Chapter 18 #2
“I think we’ll send a much stronger message against homophobia if we stop letting it run rampant in our spaces,” Jax said.
“And it should go without saying, but any personal commentary about any of the underage participants shouldn’t see the light of day.
” He couldn’t quite keep the rage out of his voice.
“Okay, noted. We’ll look into some moderation in the comment section. You two will be on media tonight. Make sure to mention the project,” Kayleigh told them cheerily, and then turned back to her computer, ending the meeting.
Jax literally shook with anger on the way to the parking lot. “Is it bad I kinda wish we’d had practice with Trout today?” At least then he would have somewhere to put the rage.
Breezy snorted. “That makes one of you. You doing okay, Jax?”
“Nope.”
“It wasn’t so bad. We got them to fix the comment sections.”
Jax patted him on the shoulder. “I have no idea how you kept such a cool head.”
Breezy shrugged self-deprecatingly. “You always tell people what you really think. I admire that about you. Whenever I do, people end up calling me an idiot. I guess my thoughts aren’t as deep as yours or something.
The good thing is, when people think you’re dumb already, they don’t usually second-guess what you say. ”
“Breezy,” Jax said, “I mean this with my whole heart. You are the least dumb person I have ever played with.”
At least one of them left the stadium in a good mood.
The package still sat on the passenger seat, mocking Jax.
What was he even doing? Tom got it right when he asked why Jax couldn’t stop at sponsoring the shelter.
The project was about the kids who needed help, not him.
Using them as a springboard to satisfy his own selfish need for public visibility left his skin crawling after the conversation he’d just had.
In addition, Kayleigh’s blind hunt for clicks at the cost of the teenagers who could be harmed convinced him.
The Sea Lions would be equally shitty about him being gay as the Magpies had been.
He might as well give up now and get Tom back.
He would spend his life in hiding, always rattling at the bars of his enclosure, but at least he wouldn’t be alone.
In a state of capitulation, he left the package in Tom’s stall.
On the way home, he acknowledged he was going through more emotions than Destiny’s Child had in 2002. Human beings weren’t supposed to feel so many things in such quick succession. Worse, as a consequence, he felt himself slipping into spur-of-the-moment decisions he would probably regret.
More than anything, he wished he had an easy way to tell what the right choice was. Usually, when he faced a hard decision, he pretended he’d already made it, and whatever alternative he’d picked either delighted or disappointed him.
Granted, the hardest decisions of Jax’s life so far had been whether he wanted Indian or Thai takeout or if going out or staying in would feel better that night.
Everything important in his life had been a no-brainer (choosing hockey as a career) or he’d made the decision before he realized the consequences (hooking up with a guy who thought taking pictures during was sexy).
Jax had never been in a situation where both decisions had made him feel miserable in wildly different ways.
Ever since he’d left Tom’s apartment last week, he’d been hollow, cut off from his own emotional core.
He thought about Tom constantly, about how he hid his need for soft fabrics and comforting touch but leaned into it as soon as it was offered.
He thought about how seriously Tom took his job, how hard he worked trying to be as good as he could be, and how happily surprised Tom was whenever something made him laugh.
Jax knew all these big things about Tom now, things no one else knew.
He could never unknow Tom’s sexuality, his loneliness, his need to be held.
Worse, he had a collection of tiny details about Tom living rent free in his head.
Tom had shared his abhorrence for hotel scrambled eggs and light beers.
He liked to be anchored by a hand on his hip when he slept on his perfect memory foam pillow.
The only things he’d ever splurged on were his couch, his bed, and his shower, and he still felt guilty about those.
Jax didn’t know where to put all that knowing, all that care now that Tom had closed the door on him.
It formed a yawning pit inside him, pulling him down, down, down, away from everything he’d previously thought important.
At the same time, he’d told Tom he understood, and he did.
He’d left. He closed the physical door. And the thought of staying—staying in Tom’s apartment, keeping what they had right there, behind closed doors, possibly forever—made Jax want to chew his own leg off like an animal in a trap.
Even the brutal reminder that the Sea Lions were a business and would see him as a faulty return on investment the second he started expressing nonconformist traits such as being queer as fuck couldn’t stop him from wanting to do it.
But now, the thought of using the shelter and the kids there to satisfy his own need for authenticity in his life felt wrong as well.
What would he end up doing besides feeding the sports media machine with a new scandal?
All he wanted was to play hockey and live his life without feeling as though he could lose it all in an instant if he stepped a toe out of line.
Could humans go feral?
Jax thought he just might.
He managed to eat before the game, but a nap was out of the question. Instead, he paced around his hotel room considering and reconsidering what he might say to the media that night, whether it would be stupid and impulsive, or worse, exploitative to rip the bandage off.
When he got to the arena for the game—early because he couldn’t wait around any longer—the box still sat on the bench in front of Tom’s stall, and four other guys eyed it contemplatively.
Jax was such an idiot.
All this, and he still hadn’t learned to control his idiot impulses. Now, half the team knew the captain had a gift waiting for him in the locker room, meaning Jax couldn’t take it back. At least Kayleigh pulled him for media before Tom got there, a small mercy.
The usual reporters crowded around the area set aside for pre- and postgame interviews, waiting for him.
The Sea Lions played Seattle tonight, who were about as close as they had to a rival since the LA teams had their own thing going and Vegas couldn’t care less about a divisional rival when half the Eastern Conference wanted their heads on platters.
Most of the rivalry consisted of bored interns shooting one another vaguely catty mentions online in an attempt to gear up interest in hockey in football towns.
Beat reporters who actually cared about the sport ignored it.
All of which made media before the game an excellent time to advertise the shelter.
Jax took the first opportunity when Olivia Starling, wearing an SF Bobcats hat—which seemed out of place given she was at an ice hockey rink and not a football stadium—asked how he felt after the team’s up and down week.
“Yeah, um, we had a few bad days down in Los Angeles for sure, but we really turned up on Friday, and I think we will today too. And the week’s been awesome. Thanks for asking.”
“What have you been up to?” someone called from the back.
Jax grinned, making sure to show off as many teeth as possible. “I’m so glad you asked.” He outlined the project, making sure to mention Mara and where people could donate to the shelter as many times as possible in about three sentences.
He spent a good ten minutes after answering questions about the shelter and what the team’s sponsorship entailed.
At that point, Breezy wandered past, shirtless and with his hair all over the place, his novelty boxer briefs (Christmas trees this time) peeking out over the waistband of his athletic leggings.
He slid onto the bench next to Jax, threw an arm over his shoulder, and said, “We’re playing hockey with them. It’s kind of all we’re good at.”
The ensuing laughter sounded a little too mean for Jax’s taste.
He let the questions go on, time ticking by while he weighed his options. Coach Trout eyed him vengefully from the corner in a way that screamed, “Are you not done yapping yet?”
Finally, Olivia Starling in her stupid football hat asked, “Jax, is working with the gay community an important message to you, personally?”
This was what he’d been waiting for, the moment he could come out neatly and instantly and have it all out in the open.
Ever since the first idea for the shelter project had come up on the flight home from Toronto, he’d known he wanted this, needed it even.
But as soon as someone actually asked him, something in Jax stalled out.
He didn’t owe her anything. She’d shown up to Cyberian wearing merch for the wrong fucking sport.
Jax wanted to live authentically, but he didn’t want to do this lady, in particular, any favors.
He also found, now that he had the chance, he didn’t want to make this about him.
The shelter needed donors, and the kids needed to be seen and helped a lot more than Jax needed to have everyone all up in his business.
He was a fucking millionaire; he’d be fine.
“Yes,” he said. “It’s very important to me.”
He left it at that.
In the locker room, Tom had moved the box from the bench to the floor in front of his feet so he could sit and tie his laces.
“Jax!” Howie bounded over. “Crow won’t open the gift from his secret admirer!”
Jax hoped the heat in his face would be attributed to the twenty cameras he’d just had in it. “Secret admirer, huh?”
“Who else would send him something from Prada?”