Chapter 17 #2
“Mom?” I asked gently, needing the word to anchor me.
I knew Mikko by hockey reputation alone, and he and my father had knocked heads more than once.
Mikko Salonen had been everything my dad wasn't—a national hero, someone who’d come from money and had discipline and respect.
I should have felt relief at that alone.
But none of it mattered if Mom wasn’t happy.
“Can we have a few minutes?” I asked him, forcing the words out.
Mikko studied my face for a beat, then nodded without hesitation. He bent once more, kissed my mother’s head, murmured something soft in Finnish I couldn’t quite catch, and stepped out, closing the door quietly behind him.
I turned back to her, my chest tight. “Mom?” I said again, my voice barely holding. “Are you happy? Are you doing this to get away from Aarni… I can help, I can look after you… If Aarni’s asking for money because of what he paid… I'll come home…”
“Shhh,” she said tenderly, and tugged me to crouch next to her, hugging me close.
“He is everything Aarni isn’t. He’s life and love and happiness.
” She cupped my face, thumbs warm against my cheeks, forcing me to really regard her.
“I’m sorry, Jari,” she said, the words plain and devastating.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. I’m sorry I couldn't protect you the way I should have. I thought endurance was love, and it wasn’t. It was survival.”
Her eyes shone, but she didn’t look away.
“Mom, it’s okay—”
“I want to start over,” she said. “I want to enjoy the rest of my life. I want a love that means something. And I know you’ve suffered because of the choices I made.”
“No, Mom, choices we had no choice but to make. There's a difference.”
She drew a shaky breath and pressed her forehead to mine. “I wanted to come and tell you as soon as I could,” she whispered and pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes. “You could come home with Mikko and me,” she said. “Not to run away. Just… to be safe. To be loved. To breathe.”
I couldn’t leave Cam. The thought hit hard, a sharp refusal in my chest before I’d even finished processing her words.
I loved him. Not in a distant, abstract way, but in the day-to-day, breathing-him-in, choosing-him way.
I wanted him in my life. The realization steadied me.
Did Mom feel that same certainty? That same pull?
“You love Mikko?” I asked quietly.
“I do.”
“Okay then.” I stood and opened the door, waited until Mikko was inside, then extended a hand. He took it without hesitation, his grip firm and steady. “For what it’s worth,” I said quietly, holding his gaze, “thank you for bringing her here to see me. And for making her happy.”
His lips curved, just a little. “She deserves everything,” he said.
I nodded once. “She does.” I tightened my grip a fraction, just long enough to make the point land. “And she’s my mother.”
Mikko didn’t flinch. If anything, his expression softened. “I know,” he said simply.
That was enough. I let go, stepped back, and for the first time since the door had opened, my chest loosened.
“Stay here, I'm getting a shower, okay? Then…” I went to a crouch again and hugged her hard. “There's someone I want you to meet.”
The limo was absurdly luxurious, all leather and quiet space, as if the world had decided to be gentle for once.
Mom smiled the whole ride, her hand tucked into Mikko’s, and he watched her as if she were the only person there.
Attentive. In love. Something inside me eased, a knot, constant weight lifting just enough for me to breathe.
When we pulled up outside Cam’s place, I punched in the gate code without thinking, muscle memory taking over. The drive curved up through the trees, familiar and safe.
Mom leaned on her stick when she got out, the other arm linked through Mikko’s, and together they managed the few steps to the front door. I unlocked it and ushered them inside.
“Cam?” I called.
There was a pause, then his voice floated down the hall. “Clothes off, babe! You still owe me a blowjob!”
I winced. “Cam—”
He sauntered around the corner, loose shorts slung low on his hips, confidence intact right up until the second he clocked the strangers in his hallway.
He stopped dead.
We all just stared at each other.
Then my mother laughed. Full-bodied, delighted laughter, as if she’d just been handed the best punchline of her life.
“Uh, Jari?” Cam asked faintly.
“Mom,” I said, heat flooding my face as I stepped close to Cam and laced my fingers with him. “This is my Cam. And, Cam? This is my beautiful mom.”
Cam blinked once, then recovered with speed. He straightened and nodded politely. “I usually make a better first impression, ma'am. With pants.”
Mikko’s mouth twitched.
My mother was still smiling. “I like him,” she declared.
Cam glanced at me, eyebrows lifting. “Your mother is here,” he murmured.
“She is,” I agreed.
“And I'm not wearing anything.”
I couldn't help the snort that left my mouth. “You have shorts.”
Cam straightened and then stepped closer to my mom, who tugged him close for a sideways hug.
“I'm Cam,” he said unnecessarily as they hugged. “Very nice to meet you, ma'am. I swear I own clothes.”
Mom grinned at him. “Best first meeting ever. Call me Abigail.”
He shook hands with Mikko, and then stiffened and glanced at me. “You told them.”
I nodded. I didn't know what was going to happen now, where I would be, where Mom would be, or how Aarni would react, but everything I wanted was here in the hallway of my boyfriend's house. “I want to tell everyone. I want to be the real me. Is that okay?”
Cam hugged me so hard I could barely breathe. “God, yes.”
The call from Aarni came a week after Mom and Mikko had flown back to Finland, after Cam and I had promised we’d visit as soon as our seasons didn’t overlap and time finally belonged to us.
I’d just gotten off the phone with Mike, who was officially my new agent as of yesterday, and I’m sure the shit would hit the fan at some point. I was glad Cam was next to me when it did. He made me stronger.
He made me feel safe and able to deal with all of this.
I answered it curled into the corner of the sofa beside Cam, a bowl of popcorn balanced between us, the movie playing quietly in the background—one of those ordinary, easy nights that had started to feel like home.
We’d had a meeting today with management about media strategy, and I made the most important requests of my entire hockey career.
I wanted my mom’s last name on my jersey and on the nameplate above my cubby, something that felt like mine for the first time.
I wanted a new number too—anything but Aarni Lankinen’s.
I didn’t care what it was, only that it wasn’t his.
Cam wore 32, and I wanted to match him, to line up beside him in more ways than one, because yes, this was who I was now.
I wasn’t hiding anymore. I hadn't said the L-word yet; it didn't seem right when Aarni was still the picture, and when my mom had so much to tell me.
But he must know, because he told me he loved me every chance he got.
The press releases were going out in two days, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt at peace.
It helped that the hardest part was already done.
I’d stood in front of the team after yesterday’s win against Buffalo, still buzzing from my first goal as a Railer, and told them everything.
About my name. About who I loved. About who I was.
No hiding, no half-truths. Just me, standing there, waiting for the fallout—and finding none.
“Jari,” my father—no, Aarni Lankinen—said, his voice already loud, already crowding the space, as if shouting could force me back into place. He wasn’t my father. He was nothing to me. “Now listen here, boy, you need to send me money now. I’ve paid out for your goddamn mother for twenty years and—”
“Turns out, Aarni,” I said quietly, cutting him off before he could build momentum, “that you used money my mom inherited, and stole the rest from me under false pretenses. Her money. My money. I understand from various sources that you are bankrupt and close to losing everything.” Sources being my new soon-to-be stepfather, Mikko.
There was a sharp sound on the line, breath dragged in hard, anger flaring hot and sudden. “That’s a lie,” he snapped.
“No,” I said. Calm. Certain. “It isn’t.”
“You ungrateful piece of shit,” he roared, rage spilling all over his words. “You wouldn’t be anywhere without me. I pushed you, molded you, I fucking made you halfway good enough to earn me money—”
“Stop,” I said, still calm, still steady, talking straight over him.
I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to.
“I don’t want to see you again, Aarni. I don’t want to hear from you again.
” I paused, let the silence stretch, felt it settle into something final.
“I will be here living with my boyfriend, with a career I might learn to love, as settled as a line that finally clicks. In spite of you and not because of you. I owe you nothing,” I said.
“Not my career. Not my name. Not my life.”
His breathing was harsh. “You miserable little—”
“You are nothing,” I said, and ended the call.
There was silence, Cam had stopped the movie, and he pulled me close, until I was on his lap, straddling him, burying my face in his neck.
“Jari?” he asked, worried.
I lifted my head and kissed him gently. “I love you.”
He grinned and deepened the kiss until we were both hard and needy.
“Sweetheart? I love you too.”