Chapter 32
32
ELLIOT
S ome people have a sixth sense. I have a Gerard sense, and right now, I sense that Gerard is not in bed with me. Opening my eyes, I notice his side of the bed is empty. I check how cold it is—it’s lukewarm. He hasn’t been gone long.
Rolling over onto my back, I take in Gerard’s childhood bedroom. Hockey posters plaster three of the walls, and the NHL superstars stare down at me with fierce determination. God, I’m surrounded by an army of Gerards. Only they’re all less handsome.
On the lone bare wall is a shelf lined with stuffed animals that have seen better days. Some are missing eyes, while others have matted fur. A few have been wrung nearly to death. I picture a young Gerard clutching them in the middle of the night, his already massive hands engulfing their tiny bodies in a death grip. Adorable.
My gaze drifts to a corkboard below the shelf overflowing with photos. Gerard’s high school friends grin back at me. They’ve all got their hands thrown up in that classic “hang loose” sign. Ah, the very picture of carefree youth.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway jolts me from my thoughts. I sit up as the door swings open, revealing a shirtless Gerard with a pink towel slung low on his hips. His hair is damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends.
“Morning, sunshine.” He closes the door and scratches his head. “I ran into my dad as I got out of the shower. He wants you to see him in his office downstairs.”
I immediately start freaking out, wondering why his dad wants to see me in his office. I’ve never been called to an office before. Not even in high school. I was the least problematic person ever. I still am. I haven’t done anything that warrants seeing him in his office.
Gerard’s brow furrows in confusion as he crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “Why do you look like you’re going to hurl?”
“Your dad wants to talk to me. Alone. Without you there as a buffer.”
What if he tells me I’m not good enough for Gerard? What if he says our relationship is a phase and Gerard will get over it soon? What if he forbids us from seeing each other ever again?
My mind spirals faster than a tornado, each scenario more catastrophic than the last. I’m so lost in my head that I don’t even notice Gerard crawling up the bed until he’s right in front of me, his face inches from mine.
“Hey,” he says softly, his breath warm against my skin. “Stop worrying. My dad loves you. He probably just wants to tell you that he hopes to see you at Christmas.”
Before I can protest, Gerard leans in and kisses me, his lips soft and insistent against my own. I melt into the kiss, and my anxiety disappears like a mist in the morning sun.
He shifts his weight, pressing me back against the pillows. The towel slips from his hips as he moves, pooling on the bed in a heap of terrycloth.
I let my hands roam over the smooth expanse of his back, reveling in the feel of his warm skin beneath my fingertips as his tongue slips its way into my mouth.
We’re so lost in each other that we don’t hear the door open. It’s not until a sharp gasp fills the room that we spring apart, and our heads whip toward the sound.
Standing in the doorway, utterly shocked, is Gerard’s mom.
“Holy snickers!” Gerard yelps, scrambling to cover himself with the towel. In his haste, he loses his balance and tumbles off the bed, landing on the floor with a heavy thud.
My face burns with embarrassment as I yank the comforter up to my chin, wishing I could disappear beneath it forever.
To my complete amazement, she laughs. It starts as a slight chuckle, then grows into a full-bodied laugh that shakes her entire frame. Tears stream down her face as she clutches her stomach, gasping for breath.
Gerard peeks out from behind the bed, scowling adorably. “Mom! I know I don’t live here anymore, but did you forget how to knock?”
Anna’s heavy laughter finally subsides enough for her to choke out a response between fits of giggles. “Oh, honey. I’ve seen your little bum more times than I can count. Who do you think bathed you from the time you were born until you were seven?”
Gerard’s scowl deepens, and he stands up, clutching the towel around his waist. “Mom, that was like a million years ago. Things have changed since then.”
Anna waves her hand dismissively. “Please, you’ll always be my little boy, no matter how big you get.” She turns to me, wiping tears from her eyes. “Did you know that when Gerard was a toddler, he used to run around the house naked after his baths? He’d giggle and shriek as I chased him with a towel, trying to catch him before he peed on the carpet.”
Gerard groans, his face turning a deep shade of red. “Mom, I’m begging you. Please stop.”
But Anna is on a roll now. “And then there was the time when he was five and decided to give himself a haircut. He chopped off a huge chunk right in the front and came crying to me, saying he was a monster.”
She chuckles fondly at the memory while Gerard buries his face in his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Anna finally decides to take pity on him. She walks over and pats his cheek affectionately. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop embarrassing you in front of your boyfriend.” She winks at me conspiratorially. “But know that I have plenty more stories where those came from.”
With that mic drop, she walks out, closing the door behind her.
Still incensed, Gerard yells, “And my bum isn’t little anymore!”
He turns around and drops the towel, revealing his bare backside in all its glory. I let out the howl of laughter that I’d been holding in since Anna started her trip down memory lane.
I collapse back against the pillows, clutching my stomach as tears stream down my face.
Gerard scowls at me, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. But if you want to have your wicked way with my bum someday…” I immediately stop laughing, and he winks. “Atta boy.”
And then, with a woof, he jumps onto the bed, caging me in, and we pick up where we left off.
Standing before Gavin’s office, I stare at the door as if it’s my executioner. Sixty-nining with Gerard was only delaying the inevitable. I have to face the music, no matter whether it’s good or bad.
I take a deep breath and knock.
“Come in,” Gavin calls.
I turn the knob and step inside, my heart in my throat. Here goes nothing …
The study is a shrine to hockey, with framed jerseys, old sticks, and team photos covering every inch of the wood-paneled walls. Gavin sits in his leather chair behind a massive oak desk, looking the part of a powerful patriarch.
“Have a seat, Elliot.” He gestures to the plush armchair across from him.
I perch on the edge of it, my leg bouncing with nerves. I feel as if I’m about to be interrogated or given a pop quiz on hockey stats, for which I’m woefully unprepared.
Gavin steeples his fingers and regards me over them. “So, Elliot. Tell me. How is Gerard doing these days?”
I blink at him, puzzled. That wasn’t the question I expected. “Uh, he’s good? I mean, you saw him this weekend. He seems happy, no?”
Gavin hums noncommittally. “Yes, but I’m not referring to what I can see, but what I can read.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow…”
“The Ice Queen,” Gavin says, leaning back in his chair. “Her blog posts about my son and the rest of the team. And you as well.”
Holy shit. Of course, Gavin knows about the Ice Queen. He probably has a Google alert set up for his son’s name.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “I—yes. I’ve seen them. Gerard and I have talked about it a bit.”
Gavin nods, unsurprised. “Gunnarson men have always been the subject of a lot of…appreciation. Even back when I was playing for the Barracudas.”
I cock my head, intrigued despite my nerves. “What do you mean?”
“Back when I was a student at BSU, there was another person like this Ice Queen who wrote a gossip column for the school newspaper. Blogging didn’t exist back then. The focus of the column was mainly on the hockey team and, in time, me and Coach Donovan. ”
My eyebrows shoot up. Coach Donovan—Alex’s dad and the gruff, no-nonsense hard-ass who runs the team with an iron fist—was the subject of gossip? I can’t picture it.
“They called themselves the Skater Boy,” Gavin continues. “Every week, they’d publish a new column filled with thirsty observations about my ass or Jack’s—Coach Donovan’s—bulge. It was…a lot.”
“That must have been weird.”
“It was, at first. But we got used to it. Has Gerard?”
“Yeah, I think so. He really gets a kick out of it. And the rest of the team hasn’t stopped ribbing him.”
Gavin chuckles, shaking his head. “Some things never change. Asses, hands, penises, all of it was fair game. Skater Boy once said that Jack had ‘dick-tugging fingers,’ if I remember correctly.”
“Dick-tugging fingers?” I sputter, both shocked and amused by this revelation.
“Oh yeah,” Gavin says, grinning. “Jack’s hands were legendary . Still are, to be honest.”
I stare at Gavin, a million questions swirling through my head. I can’t tell if I’m reading too much into it or if he’s implying what I think he is.
“Can I ask…” I say hesitantly. “How did you and Coach Donovan handle the things Skater Boy wrote about you?”
“Jack and I embraced it because much of what Skater Boy wrote was true. Not the more salacious speculations, but the core of it.”
“The core of it?”
“Jack and I were together,” Gavin says matter-of-factly. “Romantically. So, Skater Boy speculating about our relationship, while invasive, wasn’t exactly off-base.”
My jaw drops open. I feel as if someone just hit me over the head with a two-by-four. Coach Donovan and Gavin Gunnarson were a couple? “Oh my God. I had no idea. Gerard never mentioned it to me. ”
Gavin chuckles. “I’m not surprised. It’s hardly a topic you drop casually in conversation. ‘Hey Elliot, fun fact—my dad used to bone Coach Donovan back in the day. Wild, right?’ Awkward.”
I snort. He has a point. Still, how long did they date? And what happened? How did Gavin end up married to Anna if he was with Coach Donovan in college?
As if reading my mind, Gavin explains. “Jack and I were together for most of college. It started our sophomore year and lasted until right before graduation. We were happy together.”
He gets a dreamy, faraway glint in his eyes as he reminisces. I can almost see the memories playing out behind his baby blues. Young Gavin and Coach Donovan, sneaking kisses in the locker room, holding hands under the table at team dinners, falling asleep tangled together.
“So what happened? How did you end up with Anna if you and Coach Donovan were happy together?”
Gavin smiles, but it carries a hint of sadness. “Life happened. Right before graduation, I met Anna. It was at this horrible dive bar off campus that the team always frequented. She was there with some friends, and we just…clicked. Instantly.” He shakes his head, chuckling at the memory. “I know it sounds cliché, but I knew immediately she was the one. I could see our whole future stretching out before me—marriage, kids, growing old side by side. My whole world shifted.”
“And Coach Donovan? How did he take it when you broke things off?”
“That’s the crazy part. The same night I met Anna, Jack met his wife, Perry. It was as if the universe was telling us our time together had an expiration date. We were always meant to be close, but we weren’t meant to be together forever.” Gavin shrugs. “Jack and I discussed it at length and agreed to end things—to just be friends. Best friends. And we’ve been that ever since. We were each other’s best man; now we’re godfathers to each other’s children. Our bond goes so much deeper than just being teammates on an ice rink. ”
Wow. Gavin and Coach Donovan’s love story could be the plot to the next New York Times bestseller. Best friends to college boyfriends before meeting their soulmates and transitioning to lifelong platonic soul friends. It’s beautiful, messy, complicated, and incredibly human.
A question niggles at the back of my mind, though, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “What do Anna and Perry think about your past with Coach Donovan? I mean, three years is a long time to be with someone. It wasn’t a casual fling.”
Gavin snickers. “Oh, they both think it’s hot as hell. Back when we were all newly married, they may have watched us a time or two to see what two guys getting it on looked like.”
“They watched?! Like, watched -watched?” I croak out.
Gavin throws his head back and laughs. “I forget how young you are sometimes, Elliot. Yes, they ‘ watched -watched.’ Anna was curious to see if the rumors about Jack’s dick-tugging fingers were true.”
“And were they?” I ask before I can think better of it. “True, I mean.”
Gavin winks at me, and a smug, cat-that-got-the-cream grin spreads across his face. “Oh, they were true, alright—more than true. Jack Donovan is a goddamn artist with those hands, let me tell you.”
I make a garbled noise in the back of my throat. I can’t believe I’m sitting here with Gerard’s dad, casually discussing his sex life with Gerard’s hard-ass coach. What even is my life right now?
Noticing my discomfort, Gavin leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Elliot, I’m telling you all this because I want you to understand something. I’m bisexual, and I’m damn proud of it. It’s a huge part of who I am. And if that’s what Gerard ends up identifying as, too, I couldn’t be happier. I’ll support and love him no matter what.”
I blink back the sudden tears that threaten to spill out. Gavin’s easy acceptance and unconditional love for his son is overwhelming in the best way possible. “Thank you for sharing all of this with me. For trusting me with your story. It means more than I can say.”
Gavin reaches across the desk to squeeze my hand. “You’re important to Gerard, Elliot. And that means you’re important to me, too. I want you to know you can always come to me about anything.”
I nod, too choked up to speak. God, how did I get this lucky to stumble into this incredible family? This absolute acceptance and support are everything I never knew I needed.
Our tender moment is interrupted when the study door bursts open. Gerard stumbles in, wearing a tight T-shirt and a pair of navy-blue sweatpants. My mouth goes dry at the sight.
Gerard takes one look at my tear-streaked face and rounds on his father, his expression thunderous. “Dad, what the—what did you say to him?”
Gavin holds up his hands in surrender. “Relax, Ger-Bear. Elliot and I were having a nice heart-to-heart, that’s all.”
Gerard turns back to me and searches my face. “Elliot? Is that true? Are you okay?”
I wipe my eyes. “Yes, it’s true. And I’m more than okay. Your dad and I were…bonding.”
Gerard glances between us suspiciously, clearly not buying it. I roll my eyes and stand up, crossing the room to him. I press my hands against his chest, feeling his heart thump steadily beneath my palm.
“Seriously, Gerard. Everything’s fine,” I assure him. Then, unable to resist, I smack his chest lightly. “Although, I can’t believe you never told me your dad used to date your coach! That’s pertinent information to share with your boyfriend, no?”
Gerard’s eyes widen comically. He gapes at me, then at his dad, then back at me. “I—what? You…he—what?”
Gavin chuckles. “Close your mouth, son. You’ll catch flies.”
Gerard snaps his mouth shut, still stunned. “I didn’t think—I mean, it never came up?”
I snort. “Babe. Your dad just told me that your coach has, and I quote, ‘dick-tugging fingers.’ That’s not something that ‘never comes up.’”
Gerard flushes bright red, the color spreading down his neck and chest. Riling Gerard up is fun, and I now know what I want to be when I grow up.
A Gunnarson.