Page 12

April 2024

It took twenty-seven years for Riley to achieve his dream of winning the Stanley Cup, and he’d spent the fourteen years since trying to forget that night.

Sometimes the memories hit Riley hard, and last night had been one of those times. He’d left Darren and Tom’s house feeling lighter, but then everything had crashed down on him when he’d been tossing and turning alone in bed. Once the sun had risen, Riley gave up on sleep and took Lucky for a walk.

He watched Lucky run ahead of him on the foggy beach, wishing he had the energy to run alongside him. Jogging was Riley’s main source of exercise these days, and he especially loved beach runs, but it wasn’t happening today.

The sky matched his mood: dark and foggy. The fog blocked the view of any houses lining the two arms of land that curled around the bay, making Riley feel alone. He liked that. Here there was nothing but the rhythmic crashing of the small waves, the sand under his sneakers, and maybe the occasional seabird. There were no papers to sign, no expectations to meet, and no Adam Sheppard.

Except there was Adam Sheppard because Riley couldn’t get the man out of his head. As he watched Lucky dance around a wave, Riley tried to fight the memories that wanted to drag him under.

This was a mistake. And it never happened, okay?

Riley’s chest ached now like it had then.

“Lucky!” Riley called out. “We gotta go.”

Lucky glanced at him over his shoulder with an expression that Riley interpreted as, “But I found something really cool.” It was probably a crab shell.

“Five minutes,” Riley said, as if Lucky wore a watch.

Adam being divorced didn’t mean anything. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t mean Adam regretted his choices; it didn’t mean he’d left his wife for Riley. It definitely didn’t mean that Riley should get his hopes up, even a little. He shouldn’t want to.

Why was it so impossible for Riley to be normal about Adam Sheppard?

“Come on,” Riley called out again. This time, Lucky obeyed, bounding over to him with something in his mouth.

“What did you find?” Riley asked when Lucky reached him. Lucky dropped a small chunk of soggy wood at his feet, then sat, excitedly awaiting Riley’s review.

“Yep, that’s neat,” Riley said, and scratched Lucky’s ears. “Good job.”

They walked back to the house on the narrow grassy strip that ran alongside the road. Riley’s house was four away from the start of the beach, up a short hill that gave him a spectacular view of the bay from his bedroom. Riley went to his greenhouse first, to check on his seedlings. This year he’d added some exciting new vegetables to his garden plan, including eggplant and asparagus. Everything was looking good, despite the lack of sunshine lately. He planned to transplant the asparagus to the garden next week. They wouldn’t yield any actual asparagus until next year, but Riley liked that about gardening: the caretaking, the patience, and the eventual reward.

He liked everything about gardening, which was something he hadn’t expected when he’d first started clearing the weeds that had taken over the yard of the old house before he’d bought it. He liked being outside, and he liked using his hands. He liked quiet and solitude and having a task to do that didn’t require a lot of thinking. But later he discovered that he also liked the mental challenge of planning his garden each year. Of figuring out the best times to start things from seed, and when and where to transplant them. He liked trying different fertilizers and seeds, and he liked learning from his mistakes. He tracked everything in a hardbound journal, noting what worked and what didn’t. Jotting down ideas for next year. He’d built the greenhouse five years ago and expanded his single small vegetable patch into four large ones. By June the cheerful flower garden that wrapped around his house would be in bloom, and hummingbirds would start visiting his feeders. It was something to look forward to, and his therapist would tell him that was important.

His therapist would also tell him that sleep was important.

Riley lingered in the greenhouse, enjoying its warmth and the smell of soil. His young tomato plants were already adding their scent to the air, bright and summery. His asshole brain reminded him that, when he’d planted those seeds, he’d thought his dad would be around to eat the tomatoes they’d produce. Dad had loved tomatoes.

Riley refused to cry in his greenhouse; it was his happy place. He went inside the house and cried there instead, leaning against his fridge as he hugged himself and assured Lucky he was all right. It would pass, and he might get several good hours before he needed to cry again.

Eventually he went to his bedroom to get a nicer shirt, because he felt better when he was somewhat put together. His phone was still on his nightstand, connected to a charger. When he picked it up, he saw that he had a text from the number he’d never been able to make himself block. Riley squinted at it.

Adam: Are you at the shop now?

Riley huffed out a surprised laugh. Was Adam really this determined?

Riley considered not writing back, but then wrote: Not yet. Soon. Why?

Adam: I was thinking I could bring you breakfast.

“God dammit, Adam,” Riley said to his empty bedroom. Couldn’t he take a hint? This offer was absolutely ridiculous.

It was also, Riley hated to admit, kind of sweet.

Riley wrote: You don’t have to do that.

Adam: I want to.

Riley sighed. He was about to reject the offer, but then his stomach growled, and he decided he could maybe manage a bit of breakfast.

Riley: Fine. Nothing too big.

Less than an hour later, Adam walked into the shop precariously balancing two large paper bags and a tray with two coffees.

“I wasn’t sure,” Adam explained, “so I got a few things you can choose from.”

“You can pick the one you want first,” Riley said as Adam began unpacking and opening various Styrofoam containers.

“I already ate,” Adam said, and patted his stomach. “Paula’s omelets are huge!”

“So you ordered me five breakfasts?”

Adam shrugged, and his cheeks pinked slightly. “You didn’t give me much to go on.”

Riley had thought “nothing too big” would at the very least translate to “no more than one full breakfast, please,” but Adam had never been a great problem solver. At least Paula had enjoyed a lucrative morning. “Thanks,” he said, and grabbed the container with bacon and scrambled eggs.

“Sleep okay?” Adam asked.

Riley shrugged and picked up a piece of slightly warm bacon with his fingers.

“It’s so quiet here at night,” Adam continued. “I forgot about that. It’s nice.”

“One of the perks,” Riley agreed.

“Well, except the heater in my room. That thing rattles like a freight train. I tried to turn it off last night but couldn’t figure it out.”

It was then that Riley noticed the bags under Adam’s eyes, and the way his stubble wasn’t quite as tidy as it had been yesterday.

Well, whatever. Adam was free to return to his fancy house in Toronto anytime.

“Can Lucky eat bacon?” Adam asked.

“He can, but he shouldn’t. Here.” Riley tossed a chunk of scrambled eggs on the floor, and Lucky swooped in to gobble it up.

“How old is he?”

“Eight, but he’s still full of energy.”

“He seems like a good friend.”

“The best,” Riley agreed.

When it became clear that Riley wasn’t going to share more food with him, Lucky retreated to the back room for a nap. Adam explored the shop while Riley picked at his breakfast.

“Sign any more autographs at Paula’s this morning?” Riley asked.

“A couple. I had a bit of a wait.”

“People are going to start showing up there with your jersey.”

Adam smiled. “I’ll enjoy it while it lasts. People will forget about me soon enough.”

Riley suspected Adam would be signing autographs for many years to come. He’d broken every record for Toronto defensemen, and a couple of records for NHL defensemen. He’d be in the Hall of Fame soon, and he’d always be a hero to Toronto fans. He was, without exaggeration, a living legend.

And he’d brought Riley breakfast.

“How are the eggs?” Adam asked.

“Fine.”

“They’re probably cold, aren’t they? Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

“There’s coffee there too. With milk.”

Adam seemed nervous, which was annoying. “I saw the coffee. Thanks.”

“Hey, um,” Adam said, “there’s something I want to tell you.”

Riley swallowed a bit of cold toast. “Okay.”

For a long moment, Adam didn’t say anything, and Riley suspected the noisy heater hadn’t been the only thing keeping him awake last night.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Riley offered.

“I’m gay.”

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the way grief had fucked up Riley’s brain, or maybe it was the surrealness of hearing Adam say those words after so many years, but Riley started laughing.

“I’m serious,” Adam said.

Riley covered his mouth with his hand, knowing his reaction was horrible. “I know. I’m sorry.” He snorted around his hand, then laughed harder.

Adam looked devastated, and that seemed funny too. Suddenly every horrible moment of Riley’s life seemed fucking hilarious. Riley waved a hand in an attempt to explain he had no control here. He was rattling apart, and Adam was just going to have to witness it.

“Riley,” Adam said, in his captain voice. So serious. So ridiculous. Riley walked away, trying desperately to stop laughing.

Of course Adam was gay. Of course he was here and finally confessing this now when Riley was teetering on the edge of a cliff. Words Riley had only ever dreamed of hearing him say. Actually, he’d never needed to hear them. He’d just needed Adam to admit that he felt the way Riley did.

He braced himself with a hand on a wall on the other side of the store from where Adam was still standing and closed his eyes. The giddy mirth that had overtaken him began to gain weight, and he stopped laughing. “Jesus,” he said. “Fuck.”

“Are you done?” Adam asked, clearly and rightfully irritated.

“Yeah,” Riley sighed. “I’m done. I’m fucking completely done. Finished.” He sounded insane, and he knew it. “Done, done, done.”

“I’m just telling you because I thought you should know. Not because…y’know. Whatever.”

Riley looked at him from across the shop. “You thought I should know?”

Adam spread his arms wide. “You were right. Totally gay.”

If Adam expected Riley to celebrate that win, he was very wrong. The words felt like a punch to the gut. “And when did you figure this out?”

“A couple of years ago,” Adam said. “Well, before then. But I told Maggie a couple of years ago.”

Maggie. Right. God. “You loved Maggie, though.”

“In a way, yeah. I still do. She’s great. But it never felt the same as—” Adam’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Some parts of it were…forced. It always was, with women.”

“There were a lot of women. Before Maggie, I mean.”

“Yeah, well. I guess I was trying to prove something to myself. And maybe it wasn’t as many as I made it seem like.”

Riley slumped against the wall. Every time he and Adam had drunkenly hooked up, like clockwork, Adam would want to go out to pick up women the following night. He’d always invite Riley to come too, as if Riley would share his need to cleanse himself. Riley never joined him. “You know bisexuality exists, right?”

“Of course I do. But that’s not me. Believe me, I tried to make that happen.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Adam huffed. “Nope.”

There was a long silence, and then Adam said, “So…”

Riley closed his eyes, waiting. But Adam didn’t finish his sentence. He just let that “so” linger in the air between them.

“So what?” Riley finally said.

Adam didn’t say anything.

Riley groaned. “Are you here because I’m the only man you’ve fucked? You want to practice being gay on a sure thing? Because I’m not a sure thing, Adam. Not with you.” He felt good about making that clear.

But Adam annihilated him with his next words: “You’re not the only man I’ve fucked.”

The wall was the only thing keeping Riley on his feet. Had he been wrong about everything?

“I mean,” Adam continued, “you were . For a very long time you were. But since Maggie and I separated… I’ve been seeing what’s out there. The apps are helpful.”

Adam was gay and hooking up with men all over Toronto. Neat.

Then Adam chuckled. “Gay porn is way easier to access now too.”

Riley wanted to scream. How wonderful it was that Adam had waited until conditions had improved before embracing his gay self, while Riley had struggled alone in the shadows during his own NHL career.

“I have to be careful, in Toronto,” Adam explained, as if Riley wanted to hear any of this. As if Riley didn’t know . “I’m not out, really. I haven’t told many people.” He exhaled. “I was so nervous to tell you, but you were also the first person I wanted to tell. Sorry if that’s weird.”

It was weird, but it also made sense. Adam had been the first person Riley had wanted to call when Dad had died, even though they hadn’t spoken in so long. Old habits.

“I’m glad you told me,” Riley said, because that, at least, was true. He just wished he’d told him over a decade ago. “I’m sorry I laughed.”

Adam began walking toward him. “I know it’s not an excuse for everything shitty I said to you back then, but I wanted you to know. I owed you that.”

Riley was about to argue that Adam didn’t owe him anything, but that would have been a lie. So he nodded and said, “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

Riley let out a shaky laugh. “Obviously I’m great.”

Adam raised a hand, as if he wanted to touch Riley in some way, but then lowered it. “I didn’t want to leave town without saying that.”

“You’re leaving, then?”

“I mean… I’d rather stay. At least to help you get the store back together.”

He looked so hopeful, like tidying up Riley’s shop would be the best way he could possibly spend his day that Riley surrendered. “All right. Let’s get to work, then.”

* * *

Adam had thought things would feel easier, after saying it. Like his big revelation would clear the air between them, that maybe Riley would be sated, learning that he’d been right all along.

It wasn’t easier. They worked in near silence for the first two hours, and things felt more tense between them, not less.

At least the shop was looking good.

“When are you reopening?” Adam asked, needing desperately to talk about something.

“Tomorrow.” Riley stood from where he’d been sitting on the floor, rearranging a low shelf. He glanced around the store, then said, “I checked with the staff and they’re ready. Not that we need everyone tomorrow.”

“You’ve got staff?”

Riley stared at him like he was a moron. “I don’t work here alone.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not a big staff. It was me and Dad and Steve—he’s worked here for almost thirty years. You probably met him during the summers you were here. I’ve got a cousin, Cory, who’s been working here awhile. And we usually have a couple of part-time teenagers helping out. We’ve got Jess and Addie right now. I gave them all the week off with pay.”

“And you didn’t give yourself the week off?”

“I did, technically. I just thought I’d…” He trailed off.

Adam smiled. “You just thought you’d turn the store upside down instead?”

To Adam’s delight, Riley laughed. A single amused puff of breath. “Yeah. Not my best plan.”

“It’s looking good in here now, though. Better than before, would you say?”

Riley glanced around again, then nodded. “I think so.” For a moment, he looked pleased, then his shoulders sagged. “It’s going to be weird, without Dad.”

Adam could picture it, Riley here alone or maybe with Steve while a slow trickle of locals took turns offering condolences while buying hockey tape. It didn’t sound like what Riley needed at all.

“Can I help?” Adam asked.

Riley’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re not leaving tomorrow?”

“Not that I know of.”

Riley huffed an exasperated breath and shook his head. “How long are you planning on staying, exactly?”

Adam squared his shoulders. “My flight home is on Tuesday.”

Riley stared at him. “It’s only Thursday .”

“I’m aware.”

“You—” Riley let out an exasperated whoosh of air, then walked to the counter.

“I don’t know why this is such a big deal,” Adam called after him.

“You’re right. Everything about it is super normal.”

Adam walked over to him, leaving a few feet of space between them. “Listen, I’m retired, and I’m divorced, and I thought maybe I could be useful here. So if you think me sticking around might make things less shitty for you, I’m happy to stay.” He smiled. “Feel free to tell me I’m an egomaniac, though.”

“You’re an egomaniac,” Riley said quickly. Then he sighed and added, “But stay if you want, I guess. God knows everyone in town would fucking celebrate it.”

“I’m not staying for them.” It was probably too much. His earnest words seemed to land on the counter between them with a thud.

But he didn’t miss the way Riley’s cheeks went pink. Riley ducked his head, probably to hide it, and said, “Come on. We’re almost done.”

By four o’clock the shop looked perfect. At least Adam thought so; Riley kept finding little things to improve.

“You going to your mom’s?” Adam asked, hoping to remind Riley that there were other things he could be doing other than checking the level of a shelf of energy bars.

“Not today. She and Lindsay are at my uncle’s house in Pictou. There were some things Mom wanted him to have. That’s Uncle Dennis. You may have met him, I can’t remember.” Riley narrowed his eyes at him. “Is your shoulder bothering you?”

“Oh.” Adam’s shoulder was throbbing, but he hadn’t meant for Riley to notice him rubbing it. “A little bit.”

Riley was a hockey player, so he knew that “a little bit” meant “a lot.” His expression darkened. “Why didn’t you tell me? I never would have let you help if I’d known.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Riley raked a hand through his hair, clearly distraught.

“It’s okay,” Adam said softly. “It’s not that bad. Really.”

“No,” Riley said. “No, it’s not okay.” He walked to the counter, then to the door, and then back again. “You shouldn’t be staying at the River Bend.”

“Well,” Adam said, “the Ritz was all booked up.”

“I have a guest room.”

Adam stared at him. “Are you inviting me to stay with you?”

“You fucked your shoulder up helping me, so yeah. I’m offering.” Then he rolled his eyes and added, “Since you insist on sticking around.”

Adam smiled and said, “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

To his surprise, the barest hint of a smile curved Riley’s lips. “Yeah?”

“I’d really like to see your home, Riley.”

“I’ll be busy,” Riley warned him. “I’ve got work and other stuff. This isn’t—it’s just to get you out of that motel, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Doesn’t make sense for you to be uncomfortable when I’ve got an empty room for you.” Riley seemed to be trying to convince himself of this.

“Right. I get it. Thank you.”

Riley took one more look around the store, then exhaled. “Let’s go get you checked out of there.”