Chapter 21
Jamal King
Theo don’t say shit, eyeing me from across the banquet room. Dinner with my folks was a mess, and we’re not coming back from that. I fucked up by telling him he stole my life. The more I get to know him, the more I’m certain I don’t want his life.
I said it out of desperation to change the subject away from my scar.
The dishes from the catered dinner at the home game hotel are being cleared away.
Theo’s eyes bore into me, and I angle my chair to see him out of the corner of my eye.
He won’t approach me in front of the team, and he didn’t respond to my text calling him out.
I wasn’t sure he had pre-planned the call from Sarah, but I followed him to his car and overheard his conversation.
We’re in an unofficial standoff. I brought him to my parents’ house, and he bailed. The next move is his.
My therapist asked me a lot of questions to get to the root of my issues with Theo.
Key things of note are how I allow my anger to surface when he’s around and I don’t have any social anxiety with him.
I haven’t panicked about what we’ll talk about, and I fell asleep on the plane next to him.
Something I never do. She pointed out that my nervous system deems him safe. I couldn’t answer why that’s true.
I’m obsessing over him not speaking to me because of the insensitive thing I said. My mistakes plague me until the issue is resolved.
I skip the after-dinner socializing and head up to my room. This year I have a room to myself, which helps my anxiety. It’s early, and my mind replays every conversation Theo and I have had in the last week.
A knock at the door saves me from myself. Until I open it and Theo pushes into my room.
“I gave you plenty of time to come up with an answer.” He grabs my chin and tilts my head back. “Who burned you?”
“What?” I’m so surprised he knows the truth that my brain explodes.
“Who burned you?” he repeats, and his eyes are dangerous.
“It was a long time ago.” I swallow hard.
“That’s not what I asked.” He backs me up until my legs hit the bed, and he pushes me to sit.
“Was it one of them?” he snarls.
I shake my head, speechless, and roll my shoulders.
“You’re not protecting them?” He crowds in between my legs.
“No. She’s dead,” I choke out. Phantom pain sears my burn, but I refuse to touch it.
He lets go of my face and rests his hands on my shoulders. “You’re okay?”
“Yeah, like I said, it was a long time ago.” His fierce concern eases my burning skin. I can’t look away, and his presence helps me from reliving the horrific memory.
“Will you tell me about it?” His thumb strokes my pulse, soothing it.
“Someday,” I agree, but I want something in return.
“Did my sperm donor really talk about me?” I ask, and Theo’s face takes on a hard edge as he gives a sharp nod.
“I haven’t spoken to him since the wedding.
He never tried to find me but brags about me in the press. ” My throat tightens around my swallow.
“He’s a total fuckup. You’re better off without him.”
My hands find his hips. “Give me the rundown,” I whisper.
I tip backward, bringing him with me until he lands on top of me, pressing me into the mattress.
“That’s not very friend like.” He grins and flops next to me.
I ignore my erection, willing it away, and turn on my side to face him. “We get to decide that.”
“Agreed,” he says, and relief washes through me.
We got a lot unsaid, but I’m ready for it. “Tell me what he did to you,” I murmur, and search his eyes.
“I blamed you, and I should’ve blamed him,” he says quietly, and stares at the ceiling.
“He told the lifestyle editor covering the wedding that you were in boarding school and that’s why you didn’t live with us.
My mom felt I should get equal treatment, and within weeks, they shipped me off to school an hour and a half away.
” He flicks his hand, and I reach for it to interlace our fingers.
My mom and auntie had a huge fight about me going to the wedding. My mother was terrified he’d hurt her or me. Auntie said she’d keep me safe, and I begged to go.
“We couldn’t have a family Christmas because you refused to come to the house if I was there. John lied for years, telling us he was meeting you at the Park Ave apartment. The day you followed me, that’s where we were.”
I rear back in surprise, and he squeezes my hand. As far as I know, he never sent so much as a card, but I’m afraid if I say something, he’ll stop talking.
“We celebrated New Year’s Eve and Christmas on New Year’s Day.
John said it was a sacrifice we had to make, being a blended family.
But it hurt my mom. She drank a lot and blamed me.
” He shuts his eyes, the pain evident in his voice.
“I didn’t have a mom who cared about me.
I never had a home, only a really nice place to put my things, but they made me feel indebted to them for everything they gave me. ”
“I’m sorry.” I bring our linked hands to my chest and cover them with my other hand.
He allows the comfort for a second before removing his hand from mine.
Theo isn’t the type of guy who wants pity even though saying he never had a home breaks my heart.
I kick off my shoes, and he follows me up to the pillows.
He tells me about all the times John found my name online for school or sports and compared us. Theo talks about his mom in a wistful way, as if she’s a symbol and he needs a person present. Which she wasn’t because of trauma and alcohol abuse.
We talk for hours about our childhoods. Sometimes we’re quiet, processing, but it isn’t awkward.
“To sum up my depressing story, my dad was a hockey player, but I don’t have any memories of him because I was two and a half when he died.”
His green eyes are misty, and I reach out to smooth the scowl from his face.
“How did you get into hockey?” he asks abruptly, his jaw set as if he’s done talking about himself.
“I got into it late. My first skating experiences were in an old pair of my auntie’s skates that were a million sizes too big. Our neighbors took advantage of the freezing ice that formed in the big dip in the parking lot. I’d beg to get outside and skate.”
Theo reaches out to me but yanks his hand back before contact.
“DeAndre got a part-time job working for the Brooklyn Boomers for some extra Christmas money. I loved going with him to watch. When fans threw things on the ice, kids would skate around and pick them up. I begged to be one of those kids. Neither of us knew I’d be a great skater with skates that actually fit.
A local coach said I should try out for the school team.
By high school, I got a scholarship to play hockey at a charter school.
And the rest is history.” I spread my arms wide, with one hitting him across the chest.
The temperature rises as we stare at each other. There’s still lingering hurt and confusion, but there’s no mistaking the lust.
I summon the courage to lean in and kiss him, but he rolls off the bed. Without looking back, he says, “Get your beauty sleep before tomorrow’s game.”
“Okay.”
Theo is a distraction I can’t afford.
My job is to play hockey, score, and be a role model.
Theo and I might mistakenly ruin everything for each other.
We should be winning against Cincinnati, but we’re tied. Their goalie is playing out of his head, but so is Benz. He’s our biggest hype man behind us.
We’ve all made our share of mistakes, and I’m annoyed by the chirping tonight. It’s the third period, and their strategy is mental distraction through insults. But it’s all insults I’ve heard a million times, as if it’s a revelation that I’m one of the few Black players in the league.
I’m tangled up at the boards, fighting a Cincy defender for the puck. He hurls an implied slur about my sexuality, but it distracts him more, and I take off with the puck. Griff is waiting for my pass, but they see it, so I find Mav, and he sneaks it past the goalie with a tap.
A whistle stops play, and I’m surprised the defender who insulted me is on the ice, and Theo’s receiving a penalty. On his way to the sin bin, he skates to the bench to yell at Ace. My line is coming off, but Ace’s helmet isn’t on yet as he grabs Theo’s face shield to calm him down.
Fighting with a teammate is unacceptable, and Ace should put him in his place.
I vault over to the bench, and Gray hands me a bottle of water.
“You good?”
“Great.” I keep my eye on the puck. Benz needs all the help he can get while we’re a man down.
“O’Keefe wants Ace to report their defender to the refs for a misconduct penalty for what he said to you.”
“That was normal shit. Barely crossed the line and certainly not misconduct.” I hand Gray the bottle back. A misconduct penalty can range from ten minutes to being ejected from the game. It’s serious.
“He said it was hate speech.”
“O’Keefe wasn’t fighting with Ace? He was upset over the chirp at me?” I fasten my chin strap, gearing up for a line change. Theo’s released from his penalty and charges onto the ice.
“Truth.” Gray moves down the bench.
There are so many sides to Theo.
Theo strips a Cincy player and dishes the pass to Brant. Brant crosses the blue line, fakes out their winger, and passes to Lucky.
Drake fires a shot on goal that ricochets off the pipe like a bullet. There’s a mad scramble for the puck, but Theo is in the perfect position. The middle is open, but everyone is closing in. Somehow, with the speed of the puck, Cincy’s defenders forget about Brant.
Theo passes to Brant, and we score again with five and a half minutes left. The fans leap to their feet, and the cheers are deafening. Old Theo would’ve taken it up the middle into traffic, but tonight he’s the team player we need to win.
On my next shift, the same defender who chirped me shoves me while the puck is on the other side of the ice, and the refs miss it. “You need your stepbro to be your enforcer now? Too scared to fight me yourself?”
I skate into the action, unfazed by his insults. To fight someone, they’d have to say something inhuman. I very rarely lose my temper. Except with Theo, he’s the exception to everything.
Next time I snag the puck from the mouthy defender, I say, “If you can think of an insult I’ve never heard, I’ll fight you.”
It could be a risk, but the guy doesn’t have more than six brain cells.
We win by one, and it’s hard fought. We’re going to need to step up our game to make a run at The Cup.
This win fills the stadium with cheers, and I can feel the fans’ enthusiasm lift me up. It’s such an amazing high, better than any drug.
“King, in here.” Ace points to a dark office. “You can trust me if someone is harassing you. It’s my actual job to report unsportsmanlike conduct. I can’t do it if I don’t know.”
“If a player ever crosses the line or makes me feel unsafe, I will,” I assure him, ready to move on.
Ace flips the light on and demands a play-by-play of all my interactions with their defender. He’s taking this seriously, so I recap for him.
“Ace, if the dude had something original to say or hurt me, I’d tell you.”
He taps his foot, and I’m not sure what else to say to convince him. “Why was O’Keefe so fired up?”
Honesty is my best option here. “I don’t know. Guys have said much worse things, and that guy couldn’t spell hockey fight.” I tap my head and stick my tongue out to the side.
Ace’s shoulders drop as he laughs. I have to reassure him again that I’m fine before he lets me return to the locker room.
Benz has the tunes blasting, and Lucky is taking a poll on where to celebrate.
Everyone has finished showering, but I still go into the private shower.
I have to decide if being alone with my thoughts will be more detrimental than hanging out with the guys.
Tonight, my mind will most likely ruminate over why Theo overreacted to the guy chirping at me.
I exit the shower and bump into someone.
Not someone. Theo.
No one else uses the private showers, so I wasn’t paying attention.
“Hey, sorry.” I step around him with his towel wrapped around his hips.
Decision made. I’m going out with the guys.
Theo will haunt all my thoughts after seeing him half naked and so close. I am careful about keeping my eyes to myself, but they’re misbehaving.
“That fucker should’ve been ejected from the game.” He stalks after me to my locker.
I spin around and poke him in the chest. “I got it handled. You stepping in makes me look weak.”
His skin is pink from the hot shower, but it reddens with his anger.
“You can’t let people speak to you that way. It’s not right.”
My mind whirls, putting all the pieces together: the boy without a home, the boy who could never measure up, the man who pushes people away before he can be rejected. He’s trying to protect me in his way.
He doesn’t understand that I’ve learned how to block out chirps and taunts because when they get personal, it can affect my game. It’s a skill that has brought my play up a level.
“Theo.” I flatten my palm on his bare chest, then jerk it back like he’s on fire. It’s the opposite. Touching him sets me on fire. I lower my voice so the few teammates left can’t hear me. “Thanks for having my back,” I say sincerely, taking a huge gulp of air.
“But in my world, reacting shows weakness. You were nervous the night I took you to where I lived in Queensbridge, right?” I ask, and he reluctantly nods.
“Some of the guys knew me, most knew of me, but you were fair game. How would it have played out if you got into it with one guy?” I don’t wait for an answer.
“It would never be one guy because all the other guys would jump in to support their homie. If I react or give any sign their insults bother me, I become an easy target.”
Theo pales. “That’s not… I only want—”
“I know,” I cut him off. “Respect.” I hold up my fist for him to bump. When our skin touches, a spark zings through me.
He glances around, and I’m hyperaware of how close we are, our lack of clothes, and his erratic breathing.