9. Brandon
NINE
brANDON
Brandon would remember this game for the rest of his life.
He was three games into his stint in the NHL, with not a lot to show for it so far.
With a line shuffle, he found himself on the third line, battling for the puck against the boards in the offensive zone.
A kid sitting rinkside pounded on the plexiglass between them, and the puck wiggled free.
He caught a green jersey in the corner of his eye and tried tossing the puck toward whoever it was—Andy Davis, he realized when he stopped getting elbowed in the ribs—and in a split second, the goal horn blared.
Every green jersey on the ice rushed Davo, and then the celebration converged on him.
“First point, Rando!” Davo shouted. First point. First point. His first point in an NHL game. An assist.
Davo scooped the puck up from the opposing team’s goalie and made Brandon go through the fly-by handshake line first. They lined up for puck drop at center ice, but lines changed quickly, and he was back on the bench, coach DeVries patting him on the shoulder.
“Good awareness out there, kid. That’s what I like to see. ”
The equipment manager who had helped get him set up with all of his Northern Lights gear when he first got to Minnesota wrapped stick tape around the circumference of the puck and took a marker out of his pocket to write the details of Brandon’s point on it.
Brandon floated through the rest of the game. Things felt lighter, and his play reflected it. He didn’t rack up any more points, but while he’d felt murky about his first few games in the big league, this one finally felt good. Like he knew what he was doing.
His puck was waiting for him in his stall when they got back to the locker room, and he turned it over in his hands, already knowing he’d send it home to Ashley.
Like after every game, he checked his phone immediately to make sure no emergency medical events happened while he was on the ice. He was relieved that the family group text was filled only with congratulations. He would respond on the car ride home.
In the locker room, the Northern Lights had a hard hat that the guy who worked the hardest out on the ice that night received, and since Jackson got it the game before, he was the one who handed it over to Brandon.
There was a stripe of rainbow stick tape going across the back of it, and suddenly the joy of the situation was tinged with having to acknowledge that he wasn’t out.
And he wanted to be. Jackson had created this locker room full of acceptance, and he ruled it with an iron fist. Brandon wanted to be part of that. An active part.
He had a bubble of a crush on Jackson. Not a real crush. Just…fondness. A deep understanding of why Ryan was so obsessed with him. He made being gay look so…easy.
Jackson’s hand gripped his bicep as they left the locker room and met up with Ryan in the family room, and then they headed back to the car together.
Ryan had dropped them off in the afternoon and come back for the game in the evening, so they were in Ryan’s black Porsche SUV.
Sometimes the two of them acted so fucking normal he forgot that they were millionaires.
And sometimes he was in Ryan’s Porsche.
After the first couple of games, they’d learned that Brandon liked to have space to decompress after a game, and the two of them chatted about the game quietly while Brandon checked his texts.
He responded in his family group chat and sent a photo of his puck before skimming his other notifications: A few people he played youth hockey with.
The Iowa Stars group chat. And then Gabe.
Gabe
Congrats!! Holy shit that was awesome!
Gabe didn’t watch hockey. Brandon expected his family to have watched and for his friends to be paying attention, but he didn’t expect Gabe to know anything about hockey that Brandon didn’t tell him.
Brandon
Did you watch?
Gabe
Parker set up notifications on my phone for you, so when you score or get an assist, the NHL app tells me. I watched the clip.
Gabe set up notifications for him? The way thinking about Gabe made him feel was very different from the way he’d felt in the locker room, watching Jackson be confident and happy and out. Maybe that wasn’t a crush at all. Maybe it was envy. Jealousy. Hero worship.
“Hey, Rando, what are you smiling about?” Jackson asked him, smirking at him from the passenger seat. “Texting someone cute?”
Brandon didn’t make a conscious decision in that moment. He was high on his first point, and high on the desire to be like Jackson, and high on the way Gabe was making him feel.
“I’m texting my boyfriend.” As soon as he said it, he wanted to take it back. Couldn’t he have come out like a normal person? Where did my boyfriend come from?
“Brandon,” Jackson said, full-naming him, his voice so full of happiness and pride that Brandon wanted to tuck and roll out of the car that instant, right onto I-394. “Are you for real?”
“That’s so awesome, man. Invite him over for dinner,” Ryan said, catching Brandon’s eye in the rearview.
“Is it your friend you went to see right when you got called up?”
Brandon didn’t know how to walk it back.
“Yeah.”
“Oh my god, this is incredible. Get him tickets! He can sit with Ryan. Invite him over. How long have you been together?”
“It’s new. We met in class.”
“And love sparked in the air,” Jackson said, reaching for Ryan’s hand to give it a squeeze, his wedding band glinting in the glow of the dim streetlights.
“More like sparked on the Zoom call.”
“Modern love,” Ryan mused. “What’s his favorite meal? I’ll make it.”
“I’m not sure.”
“He’s welcome over any time. Usually we discourage call-ups from bringing hookups back to the house, but your boyfriend is welcome to stay the night. What’s his name? ”
“Gabe.”
“Gabe and Brandon. Cute,” Jackson said, finally sitting in his seat properly, facing forward for a split second before he turned back around to look at Brandon. “We’re proud of you. Coming out is a big thing. Thanks for trusting us. I know that moment can be difficult.”
Brandon took a slow breath in, trying not to cry.
“So far the only people who know are Gabe and you two. I figured you were safe options.”
“So safe,” Jackson agreed. “And if you’re ready to tell anyone else, I’ll be right behind you. Even if you’re back in Iowa. Or if you’re on a different team years down the line. Call me up if you need advice or to get hyped up.”
Brandon cried finally, a couple little tears. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack, so he stayed quiet. But Jackson reached back and patted his shin, sensing that Brandon needed to be done with the conversation for the time being.
But all the talk of dinner was making him hungry.
Brandon
Did you eat dinner yet?
Gabe
Just getting home from night class. Might eat some ramen.
Brandon
Ramen has no nutritional value.
Gabe’s typing dots popped up, and Brandon swiped out of his messages and opened Venmo. He sent Gabe sixty bucks, along with a message.
Brandon
Grab some DoorDash or something. Something with protein. And a vegetable.
Gabe
Fuck, dude. Thank you. But you don’t have to do that.
Brandon
I only do what I want to do.
Brandon was happy, and he wanted to share the happiness.
Buying Gabe a new iPad had been the best feeling outside of hockey that he’d had in years.
After playing a few NHL games, he’d be receiving a bigger-than-normal check.
He drove an old truck, had an old phone.
He didn’t need to spend this money on himself.
It was much more fun to spend it on Gabe.
He got group hugged by Jackson and Ryan and Lola when they made it back to the house, and he ate a snack before heading up to his room.
His body was tired, but his brain wasn’t at all.
He settled into bed with his laptop and got three more sentences on his story before another text came in.
A photo message. Gabe sent a selfie of him holding a burger that looked insane.
Brandon
Thank you for taking my advice.
Gabe
Thank you for buying me dinner. As my patron of the arts, do you want to see what I’ve been working on lately?
Brandon
Yes, please
A few minutes passed, and Brandon didn’t take his eyes off his phone screen. He didn’t know if he’d be seeing Gabe’s homework or Gabe’s…other work.
When the images finally came, it was thoroughly extracurricular.
His work was so erotic, even though it was motionless and silent.
In the first one, the figure he’d drawn was on his back, easing a dildo into himself.
He had his other hand wrapped around his hard cock.
It was drawn like Brandon was watching from the ceiling.
Fuck.
The second drawing had one man sitting in the V of another man’s legs, getting jerked off, all of the pleasure in the situation clear on both of their faces.
Aside from making him horny, they were beautiful. The point of a toe, the dusting of hair across a chest, the soft indents where fingertips pressed into skin.
Brandon
That iPad was worth every penny. How are you so good at this?
Gabe
I heard once that if you want to become good at an art form, you should become some kind of pervert, haha.
Brandon
Thank god for your particular perversions, then
Gabe
This burger is really fucking good. I used to always get one on payday, but recently even payday hasn’t been a good enough excuse. So thank you.
Can I change the art subject away from anything sexy and send you something else I’ve been working on?
Brandon
I want to see everything you make.
Sure, it sounded sappy, but it was true.
Brandon usually felt nothing when he looked at art beyond oh that’s nice or pretty or I’m sure it’s deep and meaningful but I don’t get it .
When he looked at Gabe’s art, though, he felt joy and vulnerability and the possibility of freedom.
Seeing Gabe’s work caused a longing to rip through his chest at the idea of having that—a man in his life he could have those experiences, that pleasure and intimacy, with.
It was different from watching porn on such a fundamental level.
The image Gabe finally sent over took a few moments for Brandon’s brain to understand. It was two kids. A boy in hockey gear, the girl standing next to him in pigtails. The same pigtails Ashley always wore as a kid.
Gabe
I was thinking about the story you’re writing for class about your sister. So I creeped on your Instagram. I don’t want to be invasive or anything, but I figured you could use it for your cover or something.
Brandon
Gabe, this is the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Thank you. Fuck, thanks so much.
Gabe
It’s not finished finished. I want to polish it up, and then I can make you some prints of it. As a thank-you for supporting my work.
Brandon wanted to go out and buy him another iPad. He didn’t know what to do with the feelings in his chest. He wanted to immediately send it to Ashley, but he held off. It could be a surprise, when he finally got the nerve up to give her his story.
Brandon
I came out to Jackson and Ryan tonight
His phone rang. Brandon wasn’t a big phone talker. He felt his heart rate spike, but the caller ID said Gabe . They’d already been talking. Nothing to be nervous about.
“Holy shit, Brandon, I’m so proud of you. You’re having a banner fucking night.”
Immediately, he regretted being nervous about this call. Gabe’s voice was friendly and kind and already felt like a safe space to him.
“Yeah, I’m having a pretty good one. First NHL point, came out to two people at once. Got to see some of your hot drawings, and then you drew the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You’re so fucking talented at faces and stuff.”
Faces and stuff . If his window had been open, he would have leapt out of it. Why did he always sound so inarticulate around Gabe? Why were his hands sweating all of a sudden?
“I feel honored to have gotten roped into your queer journey. I feel like having those moments with other queer people, where you think we’re so different but we’re the same—having such similar wounds—is something that bonds you for life.”
“We’re going to be bonded for life?”
“Duh,” Gabe said, like he’d already decided.
So far, all hockey had taught Brandon was that bonds were temporary. Your teammates were your friends until next season, when you were on a different team. He didn’t count on any of them to be bonds for life. The idea of it was…nice.