7. Jake #2
Riley’s expression soured, and Jake could tell he had hit a nerve.
“Yeah, sounds like Sloan really is going to get called up, which means I’m just a stepping stone on his way to success.”
Jake wasn’t so sure about that. He had seen Sloan play, and he knew Riley better than anyone. They were evenly matched, but anyone with a brain could see they were at odds.
With the Citadels being a new team, they were trying to build lines that could place them in the running for a cup, so it made sense that the higher-ups were taking a hard look at their prospects.
Riley was talented—Sloan was talented. But if they couldn’t get along, that was going to be a problem no team wanted to deal with.
The coach of the Citadels was most likely concocting a plan to force Riley and Sloan to interact and pray that they got along. It made a lot of sense; Riley just couldn’t see it over his hatred for his rival.
“Let him move in,” said Jake.
Riley’s jaw dropped. “W-What?!”
“My name is on the deed, so I get to decide,” said Jake. “Move Sloan in and try to make friends.”
Riley’s face was so red he was beginning to resemble a strawberry. “Are you serious right now? You’re joking—”
“Not joking,” said Jake. “And don’t go crying to Allen. He’s going to tell you the same fucking thing.”
Riley showed him two middle fingers and then stood, stomping off to his bedroom to get ready for the family shindig.
Jake could make things easier by explaining why Sloan should move in, but it was more fun this way.
Besides, Riley chose to play with fire when he called Allen and messed with his plans, so annoying the shit out of him was the least Jake could do.
Allen was quiet during the drive to Timberlea, where his parents’ house was located. Jake didn’t know how Allen would react to seeing the decked-out mansion in the most expensive suburban area in the city, but he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be great.
He wanted to apologize to Allen for lying when he said he wasn’t busy, but it was hard when Riley kept singing Christmas music obnoxiously and kicking the back of Jake’s seat. He also had no idea what was making Allen upset, because it could be anything, but he didn’t know how to ask.
“Oh my god,” said Allen, straightening in his seat. “Please tell me this isn’t where your parents live.”
Jake had just pulled into the driveway and put the car in park, so he was confused by Allen’s confusion. “It…is?”
Allen’s eyes were wide as he took in the dramatic image the Valero home presented. Jake knew the sprawling mansion looked like it had been plucked straight from a vintage Christmas postcard because that’s the aesthetic his mother went for year after year.
Every gable and window glowed softly beneath the halo of antique lights, their multicoloured hue casting a warm, nostalgic shimmer over the snow-dusted facade. Garlands of evergreen wrapped around the wrought-iron banisters, dotted with red velvet bows and clusters of silvered pinecones.
In the tall windows, flickering silhouettes of candles hinted at life within, and the front door, framed by twin marble columns, was adorned with an enormous wreath made of juniper, cedar, and holly.
His mother, Olivia, preened at the attention she received whenever a car stopped on the street to take pictures. Jake thought it was a little over the top, but his mother thrived on bringing cheer to the community, so he kept his opinions to himself.
Riley shoved his head between them, grinning. “Isn’t it awesome? I love visiting for Christmas. It makes me feel like a kid again.”
“It’s because you’re treated like one,” Jake grumbled. He turned to Allen, pushing Riley out of the way. “You okay?”
Allen looked scared, and it took a great amount of strength for Jake to hold back his instinct to protect him. If Allen wanted to leave, all it would take was one word, and he would start the car and peel out of the driveway.
“Everything’s fine,” Allen said at last, though his voice didn’t quite match the words. He unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed the door open, the winter air spilling in around him. “Let’s go.”
Riley was already out, bounding ahead with barely contained excitement, leaving Jake to climb out after them and hurry to catch up. The three of them approached the mansion together, the crunch of their boots on the snow loud over the soft jingle of nearby Christmas music.
Riley moved to the front, hand already reaching for the door and pushing it open with a grand flourish, ushering Allen inside. “Give Mr. Valero your jacket and let him fuss over you,” he said to Allen. “He takes guest-greeting seriously.”
Allen nodded, but he paused at the threshold when Jake’s father appeared in the vestibule, his cheeks rosy from drinking and a cigar held tightly in the corner of his mouth.
“Riley is correct. I do take greeting my guest seriously, like any gentleman should.”
His dad gestured for Allen to come inside, shooting Jake a look he couldn’t quite read, somewhere between appraisal and bewilderment.
Mr. Everett Valero was a man whose presence commanded attention without needing to raise his voice.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with the quiet authority of someone used to being obeyed.
His hair, which had once been jet black, had gone strikingly silver at the temples, making him look more distinguished.
His sharp blue eyes missed nothing; they flicked briefly over Allen, assessing and calculating, before softening into something that almost passed for warmth.
The light from the chandelier above caught the clean lines of his tailored charcoal sweater and the watch gleaming at his wrist. It was understated luxury, like everything else about him.
His father had always been…intense. The kind of man who needed to have a hand in everything—every decision, every outcome, every carefully controlled piece of Jake’s life.
Jake might have been an adult, but he was still tethered to his father’s influence, reliant on the support Everett had deliberately structured to keep it that way.
It usually didn’t bother him. He’d learned how to navigate it and how to keep the peace.
Except when it came to hockey.
And now, with Allen in the picture, a new worry crept in—because if his father disapproved of him…
“Who do we have here?” Everett took Riley’s coat and gave him a pat on the head to dismiss him, but he kept Allen and Jake cornered by the front door.
Allen leaned into Jake’s side, the sudden contact catching them both off guard. They startled at the same time before settling into the unexpected closeness.
“My name is Allen Monroe,” said Allen, his voice wobbling slightly. “I’m—”
He froze and looked up at Jake, timidly meeting his gaze.
Jake tore his eyes away from Allen and stared at his father. “We’re dating, but we’re not boyfriends yet. I’m hoping that changes before the new year.”
“Ohmygod!” Allen’s face fell into his hands. “Why do you have to be so literal!”
Jake knew he had his father’s approval when he pulled his cigar out, tossed his head back, and laughed, the sound carrying through the house loudly enough to halt the murmured conversation taking place in the sitting room.
Being mindful of his cigar, Jake’s dad drew Allen into a quick but affectionate hug. “Allen, you have no idea how happy I am to meet you. I was hoping my son would eventually bring someone over for Christmas, so excuse me if I’m a little excited.”
Allen was shaking his head, stuttering as Jake's father stripped his jacket from him and tucked it under his arm. “I’m happy to be here, Mr. Valero.”
“Everett is fine.” His dad motioned to Jake for his jacket, and Jake obliged. “Everyone is in the sitting room. Have Jake show you where the refreshments are and enjoy yourself.”
Jake toed off his boots and then slid an arm around Allen’s waist, directing him down the grand hallway, enjoying the faint scent of pine and cigar smoke trailing in the air.
The house was warm, not just from the heat, but from the low hum of conversation and the soft crackle of a fire somewhere deeper inside.
As they neared the sitting room, the sound of laughter spilled out to meet them—his mother’s soft, lilting voice and his grandmother’s sharper, more commanding one. They were talking to Riley, no doubt getting the rundown before Jake and Allen arrived.
He found his mother perched gracefully on the edge of a velvet armchair when they entered, her auburn hair swept back and her pearls catching the firelight.
She looked up at once, her face brightening when she saw them.
“There you are!” she exclaimed, setting down her teacup.
“Allen, I’ve heard so much about you. Come in, come in—don’t hover in the doorway. ”
On the settee beside her sat Gladys Valero, small but formidable, with perfectly coiffed silver curls and a glass of sherry resting delicately in her hand.
Her sharp blue eyes darted between Allen and Jake, assessing them both with the same penetrating precision Jake had inherited from her side of the family.
“So, this is the young man we’ve been hearing about,” she said, her voice smooth but edged with inquisitiveness. “Well, let’s have a look at you, dear. Come closer—I won’t bite.”
Jake caught Allen’s fleeting, panicked glance and bit back a laugh. “You might as well,” he murmured under his breath, “it’s less terrifying if you let her get it over with.”
Gladys’ mouth twitched. “No need to scare him, grandson. I’m blind, not mean.”
Allen approached her and held out his hand, shaking hers before turning to do the same with his mother. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I knew what I was walking into when I agreed to come with Jake and Riley. I’m…not very good in social settings.”
His grandmother smiled and took Allen’s hand, patting it sympathetically. “You just sit by my grandson and relax. I thought the boy was never going to find himself a partner, so it’s a relief to know his circumstances have changed.”