Page 18

Chapter 18

Finn dropped his bag in the locker room and looked around. Jacob had said he’d meet him today for extra ice time but he didn’t seem to be here yet. He was about to pull out his phone to ask how far away he was when a noise at the doorway made him look up.

It was not Jacob, but his dad, looking sheepish and almost a little ashamed.

“What are you doing here?” Finn asked, trying to keep his voice level.

“To see you,” Morgan said, walking into the locker room the same way he always had—like he belonged there. Like he owned it.

They’d barely talked when he’d picked up his dad, drunk, from Jacob’s house two days ago.

Jacob had leaned in and kissed him briefly, and Finn had figured out pretty quickly he wasn’t sober either. At least he wasn’t as drunk as Morgan, but still. “Take it a little easy on him, okay?” Jacob had murmured, unexpectedly.

Finn hadn’t been easy on him or hard or anything. How could he have, when his dad wasn’t talking to him still, at least about anything important? They’d barely exchanged half a dozen sentences before he’d dropped his dad off at his condo to sleep it off.

When Finn had asked Jacob what they’d talked about, he’d only shaken his head and gave a vague answer about clearing up some misconceptions.

And now Morgan was here.

Finn didn’t think Jacob had sold him out, but . . .

“Did Jacob tell you I’d be here?”

Morgan looked confused. “Gavin sent me the rink schedule. I like to . . .” He cleared his throat. “Thought maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing the ice with an old man.”

“You’re not old,” Finn retorted. “Old men don’t get day drunk.”

Morgan winced. “They feel it the next day, though.”

“Oh, is that why you’ve been so quiet?” Finn began to dig his equipment out of his bag.

“Partly yeah. And partly . . .Braun told me to get my head on straight before I talked to you, and as much as I hate to admit it, he was right.”

Morgan took a seat next to Finn, a few stalls away, but close enough.

“So what, you’re listening to Jacob’s advice, now? I thought he was what . . . a backstabbing pedophile? Isn’t that what you called him?”

“I was . . .surprised. Upset.” Morgan had the nerve to look ashamed, and Finn almost felt guilty for bringing it up. He knew his dad had a temper.

“Gee, I had no clue,” Finn retorted.

“Finn,” Morgan admonished. “I won’t keep you. I know you’re here to skate. But I wanted to clear the air.”

“Okay.” Finn sat and waited.

“You like him.”

Finn supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that his dad would start with a blunt statement like that, and not, say . . . an apology for being a complete fucking asshole .

“Yeah,” Finn said.

“I knew you did, before I even knew who he was. And then I found out who he was, and . . .” Morgan made a face. “I went insane. When Monica called me and told me she’d heard it from Braun’s PR woman’s assistant, I was sure it wasn’t true, but then I showed up at his house, and there you were, and ugh , I lost my mind a little.”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “A little?”

“Fair. That’s fair.” Morgan hesitated. “I fucked this up a lot. A whole lot. But more than me being angry that it was Braun you were all starry-eyed over, it was . . .I was worried about you. I worried what he was doing to you. What he was going to do with you.”

“Dad, I know how to practice safe sex.”

Morgan looked like he wanted to drop through the floor and die. Now they were almost even for all the things Morgan had yelled the other day. “Of course you do, you’re smart. So smart. Smarter than me, for sure.”

“Then what the fuck were you so angry about?”

“I thought he was using you! I thought he was trying to . . .I don’t know . . .find his youth again. Pretend that he wasn’t old and retired. Use you up for everything you are that’s bright and . . .wonderful. And I couldn’t stand that. I couldn’t stand anyone doing that to you, but that it was Braun?” Morgan shook his head. “I couldn’t handle it. And I’m sorry about that, but not that sorry.”

“Not that sorry?”

Morgan shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I know you’re all grown-up now. Self-sufficient. You take care of yourself. You always have. But forgive an old man for still worrying about you. For loving you.” He looked down at the ground, at his shoes, and Finn felt his throat tighten.

“You didn’t have to call him those things, you know,” Finn said quietly. “He’s a good man. He . . .it was exactly what you said, why he didn’t want to make a move on me. He liked me too much. Didn’t want to take advantage or force me into something I wasn’t ready for.”

“I know.” Morgan looked like he was admitting this only under duress.

“I really care about him. I . . .” Finn moistened his lips. Realizing suddenly what he’d nearly said.

“You love him,” Morgan said with resignation.

Finn felt like he’d just been plugged into the nearest socket and lit up inside. Why hadn’t he noticed this before? Because it hadn’t felt any different than before—like a slow, gradual, inevitable slide into love. “I think so, yeah. Yeah .”

Morgan cleared his throat. “I . . .I want to say I’m angry about that, but I’m not. At all. He’s . . .well, he’ll do right by you, I think. He is doing right by you. You’re playing so great, Finn. Like . . .” He hesitated, and Finn braced himself for what was coming next. An old habit that seemed sometimes like it was impossible to break. “Like for the first time you don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about you. Only what you think of yourself. I wanted you to find that for so long, and I didn’t think you could, I was worried you never would, and that’s why I pushed so hard and made everything terrible—”

“You didn’t make everything terrible.” Okay, not everything , anyway. Finn could see their history with clearer eyes than he ever had before. Maybe Morgan had been overenthusiastic, but he’d been oversensitive. They’d fed into the worst of each other’s pain.

Morgan looked at him with hope in his eyes. “No?”

Finn stood and pulled his dad into a tight hug. “No. I kind of made them terrible, too.”

Morgan gripped him tight and Finn thought the lump in his throat couldn’t expand any farther, but it did.

“Let’s not make them terrible anymore,” he murmured into Finn’s shoulder, and he could only nod, words lost in his tight throat.

They broke apart.

Morgan surreptitiously wiped his eyes and Finn could only laugh.

“I should . . .uh . . .” Morgan gestured towards the door.

Suddenly, it was very obvious what he should say. Something he couldn’t even have imagined three months ago but now seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey, I thought you said you wanted to share the ice?” Finn asked. “Come skate with me.”

Finn was almost done getting dressed before finishing his warmups on the ice when Jacob showed up.

“Sorry,” he said, dropping his bag down on the bench. “I got caught up with chatting with Neal about the podcast, and I totally lost track of time.”

“Yeah?” Finn asked. “It’s going well?”

“I knew I would like him, but I really like him,” Jacob said.

Finn grinned. “Should I be jealous?”

“Not at all.” Jacob glanced over and the look in his eyes was as good as a kiss. “You almost ready?”

How did he not know he loved Jacob? It was so obvious now, now that he was looking for it. Now that he had acknowledged it was true.

“Yeah,” Finn said. He opened his mouth to tell Jacob that his dad was here and that he was going to skate with them, but before he could, Morgan walked through the door from the bathroom, dressed for the ice.

Jacob raised an eyebrow. “What did I miss?”

“Everything, as usual,” Morgan retorted.

“Do I need to repeat the rule?” Finn threatened. Morgan looked ashamed—slightly, anyway. He turned to Jacob and said, “He’s going to skate with us.”

“Yeah? You want that?” Jacob asked.

Morgan started to splutter something, but Jacob just held a hand up and shot him a warning look.

“I’m asking Finn,” he said and turned back to Finn.

Finn moistened his lips. It had felt so natural to invite his dad onto the ice. He hadn’t even stopped to think if he wanted it, but now that he was considering it, of course he did.

“Yeah,” Finn said.

Jacob’s eyes glowed with pride and affection. “Good. Okay.” He leaned in and broke the other, more unspoken, no-PDA-at-the-rink rule and pressed a quick kiss to the side of Finn’s head. “I’d better get ready then.”

Morgan picked up his stick and tapped it on the floor, clearly impatient. “Cute that you think it’ll make a difference.”

Finn braced for Jacob’s frustration to boil over, but he only laughed.

“Yeah, you comin’ for me?” Jacob questioned.

Morgan nodded sharply and turned to head towards the ice.

“Hey, I want you to work on some of those specific movement drills first,” Jacob said, as he pulled his skates out of his bag. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah. After I finish my warmups.” He stood, stretching a little. “See you out there?”

“Hey,” Jacob said, and he turned back. “You’re really okay with him being here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. We . . .uh . . .talked some, before you came.” Finn paused. “It was good. It was actually great .”

Jacob’s smile was so bright. “Yeah?”

Finn nudged him with his glove. “I know you gave him advice, and he actually used it.”

“Nobody is more surprised than me,” Jacob said, still grinning and actually not looking all that surprised.

“I know you thought—and I thought—it was all him, and it was definitely some him, but it was me too, wasn’t it?”

Jacob’s gaze was so warm. “Maybe, yeah. A little. Which nobody could blame you for, by the way. You had— have— a lot of pressure on your shoulders. Some he’s put there, sure. Some you’ve put there, and some that’s just on there ’cause of who he is. What your last name is.”

“Yeah. But it’s just me out there, isn’t it? Just me.”

“Just you,” Jacob agreed easily.

It felt like everything was slotting into place. His play and his confidence. His relationship with his dad, which he’d never thought would be better after he’d found out about him and Jacob, but miraculously was. And then there was Jacob, and Finn’s heart practically fucking expanded, just thinking of how good it was with him.

How he wanted it to be good with him forever. How he wanted to love him forever.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Finn said, feeling that lump in his throat grow again.

Jacob’s look was affectionate but chiding. “Yeah, you could’ve,” he said. “But it was absolutely my honor to be there. To remind you of what you’re capable of.”

“Still. Thanks.” Finn wanted to tell him he loved him so badly it was right there on the tip of his tongue but what if it was too early?

What if it freaked Jacob out? He didn’t look freaked out, particularly, but that could change so easily.

“Of course.” Jacob tapped his glove. “Now go out there and make me proud.”

You’ll get there , Finn promised and made himself walk off.

When he got to the ice, his dad was already skating in slow, sweeping circles, his stick leaning against the far boards.

Morgan nodded at him, and Finn went to the opposite end and, after he finished his stretches, began to work through some of the specific movement drills that he and Jacob had been working on. Drills to make his reaction time quicker, to help him move faster and more fluidly from position to position.

For so long, he’d thought these basic drills were a waste of time. But now, not only did they reassure and ground him, Finn could feel the echo of them in every save he made during a game.

He could hear his dad’s stick against the ice, a rhythmic tapping as he took the puck down the ice towards the other net. But as Finn’s focus narrowed, even the noise of his dad skating and drilling puck after puck into an empty net began to fade away.

Maybe he was deep in the zone, but Finn did notice when Jacob came on the ice. He hadn’t put a full set of gear on, but he had his gloves on and his kneepads and a helmet, one of the ones he’d worn playing for Team USA, a bald eagle spreading its wings across one side.

But he didn’t come in Finn’s direction first. Instead, he skated over to where Morgan was circling the other net.

They were probably not going to kill each other, but Finn called out, “Do I need to remind either of you of the rule?”

Jacob pushed his helmet up. Shot him a knowing look, hot even across the ice. “No, we’ll behave.”

“Speak for yourself,” Morgan retorted.

But Finn already knew his dad was full of talk and nothing else, and it wasn’t like Jacob couldn’t dish it right back.

“Alright,” Finn said and went back to his drill, satisfied he’d done his due diligence, and actually, yes , trusting that they might not kill each other.

Jacob had noticed as soon as he’d skated onto the ice how deep Finn’s focus was, and he was worried him heading in Morgan’s direction might be distracting, but he did it anyway.

“How about it?” Morgan said, gesturing with his stick towards the net after Finn had warned them, and to Jacob’s relief, had gone right back to his drills.

Jacob raised an eyebrow. “You really wanna go?”

“Just like old times,” Morgan said.

“Not that old,” Jacob reminded him. “I retired two years after you did.”

Morgan patted his still-flat stomach. “Best shape of my life,” he claimed. Which knowing Morgan was probably true.

“Kept up with you then, and nothing’s changed,” Jacob said.

Morgan grinned, and to Jacob’s surprise, he was smiling right back. And even more than that, Jacob was actually enjoying this.

They’d always chirped back and forth, but before, the comments had been sharp as knives. Morgan—and after a time, Jacob, too—had meant them to cut. To slice each other open.

But now, the exchanges felt normal, almost like a routine. Exactly what Jacob had traded back and forth with hundreds of other hockey players over the years. He didn’t know why it suddenly hurt less. Maybe because now, finally, they were born out of respect for each other’s skill and not lingering resentment or anger.

“Well, get warm then,” Morgan said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As Jacob finished warming up, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Morgan made sweeping circles around the ice, gaining speed as he went.

Morgan’s speed had always been deceptive; he had another gear that nobody imagined existed until he turned it on, and then he was charging so fast it felt impossible to react in time.

He’d be a hair slower now, at forty-one, but he was still Morgan Reynolds.

“You ready?” Morgan asked as Jacob settled himself into the goal, stick in front of him.

“Yeah,” Jacob said, nodding. Neither of them was wearing their full set of gear. Morgan didn’t even have a helmet on. But they’d played long enough they knew the limitations.

Even six months ago, Jacob never would’ve agreed to do this, because he wouldn’t have necessarily trusted that Morgan, the most competitive person on the fucking planet, would follow any kind of limitation. But he’d begun to know the man better, behind the facade, and that had changed everything.

Morgan didn’t warn him, but then Jacob hadn’t expected that he would.

He just came in hard.

Exactly the way Jacob remembered he always had.

“He’s going glove-side,” Finn called out from the other side of the ice, and Jacob supposed he couldn’t be surprised that Finn was watching.

He’d be watching if he was Finn.

But he didn’t actually agree with Finn. How many times had he seen Morgan skate in like this? Too many to count. He didn’t always have a tell—that was part of what had made him so damn good—but Jacob tracked his gaze and had a feeling he wasn’t going to do anything as simple as going glove-side.

He’d want to be fancy, to be impressive . To show off his Morgan goddamn Reynolds skills.

Jacob braced himself, keeping his weight perfectly balanced so he could change his mind, but he wasn’t surprised in the least when at the last second, instead of shooting the puck, Morgan curved around the back of the net.

Jacob reacted instantly, dropping to his knee pad and sliding his stick around the side of the crease. It wasn’t the fastest reaction he’d ever had, but it must have been pretty damn good because Finn catcalled from the other side of the ice.

The puck bounced off Jacob’s pad, and Morgan swore, loudly.

“How’d you know I’d go around?” he demanded. He looked mildly perturbed but not burning up from the inside out with anger. Like he had so many times when they’d played each other.

Every time Jacob had denied him a goal, Morgan had always looked ready to kill Jacob. Or maybe worse, turn that anger onto himself.

“Lucky guess,” Jacob said, shrugging. “You always want to go so fucking fancy. Remind everyone you’re Morgan Reynolds.”

Morgan rolled his eyes but plucked another puck from the pile by the boards and started in another round.

They went for maybe ten minutes, taking longer and longer and breaks in between.

Jacob forgot how many shots he deflected, and how many goals Morgan scored on him, but he wasn’t really surprised when Morgan pulled up short, ice spraying from his skates, and said, “We’re even. Ten and ten.”

“Yeah?” Jacob pushed his helmet up and his sweaty hair back. This was as good as the machine back home—or maybe better, actually. Because as good as Morgan’s physical skills had always been, it was his conniving mind that was the toughest challenge.

“Yeah.” Morgan set his stick against the boards and grabbed his water bottle.

“You wanna call it?” Jacob asked, but he already knew what Morgan was going to say.

Morgan shrugged, and Jacob decided that he wouldn’t make him actually utter the words out loud.

“I think that’s a good place to leave it,” Jacob said. Then he glanced over towards the back of the rink. “Unless you want to give Finn some work.”

Morgan had the nerve to look shocked at that. “You’re actually gonna let me go against him?”

“Let you? Let you ?” Jacob laughed. “I’m not his keeper.”

“No, just his boyfriend. And his coach.”

“He can handle you, if you don’t lose your mind,” Jacob said.

“Did I do that with you?” Morgan demanded.

“Nope. Which is why I suggested it in the first place,” Jacob pointed out dryly.

“Okay. Um. Yeah.” Morgan was floundering. Apparently he really hadn’t anticipated this.

“Take a break. I know you’re old now,” Jacob joked, ignoring it when Morgan flipped him off. He skated down to where Finn was finishing up his own drills.

“Hey,” Finn said. “Looking sharp out there.” His gaze was full of approval and heat. Jacob being good turned him on. Well, that wasn’t surprising, because Finn being downright fucking amazing turned Jacob on too.

“Thanks,” Jacob said. “Hey, you good with your dad taking some shots at you?”

Finn leveled him with a flat stare. “Really?”

“I mean . . .”

“You don’t have to ask,” Finn said. “Send him over.”

Jacob skated back and grabbed his water bottle from the top of the net, watching as Morgan did a few additional sets of stretches.

He would probably regret this but he knew he should say it.

“Hey,” he said, lowering his voice and skating over to where Morgan was stretching. “I . . .uh . . .thought you should know. I’m going on a podcast, in a few days. Coming out.”

Morgan looked up. “Yeah?”

“I know you told me about you—”

Morgan’s face totally closed over. “You can’t keep fucking bringing that up.”

Jacob had only brought it up twice .

“You called me a pedophile ,” Jacob reminded him.

“And? I was pissed.”

“I’m just saying, you don’t have any room to complain here.” Jacob took a short breath. Knowing Morgan wasn’t going to take this well but believing he should say it anyway. “I just think you should tell Finn.”

“Don’t like keeping secrets from him?”

Jacob didn’t hold back. Figured that he and Morgan had come to a place where he didn’t have to. Not anymore. “About you? Fuck no.”

Morgan sighed. Scrubbed a hand over his sweaty face. “I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to talk about it. Not at all. Not because of the . . .”

“The queer thing?” Jacob said gently.

Morgan nodded. “It didn’t end well. I . . .I didn’t want it to end that way. I don’t know how else it could’ve ended, honestly, but, I still didn’t like it. I don’t like it.”

It suddenly occurred to Jacob that Morgan Reynolds could fall in love. It should’ve occurred to him before this. After all, he’d married Finn’s mom and had him with her, but he’d never seemed affected by their marriage or frankly by their divorce either.

Not like he was now.

Because that was what he was saying, without saying it, wasn’t he? He’d loved this guy. Jacob didn’t want to feel sorry for Morgan, but it was kind of impossible not to.

“You don’t have to tell Finn any of that.”

“He’s going to ask,” Morgan said bluntly.

“Well, probably. Doesn’t mean you have to talk about that part of it.”

Morgan actually seemed to consider this for a long moment. “Do you think it’s gonna help you to be honest on this podcast?”

Jacob noticed that he didn’t specify what it would help. Jacob already knew it; so did Morgan. They finally understood each other. They’d just had to both retire to get there.

“I don’t think it’s gonna hurt, if that’s what you’re asking.” He’d been so uncertain about doing this, forever, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. This still wouldn’t be a big deal, but Jacob had begun to understand how hard it had been on him to hide forever, and he never wanted to do it again.

“You don’t care about what people are gonna say about you? Think about you?” Morgan wondered.

“I never cared what anyone thought or said about me. Even you,” Jacob said.

Morgan made a face. “That’s so fucking true,” he muttered.

“You don’t have to tell him. I’m not going to tell him. But I think you should.”

“I’ll think about it,” Morgan said, and Jacob actually thought he would. Shockingly.

“Come on,” Jacob said, patting Morgan on the arm. “Let’s show Finn what you can do.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be seeing what he’s made of?” Morgan questioned.

Jacob grinned. “Oh, what he’s capable of was never in question. But you’re old now.”

Morgan spluttered. “You fucking asshole. I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jacob said, laughing, and he was pretty damn sure what Morgan meant was actually the opposite.

Finn took a breath in and then let it out slowly, watching as his dad skated towards him.

“You got this,” Jacob called out, but Finn didn’t look over.

Instead, he kept his gaze glued to where Morgan was coming in hard, his speed still strong even though he was old.

But that would be the first mistake he’d make, if he underestimated how good his dad still was, even three years after retirement.

He’d watched a little of Morgan versus Jacob, on the other side of the rink, mostly because it was impossible not to, with their level of skill on display. They were both so ridiculously good still and still had each other’s number.

But watching had given Finn a good refresher course on Morgan’s habits.

He liked to skate not just with his body, but with his mind, to outmaneuver the goalie. To turn it into a game of chess, not just a game of hockey.

The first move of Morgan’s wouldn’t be his last, and Finn needed to prepare for that.

Morgan came in hot, wiggling the puck around on the tape of his stick like he was trying to deflect Finn’s attention, but Finn didn’t let himself be shook.

He also didn’t let himself think of the last time they’d done this—last summer, they’d only done it once, and Finn had ended up breaking his stick afterwards.

Not his finest moment.

But today, he wasn’t going to let Morgan get to him.

Maybe his dad was Morgan Reynolds, but he was Finn Reynolds .

Morgan streaked around the right of the goal and then circled back, swooping past the dot. Finn nearly went to the ice, sure Morgan would try to flick the puck into the five hole, but he held for a second longer, listening to his instincts, instead of the fear that had always screamed louder, that always screamed that he had to do something before someone scored on him. Before an opposing player—or even worse, his dad— humiliated him.

But the only person who could humiliate him was him .

Finn held for another breathless moment and then, as Morgan changed direction, sliding to the right and shooting the puck high, he lifted his pad and knocked the puck away.

Jacob crowed on the other side of the ice, and there was no denying that felt damn good, but it felt even better when Morgan came to a stop in front of him and lifted his chin.

“Great save,” he said.

But it felt even more amazing when Finn could respond, “Yeah, I know,” and for the first time in a very long time when faced with his dad, believed it.