Page 204 of Pucking Around

Game day. We’re playing the Toronto Maple Leafs and I’m a goddamn mess. I’m always a mess when I play Toronto. It’s psychological. What the fuck ever, I’m not in the mood to lie down on a couch and spill all my trauma. There’s a job to do, and I’m going to do it.

Harrison is leaving town. Rachel’s on the way over to the airport with him to say goodbye before he hops on their daddy’s private jet. I’m trying not to be jealous of her. Amy had to cancel her holiday plans, meaning it might be summer before I see her again. It’s too fucking long.

Unable to resist, I pull my phone from my pocket and call her. As if she was waiting for it, she answers on the first ring. “Hey, bro.”

“Hey, Am.” I don’t know what else to say. I just need to hear her voice.

“You play Toronto today,” she says into my silence.

“Yeah. On my way to the arena now.”

“How’s Cay?”

How the fuck should I know? He’s impossible to read. Meanwhile, I’m an open book that wears everything right on my sleeve. He’s already told me to relax three times this morning. “He’s fine,” I say.

Amy sighs into the phone. “Does it ever get any easier?”

I check my lane as I move over. “No.”

“Wanna talk about it? Or we could talk about your new girl—”

“Am, I think I might be bi,” I blurt, cutting her off. “Or like…I don’t even fucking know. Queer maybe. I hate labels. And I don’t like dudes.”

“Okay,” she says gently. “So, you don’t feel bi, but you think you might be? Why?”

I huff, making another turn one-handed, my left hand holding the phone. “You know why.”

“Caleb,” she replies. “It’s always been Cay. He’s your lobster.”

I shake my head. Everything with Amy is either aFriendsreference or a movie quote. “I’m not gay,” I say again.

“But the news is saying you are,” she murmurs. “My phone notifications went crazy the other day.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “And there’ll be a whole lot more where that came from soon.”

“What do you mean? Jake, is everything okay? Is this about the girl? The rock star’s daughter?”

“Amy, she’s Seattle Girl.”

She gasps. “Oh my god…why didn’t yousayanything?” she cries. “God, how did Caleb take it? I can’t even imagine how upset he was. Oh god—is that what you mean? Is this an Edward-Jacob-Bella situation? Am I gonna have to get on a plane and come tit punch a rocker chick for breaking my brother’s heart—”

“Amy, no,” I say over her. “No, it’s not like that. It’s…” I take a deep breath. “Okay, are you sitting down?”

“Jake, you’re scaring me…”

“We’re together,” I say. “The three of us. We—she—it’s not a love triangle, and it’s not doomed or scary. It’s fucking perfect. Amy, I’ve never been happier.”

“You’re together,” she repeats. “The three of you? Like you’re with her and you’re with him and—”

“He’s with her,” I add. “Yeah, and there’s a third guy. You know Mars Kinnunen, the goalie?”

“You’re with your goalie too?”

“No,” I say on a laugh. “I mean, he’s with her, but he’s not with us. I mean—he’s with us in the sense that we all live together but…I feel like I’m not explaining this well.”

“He’s your metamour,” she replies.

“My meta-what?”