Page 30 of The Poster Boy (Love The Game #3)

Marek

M ats skated off the ice touching the fingers of his ungloved hand to his bloody lip. With Jay drawing a stupid five-minute major for fighting, I officially had my work cut out for me.

Mats crashing the net had been a dick move born of desperation. Their team had been having a good run until we showed up in town and threatened to end that for them. Sometimes hotheaded hockey players did dumb shit like try to bust me up. It had happened before; it would happen again.

I’d never seen Jay move that fast or be that angry before, though. The lovesick idiot in me wanted to crow about it, and I might have if I thought it meant anything. Jay was a defenseman. He had more penalty minutes than the entire first line combined. Not that I knew all his stats or anything.

The game was a shit show after that fight. The other team was doing their best to get us to draw more penalties, but our guys weren’t dumb. Coach must have put a leash on Jay because he didn’t take the bait no matter how many chirps and cheap shots the other team took at him .

Near the end of the third, Boone managed to tip a goal in off a rebound. It was like someone popped a balloon, and the excitement bled out of the crowd in a loaded sigh. There was almost no time on the clock. If they wanted to tie it up and force it to overtime, they’d have to pull the goalie.

I watched them meet at center ice, Griffin taking the face-off.

He was deadly fast on the face-offs. Today he wasn’t fast enough, and the action quickly came to me.

I knew when the other team pulled the goalie because the crowd roared to life.

An extra attacker was like an extra life in Super Mario.

Sometimes it saved you. Sometimes it didn’t make a lick of difference.

Our guys did their best to get it down the other end, but the other team was determined to take as many shots on me as possible in the last minute of the game.

The clock crawled toward victory. Boone intercepted the puck and passed it back to Griffin.

The other team stole it from him and with time winding down, they took a shot at net.

Vasily blocked the shot with his body and passed it back to me. I glanced up at the clock, then launched the puck down the ice. Their team skated their asses off trying to get to the puck before it was too late. But the goal light lit up, and a fraction of a second later the final whistle went.

The guys swarmed me at the net, first the ones who were on the ice. One by one, they skated up and knocked their helmets against mine. Every one of them grinning like an idiot.

And suddenly Jay was there. Our gazes held for a second, an eternity. Long enough for me to see the pain in his eyes.

“Good game, Myers.” Jay leaned in and bonked his helmet against mine before skating away. A glance up at the stands showed a quiet crowd, already emptying out of the arena. Disappointment so thick I could almost taste it. Or was that mine? It was hard to tell when I was still so full of adrenaline.

Boone skated over to me and passed me the puck. “Your first goalie goal. Frame that shit, man.”

“Thanks.”

Boone hesitated for a beat, then leaned in closer. “It was Jay who made sure you got it.”

I glanced at Boone, who gave me a half a smile and a shrug. “Do with that information what you will.”

I’d do nothing with it because it was nothing. So Jay got my puck for me. It was an empty gesture. I didn’t want a puck. I didn’t want shitty half-smiles and lame head bonks when I did well, like I was some puppy who needed positive reinforcement.

I wanted Jay. I wanted him to care enough about me to want me back. I wanted to be important enough for him to tell the people closest to him about us, so at least we’d have some small universe we could exist together in.

After the game was a blur. I did my stint in front of the media but left when the questions started to veer away from the game and into my personal life.

It was no wonder that Jay didn’t want to be out.

The media vultures would sell their soul for bus fare if they thought it would help them go viral.

Andrew sat next to me on the bus back to the hotel. “You okay?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. Not that I wanted to. But Andrew was a good guy, and he’d be a great friend if I let him get closer to me.

“Not really.” I went back to staring out the window.

He nudged me with his elbow a few seconds later. “Do you want to talk about it? ”

“Not really,” I answered again. I was doing stellar at the whole letting people close to me thing.

I took a deep breath and let it sigh out of me in a rush of air.

“Have you ever overestimated your importance to someone? Like, you so badly wanted to mean as much to them as they do to you, but then you realize that’s probably not going to happen? Or is it just me?”

“Well, I mean, probably. I’m asexual, so it happens more often than you’d think.

Someone tells me they’re okay with it, only for me to discover later that they’re really not okay with it and think my boundaries are flexible, not fixed.

That tells me that I am less important to them than they were to me. ”

“Sorry, man. That sucks.” It kind of made me feel like a jackass for being upset.

Jay had clearly defined boundaries. Things he was comfortable with and things he wasn’t.

I’d known this going in but hadn’t I done to him what people did to Andrew?

Said they were okay with something, then proved through their actions that they weren’t.

“I’m not sure if that was helpful,” Andrew said, leaning closer. “You look like it was not very helpful.”

“No, believe me, that’s not the case. It's just… I’m sort of like the people you just described. People who knew the boundary was there and thought they were special enough to make an exception for. And I’m not sure what to do with that. Or what to do next. I feel like an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole,” he assured me. “People are just people. We’re all messy and fucked up and imperfect. If you screwed up, you can apologize.”

The urge to get shit-faced was only eclipsed by the urge to not feel like death tomorrow for another game. Unless Church made a miraculous recovery, I’d be in goal again for our next game .

I’d been so pissed at Jay for hurting my feelings as I busily tap-danced all over his rules and limits. We’d set them when we started messing around, and it wasn’t fair of me to get pissy with him at their continued existence.

Could I apologize? Or were things better this way?

We’d reached a tentative peace during the game.

I’d be the first to admit that it was hot as hell when he laid into Mats the way he did.

But Jay would defend his goalie, no matter who it was.

Not only was it his literal job, but it was who he was at his core.

Jay was a protector. He’d swooped in to protect me from my downward spiral.

It wasn’t the first time he’d dropped his gloves. It didn’t make me special.

Kelsey annoyed me with nonstop text messages after the game, demanding that I Facetime her. She’d always worried about me when people pulled shit like Mats did and crashed the net. Hockey was a rough sport and sometimes even being in net didn’t save you from injury.

I made her wait until I was safely back in my hotel room.

We had an early flight the next day, but an early night wasn’t in the cards for me.

Not with the way my mind wouldn’t stop racing.

Stretching out on my bed, with my back propped up against the too-many pillows, I put a call through to my sister.

It hadn’t been until the trade happened that I realized how much I’d come to depend on her to look after my shit, even all these years later when I should have been a fully functioning adult.

“I saw that hit.” Kelsey opened the conversation with anger in her eyes.

It was nice to feel as though she still cared, even if she wasn’t able to come over whenever she wanted and fuss around in my life.

Maybe it was better for her this way because she looked happy.

More relaxed, even though she was clearly worried about me and pissed on my behalf.

“I’m fine, Kels. My sister hits harder than Mats.”

“You bet your ass I do.” Kelsey shoved her hair out of her face. “How’ve you been, though? For real. I know we talked over Christmas, and you said everything was fine.”

“I’m sorry I fucked up and wasn’t able to spend the holiday with you.”

“I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you, Marek.”

“I’m okay.” I paused, taking a breath. “I’m managing. I let things get away from me, but a friend helped me out, and I have a housekeeper set up now, and meal deliveries. It’s been an adjustment, but I’ve got it under control.”

“I’m glad. And I’m proud of you, little brother. I know this trade was hard for you.”

Exhaling, I tried to school my expression. Everything since that stupid tabloid outed me had been difficult. The constant press. The way players treated me, talked about me when they thought I couldn’t hear. Or didn’t care that I could.

“Mom and Dad called me,” Kelsey said, practically whispering as if the tone of her voice would actually soften the blow.

Our parents hadn’t reached out to her since they kicked me out and she took me in. We’d been on our own, but we’d made it work. Correction, she’d made it work. Kelsey was a superhero.

“What did they want?”

Kelsey scoffed. “I didn’t say I answered. Just that they called. They left a voicemail, but I’m not sure I want to hear anything they have to say.”

“You should listen to the voicemail, Kels.” If she hadn’t deleted it outright, it probably meant that she wanted to hear it.

At least on some level. “You should listen, and if you want… wanted to mend fences with them… I don’t, but if you do, you can.

I won’t be mad, Kels. You’ve done so much for me, and if that’s something you want… ”

“I don’t.” Kelsey narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow. She looked pissed off that I’d even suggest it. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I spent the holidays with Boone Weimer’s family. I forgot what it was like to have that. A mom, a dad, the whole holiday thing. They were so nice to me, Kelsey. It was like I was one of them. I love you, but it’s been just us for so long. I want more than that for you.”

“You’re sweet but fucking stupid if you think Mom and Dad are ever going to be the cozy Christmas family type.

They weren’t before, and entrenching themselves in their bigotry certainly won’t have helped.

” Kelsey took a breath and leaned closer to the camera.

“Listen to me, Marek. Mom and Dad ain’t shit.

I spent a lovely holiday with Faye and a bunch of friends from the theater.

They were warmer than Mom and Dad were ever capable of. ”

“But you didn’t delete the voicemail.”

“In case you wanted to hear it, because I don’t. There’s no fences left to mend. Mom and Dad torched them all. They’re dead to me. Do you want to hear the voicemail?”

“I don’t.”

Kelsey’s approving smile was soft and warm, and it felt like a hug even though we were miles apart. “Consider it deleted.”

A knock at my door drew my attention. “Someone’s here.”

“I’ll let you go. I just wanted to make sure you’re good. ”

“I’m good, Kels. Promise. Talk soon. Say hi to Faye for me.”

“Will do.” She blushed as she ended the call.

I loved how happy she was now. She deserved it. I’d almost thought that I deserved happiness too, but I’d started to doubt that.

I pulled the door to my room open and Jay Brookbank stood there with his hands in his pockets. He looked at me, his gaze shaded by the brim of his hat. “Can I come in?”

I moved aside automatically. Even now I’d deny Jay nothing.