Page 19

Chapter 19

“I had no idea they planned podcasts out so thoroughly ahead of time,” Finn said, staring at the sheet of questions in his hands.

They were in Jacob’s bed—Jacob was hard-pressed these days to not think of it as theirs— and already naked. Finn had surprised him with a mind-blowing blowjob on the couch and then Jacob had returned the favor after he’d pulled him to bed. Fingering him nice and slow, dragging the pads of his fingers over his prostate until Finn was squirming and begging for it.

Jacob felt a pulse of heat spike inside him, just thinking of how good it had been.

Of how good Finn looked, propped up against his pillows.

How right .

Jacob cleared his throat, trying to focus. Finn had agreed to help him with the last of his podcast preparation—he was flying out first thing in the morning and by tomorrow night it would be done—and he needed it.

“I don’t think they typically do, but this is more . . .uh . . .delicate than the norm,” Jacob said.

Finn nodded in understanding. “Okay, let’s go over some of these questions. From the top or is there a particular one you want to work on?”

The only question he hadn’t worked on yet. Had he been putting it off? Maybe. Okay, definitely .

“Uh . . .the last section.”

Finn’s eyes scanned the page and then he glanced up at Jacob. “This is the coming out question.”

Jacob picked at a thread coming loose from the comforter. “Yeah. I . . .uh . . .was saving the best for last?”

“Is that what it is, really?” Finn asked and Jacob wanted to hide his face, but he didn’t, because that seemed horribly cowardly and he wasn’t a coward.

But geez, how often was Finn going to hold his hand through this?

“I’m going to do it,” Jacob said firmly. That was not up for debate. Sophie had found the one way to do this that he could actually stand, and Neal was great—supportive and smart and savvy—and Jacob had learned enough to know that if he did want the focus to be where it was supposed to be, then he had to do this.

But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“I didn’t think you wouldn’t,” Finn said quietly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Did he? No. But he thought he probably should.

“It’s not that I care what people think. I don’t. I don’t care what they say even, even if it’s to my face—”

“It wouldn’t be,” Finn said soothingly, reaching out and gripping his hand. “They wouldn’t dare.”

“They might,” Jacob said. He’d prepared himself for it. “It’s not any of those things. It’s that they’re gonna be talking about me at all. I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of this. I just wanted to live my life, the way I wanted to live it.”

“Like I did.” Finn cleared his throat. “I never really ‘came out.’ I just did whatever the fuck I wanted to. Which was guys.” He smiled then, dimples showing, and Jacob had never loved him as much as he did in that moment, because Jacob couldn’t help but smile too.

“I can’t do that, I get that. I was . . .too much time’s gone by with me in the closet, and now the foundation I’m starting . . .I get it. But I don’t like it.”

“You’re allowed to be afraid, too, you know?”

Jacob shot Finn a look. “Is that what you think?”

“I think you’d have to be a lot stupider to not be afraid at all. It’s scary, and it’s okay to admit that.”

Jacob was floored. He shouldn’t have been, but every time he thought he knew how beautiful, inside and out, Finn was, he was surprised again.

“Okay,” Jacob admitted softly. “I’m a little afraid, too. Less than I was, but . . .”

“It’s fine, it’s gonna be okay.” Finn squeezed his hand. “I wish I could be there for you.”

Finn hadn’t been able to swing the trip, because he had class and then practice, but he’d made enough noise about skipping both that Jacob had had to put his foot down. He’d be fine. He’d have Mark and Sophie there, and Neal was on his side, too.

There’d be plenty of support.

“It’s okay really. You’ve been here for the hardest part. The part—” Jacob’s voice cracked. “The part I needed you for. ’Cause you’re good at this, you know? So supportive. You’d be so good at this.”

“Counseling people about to come out? I’ll keep that in my back pocket for twenty years from now.”

“You should. You’re wonderful. Amazing.” Jacob was aware he’d lost control of his own mouth, and it was making sounds and forming words maybe it shouldn’t. But he couldn’t stop it. Not any longer. He pressed a kiss to Finn’s head. “Perfect. The most perfect. And I love you.”

Finn was completely still for a second, staring at Jacob with his jaw dropped, and then he threw his arms around Jacob and hugged him tightly.

“God,” Finn murmured into his ear. “I love you too. So fucking much.”

Jacob had hoped, but when he heard Finn, everything inside him settled, wildly happy and painfully content.

“Yeah,” Jacob said roughly into Finn’s hair. He kissed Finn’s perfect shoulder.

Finn pulled back. “I wanted to tell you before, but I didn’t want to freak you out, especially not before . . .” He gestured at the sheet of paper that had fallen, forgotten, to the comforter.

It was so thoughtful and so Finn Jacob could only kiss him.

The kiss got hot and heavy immediately, Finn’s tongue stroking into his mouth and his thigh rubbing alongside Jacob’s like he couldn’t get close enough.

Jacob buried his hands in Finn’s hair and just hung on.

But just when he thought Finn might be edging them closer to round two, he pulled back. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easily,” Finn teased. He resettled himself next to Jacob and grabbed the paper.

“You want me to answer the question now ?” Jacob glanced down at his mostly hard dick, which had really believed they’d been about to go for round two. “I’m not sure how good I’ll be at this now.”

But Finn only grinned and patted him on the thigh—a little too close to where he really wanted Finn’s touch, and his cock twitched—then said, “You’re going to be distracted tomorrow, too. This is good practice.”

He cleared his throat and changed to a very formal, officious tone, which didn’t sound anything like Neal Fisher, but that was okay. Jacob got it. “Let’s talk more about your decision to start a foundation aiming to help LGBTQ kids play sports?”

Jacob had thought about this a lot so it wasn’t like it was hard to answer. Maybe hard to voice. “I decided to do it, because I thought, what if I’d had this kind of organization backing me, when I was a kid? Helping me understand that I wasn’t alone?”

Finn kept his “Neal Fisher” voice going to ask the next question on the paper. “Do you want to talk specifically about what kind of support you might have wanted or needed?”

Sophie had told him this interview was not a time to be vague, and Jacob had already decided he would just go for it, like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I’m gay, and I had the support of my parents and my friends, always. My coaches always knew, and a lot of teammates, and they were mostly supportive—”

“Mostly?” Finn asked this question in his own voice, raising an eyebrow and looking like he wanted to interrogate Jacob on just which teammates hadn’t been supportive and exact slow, painful revenge.

“Nothing’s ever perfect,” Jacob said with a shrug. “It’s stupid to assume it would be.”

Finn harrumphed in annoyance and gestured for Jacob to keep going.

“But even when the support was strong from people in my corner, I think it would have gone a long way to knowing how much the wider world would be supportive. That’s the aim of the foundation. To build support systems for those kids, like me. Like you. And liaise with the wider sports community to build awareness and understanding.”

Finn didn’t say anything at first. Just set down the paper and stared at Jacob, gaze warm and affectionate. He reached up and cupped Jacob’s cheek and then leaned in and kissed him. It was hot and soft and sweet, and Jacob, still half-aroused, groaned in the back of his throat as Finn’s tongue brushed his.

He pulled back a little, even though he didn’t want to. “So,” he said breathlessly, “that was good?”

“It was goddamn perfect,” Finn said and went back to kissing him.

Jacob knew he was turning into a total sap, but it was Finn who was perfection. The way his skin felt under his hands, the softness and the muscle rippling under it, so full of power and control. It was such a turn-on, and he was done pretending that it wasn’t.

His hand slid down Finn’s bare back, glorying in the feel and the closeness of him, and dug his fingertips into an ass cheek, making Finn moan.

“Yeah, you want more?” Jacob murmured into Finn’s mouth and he nodded, eyes bright and pupils dilated.

Grabbing the lube from where he’d tossed it earlier, he slicked up his fingers and crooked his wrist, sliding one in experimentally.

Finn moaned harder. “Come on,” he begged, cheeks flushed now. “I’m good.”

“But I like this so much.” He did. It was entrancing, watching Finn fall apart on his hand, grinding down, trying to get his finger deeper. He added a second and found that spot that made Finn squirm.

“God, yes,” Finn groaned. “Feels so fucking good.” He slid a hand down and wrapped it around Jacob’s cock.

Pleasure spiked inside him but he didn’t want just Finn’s hand. He wanted Finn hot and tight around his dick as he fell apart.

“More?” Jacob murmured, pressing his mouth against Finn’s lips, red and wet from his.

“Yeah, more ,” Finn begged.

Jacob shifted his hand and tucked a third finger in, no longer thrusting, just pressing the pads of his fingers against that place that made Finn shudder.

“Fuck,” Finn cried.

He was thrusting in tiny movements now, rubbing the wet head of his dick against Jacob’s stomach.

“No,” Jacob said, reduced to single words now by the fire pulsing inside his stomach. He curled his other hand around Finn’s hip, stopping him.

Finn’s eyes were wild and he bit his lip. “Close,” he said.

Maybe the savage surge of satisfaction that shot through him was ridiculous—Jacob knew how good it was between them, and how much Finn wanted it—but he felt it anyway.

Reluctantly, he pulled his fingers out and stroked his cock with the excess lube, then pressed into Finn’s hole.

Finn gasped as he slid all the way down, his thighs meeting Jacob’s.

He didn’t thrust right away, just ground against his dick, and he was just as wondrous as he felt around Jacob’s fingers—but so much more.

“Like that?” Jacob managed two words this time, but that was all he had as Finn kissed him, grinding harder, his hips sinuous and so fucking perfect.

Finn gasped into his mouth as Jacob grabbed his ass with both hands, hoping that he’d found the right angle, and thrust hard.

This was going to be over really quick, and he needed to send Finn over the edge first. He’d confessed awhile back that sometimes, the second time he got fingered or fucked, he could come just from that, and God that had been the hottest thing Jacob had ever heard and he wanted it so goddamn bad. Not just for him, not as some kind of badge of sexual prowess, but he wanted to give it to Finn. Give him everything .

Finn was fucking back down on his dick, now, panting hard, and Jacob thought from the way all his muscles were quivering he was close.

“Come on,” Jacob begged him, “I know you want it, and I want it too. Give it to me.”

Finn arched, his whole body a gorgeous fucking line, and clenched down hard, coming around Jacob.

It was glorious and perfect.

Jacob managed half a thrust more and exploded.

“Fuck,” Finn half-moaned, half-chuckled, as he collapsed onto Jacob. “That was . . .”

“Yeah,” Jacob agreed. Single words were still easier.

“Love you,” Finn murmured into his sweaty skin.

They really needed to move, or the mess would be tremendous.

Jacob’s grip tightened on him, deciding that he didn’t care.

He found one additional word. “Love you more,” Jacob said.

The interview had been going for forty minutes now—thirty-seven actually, if the clock on the wall of Neal Fisher’s setup was any indication.

He filmed his podcast in one of the rooms of his house, two comfortable armchairs in a peaceful, relaxing lavender blue, and memorabilia from his NFL career dotting the walls.

It had been an unsurprisingly effortless conversation. He and Neal had had several phone calls leading up to this podcast recording, and he’d immediately liked the guy. He was easygoing and funny, in a dry, laid-back way, but even more than that Neal Fisher understood .

Maybe he’d been a football player and not a hockey player. Maybe he’d been a kicker and not a goalie. But neither of them had gotten to define the terms of their retirement and they’d both struggled with the aftermath.

Neal because, after missing the game-winning kick in the Super Bowl, he had been summarily released from his team. Jacob because his hip had refused to cooperate and his only choice had been to continue playing in a diminished capacity or to not play at all.

They’d talked about retirement at length. Specifically, the lack of support from most—if not all—professional sports organizations post-retirement and how ex-players were largely responsible for their own emotional health once they were no longer signed to a team.

“I’ve been upfront about how I should have gone to therapy sooner than I did,” Neal confessed. “I spent practically a whole year hiding in my house, after the Super Bowl. Because yeah I didn’t want to see anyone, and wonder what they were going to say about the kick I’d missed, but also because I was more worried how I’d feel about myself if they did.”

“I figured out pretty quickly I needed the therapy,” Jacob said wryly. “My agent found me one day, sink full of empty wine bottles and a week out from a shower, and he sent me a number that same day. She’s been amazing, but even as amazing as she is, it’s not easy.”

Neal shook his head. “Nope. The process kind of sucks, right?”

“Totally sucks, but still totally worth it.”

“Is that who recommended that you start your new foundation?” Neal asked.

Jacob braced himself. They were coming into the meat of the interview. The part he’d practiced with Finn last night.

Early, early this morning, before he’d left for the airport, Finn had kissed him sleepily, told him he loved him and he was proud of him, and honestly that memory had been keeping him going.

“Yeah, it was her idea that I find something new to care about. The foundation was a no-brainer because I wish there’d been something like this when I was growing up.”

Neal gave him a soft, supportive smile and read the mission statement Jacob and Carla, their brand-new director, had spent the last week refining.

“So,” Neal added, “this is really great. I think LGBTQ kids could really use this support system. And it sounds like you’re committed to giving it to them.”

“Totally committed,” Jacob agreed.

“Sounds personal,” Neal said, and there was the prompt. Not exactly as it had been written on the sheet, but there it was regardless.

Jacob was afraid. There was no way around it. He was afraid, but he also trusted that in the next minute, he’d be less afraid.

Less afraid and free, and the latter was all that mattered in this moment.

“I’m gay,” Jacob said. And there it was. Recorded and not released but that didn’t matter, because tomorrow everyone on the planet could hear him say those words. Most of them wouldn’t know who he was and most wouldn’t even care, but he cared.

He took a breath and kept going. “I wish I’d had someone to tell me that I wasn’t alone. That I wasn’t a freak. My family and friends were supportive. My coaches always knew, and a lot of teammates, and they were mostly supportive, too.”

Neal shrugged, and Jacob knew from the look on his face that he understood, more than maybe Finn had, who’d grown up in a more accepting time, with more out pro athletes, that nothing was ever perfect. “It’s sad that we were forced to accept mostly supportive, but mostly is better than not, ” Neal said.

“Yeah. I was luckier than some. But even when I had great people in my corner, I think it would have gone a long way if I’d believed that the wider world was also supportive. That’s really the idea behind this foundation. We want to build support systems for those kids. Kids like you, and like me. But even more importantly, I want to raise awareness in the wider sports community and build collaboration and understanding.”

“I think there’s this really terrible fallacy out there,” Neal said, nodding, “that the sports community isn’t supportive, and I think it’s great you’re going to try to bring the truth of what it means to be a queer person in both non-professional and professional sports out to the wider public.”

“Nothing’s perfect,” Jacob said, borrowing Finn’s words, because he was perfect.

“Nope, but we’re making it better one day at a time,” Neal agreed.

The interview wound down. When it finally ended, Neal rose and Jacob met him halfway between the chairs, holding out his hand to shake, but to his surprise, Neal pulled him in for a hug instead.

“Congratulations, Jacob,” he said, when he let him go. “I’m so happy for you. Great interview. I can’t wait for people to hear it.”

“Thanks for having me,” Jacob said.

“You know, we contacted some of your teammates and players you skated against, for extra material,” Neal said.

Jacob tensed. He hadn’t known they were doing that.

“Sophie,” Neal continued, “suggested a list, and it had one really interesting addition.”

God, Jacob just bet she’d done it. He wanted to yell at her, but he supposed Neal was bringing this up for a reason. Either to tell him he needed to fire Sophie—and it would be terrible timing to do that, since she was standing just behind the camera, listening to every word—or to tell him that the result had been surprising.

“Hayes Montgomery had something to say, and Noah Boucher and Asher Dalton too. But the most fascinating addition was Morgan Reynolds. You know, his son Finn’s gay?”

“I know,” Jacob said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Well, I know you and Morgan never got along.”

“Never,” Jacob agreed, failing to keep his smile under wraps now.

“Well, to my shock, he sent along a super complimentary bit about you. About your bravery and steadfastness.” Neal shook his head, like he was still surprised. “I thought you guys had some crazy rivalry. Didn’t you two get into a brawl at your last All Star Game? And he wasn’t even playing ? ”

“Uh, that was highly exaggerated,” Jacob said. Even though it really hadn’t been. Morgan had said something exceptionally shitty and he’d have punched him in the face if a teammate hadn’t held him back. “But we’ve . . .uh . . .buried the hatchet. So to speak.”

“Sounds like it,” Neal said. He paused. “I’m just sorry that you can’t stay. I was hoping you could meet my husband, Jamie, but he’s at practice right now. We thought we might convince you to hang around for dinner, but Sophie said you needed to get back home.”

Jacob figured that they were being very honest and he trusted Neal so he might as well keep going. “I wish I could, but I’ve got some responsibilities back home. My boyfriend has a hockey game tomorrow, and I’m helping him out with some stuff.”

The corner of Neal’s mouth quirked up. “Yeah, a boyfriend, and a boyfriend who plays hockey?”

“Yeah, uh . . .well, funny that.” Jacob grinned. “The boyfriend is Finn Reynolds. My boyfriend is Finn Reynolds.”

Neal’s jaw dropped gratifyingly. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nope,” Jacob said.

Neal still looked shell-shocked, but Jacob was impressed at how quickly he seemed to recover. He patted Jacob on the arm. “Well, congrats are in order, I guess? And I suppose it wasn’t all that interesting that Morgan said such nice things about you.”

“Actually, it is,” Jacob said, chuckling. “I can’t say we’re friends, maybe we’ll never be friends but . . .we’re working on it?”

“If you want my two cents,” Neal said, dropping his voice and looking very amused, “I think that statement he made to my team tells me exactly what side of that argument Morgan falls on.”

Jacob wanted to disagree but as he said goodbye to Neal and his team, he and Sophie grabbing a cab to the airport, he thought that actually maybe Neal was right.

“Hey,” he said to Sophie as they were waiting for the plane, “did you tell Neal’s team to contact Morgan for a quote?”

She had the nerve to look slightly embarrassed. “Yes,” she said, “and before you freak out, I think it was the right call. It means more coming from him than it means coming from someone you were close to when you were playing.”

“How did you know he’d say anything civil?”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “If he didn’t, he wasn’t getting any face time on the podcast and he’s Morgan Reynolds .”

Jacob laughed. “True,” he said. “Still.”

“I know you didn’t want him to be part of this, but . . .”

“With me and Finn, he’s part of this, now,” Jacob finished for her.

“Yeah. Yeah. I wouldn’t have been so blunt about it but the truth is yes, he is. And if you want to be public with Finn—”

“I do,” Jacob said with absolute certainty. “I’m not hiding him.”

“Then this is good. Him saying good stuff about you in public? That’s only good. Those are the quotes people are gonna dig out when they write gossipy stories about you and Finn.”

“Right. Right.” Jacob reached down and squeezed her hand. “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

Sophie smiled. “Thanks for mostly making it easy.”