14. Brandon
FOURTEEN
brANDON
Brandon was mad at himself for about a dozen things, but the one he couldn’t pry from his head with needle-nose pliers was trying to kiss Gabe and getting rejected.
Gabe had been so nice about it, and Brandon fell asleep with someone’s body pressed against him for the first time, but he was filled with so much unrestrained want that he thought steam might spout out of his ears soon.
His thoughts were a mess by the time he got to the practice rink and learned Vincent Mietola, the winger he had temporarily replaced, was cleared for contact, so Brandon had to head back down to Iowa.
It was only three more days before the Northern Lights’ trip to Utah. He’d been texting with Ashley about coming to the game. He’d let himself get his hopes up, thinking he would last another game or two.
The hockey Gods, however, did not agree. There was nothing he could do about it except follow orders. He tossed a text into the family group chat with a frowny face emoji and grabbed his gear. The Northern Lights set him up with a rental car and he headed down I-35 back to Des Moines .
He couldn’t get the car’s Bluetooth to connect to his phone, so he spent the three-and-a-half-hour drive in silence, replaying the attempted kiss over and over in his head.
The night had been perfect. He’d felt loved and accepted by everyone who mattered.
The fundraiser was legitimately fun, and he thought he’d been able to show Gabe a good time too.
He thought their attraction was mutual and building to something.
And then Brandon had ruined it.
He didn’t make it back in time to play in the Stars’ Sunday afternoon game, but he showed up to the arena to drop off his gear with the equipment team and to hang out in the locker room post-game.
He got a warm welcome from his teammates and a bear hug from a sweaty Skylar, who let him know they’d be having a conversation later because he had a million questions.
Wells Fargo Arena in Des Moines was practically cozy compared to the Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul, and something about Des Moines felt homey.
“Rando, my office, please,” Coach McCoy said, and Brandon felt the weight of getting sent down, of getting rejected, of feeling inadequate pulling at him.
He didn’t get called into Coach’s office often, but even when it was good news, it felt like being called to see the principal.
“I wanted to touch base with you now that you’re back. We heard good feedback from the coaching staff up in Minnesota. You’re developing well.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“I had this conversation with Skylar earlier this year too, but I wanted to make sure that you know we have the same zero-tolerance policy for homophobia—and any kind of bigotry—in this locker room too, so if you get any flak from anyone, you tell me.”
“Yes, Coach. Thank you,” Brandon said. He’d been publicly out for less than a day, and he was reeling from the relief and the mindset shift.
When he was a teenager, he never would have thought he’d be able to come out during his career—at the beginning of his career—and now here he was, with an AHL coach who assured his comfort in the room, and a first stint in the NHL that included acquiring two gay hockey mentors.
He already had a text on his phone from Ryan requesting an update on how his drive down was.
He handed his rental car keys over to a Stars employee for return and transferred his garment bag and duffel bag—that he’d packed weeks ago for their road trip to Michigan and had been struggling to stretch during his trip to Minnesota—to Skylar’s car.
“You did great up there, man,” Skylar said as they pulled out of the parking lot. A compliment from Skylar was rare, especially when it came to hockey. Skylar had a hard time being part of a team. He should have tried going pro in something like golf. Everyone was his competition.
“I appreciate that, Burnsie.”
“Don’t expect it to become a regular thing,” he joked. “Hey, since when do you have a boyfriend?”
“Um. I guess since I got called up. He’s a classmate. I got to meet him in person.”
“And bang it out?”
“Uh, something like that.”
“If you can convince him to come visit you, I’ll make myself scarce. Go bother Beck. But good job, man. He’s a hottie.” A photo of Brandon and Gabe had ended up in a carousel of photos on Instagram .
Skylar expressing any form of attraction to Gabe was sandpaper over Brandon’s most sensitive bits of skin. But he saw the kinds of guys Skylar went for—guys who were overtly sexy. Guys he picked up at clubs. Sure, Gabe was sexy, but it wasn’t the first thing you discovered about him. He had layers.
“He’s really sweet,” Brandon said, defending Gabe’s character. He wasn’t just something to look at.
“Of course, man. I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m glad you found someone. And someone in Minnesota. That’s my goal. I’m going to keep fucking around in Iowa. There’s no need to get into a relationship when I’ll be up in Minnesota soon. It was smart to lock down someone who is already up there.”
“I didn’t realize you wanted to uh, ‘lock someone down.’”
“Oh yeah. I want a soulmate. You know? A best friend, a lover, a partner.” Skylar was sounding almost sweet. “But not in Iowa.”
Brandon laughed. Okay. That was more Skylar.
“And Beck isn’t it?”
“Gross,” Skylar said with an eye roll. “Beck is straight and boring.”
“You want someone exciting?”
Skylar shrugged. “I don’t know what I want.” Brandon didn’t push.
They drove down Grand Avenue nearly to West Des Moines, past houses and apartments that had been built in seemingly every time period, to their new-construction building that looked out of place among buildings that counted as beautiful architecture. At least to Brandon.
Skylar dropped him off at the entrance to their apartment building and disappeared, citing a hockey captain he needed to bother. Skylar needed human interaction at every moment, and Brandon was not social enough to deal with that. He didn’t know how Beck did it.
After spending a few weeks in the show, he felt massively behind on his homework.
He’d thought about taking more than one class at a time during the season, and Ashley had talked him out of it.
He was grateful. The Word doc he opened up hadn’t magically populated his outline while he’d been gone.
He had a list of tasks to get done, and that was the first one.
He needed Gabe’s art in order to get started. His heart was sore still, but the drawing Gabe did of him and Ashley was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him. He found it in his messages, buried deep after exchanging dozens of texts with Gabe, and pasted it at the top of his page.
Now that he had that complete, it was probably dinnertime. He saved his file and went to boil some water for pasta. He had a jar of Alfredo sauce, a frozen bag of broccoli, and some chicken tenders in the freezer he could toss in the air fryer.
He’d come back to the story later.
Ashley called him while he was eating, as he sat in front of the TV watching Carolina play Pittsburgh.
One of his buddies from junior hockey was in the Pittsburgh system and had just gotten called up.
The old group chat for that era of guys, which was used pretty much exclusively for celebrating hockey achievements, was buzzing away as they watched their friend sit on the bench.
Even as a backup goalie, making the NHL was exciting .
“Hey, Ash,” he said, tucking his phone under his ear, balancing his bowl of pasta, and trying to find the remote to mute the TV all at the same time.
He was wedged into the corner of the couch where the chaise lounge started, a soft blanket of mysterious origin over his legs.
The guys had invited him out, but it was Sunday night, and the NHL made you tired.
He’d see them at practice in a couple of days.
“Hey, just wanted to check up on you,” she said. Every member of his family shared the disappointment of him not getting to visit home, and in this one way, he didn’t feel alone.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry though.” He set his pasta on the coffee table so he could avoid chewing his way through this conversation.
“Don’t be sorry. You played great. It’s not because you got up there and fucked up.”
“Apparently I got good reviews. And then the guy I replaced healed.”
“See? Not your fault. Don’t apologize. I’ll see one of your games, eventually. Actually, Mom and Dad have been talking about buying an RV.”
“For hockey reasons?”
“For safe-traveling reasons. I’m kind of stuck here, or limited to day trips, since I can’t get on a peanutty airplane or sleep in a hotel of mysterious cleanliness. That way, I might be able to go to a game somewhere on the West Coast.”
“Oh, damn. How haven’t we thought of that before?”
“It’s expensive.”
Brandon made a dismissive sound. “You know Mom and Dad are doing just fine. And if they need it, I’d happily chip in to your Allergy Adventure Vehicle. Your AAV. ”
“Now that we’ve properly lamented not getting to see your family, I’m sure you’re disappointed to leave the boyfriend behind.”
Brandon hesitated. “I don’t know…”
“What?”
“Fuck. I should just…” He couldn’t believe he was considering this.
But until this point, if he’d had this weird, difficult swirl of thoughts, he’d kept it to himself.
But then Gabe came into his life and was this safe place to talk about things.
Feelings. And now that Ashley knew his biggest secret, it was probably okay to tell her his second biggest secret. “I need to come clean about something.”
“If you tell me you’re actually straight after I witnessed a boy in your bed?—”
“No, I’m gay. That’s not… That is the truth.”
“What isn’t the truth?”
“Gabe is just my friend,” Brandon said, pulling each word out with enough force to justify skipping arm day. “I lied about him being my boyfriend.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding genuinely shocked. “Really? Because he looked very comfortable with you. Are you just, uh, friends with benefits?”
“Please don’t use that phrase around me.
No, he really is just my friend. When I came out to Jackson and Ryan, the guys I stayed with in Minnesota, I called Gabe my boyfriend because it seemed easier to come out if I had a reason to come out.
Like proof. And then they told me about the fundraiser and told me to invite my boyfriend. Gabe was kind about it and agreed.”
“That was nice of him.”
“Yeah. He’s a nice person. And…I tried to kiss him and he wouldn’t let me. Said my first kiss should be real.”
“You’ve never kissed anyone?” He and Ashley didn’ t talk about dating.
Logan was the first guy Ashley had dated since she went into anaphylaxis from a chaste kiss from a boyfriend who ate a peanut butter cup in his car on the way to pick her up in high school.
Brandon usually avoided the topic all together.
He used the I’m really focused on hockey excuse.
He shrugged and realized she couldn’t see that. “No,” he confirmed.
“So, you like him, but he doesn’t like you back like that.”
“Yeah,” Brandon said. It was weird enough territory to talk about boys with his sister. He didn’t need to add his profound insecurity to the mix.
“For what it’s worth, he didn’t look like he thought you were just his friend.”
“Doesn’t matter now, anyway, because I’m back in Iowa, and who knows if I’ll make it back to Minnesota this year.”
“The season is young. Don’t count yourself out.”
“Thanks, Ash. And thanks for checking in.”
They hung up, and Brandon finished his dinner.
The TV stayed on mute while his thoughts spun in his head.
If Gabe looked like he liked Brandon, but he wouldn’t kiss him, what did that mean?
Was he just a good actor? Was he pretending to like him because Brandon kept buying him stuff?
He didn’t think Gabe disliked him, but Gabe would probably go for someone different than Brandon if he was looking for someone to date.
Someone artsy. Someone he could relate to.
After living in Ryan and Jackson’s house with Lola, Brandon’s apartment felt lifeless.
It was common for AHL guys to rent furnished apartments, and it made sense, but living in a furnished apartment was like living in a hotel.
Sterile. Impersonal. He moved around it quietly, like he might disturb someone, as he washed his dishes and headed back to his computer.
He grabbed his laptop off his desk and climbed into bed with it.
His cursor was blinking on his page right where he’d left it.
Was Gabe having any better luck with his story?
Okay. Brandon had a character who wanted something.
Himself. He wanted…for his sister to have a normal life.
What was normal…? Food she could eat, fun she could have?
He remembered when she was a preteen going to a county fair and he’d been able to get all the county fair foods he loved—funnel cake, corn dogs, and cheese curds—and he’d eaten them in front of her while she’d eaten her lunch bag packed with stuff she knew she didn’t react to.
He shook his hands out and started typing.