Page 24 of Total Assist (For Puck’s Sake #13)

SHIVELY

I’ve never been to a surprise wedding before. When Ren brought it up a while ago, I admittedly forgot about it until he took off after our game last night for a “hockey thing,” giving me the reminder that I needed to cover if Felton asked about it.

He wouldn’t ask. I’m under the impression that Felton doesn’t question Ren much. It’s sweet.

Our only instructions on attendance were to wear white, keep it an absolute secret, and arrive at the location at or before eleven exactly.

I don’t know what this building is used for, but the shape is unique. Not quite churchy, yet it has that almost loud holy vibe to it like massive stone churches. There’s stained glass, but it’s not biblical. The windows are arched. The door is massive.

My car settles between a couple of my teammates’, and I stare at the building.

It’s cold, which is unsurprising since it’s the end of December in Canada.

There’s a light dusting of snow on the ground, and the not-quite-a-church is decorated with white lights and white Chinese lanterns.

The trees on the property are decorated with white lights as well.

As I get closer to the door, I find that the trees and shrubbery lining the path are not only surrounded by the same white lights but also white and silver ornaments. Most of them are balls, but there are some snowflakes too.

“This is beautiful,” a woman says as she passes me. I’m admittedly walking a little slowly.

“Enchanting,” Toby Eads says. He gives me a wink, his hand firmly in his husband’s. There’s no question why he’s here. His husband, Hector Atlas, is part of Felton’s Gays Can Play friends.

As I follow them inside, I find that there are quite a few of the GCP men, and it makes my chest warm.

I’m sure I don’t even know half of what Felton has been through, but the fact that so many people disrupted whatever holiday plans they might have to be here for him…

Well, it brings tears to my eyes. Just a little.

Ren is standing just inside the door. He smiles when he meets my eyes, and I grip his arm. “This is an amazing thing you’re doing.”

Ren’s head tilts a little. “I have more than thirty years of bad memories to erase. I think I need to begin big.”

I laugh.

His smile fades a little. “He deserves a lot that I’m not sure I’ll ever give him, but Felton has lived so long feeling unloved and unimportant.

We’re working on changing that, and I wanted him to see in a big way just how much he’s loved and how important he is.

Not only to me but to so many people in his life. I appreciate you being here, Coach.”

“I’m honored to have been invited to share your day.” I squeeze his arm gently and think about what he said on my way down the aisle to find a seat.

Dasan and I arrived separately. Obviously. When I see the end of the pew open beside him, I slide in as nonchalantly as I can. He turns his head and grins.

This man is breathtaking on a good day, but fuck, all in white, he’s ethereal. His long black hair is half pulled back with a strip of white leather except for a few errant strands framing his face. He gives me a flirty smile, his dark eyes twinkling.

“Hello, Coach.” He makes a point of looking me over, and I pretend that my cheeks don’t flush. “You clean up good.”

Me? The way his crisp white suit brings attention to his beautifully flawless bronze skin and dark features has me struggling to remember how to breathe.

“Coach is always sexy in a suit,” Max Latham, a Philly wingman who’s chaos off the ice, says as he twists around to look at us with a wide smile. “I’m not gonna brag or anything, but of all the pro sports, hockey has the highest number of sexy coaches.”

Dasan chuckles.

I grin when a small hand grips the back of the pew, then a face pops up between Max and Deryke Schneider, Max’s partner and one of Philly’s goaltenders. He’s a fucking adorable kid, who gives us huge smiles. Max and Deryke shift, their bodies angling to protect their little one.

Beside Dasan is Denny, and his little one shifts in Denny’s lap to look at the kid his age. It’s adorable to see a staring contest between two babies. If I’m not mistaken, both are less than a year old.

“Babies in white,” Denny muses as he shifts Ty in his arms so that the two boys are staring at each other. “Seems like a really bad idea.”

“Stains for days,” Max agrees.

“They’re wear-once outfits,” Tyler notes.

A camera flashes, and I peek down in time to see Zenia smirking at his phone. “We have picture proof that they’re clean and stunning for thirty minutes.”

Denny grins. “I’m not even going to tell you how many pictures we’ve taken.”

Max agrees. “I need a phone with more storage. And he’s not even a year old!” He leans down to kiss the top of his baby’s head. I can’t remember his name. Did I know it at all?

Noah Kain and Elixon Kipler sit in the pew beside Max, who turns again and hugs Noah.

“You’re so hot in white,” Max says, winking at Noah.

Noah rolls his eyes. Noah plays for L.A.

, and he’s a fast fucking player. I’ve been trying to get a transfer for him for the last couple years, but they want one of my guys who I’m not willing to give up.

Thankfully, management—and by management, I mean the owner—allows me a lot of influence in trades, though not necessarily recruitment of new talent.

Beside Noah is Elixon, a retired hockey player. I’ve met him a few times, so I’m not surprised when he reaches over the back of the pew to grasp my hand and exchange a hello.

“Ezzy,” Noah says, leaning around Max. “I want to see how big you’ve gotten.”

Ezzy is apparently the kid, and he makes a stumbling effort to go to Noah. As I watch Noah, I get a peek at the white collar around his neck. Not the collar of his shirt but… a collar.

Absently, I touch my neck and glance at Dasan. My heart jumps when I find him watching me. He doesn’t miss my hand at my neck. He glances at Noah, and I can tell when he spots the same thing I did.

He licks his lips. My dick twitches at the sight, and I look away. I’m not wearing a cock cage today. Dasan said it wasn’t classy enough. I’m wearing the cock collar instead, so, in a way, I’m wearing my own collar, right? Maybe not around my neck, but it means the same thing. Kinda.

I like the collar more than the cages, if I’m honest. It’s not so much a comfort thing as it is…

appeal? I’m not sure how to explain it. My eyes flicker to Noah’s collar.

I think, for me at least, the collar on my dick might feel like it means the same thing as the one around Noah’s neck. Ownership. Being wanted. It’s symbolic.

Also, it makes my dick stick out a little more than usual. The plastic cage keeps me contained and relatively against my body. It’s not so different from wearing nothing, to be honest. The bear trap is different because of the hook on the end.

The collars, because they sit at the base of my cock, have a way of pushing my dick further out, which makes my bulge far more pronounced. I’m self-conscious about it and am constantly making sure my suit jacket falls just right so I’m not obviously bulging.

The way Dasan grins at me when I adjust to hide makes my blood burn.

I try to force away thoughts of Dasan and the collar around my dick. This is so not an appropriate subject for right now, not when I’m surrounded by people.

“Felton just pulled in,” someone in the back says as Ren moves toward the front.

I admired the place when I walked in, but now that everyone is hushing and we’re all twisted toward the door behind us where Felton will be entering, I’m struck by how elegant it is.

Everything is covered in white. White flowers and white topiaries.

White lights twinkling. And everything is blanketed in soft white snow that I assume is fake since there aren’t any puddles.

Seconds tick past as we wait expectantly. Are everyone’s hearts stuttering in excitement like mine is? I’ve never considered myself someone who constantly feels a lot of empathy for other people.

No, wait. That came out wrong. I’m empathetic, but I’m not aggressively so.

Like an empath who is always feeling the emotions of others around them.

I know how to distance myself because that constant bombardment of others’ feelings is suffocating.

It’s not realistic to think you can give everyone around you a piece of you like that.

But Felton has a special place in my heart. I know he’s struggled. I’ve watched it. I’ve fought for him. Thankfully, Edries heard my plea last summer to encourage management to give Felton another shot and offer him another contract, otherwise Felton wouldn’t be here right now.

Felton has been punished his entire life, and I’ve seen firsthand how that’s affected him. He deserves this happiness. I certainly feel for this man and love that I get to be a part of this moment.

The door opens and Felton stares. At first, I think he’s only seeing the sea of white and the beauty of the room around him.

His eyes widen as he begins recognizing faces.

I know the moment we all disappear though.

It’s the second he sees Ren waiting for him at the end of the aisle.

I can almost hear Felton’s breath catch and his deep inhale.

I’m not sure if there’s a cue because I’m watching Felton with a wide smile. His eyes don’t leave Ren as he slowly makes his way down the aisle. There’s no music.

Actually, now that it’s silent, I hear a quiet melody. Nothing that I can name nor words that I can make out, but it’s as soft and enchanting as the scene around us. The notes of it on the air only lend further to the magic of the room, as if we’ve been carried off into a different realm.

Felton reaches Ren, who takes his hands. I can’t hear their quiet exchange, though I see the tears in Felton’s eyes.

Fingers brush my hand, and I glance down. Dasan’s fingers settle between mine. I glance up. He’s not looking at me, but I see the way his smile climbs when I look at him. I look around, as if the rest of the room will see.

My heart races throughout the ceremony. I know our hands are hidden between us, but it feels as though there’s a banner over my head with an arrow pointing down that screams “LOOK HERE.” I’ve even caught myself looking up a few times.

I’m torn between fear of getting caught and losing myself in the moment that Felton marries Ren. It’s a short ceremony without a lot of pomp. It’s not the words that matter but the message. I know what I’ll hear if someone walks in to see two men getting married and the defense of love is love.

But that’s not what’s here. That’s not the message to take away from their relationship. Their fight wasn’t against a world that thinks love is black and white. It’s against a hateful, cruel parent who stripped their child of peace.

At first glance, you might think that this is a case of love conquers all, but I think even that’s wrong.

This is a matter of love heals all wounds.

Felton has made remarkable strides since being surrounded by Ren’s love.

His confidence has grown. His self-worth has begun to grow.

His smile is genuine rather than hiding a person who’s been torn to shreds.

Felton isn’t a man reborn but a man with a thousand wounds, all of which are closing and healing. Love does that.

Following the crowd, I get to my feet as Ren and Felton make their way back down the aisle.

There’s another building somewhere, if memory serves, where we’ll celebrate their day.

I’m sad for the loss of Dasan’s hand on mine.

I feel tingly as I watch Felton and Ren.

I want that, I think. I want this kind of love.

I don’t have wounds to heal or a bad past. My relationship with my family is fine.

As far as I’m concerned, I’ve grown up with a pretty mundane upbringing, which isn’t something to be upset about.

No scandals or nasty events is a good thing.

There’s nothing in me to heal.

Yet I think, in a way, I’m much like Felton in that I don’t have the means to grow on my own. There’s been a strange void in my life. An absence. No wounds but crevices all the same. No abuse but solitude. Not hiding but invisible.

For the first time in my life, these last few months have made me feel much more…

seen. I hate to use the word valid because I don’t feel like I struggle with validation, yet now that someone has seen my needs, acknowledges them, and answers them, all those quiet whispers inside me who insisted I would never find a place where I can just be have quieted.

I can simply exist with Dasan in the quiet, submissive state that my soul has craved.

Dasan steps against my back, and I feel his lips close to my ear. “You going to keep us in the pew, Coach?” His hand is at my back, both innocent and possessive at the same time.

I blink into my surroundings to find that everyone is beginning to pile into the aisle to follow the couple. Taking a breath to steady my thoughts, I shrug. “Waiting our turn, Dasan. Patience.”

He chuckles. It’s reminiscent of something we share privately.

“You clean up nicely, omega,” he whispers.

My heart races, eyes moving around those close to us. No one heard him, right?

Once again, his deep chuckle meets my ears as he backs away. I feel it trickle down my spine, but the warmth seeps away as he removes his hand from my back.

I glance behind me, meeting his eyes. They shine with fire. A fire all for me. I think my name dances on those flames. I lick my lips, his eyes falling to the motion.

Without saying anything—because that would be dangerous right now—I step into the aisle and blend in with the crowd of white fabric.