Chapter 19
nineteen
Spotted around town: Tom Crowler on a night out with his teammates, wearing a cream cashmere sweater from Prada’s new winter collection.
The SF Sea Lions’ forward usually dons team merch or black game-day suits, and we think the change really works for him!
Has a new leading lady upgraded your style, Tom?
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Tom’s heart thundered in his rib cage. His hand, resting on Jax’s, was sweaty. Anyone could walk in, one of the equipment guys or a teammate who had forgotten something. For Jax, Tom could learn not to care.
“You haven’t come out yet,” Tom observed. He’d watched Jax’s media appearance before the game closely. Eyes on the ostentatious box in his stall, he’d waited for Jax to say it. The gift, he’d thought, was a goodbye, an unnecessary apology for Jax choosing himself over Tom.
He’d stood by, expecting the moment to come, understanding all the while that it was so, so stupid of him to force Jax into making the choice.
And then Jax didn’t.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Jax said. “What if I don’t need to?”
“But you do. We talked about—”
“No, I mean…” Jax flipped his hand upside down so he could lace his fingers through Tom’s. “I mean, what if I don’t need to tell people outright? What if I could just…do my thing? Date a guy. Be in a relationship. And not worry about getting caught.”
“You mean…”
“I mean, there’s a middle ground between me telling the press I’m gay and staying in the closet forever.”
Tom considered.
“It would be risky,” Jax added. “There’s every chance I could get caught taking…my guy out to lunch or whatever. But I don’t actually owe the press or even the team advance warning if I want to go out for lunch, or stay the night, or take a guy home to meet my parents.”
“You do? I mean…” Tom backtracked, flustered. “I mean, if you mean me.”
Finally, finally, Jax turned to look at him properly.
“Of course I mean you, Tom. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.
Until I met you, I thought I’d be happy hooking up on the down-low for however long I was in the NHL, and then I fell for you and realized I’ve never been anywhere near as happy as you make me. ”
The words were a warm bath, subsuming Tom in peace. “I’ve been thinking too.”
“Yeah?”
“Phil told me I would never treat anyone else the way I’ve been treating myself.”
“You told him?”
“Yeah.”
Jax lifted Tom’s hand and kissed the back of it. Tom let his eyes slide closed. He had to get this out before he lost the ability to talk.
“I think he was right. I think you were right. I want more than what I’ve let myself have. I want you.”
“Even if we get caught?”
Tom opened his eyes again. “It’s not getting caught if we’re not doing anything wrong. We wouldn’t…we wouldn’t be doing anything wrong.”
A smile spread across Jax’s face like the sun coming out after a long winter. “You believe that, huh?”
“Yeah.” Tom rested his forehead against Jax’s. “I think I finally do.”
Jax dipped down to kiss him. They’d never shared a kiss so sweet, soft, intimate, and, for the first time, hopeful.
It was entirely Tom’s fault when things escalated.
He put a hand on Jax’s shoulder and encountered only warm skin, and it made him lose his mind a little.
The next thing he knew, he was tugging on Jax’s hair, with Jax moaning into his mouth, and Tom wondered if they would still not be doing anything wrong if he got onto his knees right there in the locker room.
Tentatively, someone cleared their throat behind Tom.
They jumped apart.
“So, uh,” Breezy said loudly from the showers. “If anyone was wondering, I’m still here. In the showers. Having a shower. I’m done now though, so I might be heading into the locker room any minute. In case that might affect what anyone’s…doing there. Yeah.”
Jax rested his face in his hands. “Oh my God,” he said, muffled between his fingers.
“You can come in, Breezy.” Tom tugged Jax’s hand back into his own, where it belonged.
“And if I did hear anything, which I definitely didn’t, I sure wouldn’t tell anyone about it,” Breezy added, beelining for his stall, making eye contact with no one. “Should I, uh, be telling the guys you two won’t make it?”
Tom glanced at Jax. Jax wobbled his head from side to side, as if weighing the options.
On the one hand, they weren’t doing anything wrong.
On the other, the team had finally come out strong after weeks of inconsistency.
They could wait a while to be alone for the good of the team.
The drive to the Marina took about half an hour, and they’d need to stay at least two hours before trekking back to Palo Alto, another forty-five minutes.
Three and a half hours.
Tom could wait three and a half hours to touch Jax again. He’d been waiting his whole life.
“We’ll be there,” Tom said.
Breezy’s face split into a wide smile. “Cool! Wanna share a ride?”
When Tom pictured the most romantic night of his life in idle fantasies over the years, sitting in the back of the Uber with Breezy strapped in the middle, his long legs pushing Tom up against the door, never made the cut.
But every time Tom looked over at Jax and found him already looking back, steady, wanting, caring, he was glad of the buffer.
He wouldn’t have been able to keep his hands to himself.
Tom seemed to have gained an extra sense, a constant awareness of where Jax was in relation to him: Sitting next to him at the team’s table in the bayside gastropub Breezy had booked, their legs brushing up against each other under the table.
Ordering drinks, leaning up against the bar, the top two buttons of Jax’s shirt undone.
Talking to Luca, his elbows on the table and head bent to hear him over the din, the material of his shirt stretched across his shoulders and biceps.
Before, Tom would have spent the entire evening worrying someone would catch the way he was attuned to every little thing Jax did. Now, he reveled in it.
“How’s the sweater working out for you?” Hayes asked from the other end of the table, eyeing Tom’s outfit of choice.
He hadn’t been able to resist pulling the cream sweater on over his dress shirt.
Not ideal for the heat of the crowded bar, but every time he touched the soft fabric, it sent a tingle all down his spine.
“Good. It’s good.” He couldn’t have hidden the smile if he’d tried.
Hayes whistled, long and low. “Wow. You must be really into her, huh?”
Tom was physically incapable of not stealing another glance at Jax. He’d pushed his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, and the corded strength of his forearms made Tom’s mouth water. “Yeah,” he said. “I am.”
Hayes clapped him on the shoulder. “Good to know you’re human after all.”
Tom thought of Phil, who had known him for fifteen years and never once suspected. Hockey players really struggled with subtext. He thought about all the years he’d spent worried, lonely, and tired, trying his best and getting nothing in return. He’d wasted so much time hating himself.
But that was a sad thought, and tonight wasn’t for sad thoughts.
Tonight was for catching Jax’s eye and sharing a secret smile.
Tonight was for indulging in a decent beer, a sweet, chocolatey stout, because he’d gotten a hat trick, and he deserved it.
Tonight was for letting his fingertips ghost across the fabric of his new sweater and thinking about what else he deserved for his hat trick.
His mom texted at eleven thirty, the telltale buzz of her after-game message in the pocket of his suit pants a giveaway. The feeling alone made his heart sink in his chest.
Mom: Good job sweetie! We’re so proud of you!
Tom swallowed heavily. “No, you’re not,” he said and put the phone away, text unanswered.
Around one, when the Swedes had split off already and Dmitriyev had gotten a cab home after what appeared to be a half bottle of clear liquor, Mooney and Howie started making noise about heading over to some club they liked.
“There are four floors!” Howie said excitedly. “And a different DJ on each floor. Who’s in?”
“Sure,” Breezy said. “Let me text Brittany to see if she’s up for it.”
Behind his back, Luca and Mooney exchanged a deeply long-suffering glance.
“I’m in,” Vanderbilt announced. “Cheryl’s in bed already anyway.”
Cheryl was nine months pregnant and due pretty much any day, last Tom had heard, but he didn’t say anything.
Hayes yawned widely. “Nah,” he said. “I’m too old for that shit.”
“Same,” Tom said with some measure of relief.
Jax heaved a sigh and got to his feet. “Come on then, old man. Let’s find a ride home.”
“Aww, Jax,” Mooney pouted. “Come on, bro. You gotta start enjoying what the city has to offer.”
Jax winked, deliberately sleazy. “Who says I’m not? Never said I was going home. I’m just not going clubbing with you losers.”
His words were both absolute truth and also deeply misleading.
Whole new vistas opened up for Tom as to what they could get away with on the tacit understanding it wouldn’t be terrible if someone noticed.
Sure, the respect Hayes and Vanderbilt granted them now would vanish, but at this point, Tom could safely say it wasn’t mutual.
They left the bar together and took a car down to Palo Alto. They sat in the darkness of the back seat, and if the driver saw they were holding hands, he said nothing. It still made Tom’s heart race, but for entirely different reasons than it might have before.
Finally, finally, they reached Tom’s apartment building, then the elevator, and finally the door.
“Alone at last,” Jax said with a crooked smile. “I didn’t dream earlier, did I?”
Tom wrapped his arms around Jax’s waist and rested his chin over Jax’s shoulder. With no hesitation, Jax melted into his hold and wrapped his own arms around Tom in return.
“God, I missed you,” Jax told him.
Tom kissed the patch of skin behind Jax’s ear. “I missed you too.”
Then, he pushed Jax against the wall and slid down his body.