

“Uh . . .well, that was more of accidental word vomit than anything else. And, the truth, actually.”

“That’s just fucking great,” Morgan grumbled.

“And maybe I’m pissed as hell at you for making that transition look so fucking easy when I . . .when I could barely manage it.” He shouldn’t have admitted it—Morgan certainly hadn’t, not in as many words—but if he was going to be fully honest, someday, he needed to start somewhere.

Morgan looked at him. Even though Jacob wasn’t looking back, he could feel the weight of his gaze.

“You think it’s been easy for me?” Morgan said, the edges of his voice so brittle Jacob wondered how—and when—they might break.

“You made it look easy,” Jacob countered.

Morgan shot him a glare. “And when did you ever buy into my bullshit, Braun?”

Jacob froze. When had he? He never had. He’d always seen through it. Morgan had never ruffled him, because he’d always seen his grandstanding, his temper, his one-sided feud between them for what it was: Morgan’s ego fighting his own fucking insecurity.

“There you go,” Morgan said wryly and then stood as the announcer began to call out the lineup.

There were Elliott and Malcom—who Jacob had met officially just yesterday—skating onto the ice, accompanied by a tall, stocky guy with a nice, easy smile.

Then Brody and Ramsey, the two starting defensemen. Ramsey was showboating, playing to the crowd as he skated onto the ice, not ignoring them like everyone else was.

Finn skated out, not even glancing up, even when the crowd roared its approval.

“That kid,” Morgan muttered under his breath.

“Ramsey?” Jacob was pretty sure that Morgan wasn’t talking about his own son.

Morgan nodded. “I’ve done some work with him. I swear to God, he deliberately distracts me every time I’m in town, insisting on these endless fucking practices. Always hitting on me, trying to hook up.”

Jacob jolted. Morgan’s voice was so matter-of-fact. Had Morgan slept with Ramsey? Surely Finn would know if that had happened, and if he didn’t, and it had happened, then Jacob did not want to be who finally told him. “He does?”

“He’s never hit on you?” Morgan looked surprised.

Ramsey had not, and Jacob was pretty sure that was because he’d known about Finn. From what Finn said about Ramsey, it was possible he’d known about Finn and Jacob before Finn and Jacob had.

“No,” Jacob said. “I’m really impressed, Morgan. You not kicking some poor lovestruck kid to the curb when he tries to cross the line.”

“I’m not . . .” Morgan huffed. “I’m not a fucking villain. For all his posturing, Ramsey’s a kid. He’s twenty-plus years younger than me. I’m not gonna . . .anyway.” Suddenly Morgan looked uncomfortable like he’d confessed too many of his own truths to someone he wasn’t sure would treat them with the respect they deserved.

Jacob hadn’t ever heard—not even once —that Morgan swung his way. Had never suspected it, but found himself, jaw dropped, staring at Reynolds because his only issue with Ramsey hitting on him was his age. Not his sex.

Not the fact that he was a man.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jacob said, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Oh, stop being such a fucking prude,” Morgan said, chuckling. “I can practically hear the wheels turning over there.”

“Does Finn know you’re into guys?” Finn had to know , Jacob told himself firmly.

But Morgan shook his head again. “It’s not . . .it’s not anything. Just happened once. Never wanted to do it with anyone else. So, no point in trying to tell Finn that we’re the same, that we’re both queer, because we’re not.”

Jacob wanted to tell him that this was fucking bullshit—if Morgan wanted to have sex with even one man, that meant he was queer, which meant that yes , he and Finn and Morgan were all very much the same—but Morgan looked so suddenly uncomfortable that Jacob decided it wasn’t worth making the argument.

Clearly, he hadn’t meant to bring it up, and now that he had, he regretted it.

Well, Jacob fucking regretted knowing about it, because now he was going to have to keep this secret from Finn.

“Alright,” Jacob said.

“You’re not gonna . . .I don’t know . . .lecture me on queerness?”

Jacob laughed. “I have no interest in lecturing you on anything, Reynolds.”

“Alright,” Morgan said and gestured towards the ice. “Puck drop.”

After that, they watched the game in silence.

The Evergreens’ offense was potent, anchored by Elliott and Malcolm on the wings, and they spent much of the first period harassing the Bandits’ goalie, scoring twice.

It was only at the end of the period when Ramsey got caught for a hooking penalty—Morgan swearing under his breath—that Finn got any work at all.

“They’ve got a good penalty kill,” Jacob said to Morgan, breaking the silence, before it became too brittle with all the pressure they both felt.

“’Course they do,” Morgan retorted.

They watched as the Bandits swarmed their offensive zone, despite Ramsey and Brody and the rest of the power play kill team’s best efforts.

Finn stopped one shot, then another, then effortlessly slid into a third position to stop the rebound.

Morgan made a noise under his breath. Jacob looked at him, quickly, not wanting to miss a moment of the game action, and as tense as he felt, Morgan looked like he was about to puke.

“Do you always—” Jacob stopped abruptly as Finn dove for the puck again, smothering it with his glove. “No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

Morgan didn’t say anything, not until the horn sounded, ending the period.

The Evergreens would be on the power play for approximately thirty seconds when the second period began, but with how Finn had handled his business for the majority of it, Jacob believed he’d be okay.

“You know it’s hard,” Morgan said. “I’m gonna get a fucking ulcer, watching him on TV. Nevermind coming here to watch.” He shook his head. “I know you don’t get it, but I want it so fucking bad for him. I think all the time he shouldn’t be doing this, he should do something easier, something else he’s good at—and he’s good at lots of things. But to tackle this . . .” Morgan sighed. “I never wanted him to be a hockey player. I knew what he’d face if he was.”

“He can bear more than you think,” Jacob said softly. More than either of us think.

Morgan made a face. “I know.” He didn’t need to add again that he’d know better than Jacob.

“You ever tell him any of that?”

“Of course I fucking have,” Morgan said.

“No, I mean, exactly like that. Not so he could interpret it to mean you’re ashamed of him and don’t want him to play because of that.”

“If you’re trying to tell me I’m a shit father—”

“I’m trying to tell you,” Jacob interrupted, losing his patience, “that one of the things Finn’s best at, besides hockey, is believing the worst version of what people tell him. Specifically you . And let me tell you, you haven’t done yourself any favors.”

“I know,” Morgan muttered.

“Some friendly advice? Tell him that. All of that. Just like that.”

“I’m trying to be better. I know you don’t believe that.”

“Doesn’t matter what I believe.” Though that wasn’t necessarily true. If Morgan continued to be a shithead, Jacob would be the first in line to suggest to Finn he put some space between himself and his dad.

“Yeah it does.” Morgan sounded disgusted by this. “He trusts you. Maybe he went to you first because I didn’t like you, and that sounded like a fun way to piss me off.”

“And now?”

“He’s playing fucking great.”

“That’s not me,” Jacob said. Though he’d given Finn some pointers and he could see echoes of them, ghosts of his own movements, filtering into Finn’s blocks. Maybe he shouldn’t like seeing the undeniable imprint of him on Finn, but he did. “That’s him. All I did was give him the confidence he needed to be what he was always capable of.”

Morgan sighed. “I want to punch you in the face for that.”

“No, you don’t,” Jacob said, chuckling. “You’re fucking grateful, that’s what you are.”

Please continue to be grateful when you find out what else Finn trusts me with.

“Fine, fine,” Morgan grumbled. “I’m a little grateful. But anyone could have done this.”

“Right, of course,” Jacob said. But he knew the truth.

Nobody else was going to be as good for Finn as him. He knew it was true, because nobody else was ever going to love Finn like he did.

“Thirty-six seconds left,” Zach reminded the team in the locker room, right before they took the ice for the second period.

Like Finn was going to forget about the power play.

He’d been thinking about it during the whole intermission, turning over and over in his mind the way the Bandits had approached the first minute and a half and what else he knew about them as an offensive team.

What new wrinkle they might attempt with only thirty-six seconds left and twenty minutes to plan.

It was better thinking about that than thinking about how his father was sitting out in the crowd, watching him. No doubt judging him.

“You good?” Brody asked, stopping by where Finn was sitting on the bench.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Barely any action in the first.”

He couldn’t say he’d been bored , exactly, but he hadn’t been disappointed to watch as Elliott and Mal and the rest of the Evergreens’ offense harassed the Bandits’ goalie.

“Ell and Mal have really found a new gear,” Brody agreed. “I’m just trying to keep the Bandits from kicking Elliott’s ass.”

“Mal’s not helping you with that?”

Brody grinned. “He’s the first line of defense, frankly.”

“I’d imagine so.”

It was usually the same story. The opposing team would hit the ice determined to stop Elliott, who was the fastest, slyest scorer in their conference. There were rumblings how he’d be taken in the first round of the draft. Early in the first round. But what opposing teams had yet to pick up was that now Elliott had a protector, who was bigger and stronger and would absolutely lay them out if they crossed the line.

“Well, we’ve got you,” Brody said, patting Finn on the shoulder pad. “Got your back.”

Finn knew it.

Felt the whole weight of the team—but not the same kind of pressure he might have experienced before—as he entered the rink, lights flashing and the crowd applauding.

He’d always felt the team’s expectations as a weight, pushing him down, making it hard sometimes to even hold his head up high, but now he was seeing it differently, and it helped.

They had his back, and he had theirs.

The puck dropped, and Finn braced, stick in front, gaze glued on Brody, who’d managed to divert it behind the goal.

He sped around the corner, battling against two of the Bandits’ linemen, sticks clanging against the ice as they tried to steal the puck. Ivan joined in, shoving another player out, and Finn tensed.

They were almost around the goal now, parallel to the crease, and he was going to make a stop, because if they stole the puck they would take a shot.

He just had to time it perfectly.

They stole the puck from Ramsey and passed it then passed it again, and Finn knew he was going to have to make a calculated guess. It was fifty-fifty and if he guessed wrong . . .

No, he told himself, don’t go there.

He’d seen the center shoot in the first period, and he knew they were trying to center it for him—which made sense, because Finn was pretty sure he was the best player on the team.

The right wing hesitated, twisted around, and instead of passing—instead of waiting—shot the puck.

Finn hit the ice a half-second too late, not able to deflect the puck, and it hit the back of the net.

“Hey, tough break,” Ramsey said, skating over as Finn lifted himself up. “You still got this.”

Finn knew his father was watching. His father and Jacob. But anyone could’ve made that decision wrong. It had been smart to wait. His instincts couldn’t pay off every time—even when he wanted them to.

Did it suck that they hadn’t paid off now with his dad watching?

Yeah, it did, but before, Finn knew it would’ve seriously thrown him. Instead of recovering—instead of resetting emotionally and physically—he’d already be dreading what Morgan would say to him.

But even though he knew he probably wouldn’t like it, he could push the thought away.

It wasn’t perfect, but what did Jacob always like to say?

Doesn’t have to be perfect to be okay.

Finn repeated those words over and over as the game unfolded. Ivan scored, and then their third line did, too, making it four to one, but he didn’t let himself relax.

He didn’t get seriously challenged though. The Bandits took a few shots, but they were fairly straightforward blocks, and with Brody and Ramsey and the rest of the defense swarming around them, they hadn’t been able to rebound or take multiple shots.

The game ended four to one—but it was nearly five to one, as Mal nearly bagged an empty net goal at the end, to seal it off.

He showered and changed, appreciating the way Coach and Zach and a lot of the guys patted him, respecting the effort he’d put in even though for this game, at least, he hadn’t felt like everything was resting entirely on his shoulders.

He halfway expected Morgan to make another comment about that, how he was lucky it wasn’t entirely on his shoulders, but as he finished dressing, he told himself firmly that he wasn’t going to think the worst of his dad before he even was the worst.

“Hey, great game,” Morgan said as he approached where, to his surprise, his dad was standing with Jacob.

“Thanks,” Finn said, letting his dad fold him into his embrace. It was a quick, reassuring hug, but it was more than he’d expected. He met Jacob’s eyes over his dad’s shoulder, and the warmth in his stomach grew.

Because as good as it felt to hear his dad say it, it felt even better to have Jacob look at him like that.

Like he’d done everything Jacob could’ve expected—and more. And even if he hadn’t, Jacob would still be here and would still be looking at him exactly the same way.

“Yeah, you had great puck control,” Jacob agreed, as his dad let go of him.

Jacob didn’t touch him but Finn could tell he wanted to. His gaze was as good as a caress across his cheek.

“Food?” Morgan asked.

Finn glanced over at Jacob again. He wanted to have dinner with his boyfriend—not his dad—but he didn’t know how to suggest it.

Until Morgan blew his mind and continued, “Braun, you should come with us.”

Finn looked at him, aware that he was staring at his dad like he’d lost his mind. “Are you alright? Do you have some kind of latent concussion syndrome?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to break down the game with him,” Morgan said breezily, like this was no big deal. Like he and Jacob hadn’t been at each other’s throats forever.

“I do,” Finn said.

Morgan turned to Jacob. “How about it?”

Jacob looked as floored as Finn felt. “Uh . . .sure. Okay.”

“Hey, you’re the one who suggested we sit together,” Morgan muttered.

This time Finn couldn’t keep his astonishment in. “You sat together?”

Jacob shrugged, awkwardly. “I had the tickets you left for me at the box office—two of them—and they’re good seats and—”

“Don’t sprain your few remaining brain cells, Braun,” Morgan said, but he was actually honest to God smiling.

Finn wanted to ask if he’d just suddenly been dumped into an alternate universe.

“Seriously,” he asked his dad as they walked towards Jimmy’s. “Are you okay?”

Morgan elbowed him. “I can be a mature adult.”

“No evidence of that so far,” Jacob muttered under his breath. Finn caught his gaze and grinned.

“Is this how it’s gonna be?” Morgan wanted to know.

Finn wanted to say yes . Wanted to believe that it was true and that it would stay true. Pretended, for a single glorious moment, that Morgan already knew the truth and didn’t care—but more than that, actually liked that Finn had found someone he cared about, who cared about him in return. It was a hazy beautiful possibility that Morgan not only didn’t care that it was Jacob, but they got along. Maybe they’d bicker, but only in the way of people who knew the worst of each other a little too well and yet liked each other anyway.

“I wouldn’t hate it,” Jacob said.

Finn laughed, and Morgan made a face but didn’t look that upset about the possibility.

Jacob opened the door to Jimmy’s and they grabbed a booth in the back, Finn very aware of how more than a few heads turned, watching as they walked in.

Morgan was recognizable of course, but Jacob was harder to pinpoint as he’d spent his career in a helmet and extensive padding.

Still, Finn was pretty sure at least one person, an older guy whose eyes widened comically as they passed, recognized that Morgan Reynolds and Jacob Braun had just walked by and were about to sit down and break bread together.

Finn considered reminding his dad that nothing he did went unobserved, at least for long, but that was only asking for trouble.

Morgan was in a good mood—they all were, Finn realized—and was it so much to ask for reality to not shove itself in, uninvited?

“I’m gonna take a leak,” Morgan said, after Finn slid into the booth. He put a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Order me a Coke, okay?”

Then he was gone. At least for a minute or two.

“Well,” Jacob said, and the corner of his mouth tilted up.

“Don’t,” Finn said, but he was smiling, too.

“Your dad as a third wheel. That’s not weird or anything.”

“God, don’t remind me,” Finn said with a groan. “But maybe . . .maybe if he gets used to this, he won’t lose his shit when he finds out there’s more.”

Jacob didn’t look convinced. “He’s still going to want to kill me.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Jacob leaned forward. “’Cause he loves you a lot, Finn. And if I was him, I would absolutely want to kick the ass of the older guy who seduced my son.”

“ I seduced you ,” Finn reminded him.

“I don’t know if he’s going to keep his fists out of my face long enough to hear that part of it,” Jacob said wryly. “Or if he’s going to want to hear it.”

“Probably both.” Finn’s foot brushed Jacob’s under the table. “Maybe I can convince him to go home, after this, and you can come back to my room with me.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Jacob said.

And yeah, Morgan was suddenly very into this togetherness, which was actually not terrible, but it also made it really fucking hard for Finn to have sex.

Morgan came back a second later, taking a seat next to Finn. That wasn’t that surprising. Finn wasn’t going to assume that he and Jacob were suddenly best friends.

“So,” Morgan said, after he’d examined the menu, his grayish-green eyes taking in the list of specials and then dropping it to the table, “how’s that guy, Finn?”

Finn had been taking a long drink of water and choked.

“What guy?” he asked, after he managed to get his breath back, even though he knew perfectly well who his dad was referring to.

Jacob .

“You know. The one you wanted to be dating, that you weren’t dating yet.”

“Uh, well . . .”

“You said you wore the Burberry suit,” Morgan said, leaning forward, looking very interested in the answer. “Did you overcome his scruples?”

“Uh, yeah,” Finn said.

Jacob smothered a laugh. Finn told himself that was better because if Morgan looked over at him, he’d know the truth in an instant.

“Good for you,” Morgan said, patting him on the shoulder supportively. “A chip off the old block. A Reynolds doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“Is that your dating philosophy?” Jacob asked, and Morgan glared at him.

Finn considered reminding them both about the no blood policy.

“I don’t want to hear my dad’s dating philosophy,” Finn said, hoping they could change the subject. Morgan wasn’t ready to hear the truth. He wasn’t ready for Morgan to hear the truth.

Morgan’s grin was shark-like. “Don’t tell me you want to hear about it, Braun?”

Jacob shuddered and that didn’t feel faked at all. “Ew. No. Please stay far away from my dick.”

Finn considered bringing up that Morgan wouldn’t be interested in Jacob’s dick—and that he shouldn’t be anyway, because that would be super gross—but instead he settled for an attempt to change the subject.

“So whose idea was it for you two to sit together?” he asked casually.

“Mine,” Morgan said and Jacob rolled his eyes which Finn took to mean that it had actually been Jacob’s idea.

Interesting. He was going to have to ask Jacob about it—but only after he got him naked and they shared at least a pair of orgasms.

“It was convenient,” Jacob said.

The waitress appeared then and took their orders, and it was easy enough for Finn to direct the conversation back towards the game.

“Anyone might’ve missed that shot,” Jacob offered after she’d brought their drinks.

Morgan looked like he didn’t believe that, not entirely anyway, but he didn’t say anything. For which Finn was very grateful.

“The center was taking most of the shots, before that, and I was sure he was going to pass it to him,” Finn said. “Made a calculated decision. Except it wasn’t right.”

“That happens,” Jacob said warmly, supportively.

“Does it?” Morgan asked innocently.

“You know it does,” Jacob retorted. Finn could tell he wanted to say something along the lines of happened enough times between the two of us. But he gave Jacob major props for not doing it.

“That was actually a pretty sick move he made,” Morgan said. “I didn’t expect it either.”

Finn decided that was probably the closest Morgan was going to get to agreeing with Jacob. To supporting Finn.

He was never going to not care what his dad thought. He was Morgan Reynolds, sure, so it was easy to look at him and think, this guy really knows what the hell he’s talking about , but it was more than that, too. Morgan was his dad, and despite all the ways Morgan could be a complete asshole, Finn loved him. He’d been the most consistent force in his life for what felt like all of it.

His mom was around, too, of course, but nobody could really match the power or sheer presence of Morgan.

“You think anyone’s gonna figure out if they go for that smaller, quicker forward, that it’s gonna piss off that left winger?” Morgan continued. “They seemed really surprised when they did it, and he lost his shit.”

“That’s . . .uh kind of new,” Finn said.

“Oh?”

“Honestly, for last season and most of this season, they were better at chirping at each other than defending each other,” Finn said.

“Huh.” Morgan sipped his Coke. Looked like he wanted to ask, but he didn’t, at least at first. Then he finally burst out. “What changed?”

Finn wasn’t sure what the sudden tension in his dad’s shoulders was about. Why would he give a shit about Mal and Elliott?

“They got together,” Finn said. He met Jacob’s gaze across the table and told himself forcibly not to flush.

Morgan’s mouth was a tight line, and Finn couldn’t understand why. He wasn’t homophobic, not at all. In fact, famously, even before Finn had began to consider that he might be gay, his dad had reported one of his teammates for homophobic comments and had gotten him kicked off the team.

It was definitely not that Elliott and Mal were two men. Maybe that they were teammates?

“You ever see that before?” Jacob asked Morgan.

Morgan had an unbelievable control over his own body—was famous for it, in fact—but Finn swore he squirmed on the bench. “No.”

“I heard about it, some,” Jacob said.

“Not that many out guys in the NHL,” Morgan said tightly.

“A few,” Jacob said. “Asher Dalton from Buffalo, and Noah Boucher from the Fisher Cats. Oh, and the Sentinels’ captain. Hayes Montgomery. He came out in the last offseason, didn’t he?”

Finn nodded. He liked Hayes, though he’d only met him a handful of times. “I’m glad he’s playing for Tampa now. Should make it easier when I’m called up.” Before, before this, he’d always added a bunch of caveats—internally and out loud— about how he might not get there, to the NHL. But he was feeling more confident that he would now.

Could even see the hazy beginnings of it in his mind.

Morgan looked even unhappier, but what he said was the opposite of the awkwardness lurking in his gaze. “I hope so.”

A minute later their food came, and conversation slipped from subject to subject, easier than Finn could’ve imagine, as they demolished it.

After Morgan and Jacob argued over who was paying the bill—Jacob won, and not to be outdone, Morgan tossed a hundred dollar bill on the table for a tip—they headed outside.

“I got to go,” Morgan told Finn. “Have an early meeting for some ESPN coverage I’m participating in. But you’re good with the plans for Christmas next week?”

That was right, Finn realized, Christmas was only a few days away. He had seen the email Morgan had sent and he’d frankly ignored it.

Only Morgan would send a schedule for a holiday.

“Yeah,” Finn said. He risked a glance over at Jacob, who stood there, gazing back with a promise in his eyes.

We’ll make time for each other, no matter how much Morgan interferes.

“Good,” Morgan said. He gave Jacob an abbreviated, but surprisingly mellow nod. “See you around, Braun.”

“Reynolds,” Jacob said back.

They didn’t shake hands, but Finn supposed that was probably asking way too much of the situation. It was amazing they’d sat together at his game and then had dinner together and nobody’s face had gotten punched.

“See you later,” Morgan said, giving him another long hug, and then he was gone, walking away, back towards the rink’s parking lot.

Finn waited until his dad was just out of earshot. “Does he know?”

Jacob shook his head. “You think he’d have left you alone with me if he did?”

Finn laughed. “Good point.” He shot Jacob a hot look. “You wanna come back to my room?”

Jacob’s returning look lit him up inside. “I thought you’d never ask.”