Page 27 of The Poster Boy (Love The Game #3)

Jay

I woke Christmas morning with a two-hundred pound octopus wrapped around me.

For a few minutes, I let myself enjoy the way it felt to have Marek so close.

So vulnerable. I spent most of yesterday trying not so much to avoid him but to put some distance between us.

I’d used the Weimer family as buffers. Boone had caught on, though, and he’d given me a look, the kind only a best friend could give you and you’d understand immediately without context.

Yes, I was being a dumbass where Marek was concerned. The worst of it was that I liked the guy. A lot. And I hadn’t liked the lost puppy way he’d looked at me yesterday. But I still didn’t feel comfortable getting frisky in Diane and Howard’s basement.

Upstairs, I could hear movement. Diane was always the first one awake. She’d have coffee on soon and then breakfast. My stomach rumbled at the thought of her Christmas morning pancakes.

Careful not to wake Marek, I shimmied out from underneath him.

I held my breath and waited to see if he’d wake up, but the man slept like a brick.

As quietly as I could, I got dressed and smuggled the gifts I’d purchased out of my bag and upstairs.

A twinge of regret niggled at me when I thought of the real gift I’d bought for Marek but had left at home.

I hadn’t wanted to give him something so personal in front of everyone.

It wasn’t supposed to be serious between us, but it was definitely more to me than the shitty, generic gift I’d bought him.

But what was done was done. I couldn’t exactly drive to Vancouver and retrieve his real gift. I’d just have to explain later.

“I thought that was you lurking around. Come have a coffee with me before everyone wakes up.” Diane stood by the entrance to the living room and waited for me to join her. No wasn’t a word you told Diane.

“Merry Christmas, Diane. Thanks for having me. And thanks for letting me bring Marek.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, dear. And you know me, I’m always glad to add another space to the table.” She poured me a coffee and added my two sugars. To her coffee she added a slug of whiskey before joining me at the table.

“So how’s my favorite son?” Diane asked as she sat next to me.

“Don’t let Boone hear you say that.”

“Why not? He knows I like you better. And don’t avoid the question. I don’t see you as often as I’d like, and I want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

From the moment I met Diane, she’d made me feel safe and comfortable with her. There was just something about her that screamed Mama Bear. She was soft and kind, but I knew that she’d tear shit up if she felt she needed to.

“You know, sometimes you remind me of my mom. She was a lot like you. Kind, but didn’t take any shit. ”

Diane’s eyes misted and she shoved my arm. “You’re not supposed to make me cry. It’s Christmas morning. But that was a lovely thing to hear. Thank you, Jay.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek, then shot me a look. “But you still didn’t answer the question.”

“I’m fine, Diane. I promise. Hockey is good. The game is kicking my ass, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I figure I have another five or ten left in me. Well, ten might be pushing it. We’ll see how the bones hold up.”

“I know you’re not out, dear, but I hope you’ve at least found someone special.”

“Not really. But it’ll happen.” The lie tasted like ash in my mouth. Diane quirked an eyebrow at me but said nothing. She sipped her coffee in a way that felt like an accusation. “Okay, so there might be someone, but I don’t know if it has a future. It’s not serious.”

She smiled at me over the top of her cup. “It must be a little serious, or you wouldn’t have invited him.”

Slumping in my seat, I let out a sigh. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, but I have three kids of my own, and I know how to read between the lines and see what they’re not telling me.”

It made me feel a little better to know that I wasn’t wearing a giant I heart Marek sign above my head, and that Diane was just really good at observing people.

It did make me think maybe I should cool things with him before it became plain to people.

The last thing I wanted was the fucking media asking me questions about my love life and not my hockey game.

It had always irritated me that the minute a player comes out, everyone wants to know shit about them they have no business knowing.

Oh, you’re gay. Who tops? Do you want to get married? Have kids? Would you surrogate or adopt? They never ask straight men what position they prefer in bed, and for all they know, the straight man might like a little pegging action. And who were we to judge him if he did?

Nothing and no one was worth going through all that shit for.

Maybe when I was done with the game, I’d come out. Maybe by then no one would care when a player announced their sexuality. Maybe people would wake up and realize that it didn’t—and shouldn’t—matter.

Diane patted me on the arm again, then got up and started making her famous Christmas morning pancakes. She made herself another coffee, this time with a little more whiskey in it than the first.

“Is that your secret weapon, Diane?” I asked, glancing at the bottle.

“It sure is. Did you want some?”

“Oh, no, thank you.”

“Is Mom actually offering to share her Christmas whiskey?” Boone walked into the kitchen, scratching his stomach. He paused by his mom and gave her a one-armed hug and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, dear.” While Diane hugged him, Boone took the bottle of whiskey.

“If Jay gets some, so do I.” Boone laughed and grabbed a cup from the cupboard.

“Jay is a guest.” Diane tried to grab the bottle, but Boone kept a death grip on it.

“Jay has been here just as much as I have. He’s furniture at this point. Are you putting chocolate chips in the pancakes? ”

“Some.” Diane gave up her half-hearted attempt to get her whiskey back.

“What were you two chatting about?”

“Jay was just telling me how he thinks he can get another ten years on the ice.”

“It’s not unheard of for a player to hit thirty-seven.” Boone added a generous shot of whiskey to his coffee then sat next to me at the table. “I plan to play forever. I’ll be on the ice at ninety-nine.”

“Okay, Superman.” I rolled my eyes at him.

“Don’t be a hater.” He grinned at me.

“Boone, honey, be a dear and go wake everyone up. They can get moving while I get the pancakes ready.”

“What about Jay?” Boone asked. Sometimes he acted like a sulky teenager.

“Jay’s already awake.” Diane bent over and rummaged in the cupboard, pulling out a mixing bowl, a griddle, and other pancake-making supplies.

“I meant why doesn’t he have to do anything.” Boone drank half his coffee in one long gulp then stood. “I’ll take the upstairs, Jay can go wake sleeping beauty in the basement.”

He clapped me on the back and slipped out of the kitchen.

I knew what Boone was doing, but I wasn’t sure I wanted him to do it.

The more time I had alone with Marek, the harder it was to act normal around him when there were people watching.

It had taken all my strength at some points throughout the day yesterday to not stare at him all the time.

I’d settled for a lot of stolen glances, and looking at him in my peripheral vision.

Unable to resist a moment alone with him, maybe the only one we’d get all day, I headed downstairs. I crept into the bedroom to find Marek in bed. He was clearly not asleep anymore, even though he kept his eyes shut.

Tiptoeing over to the bed, I dragged the covers down, exposing him. God, he was a beautifully built man. His back was a work of art. All lean muscle, still soft from sleep. The urge to crawl back into bed with him struck me, but I resisted. Instead, I trailed my hand down his warm skin.

“Merry Christmas.”

Marek popped an eye open and stared up at me. “Coffee?”

“Upstairs. Diane is spiking hers.”

He smirked. “Even better.”

God, I wanted nothing more than to curl up with Marek and pretend that this could last. That I wasn’t terrified of the idea of being out.

That I wasn’t the world’s hugest chicken.

And if I thought I mattered more to him, the temptation might have been harder to ignore.

Marek and I were friends. Teammates. Temporary lovers. Nothing more.

I left before I could do something stupid like kiss him. Or crawl on top of him and eat him for breakfast. Both options appealed to me more than I wanted to admit, and for that reason alone, I hightailed it back upstairs where the Weimer clan was slowly starting to appear.

Boone gave me a quizzical look from across the table, but I shook my head, indicating that I didn’t want to talk about it.

The rest of the morning was busy with breakfast and the traditional stockings.

The Weimers loved stocking stuffers. Watching Marek soak in the whole thing was the highlight of my day, though.

He seemed surprised to be included at the level he was.

He had a stocking on the mantel with everyone else, and he even had gifts under the tree.

I saw the sappy way he looked at Diane and Howard.

His longing was so great that I could feel it in my own chest whenever he lit up at the next little bit of inclusion.

I knew he was missing his sister, and he had a broken relationship with his parents, but it became crystal clear how badly Marek needed a family.

He flourished under the attention, sparkling in a way I hadn’t seen him.

Our eyes met a few times, and each time they did, he’d smile at me.

Soft and sweet, almost shy. We were a secret that I wanted to keep, and I could tell Marek didn’t.

He might have agreed to it for my sake, but he deserved someone who could love him in broad daylight.

Who didn’t have to sneak around and keep secrets from everyone just to be with him.

The fact of the matter was that I wasn’t good enough for someone like Marek.