CHAPTER THIRTY
Jesse had only caught little snippets of the argument Connor had with Viv. He’d heard his name a few times and caught the stricken expression on Nolan’s face when he came racing back to the playground, fists clenched, expression stormy, but that was about it.
Nolan had refused to say anything or to even look at his mother. He’d spoken only to Connor, begging to stay with him for the next few days.
Viv had finally given in to the idea of Nolan staying with Connor, but she’d taken the girls—who had clung to Connor tearfully while he’d promised he’d see them later that week—and left.
Now, Connor held out his keys to Jesse. “Will you drive?” he asked hoarsely. “Please? I don’t think I can …”
Jesse nodded, worried about him, but unsure of what to say or do with Nolan there. “Yeah. Of course. Back home?”
Connor nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”
“Wait,” Nolan said, his voice cracking. “Wait. Dad, I need to tell you something.”
Jesse held his breath as Connor turned to look at his son. “What is it?”
“I …” Nolan’s voice was shaky.
Jesse took a deep breath, trying to silently push all of his support and encouragement into Nolan as if it would somehow help. Somehow strengthen him.
“Dad …” Nolan whispered. “I didn’t join the GSA because of Jayden. It’s because … it’s because I’m gay.”
For a long, silent moment, Connor stared at his son, his lips parted, his expression filled with surprise and confusion.
Nolan’s lip trembled and he clenched his fists by his sides and Jesse itched to reach out to tell him it was okay, his dad would come around, he just needed a moment to process it.
And then Connor broke.
He seemed to crumple and he reached out, yanking Nolan close. They clung tightly to each other for the longest time, Connor’s head bowed, his lips pressed to Nolan’s hair. Nolan’s body shook as he let out big, heaving sobs, only partially muffled by Connor’s jacket. Connor’s emotions came out more quietly but were still obvious in the tight grip of his arms around Nolan and the faint trembling of his body.
“I love you,” Connor finally whispered. “You know that, right?”
Nolan let out a broken wail and it went straight to Jesse’s heart because it was clear that if Nolan knew it, he’d been afraid he’d been wrong.
For a long time, they stood there, holding each other while Jesse watched, hardly aware there was a tear trickling down his own cheek until he could taste the salt when he licked his lips.
Eventually, Nolan’s ragged breathing slowed and the sobs stopped and he stepped away from Connor. Nolan wiped his eyes on his sleeve and Connor did the same, looking for all the world like he was hardly any older than his son.
Jesse wanted to say something, wanted to hug them both but he was afraid of getting it wrong, of breaking the fragile moment, so he got in the SUV and waited for them to join him.
The ride home was silent except for the GPS directing Jesse where to go.
Nolan sat in the seat behind Jesse, staring silently out the window, while Connor did the same in the passenger seat.
It was almost eerie how alike they were.
Whatever Viv had said earlier, whatever had gone down between her and Connor, it had been ugly. Jesse had a feeling she might know about him and Connor, based on the look she’d given him before she left. Jesse was glad Connor knew about Nolan now, but Viv clearly still didn’t and Nolan didn’t know about Jesse and Connor and …
Jesse suddenly hated all of the secrets, hated that everything was such a mess now. And worst of all, he felt like it was his fault. He wanted to apologize to Connor because he’d never meant to cause this kind of chaos.
But maybe that was what he did. Maybe that was just who he was.
It had all seemed funny and innocent when Connor called him his chaos demon but right it felt like a leaden weight in Jesse’s stomach.
“Stop. Stop up here please,” Connor rasped, pointing ahead.
Jesse jerked, his hands tightening on the wheel. They still had a few miles to go before they were home. Why did he want Jesse to stop here … oh, but there was a church up ahead.
“Pull up to the curb,” Connor said. “Right there.”
Jesse put on his turn signal, praying he wouldn’t get taken out by one of the crazy drivers zipping around him as he eased into a spot, the vehicle a little crooked but mostly out of traffic.
“What’s wrong?” Jesse asked, putting the SUV in park, then glancing over at Connor.
He looked exhausted, eyes red-rimmed, his mouth set in a thin line as he unbuckled his seat belt. “I—take Nolan home, please. I need to—I need some time to get my head together.”
Jesse wanted to argue, wanted to tell him he wouldn’t find the answers he was looking for in that church. What he needed to do was fucking sit down and talk . But how the hell would Jesse know what he needed? He’d never been religious and maybe this would help Connor in some way.
“Okay,” he said. “Uhh, you need me to come back to pick you up?”
Connor shook his head, already getting out of the vehicle. “No. I—I’ll get a rideshare or something.”
“Dad, wait,” Nolan said, his voice cracking. “Come home. I … there’s something else I want to tell you.”
“I want to listen to whatever you have to say,” Connor said, turning back, his expression conflicted. “But right now, I wouldn’t be a very good listener. We’ll talk when I get home, okay?”
“Yeah,” Nolan said, turning away and looking out the window. “Yeah, whatever.”
Damn it. Damn both of them, they were both shutting down. Pushing each other away right when they needed to talk.
“Connor …” Jesse said weakly. He wanted to tell him he was making the wrong choice but—but this wasn’t his kid. This wasn’t his family. He was … he was the guy Connor was hooking up with, his teammate .
And yeah, maybe it had started to feel like something more lately but what the hell did Jesse know about any of this? He was just a stupid fuckup who caused problems for everyone around him.
“I’ll be home in a few hours, Nols, I swear,” Connor repeated. “Give me some time to sort out my thoughts. I love you, okay? I’ll always love you. No matter what. I just—I just need to figure something out for myself.”
Nolan didn’t answer, so Connor shut the SUV door behind him. Jesse flinched at the noise but Nolan just kept staring out the window at traffic.
Jesse watched Connor walk up the church steps, then hesitate in front of the red doors for a long moment.
Come back , Jesse silently begged Connor but he reached for the handle, pulled the heavy door open, and disappeared from view.
Connor hesitated on the steps outside St. Mary’s Church. It was the parish he’d grown up going to, housed in a massive Gothic building built of granite with brick trim in the late 1800s. The enormous wooden doors were painted red, almost matching the color of the bricks, but not quite.
Connor reached for the door handle, freezing for a moment before he opened it and stepped through the doorway.
Inside, he was hit by the familiar smell of wood polish and thick, resinous incense.
The intricately carved wood-beamed ceiling arched overhead, the walls below it painted a creamy shade of white. Large circular fixtures hanging from the ceiling always glowed brightly during mass, but were dark now.
Weak sunshine filtered in one of the stained-glass windows, spilling colorful light across the wooden pews.
Connor shivered, the hushed presence of the empty building so strong it almost felt like something he could touch or taste.
He’d skated on the ice at the arena once with the crowd gone, the building so different than when it was filled with music and people. He’d never thought of it as holy but it was exactly the same feeling he had now.
That weighty feeling heavy in his gut, anchoring him to the ground while it tugged at his chest, like the wind lifting a tethered balloon toward the sky.
Connor’s footfalls echoed on the checkered tile floors as he walked down the aisle.
He’d walked that same route hundreds of times. For Sunday masses and baptisms and communions and confirmations. For funerals and weddings. He’d been the pallbearer at his grandfather’s funeral, been married here. He’d wiped away tears when he stood on the steps of the altar, overcome by the sight of Viv walking down the aisle toward him.
He’d watched the bishop gently scoop water from the baptismal font onto Nolan, Evie, and Maura’s heads as he spoke the words that welcomed them into the Catholic church.
He remembered the dry wafer on his tongue, the sourness of the wine, the priest’s thumb against his forehead, making the sign of the cross.
Now, Connor stopped halfway down, genuflecting and making that same sign of the cross before sliding into the pew he and his family had always sat in every Sunday they had free from hockey. He remembered sitting between Kelly and Pat, Kelly’s little legs swinging free because he was still too short for them to reach the ground.
He remembered Kelly fidgeting, poking at Connor to bend down so he could ask him a question or tell him something he’d noticed.
Connor remembered their mother laying a gentle hand on Kelly’s knee, her diamond wedding ring sparkling in the colored lights from the windows, speaking to Kelly soothingly until he quieted and stilled.
He remembered the sharp looks his father sent Pat and Finn when they started elbowing each other.
And while they weren’t exactly good memories—not like the feeling of sitting in the back of his parents’ van, impatiently waiting to get home to eat the doughnuts his father had picked up on the way home as a treat—they were ones that filled him with a sense of home and family.
Connor remembered Christmas Eves, the church decorated with candles, poinsettia plants, and evergreen garland filling the air with their scent. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the cozy warmth of his brothers’ arms pressed tight against his when people made room for the parishioners who only showed up on the holidays, the sound of the choir singing Christmas songs so beautiful it gave him goosebumps.
Connor let the kneeler fall with a quiet thump and sank to his knees, bracing his elbows on the wooden pew and clasping his hands together to pray.
But no words came. They hadn’t in so long.
His whole life, Connor had believed , and then Kelly had come out.
And while Connor would never, ever blame his brother, that news had ripped apart Connor’s carefully built world. His marriage had ended and he’d been forced to admit his own sexuality.
And now here he was, in love with Jesse.
Jesse, who was agnostic at best and a man and his teammate and … Connor buried his head in his hands, shoulders shaking.
He was bi. He was bi and in love with a man and Nolan was gay.
Connor could feel the bitterness in the back of his throat at the knowledge Nolan had come to Jesse first about it. A part of him was glad. A part of him was glad Nolan had felt he could come to someone about it.
But the bitter, nasty voice inside of Connor that always told him he wasn’t enough, seemed louder than ever. It told him he was failing his team and his family. It said Nolan hadn’t come to him because Nolan had doubted him. Because Nolan hadn’t trusted him.
Jesse had seemed more reliable than Nolan’s own father.
And yeah, a part of Connor knew Nolan had plenty of reasons for coming to Jesse. And it was good if he felt like he could trust Jesse. Especially because the divorce had made his relationship with both Connor and Viv a lot more complicated.
Connor needed to sit down with Nolan and really talk to him. Promise him he loved and supported him and would have his back through anything.
Somehow, he was gonna have to get Viv on board too.
But that insidious whisper, that ever-present damned Catholic guilt , told him all of this had happened because he was somehow lacking. He’d never be quite enough. He didn’t have what it took.
And then Connor thought of Jesse. His chaos demon. His dancing goalie.
That bittersweet feeling thickened in his throat when he pictured Jesse. His bright smiles and his laughing eyes and the way the weight of the world seemed to slide off his shoulders, no matter how frustrating life got.
Connor admired that about him so much.
But his feelings for Jesse were a lot more than admiration. More than simple lust or even infatuation. This was love .
The kind of undeniable love that Connor knew, deep in his bones, would endure.
Choosing to be with Jesse meant rejecting so much.
It was a rejection of his religion, the safety and comfort of the church structure. The sureness of what lay beyond the day-to-day world. Because if he loved Jesse, if he turned toward him and the life they might have together, the last of those structures, all of those certainties about what happened after death, about what being a good person meant, about what the world was made up of and what really mattered … they would come tumbling down.
He'd have to build them himself, from scratch.
He’d have to raise his children—the girls mostly, because Nolan was well on his way already—without the structure of those teachings. He’d have to teach them goodness came not from following the teachings of a bishop or priest or even God, but from within.
Reward and punishment wouldn’t come from an unseen God but from how it impacted others.
And the worst part of it—at least to Connor—was that he remembered a time when he’d felt God as a concrete presence in his life. And now he didn’t know if that was real or only something his own mind had created.
Because he’d felt those holy moments at the birth of his children. He felt them in the flash of connection when a teammate slammed into him on the ice, joyously celebrating after an impossible goal.
But he’d also heard God in Jesse’s laugh and tasted it in his kiss.
Turning away from the Catholic Church felt like rejecting God and yet turning toward Jesse felt like turning toward God too.
And Connor hated uncertainty, hated the doubt that created.
He liked rules and structure and certainty. But he couldn’t deny he’d been happier and more at ease since Jesse had twerked his way into Connor’s life.
Connor made strangled little sound, wiping at the wetness on his face.
Of all the people …
“What lesson am I supposed to learn from this?” Connor whispered because he might be doubting his faith and his future, but he couldn’t quite kick the habit of praying for divine guidance. Maybe he never would.
Because doing this all alone was so fucking hard.
He glanced around the church through blurry eyes, seeing the history of it, the history of his city, his community, his family , and he felt the weight of his grief settle inside him.
Because he knew the answer to the question he’d asked.
He had to go . He had to choose happiness. And if the church told him he wasn’t welcome because he loved Jesse, well, then he’d have to choose Jesse.
Because choosing Jesse meant loving more than just him. It was also choosing to love his family. To love Kelly and Nolan.
To love himself .
And if God wanted Connor to hate them, or himself, then maybe there wasn’t a God at all. Maybe there was only love and connection and choosing to be good to the people who loved him back. The people who relied on him.
Or maybe that was what God was. Not something outside of himself but the love he felt for the people in his life.
So Connor rose to his feet, knees stiff and crackling, and stood. He walked down the aisle and he pushed open those big red doors. He walked out into the weak November daylight like it was sunshine.
And he went home.
To Jesse.