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

Jay

P ractice dragged on forever. Coach O’Neil could be a hardass when he was pissed, and he’d been unimpressed with our on-ice performance at the last game.

The worst of it was that he wasn’t wrong.

We’d been an unfocused mess and could only blame our loss on ourselves.

And if we felt like being assholes, we could blame it on our goaltender.

We knew no one player won a game, and no one player lost a game.

But it would still be easy to blame him.

When practice ended, Coach waved Tony Church over to him. It wasn’t unusual for Coach to pull someone aside after practice, but it was unusual for that person to go white as a sheet. For his face to turn to thunder and to storm off the way Church, our Holey Goalie, just did.

It wasn’t me who’d come up with that particularly unfortunate nickname, but the fans had when Church kept letting easy saves through.

The worst of it was that Church was a good goalie when he was on.

He just hadn’t been on lately. I was better with my fists than I was with pep talks, or I’d have said something to him, but there wasn’t much that would come out of my mouth he’d want to hear.

On the ice, I let my fists do the talking. Off-ice, I didn’t see the need to talk much at all.

“All right, guys, that’s a wrap. Bring it in real quick for me.” Coach O’Neil waved us all over to him.

“Uh-oh, he has his serious face on,” Boone said as he skated up next to me. Boone Weimer was a left wing I liked to keep around because he did the talking for the both of us. Never shy with the comments or the chirps, he’d given me more than a few of his messes to clean up on the ice.

I liked Boone because he didn’t require me to respond. He could carry the whole conversation himself, and I think he preferred it that way.

“I’m going to cut right to the chase. We’ve picked up a new player.

This one comes with a bit of media attention, which I know some of you will hate, but lucky for me, you’re all grown men who are capable of acting like adults, right?

” Coach didn’t wait for us to answer before continuing.

“Right. Good. The new player is Marek Myers.”

“Isn’t he the gay one?” Griffin, another defenseman, piped up.

“Myers’ sexuality is a non-issue. He’s a solid goaltender.

I expect you to treat him with kindness and respect, the same way you treat any new player.

He’ll be joining us for practice in a few days.

His first game as backup goaltender with us will be our final home game before the road trip. Now hit the showers.”

No one said anything until we were in the locker room, and then the chatter suddenly roared to life.

Some of the guys were clearly relieved. The truth was that Myers had good stats.

He was a solid goalie with a lot of potential.

But he came with a ton of baggage. The kid had gone and fucked a movie star, and when he got caught, he’d shrugged it off and somehow became the poster boy for gay hockey players.

He wasn’t even the first gay player, but he sure as hell acted like it.

His smug face had been on every talk show I could think of.

His blond-haired, blue-eyed, boy-next-door look had been on a plethora of magazine covers.

He was more celebrity now than he was hockey player, and I resented him for it.

The media loved him. They ate up his happy-go-lucky attitude, not realizing it was fake.

It had to be. No one was that goddamned perky all the time.

The chatter in the locker room died when Church walked in from the showers.

He offered a tight smile that was about as believable as a three-dollar bill. “It’s fine, guys. We need a new back-up anyway.”

We currently had a guy from the farm team playing back-up for us, and he was good, but we needed something better than good.

I hated that it had to be Myers, though.

Church dropped his towel and pulled a pair of sweats on. Boone sat down on the bench next to Church and slung an arm around him. Church grimaced and pushed him away.

“Dude, get your stink away from me.”

“Awww, Churchy, you know you love me.”

Church looked like he was going to be sick. “Actually, I really don’t.”

It was a lie, though. Everyone loved Boone. He made sure of it. He was like the morale officer of the team.

“You’re a terrible liar. Come out with Brooksie and me after we shower. We’ll do something fun to get your mind off things. You need a bit of fun. Doesn’t he, Brooksie? ”

I’d long ago given up on trying to get Boone not to call me Brooksie. It was better than Jayby, which was like baby, but infinitely more terrible.

“If you don’t agree, you know he’ll just get more irritating, don’t you?” I asked Church, ignoring the look of triumph and pride on Boone’s face.

“It’s one of my many talents. Star forward. Sex machine. Expert pain in the ass.”

Church shook his head, but there was definitely a hint of a smile on his face, and he no longer tried to shove Boone’s arm off him. “You’re a menace to society.”

Boone beamed, a huge shit-eating grin from ear to ear.

“Hear that, Brooksie? I told you Church loves me. That means we’re going out just as soon as Brooksie and I wash up.

Can’t go out smelling like death, now can we?

” Boone got to his feet and patted Church on the back.

“You stay here. Come on, Brooksie. To the showers.”

It was often easier to give Boone his way than it was to fight against him. Even if I wasn’t feeling particularly social at the moment, I still decided it would be easier to go along with him than it would be to explain why I wasn’t feeling social.

It wasn’t that Boone wouldn’t understand if I bothered to explain my sour mood to him.

The worst thing was that he would. Boone was one of the nicest guys I’d ever met.

He had a way of making everyone his friend.

Even surly, sour, old goats like me. Okay, so I wasn’t old, but twenty-eight wasn’t exactly young in hockeyland.

Still, I had a bunch of good years left in me.

What Boone might not understand, though, was why I hated Marek Myers.

The kid had gotten on my nerves ever since that first news story about him dropped.

And ever since then it had only gotten worse.

The kid’s face was everywhere now. He really was some kind of role model for young gay athletes.

I couldn’t deny that was great. Which was why I managed to get pissed at myself for being an ungracious asshole.

A jealous one.

There was nothing on the planet worse than waking up every morning and seeing Marek’s stupid face on every social media app that existed and being reminded that I was nothing but a bitter, jealous, closeted gay man.

I knew it was dumb and unfair of me to hate him for shit that wasn’t his fault, but that wasn’t the only reason the mere thought of him annoyed me.

I’d watched his interviews, some of them.

I didn’t hate him enough to make it an obsession.

But he seemed so full of himself all the time.

I didn’t care that I didn’t know him, I didn’t like him.

But now he was going to be on our team and if I didn’t find a way to play nice, Boone would start sniffing around.

Shoving any and all thoughts of Marek Myers out of my head, I stripped out of my gear and headed for the showers. I tried not to think about Marek and his impending arrival, but it was as though my brain was a television that only got one channel.

If it weren’t for the fact that Church honestly could use a bit of a morale boost, I’d have told Boone to go without me, but if anyone needed a distraction, it was my goalie. So I sucked it up. A few hours of socializing wouldn’t kill me.

Three hours later, my tune had changed. Boone had dragged us out to eat and after that, he took us to this little hole off our usual beaten path.

On one hand, it meant that people weren’t there hoping to see us, as they sometimes were when we went to our usual spot a couple blocks up from the rink.

On the other hand, it meant that I was still out in the public, dealing with a still sulking goalie and the human equivalent of an emotional support animal.

While the two of them horsed around, I pulled my phone out and took a picture, sending it to a group chat that my friend Brayden had roped me into after some big deal photoshoot he did for LGBTQ athletes.

Brayden knew I was gay, and I guess he figured I needed some kind of support network.

Brayden played right wing for Calgary, but I liked him anyway.

I sent the picture as proof of social life.

And then I sent a message. I’d lurked at first, unsure of how to interact, but a bit at a time, Brayden helped lure me out of my shell.

Please come kidnap me.

Brayden

Awww they’re making you socialize. Does it hurt?

It’s actual torture

Connor

Do you need a Paracetamol?

A what?

Camden

It’s like Tylenol, but British

British Tylenol won’t touch my pain

Brayden

Oh, hey. Heard you’re getting a new player.

Yeah, the news is probably everywhere by now

Connor

Oooh, hockey gossip. Please dish. Who are you getting?

Brayden

Marek Myers. Cute as hell goalie, the poster boy for young gay athletes.

Camden

Wait. I think I heard about that. Wasn’t he outed by some celebrity guy?

Brayden

Yeah. It was a whole thing. But the kid has potential if he keeps his focus.

Seeing Brayden call Myers a kid was hilarious considering there was only a couple years difference in their ages.

“Brooksie Wooksie, put the phone away.” Boone reached for my phone, but I turned to keep it away from him. “You’re supposed to be socializing. It’s good for you.”

“Aw, Boone, leave him alone. We all know Jay has like a ten-minute social battery.” Church shot me a sympathetic smile, but gratitude twinkled in his eyes.

Being a goalie was a big mental game. I’d never met a goalie that didn’t put immense pressure on themselves.

And sometimes that pressure got to them, which was what Church was going through at the moment.

The worse he did, the more pressure he felt, the more his performance suffered. It was a vicious circle.

“Maybe a little healthy competition will get you back on track,” Boone said, nudging a plate of nachos toward Church. “The kid is good, but you’re better.”

“I used to be better.” Church reached for a nacho but stopped when he saw the way Boone was staring him down. “What? ”

“Negative self-talk will earn you a titty-twister. I swear I’ll do it.” Apparently the morale puppy had teeth.

“I’d listen to him if I were you. Boone has an iron grip. I still have nightmares from the last titty twister he gave me.”

I cut my gaze over to Boone. “Don’t look so proud of yourself. Smug doesn’t suit you.”

He shrugged. “Everything suits me. I have one of those faces.”

“The kind only a mother could love?”

Church’s quip earned a gasp from Boone, but a smile from me. For now, things were good. But I knew everything would change when Myers hit the ice with us.