12. Brandon
TWELVE
brANDON
Brandon’s knee bounced as he waited in Gabe’s living room for him to get ready.
He was nervous enough for the “date.” For bringing his “boyfriend” around his teammates.
He’d dropped a text into the team group chat that morning, giving everyone a heads-up (in a space Jackson was prominent in—it felt safe, and easier than doing it face-to-face over and over again), and had only received kind and supportive responses.
But it was still new, embracing this thing he’d been terrified of his entire life: himself.
Still, he didn’t think it was as nerve-racking as sitting on the couch next to two of Gabe’s roommates, Mac and Parker, with Duncan staring him down from the chair in the corner. The roommates casually shared dinner and watched TV, their eyes on Brandon like a snake you have to watch.
“You know I gotta ask what your intentions are with our son,” Mac said.
He was built like a lumberjack but dressed like a hipster, wearing too-short pants, suspenders, and a white tank top.
Big arms. Brandon wasn’t into big shows of muscles or else he’d probably chase another athlete, but he had eyes. Mac was hot .
“He’s special,” Parker said. The two of them claimed to be brothers, but Brandon didn’t see how that made sense. Mac was built like a linebacker. Parker looked like someone who always got roped into heists. He looked like he could fit in small places.
Brandon already knew that Gabe’s roommates knew everything. That he lived his life in this house with a constant stream of consciousness. It felt nice to not have to lie.
“It’s nice to have a gay friend who isn’t my captain or his husband. I like hanging out with him. I’m grateful he was willing to come to this fundraiser tonight. I guess I just want him to have fun.”
Parker took another bite of his food—one of the meals from Gabe’s subscription. “These are good, by the way,” Parker said, catching Brandon’s eyes.
“I’m glad they’re getting eaten.”
“Don’t worry, Gabe eats most of them. Today’s the last day they’re in date.”
“Do you have any other teammates who want to randomly start sending a bunch of money to an artist?” Mac asked, gesturing with his fork. “Because I’m a sign painter, which is a dying art?—”
“Holy fuck,” Brandon said, Mac’s words melting into the background as Gabe made his way down the stairs. The suit Brandon picked up that afternoon fit him like it was made for him, not just nicely tailored. “You clean up nice.”
“It’s not bad,” Gabe said, looking down at himself and smoothing his suit coat down. He’d tamed his hair, but not too much, leaving some life in it. His green eyes popped from the emerald tie he was wearing. He looked…gorgeous.
“Let’s get a prom photo,” Parker said, arranging the two of them so that Brandon was standing behind Gabe, his hands on Gabe’s hips.
“I should have gotten you a corsage,” Brandon joked, feeling the ache of how he spent his own prom night—at home, watching movies with Ashley, because he didn’t see the point of going alone.
“You never need an occasion to buy me flowers,” Gabe joked. “That’s not a request. Don’t get credit card happy.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Brandon said innocently, already planning on what he would send Gabe.
Parker made them “slow dance” with enough room between them for Jesus, and Parker, Mac, and Duncan all took photos.
“I didn’t go to prom,” Gabe said when they got into the car, finally out of the clutch of Gabe’s well-meaning but intense roommates. “So that’s why Parker was being all weird about it.”
“I didn’t go either.”
“Because you weren’t out?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Couldn’t afford it. Tickets were expensive, and then the clothes.
You gotta go to dinner beforehand. I also didn’t have a date.
I was out, but I grew up in a small town, so while I didn’t get relentlessly bullied, it’s not like I had a robust queer community to tap into.
Parker got it in his head that he would do cheesy prom photos since we were dressed up. Sorry if that was awkward.”
“I want them, if that’s okay. Can you send me a few good ones?”
“You gonna send them to Ashley?”
“Maybe. I still haven’t figured out how to tell her.”
“You probably should before you get tagged in some photos on Instagram from tonight’s event. ”
“Fuck,” Brandon said, realizing Gabe was right. “Okay. Before the night is over, I will.”
“I’ll hold your hand if you need it.” Gabe reached his hand out and Brandon took it. He knew Gabe meant it literally and metaphorically. He might need both. “You grew up in Utah, right?”
“I’m not Mormon, if that’s what you’re dancing around.”
Gabe laughed. “It was.”
“My parents moved out there when I was three, and my mom was pregnant with Ashley. Good business opportunities, I guess.”
“What kind of business?”
“My dad is a consultant. Please don’t ask me for details because I barely have them.
It’s so boring. My mom was a nurse back when they lived in Massachusetts, but when they moved to Utah, she did the stay-at-home-mom thing for a while.
She’s doing cosmetic injectables now, which she doesn’t love but it pays well. And has better hours than nursing.”
“Do you think Ashley will be cool about it?”
“Yeah,” Brandon said immediately. “I do. And it’s still scary.”
Gabe squeezed his hand. “Yeah. I get that.”
They were quiet for a few moments as Brandon followed his GPS and got off the highway. The fundraiser was in a hotel in St. Paul, and Brandon appreciated Jackson’s fancy built-in car GPS.
“What about your parents?”
“Hmm,” Brandon said. “That’s less clear. They’ve said nothing outright homophobic, but they also haven’t said anything supportive. I don’t think they’d disown me or anything. ”
“Take it at your speed. Ashley first, and then you can give your parents a chance to surprise you. In a good way.”
Gabe’s confidence helped. Brandon’s parents had always been loving and supportive. There was no reason to think this would change that.
The fundraiser was in a decked-out ballroom with a stage and a bunch of circular tables scattered across the ballroom floor like a wedding reception. Against one wall was a long table with silent auction items on it, and Brandon figured that was an easy place to start.
“Is it all gay hockey stuff?” Gabe asked, looking down the table.
“I don’t know. I didn’t hear about this part. This is cool though. Blake Brennan’s goalie mask from the year he came out. He was the first out player in the NHL. That’s going to go for a lot. A signed photo of Rowan Foley and Theo Lane holding the Stanley Cup. Looks like it’s all gay so far.”
There were signed jerseys and sticks, opportunities to meet players, and a box at the Xcel Energy Center for the game on Pride Night to watch the game with Ryan.
Each item had a sheet of paper in front of it to write your bid down on.
It was still early, but there were already a lot of bids.
Brandon found a rainbow puck signed by Nate Walker that he bid on.
He watched the Washington Eagles a lot as a kid and tried to emulate Nate’s responsible two-way play, even though Brandon wasn’t a center.
“You made it!” Jackson shouted, voice louder than it needed to be in order to be heard over the music.
“We’re here. This is Gabe,” Brandon said, introducing Gabe to his captain and getting another good look of Gabe in his suit. Once again, he was bowled over by it.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gabe said, that easy smile on his face. Brandon hadn’t noticed it before, but the dark circles under his eyes seemed lighter tonight. Maybe he just needed to get out and have some fun. Take a night off of work.
“I wish I could say the same, but it can be hard to get Rando to say a whole lot, you know.”
“Do I?” Gabe asked, looking confused.
“Oh, Ry is waving me down. I gotta go. Great to meet you, Gabe,” Jackson said, giving Gabe a quick hug before darting across the ballroom toward his husband.
“Rando? Because you’re sooooo random?” Gabe teased.
“No, uh, B- R-A-N-D-O -N,” he said, spelling out his name with emphasis on the middle letters.
He always felt stupid explaining it to people.
“I don’t love it, but you don’t get to pick the nickname your teammates call you.
I’ve been stuck with Rando since I was about twelve.
I’ve made my peace.” He had not, in fact, made any peace with it.
“You don’t have to worry about me calling you that because I never will. I swear on my life.” He took Brandon’s hand easily, like they did it all the time and not just the day before at the mall, pulling him along to keep looking at the rest of the auction items. “Are you not a talker?”
“Uh, not really.”
“You talk my ear off,” Gabe said, sounding like he’d found treasure.
“You’re easy to talk to. I have things to talk to you about.” He could talk to Ashley forever, and he’d thought that quality might be unique to her, since they came out of the same womb and all that. But Gabe was, in some ways, easier to talk to than Ashley. He was a clean slate .
Gabe gave him a smile and pulled him toward the bar. People were showing up, and Brandon noticed a sign by the entryway with the schedule all timed out. They had a half hour before dinner.
Brandon found some of his teammates in line for drinks, and introducing them to Gabe went as smoothly as he imagined introducing them to a woman would have gone.
Carver, Meeks, and Gunner had been Northern Lights for a long time, and they made it clear to Brandon when he got called up that they looked out for prospects and rookies.
They got drinks and kept mingling with Brandon’s teammates, and every time he felt anxious, he’d glance over at Gabe, who looked fucking radiant, and Gabe would do something reassuring, like slip his hand under Brandon’s suit coat to press against his lower back, his undershirt and button-down keeping them from being skin to skin.
This was going okay. Even though Gabe’s boyfriending was fake, he was incredible moral support. Brandon was here, at an NHL-adjacent event, out to his teammates, his “boyfriend” on his arm, and no one was being weird. It felt…normal.
There was relief, and there was also the frustration of putting this off for so long. Could he have had this sooner?
No. He wouldn’t beat himself up. The combination of Jackson, Ryan, and Gabe all came at the right time for him. He was doing this on his schedule, and that was okay.
When dinner was announced, they found their table, happy to see they were sitting by Jackson and Ryan.
Nate Walker’s boyfriend (and Ryan’s tattoo artist), Colin, was there as his representative, since his NHL schedule didn’t allow him to attend.
Marcus Honey, Blake Brennan’s best friend, was there with his wife, Nina.
They all seemed to know who Brandon was, like they’d been slipped info beforehand.
Brandon didn’t feel gay enough to be there, but Gabe was easily personable even though he didn’t know who any of these people were. He took Brandon’s hand under the table and carried their part of the conversation for him when Brandon couldn’t figure out what to say.
Dinner was steak and potatoes with a rainbow of veggies in a crescent moon, which was on the nose but delicious and a great excuse not to talk.
After dinner, Jackson and Ryan gave a presentation, and then the former captain of the Colorado Range, Oliver Swann, who Brandon had completely forgotten was gay (and forgot he wrote a book, which he hadn’t read) talked about the importance of mental health in hockey, and Brandon realized, as he looked around the room, that Ryan and Jackson already had a network of people across the league who would happily participate and contribute.
They weren’t starting this out of nothing.
They were starting it out of an existing community.
It was beautiful.