Page 9

Chapter 9

"You look tense,” Brody said casually as he skated around the back of the net, getting his legs warmed up for practice.

Finn made a face. “I’m not tense,” he argued. But he was. He definitely was.

Knew he was, even as he tried to limber himself up. He grunted at Brody, who rolled his eyes and skated off, to finish his own warmup.

He’d spent all day yesterday doing homework and getting ready for the week, but even though he’d been going through the motions, nothing had felt as real or as pressing as the thirty seconds where he and Jacob had nearly kissed.

It was a mistake. If they’d actually kissed, it would have been an enormous mistake.

Finn kept telling himself that, reminding himself—and his dick—that they’d dodged a bullet. Keeping Jacob in the coach box was better than any of the alternatives. Now he wouldn’t ever have to disappoint his dad with his shit choices in men. Now he wouldn’t be distracted from hockey. According to Zach, the Sentinels’ scouts had been in the audience at the game. They’d even sent him an email, congratulating him on the shutout and telling him how good he looked.

“In control” was the phrase they’d used, and Finn could see how they might think that was true.

But it wasn’t true.

When Jacob had sent a text yesterday evening about grabbing some ice time for just the two of them Thursday morning, he’d been so tempted to reply with some version of the same text he kept typing out in his mind: what the fuck was that and why did we stop?

But he knew why they’d stopped.

He didn’t need Jacob to answer the question. He knew .

“And here I thought you getting some on the regular might loosen you up some.”

Brody was back, now, and he had a look in his eye that promised he wasn’t going to let this go.

“Getting some according to who?” Finn asked, but he already knew. Ramsey had decided that not only was Jacob coaching him, he was fucking him. It was not very surprising that he’d tell Brody, his best friend on the team.

What was surprising was that Brody—who before his football player boyfriend had practically been a virgin—was giving him shit about this.

“You’re not?” Brody questioned.

“I’m not.” Finn took a deep breath, wishing for patience. For sanity. “We’re not. He’s just coaching me.”

“Well, the point remains. You’re playing better than I’ve ever seen you. You were in the zone Saturday night,” Brody said.

“Thanks.”

“So why are you tense?” Brody paused, clearly hesitating because he wasn’t sure he wanted to bring up the D word. “Is your dad in town?”

Finn shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it.

“Then what the fuck?” Brody asked, voice kind.

“It doesn’t matter,” Finn muttered.

“Do you—” Brody cut off his question. “Oh. I get it. You wish it was like that, and it’s not.”

“You are disgustingly smart,” Finn muttered. “It’s better if it’s not like that.”

“Maybe,” Brody agreed.

“Are you kidding—my dad would lose his fucking mind if he knew Jacob was just coaching me, nevermind anything else.”

“I thought Jacob was supposed to be making you care less what your dad thinks,” Brody remarked mildly. “It’s not his business who coaches you, or who you spend your time with.”

Finn frowned. “Well, I know that, but I don’t think anybody’s ever given him that memo.”

Brody shot him a knowing look. “I’d imagine that there’s someone out there who could.” And he skated away, like a total asshole.

Not leaving Finn in any better of a mood than he’d been before.

He didn’t know if Brody meant him or Jacob—but both of those options frustrated him. He didn’t want Jacob sticking up for him, like he couldn’t stick up for himself. And if he did stick up for himself . . .well, it wasn’t like Finn hadn’t ever done it before.

But it never got easier.

His frustration didn’t end, though.

He went through his own drills. Incorporating some of the new moves Jacob had taught him, but that only reminded him, unbearably, of how Jacob looked when he’d shown him. How strong and broad and totally fucking capable—of recording a shutout, and of decimating the last of Finn’s precarious self-control.

Then Zach skated over and told Finn they were going to run a shootout drill.

Not Finn’s favorite thing in the world.

But the last thing he wanted was for Zach—or anyone else—to know how much this drill pissed him off. Made him doubt himself.

He’d been doing this for years and years, and he’d hated it from the beginning, and he’d probably always hate it.

It was one thing to be scored on during a game—when that was the opposing team’s entire purpose for being on the fucking ice. It was another entirely when it was guys he respected and trusted, exposing him in front of everyone. Every crack and seam that he hoped they might miss. Broken open for everyone to see.

“Alright,” Finn said, because what else was he supposed to do? Beg Zach to leave it alone, when he was already in a shit mood?

He wasn’t going to do that.

He was a hockey player, a goalie , and this was his only purpose.

If he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do anything.

Finn tightened the grip on his stick and centered himself, watching the group on the other side of the ice.

“Mal,” Zach called out, and Mal separated from the group, heading towards Finn’s side of the ice with long, lazy swoops, skating deceptively easy.

But Mal was anything but easy. It wasn’t hard to be fooled by his approach, and Finn had seen so many goalies get sucked into the matter-of-fact way he skated.

Then suddenly, he hit an edge, changing direction and taking off with a speed that nobody ever expected a guy of Mal’s size to possess.

But Finn knew he had it and had been waiting for it.

He watched his eyes, as they slid up to his shoulder and then back down like he was trying to decide where he was going to go. But he knew, already, and Finn knew he knew.

It was only a matter of guessing which angle he’d already chosen.

“Come on, Mal,” Elliott shouted from the other side of the ice. “Stop fucking around!”

Mal’s grin turned shades of evil, and impossibly, he found a new closing speed and shot the puck, a dart off his stick.

Finn hit the ice, half a second too late to deflect it off his leg pad.

“Fuck,” Finn muttered as it hit the net.

Elliott yelled at the other end in excitement and joy.

Zach must have called his name next—Finn couldn’t hear anything but the roaring in his ears—because Ell took off, then, his celebration not slowing him down even a fraction.

He was crazy fast and never bothered to try to hide it, not like Malcolm.

No, he was out for blood immediately.

No matter how Finn told himself it wasn’t personal and this was Elliott and he loved him, the brother he’d never had, it was almost impossible to remember that by the time Elliott took his shot, the puck’s speed tucking it just between his legs as he collapsed down in an attempt to deflect.

“That’s it,” Zach called out, clapping. He glanced over at Finn. “You good?” he asked.

Like Finn was going to say he wasn’t good.

“Fine,” he said between clenched teeth.

“Alright,” Zach said with a nod.

Ivan went next. And he actually did manage to deflect his shot, making Ivan mutter in Russian under his breath.

The rest of the team went, Ramsey flicking a sick shot above his shoulder, proving why he was so difficult to defend against. Because he was that good of a defenseman, and since he knew all the tricks, he knew just how to get around all of them.

By the time it was over, Finn felt raw and exposed, one big nerve.

Like he was a parody of a goalie, a pretender in pads.

Grinding his teeth together, he didn’t hang around on the ice, heading to the locker room the moment the drill was over.

“Hey, Finn,” Elliott called out but Finn ignored him.

“Just let him go,” he heard Zach say behind him, and that stung, even more, pinpricks of pain digging into the wall of numbness he’d attempted to erect.

Everyone let him go.

He shucked off his equipment, resisting every urge he felt to just throw it.

To take his stick and to destroy something.

Maybe even himself.

He was supposed to be above this, over this. But he wasn’t. It hurt more, now, when he’d believed he might finally be past it, than it had before.

The only fucking blessing was that his dad hadn’t had to see that—or any of the hockey media who always liked to say that he was only a shadow of a Reynolds, the “lite” version of Morgan.

Didn’t matter that they played different positions. The media liked to chip away at him, anyway, like he was indestructible, but he’d never been.

No matter how much he wished otherwise.

He took a shower, standing in the stall forever, letting the hot water wash down his body, hoping for a benediction or a blessing. Hoping to be washed clean of all his sins.

But it didn’t work.

Especially when he walked back into the locker room and Ramsey was sitting on the bench like he’d been waiting for him.

“Hey,” Ramsey said.

“Hey,” Finn said shortly.

“You know we don’t think any less of you, right? We know how solid you are.” Ramsey’s voice was so gentle and careful, and Finn hadn’t thought it was possible, but now he felt even worse.

Overreacting and overemotional.

“Right,” Finn said, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“It’s taken us almost a whole fucking season to be able to do that to you.” Ramsey kept going because he didn’t know when to stop. That was Ramsey for you. “You realize that, right?”

He realized it, sure, but it wasn’t like that really helped.

“Yeah,” Finn said.

Ramsey shrugged, like he’d done what he could and he didn’t know what else to do.

Finn burned under his skin. Anger and frustration and all that fucking lust that he hadn’t been able to scorch off.

He wanted to call Jacob and say, fuck doing the right thing. Just do me. Make me forget. Make me not think for a whole evening.

But he couldn’t. And not just because Jacob would chuckle in that uncomfortably tight way he did whenever Finn pushed and then say, even more gently than Ramsey, “You know we can’t.”

Yeah, he fucking knew it.

He was walking to his dorm room in only a T-shirt, hoping the heat of his anger would dissipate with the freezing air of an unexpectedly rain-less December night in Portland when his phone rang.

For a second, Finn froze. What if it was Morgan?

You’ll just ignore the call, he reminded himself. Like you’ve done a dozen times before.

But it wasn’t Morgan. It was Jacob.

Finn didn’t know if that was better or worse, but he was in no mood to be a fucking saint, so he picked up.

“Hey,” he said shortly. “What did I tell you about actual phone calls?”

“They make me look really old.” Jacob chuckled—but self-consciously, not uncomfortably, not like Finn had pushed him into a place he didn’t want to live in. That was something, at least. “I know. I thought I’d risk it. You didn’t answer my text and I wanted to make sure we were still on for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Finn said shortly.

The dinner where Jacob would plan his coming out. The coming out that he’d share with his eventual, yet-to-be-named boyfriend.

Everything burned.

Finn didn’t want to be that boyfriend; he didn’t . It would be a mess, a true fucking disaster. But he already knew it would hurt if he ever saw Jacob and the phantom boyfriend out together.

He’d wish it was his hand Jacob was holding; his ear Jacob was murmuring into. His body that Jacob took apart when they returned to Jacob’s house, to Jacob’s bed.

“You okay?”

Ramsey had essentially asked the same question, and he’d ignored him. He should ignore Jacob too, but the pull, inevitable and nearly irresistible, to confess how terrible practice had been, was hard to ignore.

Jacob would understand. It felt like Jacob was the only one who could understand.

“No. No. Not really.” Finn choked back a sob. Leaned against a tree, halfway to his dorm. “Had an absolute shit practice.”

There was a long silence on the other end.

“You want to talk about it?” Jacob asked.

Did he want to talk about it? No, he wanted to do anything but talk about it.

“No,” Finn said. “No, no, I can’t, I don’t . . .”

“I got you,” Jacob said. “You still on campus?”

“Yeah,” Finn said.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming to get you.”

Finn almost asked if Jacob was going to take him to his house and finally fuck him, but he was afraid to ask.

Afraid Jacob would say no. Even more afraid Jacob would say yes.

“Alright,” Finn said. But whatever they did, he could admit he was breathing a little easier. Feeling less like the only way to deal with the burning rage lodged under his breastbone was to turn to this tree and decimate it with his fists.

“Just wait right there. Where I dropped you off Saturday night, okay?” Jacob said.

“Okay.”

“Give me fifteen.” Then Jacob was gone.

Finn leaned against the tree and tried to steady his breathing.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna bail out on me after I fed you,” Bryan said, teasing good-naturedly as he soaped up the pan he’d used to cook the pasta in.

“Sorry,” Jacob said. “I just . . .”

“Need to go play knight in shining armor?” Bryan said, raising an eyebrow.

“Something like that,” Jacob muttered.

“Well, go say goodbye to the girls, and tell them your booty call’s more important than beating them on Mario Kart,” Bryan said.

“Bry,” Jacob said, frustrated.

Bryan looked at him. “I just don’t like to see you lie to yourself like this. You’re obsessed with this kid.”

“God, please don’t call him that.”

“Okay, you’re obsessed with this guy . Pretending you’re not, that you can keep things . . .what, on just a coaching level . . .is just lying to yourself.”

“Maybe I like lying to myself,” Jacob said.

Bryan shot him a look that said he’d never believe it. Not in a million fucking years.

“Okay, I hate lying to myself, but what else is there to do? I can’t . . .I can’t .”

“Why not?”

Oh God, for so many reasons. “I don’t even have time to go into all the reasons it’s a bad idea. Obviously Morgan.”

“Obviously,” Bryan said dryly.

“He’s younger than me. A lot younger. He’s got this whole life ahead of him, a whole NHL career, which I think is gonna be pretty damn spectacular, if he can stop worrying about how it stacks up against Morgan’s.”

“Maybe he’s not looking for a white knight or a happily ever after,” Bryan pointed out, setting the pan on the drying rack on the counter. “You ever think about that? You’re actually the worst at taking good things and just enjoying them.”

“I know,” Jacob said.

“Just . . .if he wants you and you want him, why can’t you just enjoy it?”

Why couldn’t he? Well, of all the reasons he was planning to come out, that was one of the most important. He’d said for nearly as long as he’d been retired that one of the few advantages of retiring early was coming out and finding a boyfriend and enjoying a real relationship for the first time in his life.

That wasn’t going to be in the cards with Finn.

Even if, deep down, he wanted Finn to be that guy, so much it hurt.

Finn didn’t fit into the mold. He was too young, too eager for the rest of his life to begin. And named Reynolds to boot.

“You know what I want,” Jacob said. “We’ve talked about it.”

“You thought you wanted that. And there’s no reason you can’t have it, eventually. But I’m telling you, as the older, wiser one in this scenario—”

“You’re barely eighteen months older,” Jacob interrupted.

Bryan shot him a grin. “Still older. I’m telling you—enjoy him. It doesn’t come around very often, like this, and you should get that chance, just the same as everyone else.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jacob said and pulled his brother into a quick half-hug. “I’ll go say goodbye to the girls.”

Jackie and Krista were already deep in their Mario Kart battle, and he dropped kisses on their heads and a minute later was out the door, wrapping himself up in his coat as he headed towards his car.

Luckily, the school was only a few blocks away from Bryan’s house, and only a few minutes later he was pulling up to the curb where he’d dropped Finn off just two days ago.

Finn was waiting, too, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, duffel over one shoulder.

He slid in, putting the bag in the backseat before he settled into the passenger seat.

“Where’s your coat? You’re gonna get fucking pneumonia on a clear night like this,” Jacob complained.

Someone had to worry about Finn, if he wasn’t going to worry about himself.

“I was hot,” Finn said.

Jacob made a disgruntled noise and cranked the heater up.

“Where are we going?” Finn asked when they were halfway to their destination.

He’d probably guessed they weren’t going to Jacob’s house since he’d deliberately turned the opposite direction. Jacob had wanted to ask him what had been so bad about the practice, but he knew how those could feel. It was always better to wait until someone was ready to talk.

“What I always did after a really bad practice or a shitty game,” Jacob said. He pulled into the parking lot.

“Dairy Queen?”

“It’s impossible to be sad when you’re eating ice cream,” Jacob said. “Come on.”

Finn grumbled under his breath, but when he emerged from the car, he’d grabbed a sweatshirt from his bag and was shrugging it on. “Is that like scientifically proven?” he wondered as they walked into the store.

“We’re getting milkshakes ’cause we’re not staying,” Jacob said, refusing to answer Finn’s teasing question.

Teasing was better than the look of concentrated doom he’d worn when he’d gotten in the car.

“You gonna at least ask me what flavor I want?” Finn asked, nudging him with a shoulder.

“Well, obviously,” Jacob said.

“Marshmallow.” Finn said it so fast Jacob did a double take.

“Is that even a flavor they have here?”

“Obviously,” Finn said and marched right up to the register like this wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

Well, maybe it wasn’t only Jacob who got milkshakes when he was having a bad day.

He walked up to the register and then turned to Jacob. “Let me guess,” he said, green eyes glittering, “you want chocolate.”

“Why do I feel like that’s a bad choice all of a sudden?”

“It’s basic, is what it is,” Finn said. But he ordered the chocolate milkshake along with his marshmallow abomination, and before Jacob could grab his wallet or protest, he’d paid for both of them.

“Call it a thank you for dropping whatever you were doing,” Finn murmured as they waited for their shakes to be made.

“I wasn’t . . .well, truthfully, you saved me from Jackie and Krista kicking my ass at Mario Kart,” Jacob said.

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Jackie and Krista?”

“My nieces. Seven and ten. They’re much, much better than I am,” Jacob admitted.

“At everything or just Mario Kart?”

Jacob wasn’t particularly surprised that Finn had asked about them. Curiosity was partially responsible of course, but Jacob understood too how much easier it was for Finn to talk about something else than what was really bothering him.

“Pretty much everything,” Jacob said sheepishly. “They’re amazing and brilliant and beautiful, and just . . .” He trailed off when he realized just how doting he sounded.

Finn smiled. “That’s why you moved here, after you retired.”

“Yeah,” Jacob said. “Bryan’s a single dad, and I want to support him, right, but also . . .you have a chance to be with those little girls, you’re not gonna miss it.”

After they picked up their shakes they walked outside, Finn sucking noisily on his straw. “So what’s the next step in the ‘Jacob Braun feel-better plan’?”

“How do you know there’s a plan?” Jacob unlocked the door and they both slipped inside.

Finn rolled his eyes as he started the car. “There’s clearly a plan.”

“Fine, fine, there’s a plan, okay?” Jacob started the car.

It was only a five-minute drive to the overlook, but he drove it in silence, only listening as Finn gnawed at his straw.

If he looked over, he’d see it in Finn’s mouth and he really, really didn’t need to see anything in Finn’s mouth. It would feed the worst of his fantasies and they already felt out of control.

Jacob parked at the overlook, ignoring the sign that claimed it closed at dusk. Led Finn towards the low chain-link barrier and over it.

“Look at you, Braun,” Finn teased. “Such a lawbreaker.”

He did sound lighter, but Jacob also knew whatever had made him sound so much worse less than an hour earlier didn’t just evaporate.

You had to suck out the poison, first.

Metaphorically , he reminded himself. There will be no actual sucking .

“Hey, we’re not doing anything really bad,” Jacob said as they walked out towards the overlook.

“No? Disappointing.”

Jacob took a drink of his milkshake so he wouldn’t have to answer that—or defend himself.

The chocolate was rich on his tongue, stirring up all the memories of when he’d needed one of these.

It was a good reminder of why they were here.

“I did this after every bad practice. Every wretched game.” Jacob stopped at the edge of the cliff. Portland in all her shimmering golden glory was laid out beneath them, and because for once it wasn’t raining, the stars created a sparkling canopy overhead.

“You never played here,” Finn said matter-of-factly.

Changing the subject again. On Saturday night, Jacob had called him out for deflecting, but he wasn’t going to do it tonight.

“I didn’t,” Jacob said. “But they had overlooks in Pittsburgh. Milkshakes, too.”

“Funny how that works.” Finn took a deep breath. Let it out again.

Jacob heard it and hoped that it was helping. Decided that he’d be safe offering a little more.

“And,” he said, “after I retired and moved here, I did this enough times. Plenty of bad days, even though I wasn’t playing anymore.”

“Because you weren’t playing anymore,” Finn guessed.

Jacob nodded. Finn still hadn’t looked over at him. He was still gazing out at the lights below, and he told himself that was better.

Easier, anyway.

This was supposed to be for Finn’s peace of mind, and if he could find it that was the most important thing.

“It’s ironic, isn’t it,” Finn said, “I needed it because I am playing, and you needed it because you’re not anymore.”

“Hockey’s a blessing and a curse,” Jacob said pragmatically.

Finn sighed.

“You wanna talk about it?” Jacob said after a long moment. He was nearly done with his milkshake, and he had a feeling Finn was nearly done with his, too, since the cup was dangling at the end of his fingers, at his side.

“Not really.” Finn finally looked over and made a face. “Tell me more about Jackie and . . .Trista?”

“Krista. Ugh, they’re just . . .so smart. More than book smart. They always seem to know when I’m in a bad mood, and they just . . .miraculously drag me out of it, I don’t even know how. Every time, I would’ve sworn to you nobody on earth could, but they just push and tease and cuddle up to me, and the next thing I know, I’m smiling and even laughing. Wrestling with them on the ground. Letting them doodle all over my face. Losing spectacularly to them at Mario Kart.”

“I think I could probably give them a run for their money.”

“You’d think so, but you’d lose, anyway,” Jacob said.

Finn flashed him a smile, and it reminded him of how Jackie and Krista always managed it with him, and now he’d done it too.

Maybe not as effortlessly as them, but things with his nieces were so much simpler. The situation with Finn was layered. Messy.

“Sounds like it. Maybe I could . . .” Finn trailed off, and Jacob had a feeling he was thinking of saying, Maybe I could meet them someday.

But why would he have a reason to? He wouldn’t.

Jacob was just his coach.

“Maybe you could meet them someday,” Jacob said, because he was an idiot and a total sucker for attempting to eradicate that melancholy tone out of Finn’s voice.

“I’d like that a lot,” Finn said, shooting him a small smile.

“You’ve met Bryan already, after all.” Jacob knew he was trying to justify it, even though there was no real reason.

“Yeah,” Finn agreed. He let out another unsteady breath. “Zach had us run a shootout drill today.”

“Ah.” Jacob reached over and took Finn’s empty cup and tossed both of them into a nearby trash can.

“Did you always hate those too?”

“I didn’t like them,” Jacob said. “But I understood why they were necessary. They make you better. They make your offense better.”

“Ugh, not you too,” Finn complained.

“Okay, why do you hate them?”

Finn shot him a look. “You know why.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I want you to say it.” Out loud, Jacob didn’t add, so you can hear how ridiculous it sounds.

“I hate them because it makes me look bad. Foolish. Outmatched. Over and over again. And it means that not only will I know that, the whole team’s gonna know that, too.”

Finn got to the end of this and then winced. He shot Jacob a rueful look. “It’s really stupid, isn’t it?”

“Not stupid. Do you really believe you’re bad? Foolish? Outmatched?”

Finn shook his head.

“And does the team believe that?”

“No,” Finn said quietly.

“There you go. It does suck. You want to do well. You want to show them you’ve earned their respect and their belief in what you can do. But one drill isn’t enough to change any of that, not even close. You know that, Finn.”

“I also . . .just . . .” Finn stopped. Looked over at Jacob. “Why does this have to suck so much?”

“Playing hockey?”

“No, no, no.” Finn hesitated. “You know what.”

“Ah. Well.” Jacob shoved his hands into his pockets. They’d managed to not get deep into the weeds tonight, unlike Saturday. He’d been doing his best to steer them clear, but maybe there was no real steering them clear. Not when he felt the way he did. Not when the attraction flared between them, every time Jacob looked over at Finn. Not when he knew how much Finn felt it, too.

“I shouldn’t have pushed Saturday.” Finn sounded morose again.

And Jacob hated that, even more.

“None of that,” Jacob said and grabbed the metaphorical red-hot potato in his hands, tugging Finn into a tight hard hug. He’d hugged teammates like this a thousand times over the years, and it should’ve felt the same. It didn’t. But he was going to at least pretend—one day at a time—that it did.

Finn let him go. “You came even though you were worried,” he said.

“Worried about you? Yeah, I was.” He had been. He’d heard the sound of Finn’s voice and he’d been there, too, more times than he wanted to remember.

He’d wanted to take the pain away. Bear it for Finn, even if it was only for a little while.

“Worried about this,” Finn said, gesturing between them.

“ This isn’t going to stop me,” Jacob said firmly.

Finn stared at him for a long moment. “You’re a good guy. A . . .a good coach.”

Jacob thought maybe he’d wanted to say something else, but he’d settled for the simple, easy, non-problematic answer instead.

He should be happy that Finn had.

But he found himself wondering what Finn had wanted to say instead, long after he dropped him off.