Page 16

Chapter Sixteen

RIVER

Okay , the word rolls around in my head on the drive home. A word that means nothing and everything all at once. I shared my feelings with Nate and told him what he needed to hear, and he said okay .

Well, fuck .

Since I mentioned possibly quitting school to join the NHL, Nate has kept his head down, writing in his journal. His hand flies across the pages, the scent of ink permeating the space between us.

I focus on driving, a nice distraction from my wandering thoughts. The beautiful scenery doesn’t hurt.

Scarsdale, New York—where I lived until boarding school—is less than a two-hour drive from campus. I haven’t lived in this house for more than a few weeks since I was twelve. But it’s where I learned to play hockey. Where I first decided to go pro.

When my dad was on the road with his team, I stayed behind with my mom. My job, even as a boy, was to take care of her. My dad put me in charge and said I was the man of the house while he was gone. I took my role seriously, sitting by her feet while she read romance novels or helping her make dinner.

The thing I hate most about the rift between my dad and me is losing my mom. We haven’t been as close in the past few years. She used to call me every week at boarding school and send care packages. That ended my freshman year of college when Dad said she had to stop babying me.

I miss her.

If anyone would accept that I’m gay, it’s my mom. She has always understood me. Always made me feel special.

“I’m thinking about telling my mom,” I say to Nate, breaking the awkward silence in the car.

He looks up from the journal and smiles. “Yeah? I think you should.”

“I just hope she doesn’t tell my dad.”

“He’s going to find out at some point, Riv. Maybe you should just rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with.”

“What about you? When are you planning to tell your parents?”

Nate shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what they think. They never had my back. So fuck them.”

I slide my hand from the shifter to his knee. “I’m so sick of being afraid. I want to sign with a team and have some security before my life falls apart.”

“Is that why you’re rushing into things?”

I bob my head. “On an unconscious level, I think my dad knows what he saw at the beach house wasn’t just me waking up with my hand on your dick.”

“I thought nothing of it,” Nate says with a cheeky grin. “Shows you how much I paid attention.”

“Because we normalized friends touching each other like that. To you, it meant nothing. But to me…”

Silence hangs between us before he says, “Everything you do means something to me.”

I smile at his confession, and just like that, all the doubt fades into the background.

As I park in the circular driveway outside my family home, I suck in a deep breath. Nothing ever prepares me for seeing my dad. Anymore, his presence suffocates me. Even talking on the phone gives me anxiety.

Nerves bubble up in my stomach as I stare at the modern colonial with over two dozen windows and stone accents. Inside, there are seven bedrooms and ten bathrooms. The ten thousand square foot home sits on almost two acres.

“I’m right here.” Nate slips his fingers between mine, holding my gaze. “You don’t have to do this alone. If you want to tell your mom, I support you.” He raises our joined hands and kisses my skin. “I’m proud to call you my boyfriend.”

Hearing that word never gets old. I love how it sounds coming from his mouth.

The front door opens, and Nate drops my hand, pulling away before anyone notices. I’m thankful for that. Until I’m ready, I would rather keep us a secret.

My mom walks toward my car, blonde hair curled and slung over her shoulder. She wears a tight black dress fitted to her slim waist, the sleeves loose on her arms. Until a few years ago, she still modeled professionally. Dad met her on a Sports Illustrated photo shoot set and said it was love at first sight.

They married three months later and had me the following year. As far as I know, he’s never cheated or been tempted by puck bunnies. I would kill my dad if he ever hurt her.

Mom lays her head on my shoulder, arms thrown around my middle. “I missed you so much, Rivie.”

Only she can call me that and get away with it. Nate gets punched in the arm whenever he makes fun of me.

I spin her in a circle, breathing in her flowery perfume. “I missed you, too, Momma.”

I set her feet on the ground, but she doesn’t let go. She holds me for a solid minute before peeling herself from me. My mom is five feet ten inches tall. But with four-inch heels, we’re the same height now.

Dad moves between us, puts his hand on my shoulder, and grins. “Welcome home. We have a lot to discuss before your meetings.”

Swallowing the nerves rising up my throat, I nod. Signing with a team means leaving Nate. It means facing some of my greatest fears.

Nate’s standing near the door with his parents, an overnight bag slung over his shoulder. “Dad, stop it. Fuck.”

His cheeks flush, his body vibrating with anger. Being in their presence stirs up old, resentful feelings for Nate. He blames them for inserting Veronica into his life. And rightfully so. If not for the sex parties, Nate wouldn’t have been in that position.

Why did my dad invite them?

“Excuse me,” I say to my parents and move to Nate’s side.

Even without speaking, I feel his mood shift, the air between us thick with tension.

“Spencer, Savanna,” I say to his parents, forcing a smile. “Glad you could join us. Happy Thanksgiving.” I tug on Nate’s hand. “Can I borrow Nate for a minute?”

Without waiting for an answer, I drag Nate toward the house. He rolls my suitcase, his bag slung over his shoulder, and follows me into the foyer. Outside, our parents whisper amongst themselves, keeping their distance.

The house smells of turkey and herbs. My nose tips up as my stomach growls. I love my mom’s cooking. She’s not just a pretty face.

I lift my suitcase and rush up the grand staircase to the second floor with Nate. “What were you guys arguing about?”

“Dumb shit,” Nate hisses. “You know my parents. The usual.”

“We can hide upstairs until dinner.”

Much like the rest of the house, the walls are a simple cream, decorated with expensive art. The floors are white oak and don’t show any wear. You can only see the scuff near my door from playing hockey as a kid. My dad whooped my ass for that one.

“Thanks for the save,” Nate says once we’re alone and walking toward my childhood bedroom. “I doubt I will last the weekend in this house with them.”

“Come to Manhattan with me tomorrow.”

“Aren’t you going with your dad?”

I nod.

He shakes his head as we enter my room. “Pass. Less is more with your dad.”

I shut the door and roll my suitcase near the dresser. Nate drops his bag on the floor and walks around the space to look at my pictures. A few framed images of me with my parents are on the dresser. In some, I’m dressed in my peewee hockey uniform, Remington Academy’s royal blue and yellow, and Kingston University’s black and gold.

My jersey number has stayed the same. Twenty-three is inked onto my chest between crisscrossed hockey sticks, directly over my heart. I plan to add Nate’s name to the same place one day.

He’s the reason my heart beats. Until I met him, I only had hockey, but he has since become the love of my life.

Nate sits on my bed and runs his hand over the dark blue comforter. “Leave your car keys before you go tomorrow. I might do some Christmas shopping.”

“Shopping for me?” I lean in for a kiss. “Hmm?”

“Duh.” Nate smirks. “I’m thinking a chest full of sex toys. Gallons of lube. All the sex you can handle.”

My cock likes his present ideas and responds accordingly. “Stop turning me on. We can’t have sex again until Sunday.”

“You’re so cute.” Nate’s lips graze mine as our eyes meet. “I’ll bend you over the table during dinner and fuck you on top of the turkey just to piss off our dads. Don’t tempt me, Riv. I will do it.”

“My boyfriend is a psycho.”

“You like it when I get all crazy and do things like this…”

Nate tackles me to the bed, holding me down with his weight, and slips his tongue into my mouth. His fingers dig into my jaw as he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. This is what I needed, a brief distraction from the madness.

Wrapped up in his possessive touch, I hear a creak to my right but can’t bring myself to peel my lips from his. A gasp followed by shattered glass sends my heart racing into overdrive. Liquid splashes my arm and the bed, the scent of bourbon filling my nostrils. When I look down at the floor, shards of glass are scattered across the wood.

My eyes land on my dad.

“What the fuck are you doing, River?”

Oh, shit .

Spencer stands beside him. He maintains his grip on a glass of scotch and doesn’t look surprised.

“Dad,” I choke out. “I?—”

He pushes out his palm to silence me. “I don’t want to hear it. You lied to my face. You told me nothing was going on with Nate.”

I shrink into myself, feeling small and childish. Like I’m still the little boy who grew up in this room.

“It wasn’t… At the time you asked me, I wasn’t with Nate.”

Spencer tips a glass to his lips and takes a long sip. “I will not let you ruin your future, Nathaniel.”

Nate grits his teeth and rises from the bed, hands balled into fists at his sides. “Try to stop me, old man.”

He presses his forehead to Spencer’s, overcome by rage and years of hatred. Nate will hit him. And I’m not sure I could prevent him from killing his dad, nor would I try.

“I won’t have a gay son,” Spencer says, his words laced with anger.

“Then, you won’t have a son.” Nate’s nostrils flare. “Simple as that.”

I watch their heated encounter, using it to avoid looking at my dad.

“You will marry a woman,” Spencer says, eyeing up Nate as he downs the contents of his glass. “I will find you someone respectable. No one will ever know about this.”

With that, Nate slams his dad into the wall. The empty highball glass slips from his hand, shattering to pieces. The dresser nearly topples over as Spencer attempts to fight back, but Nate throws his weight into the heavy wood, holding it in place.

“You little shit,” Spencer snaps, which sounds funny when talking about Nate.

He’s six foot four and two hundred twenty pounds of muscle. Even at twelve years old, he already had the body of a man.

My dad darts across the room, grips Nate’s shirt collar, and pulls him off Spencer. I shove him away from Nate. His shoulder bumps into Spencer’s, and they drop to the floor with a thud, landing on the broken glass.

Spencer groans. Blood trickles down my father’s hand, his finger sliced and dripping onto the floor.

As if the shit show isn’t bad enough, my mom and Savanna come running into the room.

Mom gasps, eyes wide, and screams. “Oh, god. Ryan, what happened?”

She hunches down beside him, and he pushes out his bleeding hand.

“No, don’t, my love. There’s glass everywhere.”

My mom inches back, tears in her eyes, and looks at me.

“I’m sorry, Momma.” My voice shakes. “I didn’t mean for it to get so… out of hand.”

“What did you do to your father?” Savanna asks Nate, her Texan accent thick and demanding.

“I’m gay,” Nate tells her. “So is River. They walked in on us kissing and…” He waves his hand. “This happened.”

“Oh,” Savanna whispers. “Huh.”

Just like Spencer, she doesn’t seem too shocked by the reveal. Although, I’m not sure why. They judge everything he does.

My mom hooks an arm around me. “I knew, Rivie. I’m your mother. Of course, I knew.”

“I wanted to tell you.”

“It’s okay.” She hugs me. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” my dad hisses, standing behind her. “He’ll never play for an NHL team if the media finds out he’s a faggot .”

His words slice into my chest like a machete. I swear my heart is somewhere in my stomach. Everything hurts. My head, my chest, every muscle in my body.

“Ryan, if you ever call my son that name again, I will file for divorce.”

“Baby, come on,” he pleads. “You know I’m right. No one will want him. He’s broken… damaged goods.”

“No, he’s not.” My mom extends her hand to me. “Let’s go, Rivie. We’re not spending the holiday with your father. He needs time to cool off.”

“What about the meetings?” Dad yells as we step into the hallway. “You can’t do this. I won’t let you.”

“River doesn’t need you there,” my mom says. “And neither do I. Just leave us alone, Ryan. And don’t even think about following us. You stay right there.”

My heart is racing from the adrenaline rush. I can hardly catch my breath as we walk down the hallway, our hands linked, nerves coursing through me.

“Wait up,” Nate says, rolling my suitcase behind us, his bag in the other hand. “Fuck those assholes. I’m going with you.”

“Momma,” I choke out as we descend the stairs.

She cocks her head at me.

“I love you.” I force a smile even though I feel like I’m dying on the inside. “Thank you.”

“I love you, too,” she says as we exit the house. “No one, not even your father, gets to hurt you.”

“Mrs. R.” Nate claps a hand on her back. “You rock. That was badass, by the way.”

She nods. “Just take care of my baby, okay?”

Nate hauls the bags into my trunk and nods. “Always.”