7. Jake #3
“Nana…” Jake said, shooting a glare at Riley when he chuckled. “We’re not together yet. Don’t make him feel awkward.”
Jake tugged Allen toward the nearest loveseat, sitting him down, and meeting his gaze to check that he was okay.
Other than looking skittish, Allen seemed fine, but it was hard to tell. Jake didn’t want to ask and risk embarrassing him further, so he took his hand when he sat beside him, interlocking their fingers and squeezing gently.
“I thought Jake would end up with Riley,” said his mother, and Riley dramatically choked on his eggnog. “They’re always together, so I figured they would come to their senses eventually.”
Allen pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh, his shoulders trembling with the effort, while Jake’s lips curved into a smug, amused smirk.
Everett strode into the sitting room then, looking perfectly at ease with one hand in his pocket, and the other carrying a crystal tumbler filled with something amber and expensive.
“I have to agree with your mother on that one,” he said smoothly, glancing between Jake and Riley with a knowing smirk. “You two were practically inseparable growing up. Frankly, I’m surprised this is the first time you’ve brought anyone else home.”
Riley, still coughing into his napkin, shot Jake a wide-eyed look that said save me, but Jake shrugged and leaned back on the couch.
Allen was trying not to laugh; his shoulders were shaking as he ducked his head.
Everett’s gaze cut toward him, and Jake knew what his father was about to ask before he opened his mouth. “Allen, are you, by any chance, related to April Monroe? The PWHL player?”
Allen straightened, startled. “Uh—yeah. She’s my sister, actually.”
Everett’s brows lifted, clearly impressed. “No kidding. She’s got one hell of a slapshot. I took Olivia to a game last winter, and I couldn’t believe the way she moves on the ice. Looks like you come from quite the athletic family.”
Allen smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You could say that. I’m…not quite as coordinated as she is.”
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” Olivia chimed in warmly, always quick to smooth over the sharp edges of her husband’s inquisition. “Anyone brave enough to survive dinner with this family is already impressive in my books.”
Gladys lifted her sherry glass. “Hear, hear,” she said dryly, eyes glinting with amusement.
“This is so exciting,” Olivia continued, tittering at her husband. “Perhaps grandchildren—”
Oh god. Now it was Jake’s turn to sputter and duck his head.
“Did you hear about the Fraser boy?” his father asked, ignoring the pleading look Jake gave him.
“He and his husband are expecting a little one now. They opted for the child to have both of their DNA through that new conception program, and I guess they’re doing well.
Can you imagine? A child with Harrison Killinger and Jett Fraser’s genetics?
The boy will be drafted before he’s out of diapers. ”
Allen hooked his finger into Jake’s shirt, pulling him closer so he could whisper without being overheard. “Your dad likes hockey, and you’re not allowed to play in the NHL?”
Jake’s insides twisted, constricting until he felt breathless. “It’s…a long story.”
Too long to tell him during a family dinner where all eyes were on them.
“Good genetics,” Everett repeated, staring at the lack of space between them. “Just a thought, kids. Hockey talent runs in both your families. My father played for the Edmonton Drillers, and—”
“Jake’s good enough to go pro,” Allen blurted out, his cheeks flushing as soon as the words left his mouth. “W-why is he only playing in a beer league?”
The room went still. The crackle of the fireplace filled the silence that followed, and Jake’s stomach dropped. Across from him, Riley’s gaze flicked up to meet his—a silent, knowing look that said, here we go.
Everett leaned back slowly, the corners of his mouth tightening around a ghost of a smile.
He set his cigar in the ashtray beside him, the ember dying with a faint hiss.
“He is good enough,” he said finally, his voice low and measured.
“And believe me, I’d love nothing more than to see him in the NHL, carrying the Valero name to glory.
But I need an heir more than I need a hockey star. ”
He draped an arm along the back of the couch, the picture of composure, though his eyes stayed locked on Jake.
“After watching him take a knee to the skull and spend weeks struggling to feed himself, I made a choice. I wasn’t going to lose my son to a game, no matter how talented he is, so I pulled him.
I built my company from nothing, and he’s going to inherit it. Can you really blame me for that?”
No one spoke for a moment. The fire popped—the sound unnaturally loud in the sudden stillness.
Jake stared at the floor, his jaw tight, and every muscle in his body wound like a spring. He’d had this conversation countless times before, but hearing it here, in front of Allen, made bitterness rise in his chest.
Riley shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “You didn’t pull him,” he said carefully. “You forbade him.”
Everett’s eyes snapped toward him. “I did what any father would do.”
“Not every father,” Riley muttered under his breath.
“Riley,” Olivia warned softly, though her tone lacked conviction. Her fingers toyed with her wedding ring, a nervous tell she probably didn’t even realize she had.
Jake exhaled slowly, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s fine,” he said, voice flat. “We’ve had this talk before.”
Everett regarded him for a long moment, something unreadable flickering across his expression. Pride, maybe, or guilt, before he turned his attention back to Allen. “I’m sure you understand. Family comes first.”
Allen hesitated, eyes darting between them. “I… I do,” he said quietly, though the uncertainty in his voice made it sound more like a question than an answer.
Gladys finally spoke, her dry tone cutting through the tension like a knife. “Well, that was cheerful,” she said, lifting her glass. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”
The corners of Jake’s mouth twitched despite himself, and Riley snorted into his drink. The moment shattered— awkward, yes, but at least it was over.
For now.
The rest of the visit went smoothly enough. Dinner was as exquisite as ever, the conversation was lively, and the wine flowing, but Jake barely registered any of it. His mind kept drifting, unable to stay tethered to the easy rhythm of small talk and polished family charm like always.
Allen stayed close the entire evening, brushing against him in small, deliberate ways.
A hand on his arm when he laughed, a knee bumping his under the table, a gentle touch to his back as they moved through the hall.
It wasn’t possessive, but comforting and grounding, like he could sense how tightly wound Jake was beneath his calm exterior, and was silently offering to hold him together.
When it was time to leave, his father stopped him at the door, and Jake told Riley to bring Allen to the car with a flick of his head and a frown.
Everett held off until the door was shut before turning on him, mirroring Jake’s frown. “The boy isn’t lacking in boldness.”
Every fibre of Jake’s being tightened, preparing for the worst—expecting his father to demand he stop seeing Allen—
“He’s exactly what you need,” his father said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Someone who will defend you and argue on your behalf. I love you, son, but you are a gentle, quiet soul. My greatest fear is seeing you with someone who might take advantage of that. But now…I can rest easy. I greatly approve, and I hope you can follow Allen’s example and find the courage to make things official. ”
Jake stood motionless, unsure if he was hearing things correctly. Never in his life had his father given him approval for anything.
“I’m not sure why you’re so surprised,” said Everett. “You knew the calibre of the man you were introducing to your family.”
Jake was taller than his father—he had been so since he was sixteen years old, but this was the first time he had ever felt like his equal.
“I do know,” said Jake. “Thank you.”
He had no idea what he was thanking his father for, but it felt like it needed to be said. Jake shoved his arms into the sleeves of his jacket and left without another word, his eyes locked onto the car in the driveway that held the two most important people in his life.
He opened the door, and a blast of heat hit his face as he got in and shut the cold out behind him. Allen and Riley were sitting in silence—Allen with his arms crossed, staring out the window, and Riley fidgeting in the backseat.
“That was crazy,” said Riley, leaning forward so he could talk. “Your dad scares the shit out of me sometimes.”
Jake scoffed. “Like you haven’t gotten into a shouting match with him about the same thing.”
“I have,” said Riley. “But he’s never given me an explanation before. He either kicks me out or stares at me until I shut up.”
Jake opened his mouth to respond, but then Allen suddenly spoke.
“I don’t like him,” he said, still glaring out the window. “He reminds me of my father.”
Wincing, Jake put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. He needed to put distance between Allen and his father before his soon-to-be boyfriend jumped out and ran back to the house for another fight.
“That’s funny, because he seems to like you,” said Jake.
Allen’s head whipped around, and Jake glanced at him, worried he might have made things worse.
“If you want to be boyfriends,” Allen began, his tone sharp. “Then you’re going to learn how to stand up to your father. He’s done treating you like you’re his daughter living in medieval times, waiting to be traded for three goats and a bag of grain.”
“Okay,” said Jake.
“I’m not going to stay silent and let him push you around, and I need you to have my back when I confront him.”
“Okay.”