Page 27 of Puck Shots (Love The Game #6)

Cosmo

I pace outside the restaurant waiting for my parents, the calm I felt after Eli blew me in the shower completely gone.

I wish I could get drafted without all this stuff.

I’m great on the ice, the crowd loves me, and I love them.

But here, now, knowing inside those doors are the people who might decide my fate in hockey has me wanting to throw up.

“Cosmo, honey,” Mom calls, walking towards me with her arms already stretched out for a hug.

I need it, and the second she’s got her mom arms around me as soppy as it sounds, I totally feel the love.

Mom’s always been a hugger. In fact, we all are, the whole Parks family are huggers.

Well, except Dad. He’s more a slap his hand on your shoulder and give it a squeeze kind of guy, but even he gets in on this one.

“You nervous, son?” he asks, and Mom lets me go.

“What’s he got to be nervous about, Jo? He’s obviously impressed them already with them paying for us to fly out here and back.”

“You flew?” I ask, looking at Dad.

“Your mom called to confirm the time for dinner and they offered. Seemed rude to decline, besides, your mother’s never been in business class.”

“It was lovely, even if it was for only a short time. Maybe now I’ll convince your father to upgrade us for our trip out to England next year.”

“You’re going to see Brent?”

“That’s the plan. Who knows, with how things are going with him and Camden, we all could be flying out for a wedding before long.”

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Lyn. The boys only just met.”

“It’s obvious they belong together.”

“Should we go in?” I interject.

“Yes, okay, so I was looking up what we should ask them on the flight over,” Mom says. “Apparently, you should have at least three questions prepared. Do you have any prepared?”

I shake my head.

“I figured I’d wing it,” I say, and Dad laughs.

“That’s our boy, letting the cosmos steer your future.”

When I was growing up, they never missed a chance to remind me I was their little cosmic surprise.

They thought they were done having kids, they had four already, Brent, the twins Calvin and Tony, and our sister, Rachel.

Mom even thought she was going through the change, and yep, I only know what that is because I’ve listened to this story about a bazillion times.

She went to the doctors and came home with a positive pregnancy test, laughing about how the cosmos had other plans for their family.

I was the cosmic joke, and then I was born and I was just, Cosmo.

“I wrote down a few,” Mom says, passing me an airline napkin. I read off the first one.

“What do you often wish college players knew before joining the NHL? I guess I could ask that.”

“I like the one about focus,” Dad says, and I scan the rest and then read it off.

“If you were in my shoes, what do you think I should focus on this year?”

“Yep, that one. It shows you’re looking to impress them.”

“He’s already impressed them,” Mom adds.

“I like this one,” I say, reading off the last on the back of the napkin. “What off-ice habits do you see in your top pros that I could start now?”

“That is a good one,” Dad says, slapping his hand on my shoulder. “We better get in there before they think you’re not interested at all.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say, and I walk ahead of them through the doors into the first of what is hopefully many nights like this with many interested teams. But fuck, even if it’s just tonight with this team, I’m cool with that if it gets me the future I’ve dreamed of, the one I’ve worked my butt off for all these years.

“Cosmo, nice to see you again,” Greg Love says as soon as I’m through the door. He’s the advisor who has been talking to a few of the guys on campus for the last two years. Hopefully, he wasn’t watching me and my parents outside.

“Nice to see you again, too, sir.”

“Please, call me Greg. And these must be your parents, Lyn, and Jo?”

“Yes, umm, sorry, Mom, Dad, this is Greg Love. He’s an advisor for the NHL.”

“So you’re not an agent then?” Mom asks.

“No, the rules are pretty strict on agent representation at the college level. I’m more here to facilitate these sorts of meetings between players and prospective teams,” Greg replies.

“So they’re interested in my boy then?” Dad asks, and Greg smiles wide; my heart immediately doubles its pace. Fuck, breathe, Cosmo. Breathe.

“They’ve been watching. Your last game was especially impressive, but I’ll let Beckett and Charles go into more about that.

They’re waiting at the table. This way, Mrs. Parks,” he says, offering his arm to my mother, who fucking blushes before letting him lead her inside. Dad chuckles and nudges my side.

“Let the games begin.”

***

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Charles, the player development coach, asks about my double tap slapshot, and I can’t stop talking.

I told them all about Eli’s program that helped me figure out that I was too fast to land it without giving it a head start, hence the double tap, and then I told them about a few of the trick plays me and the guys are working on with Eli’s help, fine-tuning the moves.

“We’ve got some similar technology, but it sounds like your friend is onto something really special. Maybe we should recruit him into the team, too.”

“Eli doesn’t really skate. He’s the brains, I’m the brawn in the relationship.

” I laugh before I realize what I just said.

My throat goes dry as the seconds tick by waiting for someone, anyone to say anything.

I’ve never kept the fact that I’m gay a secret.

I’ve been out since the fifth grade, but I didn’t want to tell my parents I was seeing someone in the middle of a hockey dinner that might decide my whole fucking hockey future.

“You allow fighting in the professional games, don’t you?” Mom asks, and I’ve never been more thankful for her overprotective mindset than I am right now.

“It’s not officially permitted, but fights do happen.

It can get pretty heated out there,” Beckett replies, and I know the words he’s not saying.

Fights in the NHL are actually encouraged.

They help fire up the team and the crowd.

But who is going to tell a mother that? Well played, Beckett.

“You did well getting between the opposing team and your forward at last week’s game,” he says, turning to me.

“You saw that?” I ask, grabbing the glass of water in front of me and drinking half of it down in one go.

“I have to admit, I thought you might have been going in for a swing with how fast you got there, but you impressed me with your restraint.”

“I never thought that would be what impressed you guys.”

“Well, it did, that and your speed. Have you always been fast?”

“Ever since he was six, he was skating circles around anyone on the ice,” Dad says with a proud smile.

By dessert, I’m way more relaxed. I’ve found my groove, and my answers and follow-up questions start to flow more easily.

“So is the whole family into hockey?” Beckett asks, and I laugh.

“Not really.”

“Our twins play Banana Ball,” Mom says, and I try not to roll my eyes. I almost got through a whole dinner with the conversation not deviating to the star Banana Ball players changing how the world sees baseball.

“I’ll be right back,” I say and pretend like I’m going to the bathroom.

I pull out my phone on the way and open the group chat I’m in with a whole bunch of queer athletes from all over.

It’s become a sort of support chat, and I am hoping they can give me some pointers now on how to not fuck this up.

ME:

So, I might be at a dinner right now trying to impress the Boston scout and player development coach. HELP! How do I make them want me?

Brayden is the first to reply. No surprise there, he’s always on his phone. But his advice is usually spot on. Given he’s a right-wing for the Bobcats, he does actually know what he’s talking about. Most of the time.

brAYDEN:

They must be interested in you to meet you, so ignore all your natural chaotic instincts and don’t be a cocky shit. Hard, I know, but we have faith in you.

CONNOR:

Wear a slutty shirt.

What the fuck? That can’t be Connor. He’s a midfielder for the English League One and is usually a quiet and reserved kind of guy.

CONNOR:

NO!

CONNOR:

Sorry, Heli stole my phone. Research the team and be confident?

Called it. No surprise that nepo baby guy of his was the one to suggest the slutty shirt.

brAYDEN:

I vote yes to a slutty shirt.

CAMDEN:

I’d suggest using your natural charm but think it’s better if you don’t speak.

Harsh much? Camden and I first met at the shoot with most of the other guys, and then I, being the bestest little bro in the world and a master matchmaker, set him up with my big brother.

Brent swears they were already a thing before I “meddled,” but I don’t believe it.

No way did he bag Camden Crawford all on his own without my help.

CAMDEN:

Apparently, that’s an arsehole thing to say.

Brent says he’ll message you. But seriously, you’ve got this, kid.

The Parks charm has never failed yet. Let your stats speak for themselves.

The only other message to come through is from Jude, Brayden’s younger brother.

He’s relatively new to the chat group and used to almost never post anything.

Lately, though, he’s been getting way more involved.

I’m pretty sure that’s all my influence, too.

He’s the same age as me and is a defender in the Premier League, but I won’t hold that against him.

JUDE:

If a grumpy wanker like my boyfriend can get drafted, you have no worries.

Be yourself, even if you are a cocky shit like my brother insinuated.

You don’t wanna work with people who don’t accept the real you, believe me. Good luck!

ME:

*** eye rolling emoji*** Going back in.

***

“Just keep doing what you’re doing out there,” Beckett says as we shake hands at the end of the night. My face is sore from smiling, and I’m fairly sure I talked way too much, but it’s been pretty amazing, actually.

“Thanks. It was great meeting you both, and seeing you again, Greg, Mr. Love.”

“Greg’s fine,” he says, shaking my hand. I wait until their car turns the corner before I jump into the air.

“That was amazing, right?” I ask my heart racing again and beating so loud in my ears.

“You were wonderful,” Mom says.

“I think you’re in with a pretty good shot,” Dad says, giving my shoulder a squeeze the way he does. I go in for the full hug, and he wraps his arms around me and taps my back a few times before I let him go.

“I think that was both the best and worst thing I have ever had to do.”

“From what Greg was telling me; you can expect more dinners like these. We’d of course be happy to come down again if you need us,” Mom says, and I shrug.

“It was great having you with me. Can we wait and see if I even get any more invites before deciding?”

“Sure, honey, just know whatever you decide, we’ll support you.”

“We should let the boy get back, Lyn,” Dad says, and Mom pulls me into a tight hug.

“We’ll be at the hotel if you need us, and our flight leaves at ten tomorrow,” she says, her grip around me tightening.

“The cab is here,” Dad says, and I give him one last squeeze before we head our separate ways.

Sitting in the back of the cab on my way back to the frat, I check my watch, and a rush of cold sweeps over me.

The vote would be long over by now. I check my phone, no messages from Eli.

Fuck. If it was good news, he’d have messaged me, right?

My high flips to an immediate low. I scrub my palms on the fronts of my jeans, but they’re still clammy as fuck.

I should just call him, but then if he’s not made it, I have to hold my shit together in the cab until I’m home.

The brothers surely have seen enough in him to vote him through.

He killed the knowledge quiz, has totally stepped up helping the guys whenever they ask, even times they didn’t.

I rub the spot on my wrist where the lightning bolt has faded, hoping that by tracing over the lines with my finger, it will bring the same calm it does before a game, but nothing steadies my racing heart or thoughts the entire way.

When the cab pulls up at the front of the frat house, I spot him right away sitting on the steps, head resting in his hands.

No fucking way.