Page 16 of Wrap Around (Forbidden Goals #7)

SILAS

I pull into the driveway and cut the engine just as Gideon's truck pulls in behind me. Casey Ives’ SUV is just behind him, parking on the curb so he's not blocking anyone in.

Sitting in the quiet of my car for just a second, I watch Tim Landon and Tomas Valdez climb out of the backseat, each holding two bottles of wine.

Ives holds a bouquet of fall colored flowers in one hand and a vegetable tray in the other.

Smiling to myself, I get out of my car to greet them.

I shake my head at Ives, who is only wearing a thick sweater while the rest of us are bundled up in our coats and gloves.

As a born and bred French Canadian, he doesn't feel the cold the same way the rest of us do.

Valdez, who is from Arizona originally, feels the cold even more than Gideon and I.

He's barely out of the car and I can hear his teeth chattering.

We head up the walk, Gideon quietly taking up the rear as we walk into the house. He catches my eye for a second. It's just a moment, but it's enough to make my heart stutter.

It's our first Thanksgiving. Well, technically American Thanksgiving is next week, but since we have a long string of away games over the holiday, we're celebrating today.

It's not something we celebrated back home, but it'll be our first real family meal in nearly four years.

. I'm thankful that some of our teammates are joining us to help fill some of the awkward tension between Gideon and me. These guys are the ones I’ve grown closest to on the team, and they jumped on the chance for a home cooked meal.

Lily has been over the moon excited to host her first holiday meal.

The house is warm and smells amazing with all the savory foods of a proper Thanksgiving feast with a touch of something sweet baking in the oven.

Lily comes out to greet us, her cheeks slightly flushed but looking bright-eyed and happy.

She beckons us to join her in the kitchen, taking the bottles Valdez hands her when he follows Gideon, who peels off towards the living room.

I peek in and see Adaline stacking giant cardboard blocks, which she immediately hands to her "M'uncle Gid-On" so he can make her toppling tower bigger.

Valdez flops back on the couch, loudly exclaiming his love for the cartoon Addy is watching.

Back in the kitchen, Ives and Landon are joking around while setting the table. Lily is putting the finishing touches on dinner.

"It smells incredible," I tell her, kissing her cheek lightly. "What can I help with?"

"Want to carve the turkey? I think it'll be easier to pass around if it's already carved."

Nodding, I grab the utensils she's handing me and get to work.

Once I'm finished, I bring the platter to the table and then step back, watching everyone sit around our dinner table, talking and laughing.

Even Gideon seems in good spirits. I soak it all in, thinking that this is what life is supposed to be like.

Dinner is everything we’d hoped it would be.

We're full of laughter and great food, leaning back in our seats watching Ives play with Adaline.

He's helping her add some color to the finger food painting she's making on her high chair tray.

She shrieks with joy when he adds more whipped cream to her pumpkin pie masterpiece.

He makes a big deal out of her mess, exclaiming in French how magnificent it is.

Lily grins broadly and asks him if he has children of his own.

"Nah," Ives says distractedly, laughing at Addy when she splats her hand down in the middle of the mess and gets splattered with orange pie filling and whipped cream.

"Maybe someday. Right now my schedule is too full, and Phillipe travels a lot as well.

" He freezes, the color draining from his face.

Lily doesn't seem to notice his change in demeanor. "You're a natural," she tells him. "What does Phillipe do?"

Ives swallows, his shoulders tense. "He is a pilot," he answers, his nerves making his accent stronger.

Landon scrunches his nose, confused. "Who the hell is Phillipe? Is he your–"

"My husband," Ives answers quickly, cutting Landon off before he can make any guesses.

His voice is steady, but cautious, like he's expecting blow-back from his teammates.

His eyes dart nervously around the table, and I notice that he looks over at Gideon more than once.

Like he might be afraid of Gideon's response the most, perhaps because Gideon's back has gone ramrod straight and the color has drained from his face.

"Phillipe is my husband," he repeats, as if for clarity.

"We have been married for almost eight years. "

Silence falls over the table. Ives flicks another quick, nervous glance at Gideon.

"I know many are religious and feel uncomfortable."

"Not in this house," Lily says firmly. "In this house, God loves everyone exactly how He made 'em." She reaches over to take my hand and squeezes it, sending me a silent show of love and support while also comforting Ives. "Isn't that right?" she asks me and then looks at her brother pointedly.

"Of course," I agree, reaching out my free hand to pat Ives on the shoulder. "You're all good here, man."

Ives blinks fast, like he's not sure he believes us. Or maybe he's still waiting for judgement from his other three teammates who haven't spoken up yet. "I don't always know where it is safe to talk about my family. I don't want to offend anyone."

"Anyone who's offended by who you love is a fucking idiot," Landon says, then cuts a look at Addy and winces.

"Sorry," he whispers, then turns back to Ives with a scowl.

"What I'm offended about is that you didn't feel you could tell me.

We've been playing together for years. You're more than a teammate to me, you're like a brother. "

"Yeah, man," Valdez agrees. "We're not all like that."

"I appreciate that," Ives says, relaxing a bit, although he still doesn't seem sure about the large defenseman staring at him from across the table.

If I was sure I wouldn't hit someone else by accident, I'd kick Gideon in the shins.

Right now, he and I are the only ones at this table that know he isn't judging our teammate.

He needs to speak up or calm the fuck down.

"And I didn't mean to offend. It's just…

how many openly gay players do you know in this sport?

I can never be too safe. So we keep our relationship quiet. "

"For eight years?" Lily exclaims sadly, then gives Ives a funny look. "I know me and Silas were young when we got married, but you must've been a baby!"

Ives laughs. "I am twenty-six, although I appreciate that you thought I was younger. We were married just after I turned eighteen. It was my version of teenage rebellion. "

Everyone laughs, and I finally catch Gideon’s eye.

I give him a pointed look, trying to send him telepathic signals to calm the hell down.

It's not as if anyone has figured out his secret.

He looks away from me, staring down at his plate like it might have answers.

His posture is tense, and I'm worried he's giving the wrong impression, especially when the laughter tapers off and the tension hangs in the air.

It's time to pivot this conversation, and fast.

I clear my throat. "Speaking of love lives," I say, shooting a look at Landon. "When's the last time you convinced a woman to stick around longer than a weekend?"

Valdez howls with laughter. "You gotta stop going after them puck bunnies, my friend."

Landon groans dramatically and throws his napkin at Valdez. "It's not my fault!" he insists. "I need someone who understands the hockey lifestyle."

"Maybe the problem is that you only date women who like the idea of a hockey player, not the reality," Ives interjects, grinning.

"That's rich coming from the guy who's been married since he could drive," Landon grumbles good-naturedly.

Valdez smirks. "Don't hate the player, hate the game, bro."

The table dissolves into more laughter, the heavy cloud lifting a little. Even Gideon cracks a faint, tired smile.

Ives, Landon, and Valdez help clear the table, and then leave after Landon and Valdez have helped finish another bottle of wine. Ives is driving them home, thankfully .

Gideon has also had too much to drive home, but Lily has already made up the guest room for him and he agreed to stay.

After everyone is gone, Lily takes a very sleepy Adaline upstairs for a bath and bedtime. The house suddenly feels too quiet.

Gideon and I wash whatever dishes didn't fit in the dishwasher, pretending neither of us notices the awkward silence.

The large kitchen feels too small, too charged with the palpable tension between us.

When the last serving tray is clean, I pass it to him, risking a glance at his face.

It's tight, strained, and paler than usual.

"You alright?" I ask, keeping my voice low and careful.

He shrugs, setting the dish a little too hard on the drying rack. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I lick my lips, debating if I should say anything. Screw it. I'll blame the two glasses of wine I had.

"How do you feel about Ives?" About his husband. About not being the only one. About how our teammates took it in stride.

Gideon stiffens like I've accused him of something.

"Why would I care?" he says sharply.

"You saw for yourself that Lily was fine with it," I say casually. "She'd understand. If you ever wanted to tell her…"

Gideon turns away from me and grips the edge of the counter so tightly I'm surprised the stone doesn't crack.

"I don't have anything to tell," he mutters, shoulders hunched.

I want to grab him and shake him violently for his damn stubbornness. At the same time, I want to wrap him up and promise him he's not alone. If he'd just come out to Lily, this could all be fixed.

But I don't. He's clearly not ready.

After we finish cleaning up, I show him where the towels are and get him a spare toothbrush. He nods stiffly, mumbles a thanks, and disappears into the guest room.

I retreat into my own room, flopping down on the bed and staring at the physical wall separating us. Knocking this wall down would be easier than getting through his metaphorical defenses.

He's so close. And yet… so far away.

I lie awake long into the night, wishing for things I don't have the right to wish for. Wishing he could just see—just believe —that he's already loved exactly the way he is. That Lily would love him. That I could love him.

I finally drift off to sleep, dreaming about a maybe someday future that likely couldn’t ever be possible.