Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Flood at the Shore
ELI
The fifth annual Burlington Bobcats “Skate the Shore” fundraiser event was in full swing.
It was set up at a temporary rink built right on the shore of the beautiful Lake Champlain.
We were in the thick of winter now, with a bitter chill in the air that had me extra bundled up today.
The lake had the shimmer of a freeze beginning to happen, the water turning solid the closer it got to the shore.
There were dozens of kids running around, putting on skates, taking photos with the team, and getting their jerseys and their caps all signed.
There was local news coverage and food and drinks, all to benefit the local children’s hospital.
I manned the hot chocolate booth with Dylan, pouring mug after mug of sweet-smelling hot chocolate.
It was a heartwarming way to spend a Saturday. It was also a great distraction from the singular thought that seemed to have taken over these last few weeks.
I have a boyfriend.
A boyfriend who played on the same hockey team as me and who also secretly happened to be a shifter.
What the actual fuck?
I’d had a couple of weeks to digest all of that, and it was still a difficult pill to swallow.
Not that I didn’t want to swallow. Because, trust me, I fucking swallowed.
It was just the thought of what would happen next that scared me.
I loved this blissful little bubble Gabe and I floated in, but I also wasn’t born yesterday.
I knew the slightest amount of outside pressure would pop that shit and send us tumbling down to our demise.
“I think we’re running out of marshmallows,” Dylan said as he popped an oversized marshmallow into his mouth.
“There must be a rat somewhere around here.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Or maybe a wolf?” I said with a wink.
That got a belly laugh out of him with enough force behind it that it sent the marshmallow flying out of his mouth and smacking me on the forehead. Which in turn had me cracking up.
“Sorry, bro,” Dylan said. “Didn’t mean to assault you with a marshmallow.”
“All good. I’ve been hit in the head with a puck before. That might as well have been a kiss.”
He laughed at that and leaned back against the counter.
Our post was outside near the rink, surrounded by tables with baby blue and white striped seats.
A couple of kids were being coached on how to pass a puck by Gabe, who seemed to be a natural with kids.
I’d been watching him from the corner of my eye practically all day.
I’d been more than impressed with how easy it was for him to make the kids laugh and feel comfortable, even with many of them nervous because they were meeting their favorite players.
I’d occasionally look over and spot him getting chased by a gaggle of them, or taking a selfie with a teen, or even holding someone’s smiling little baby in his arms at one point.
“You and Gabe fit well together.”
My head snapped in Dyl’s direction. Shit. I hadn’t realized I’d been that obvious.
Oh no. Would that upset Gabe? Had I messed up?
“It’s obvious, so don’t be surprised I know. I see how you guys act together. Hell, even how you play together. It’s like you can read each other’s minds out there.”
I swallowed down my nerves. I had to play this cool. I wasn’t sure how much Gabe was going to tell his pack, but I didn’t want it to be me who broke the news that we were officially together. “We do really click well. He’s a great guy.”
“He is. And he deserves someone equally as great. I’ve known him for five years now, and he’s always acted as if he was cool being single, but you want to know what?”
Dylan paused until I realized it wasn’t a rhetorical question. “What?”
“I haven’t seen him this happy, this smiley, since I’ve known him.
And that all happened when you entered his orbit.
It’s nice to see.” Dylan grabbed another marshmallow from the bag and popped it into his mouth.
“Makes me jealous,” he said, although the words were a little difficult to decipher.
He swallowed. “I’m probably the biggest romantic on the team, and yet my dating life is a perpetual shit show of red flags and commitment issues. ”
“How are you finding these dates?”
“No, I’m the one with all the red flags and commitment issues.”
“Ooohh, gotcha.” I cocked my head. Dylan, to me, seemed like a great catch.
He was handsome and rocked those birthmarks extremely well; he was hilarious and smart, and he was kind.
But I also wasn’t dating him. I only knew the parts of Dyl he allowed me to see when we were hanging out after practice or grabbing a drink at the bar. “What kind of red flags?”
“I guess my biggest is that I’m, as David Attenborough would say, ‘a verifiable fuck boy out in the wild,’” he said in a terrible David Attenborough expression.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes with people I could actually see myself with long term.
Honestly, it could also be a little bit of self-sabotage going on.
I didn’t have an easy time growing up. Lots of family things.
I don’t think I had that loving, long-term relationship to look up to, so I never chased it.
But now that I’m getting older, I’m thinking that all this time, I’d been chasing the wrong thing. That I wasted so much time.”
“Don’t think of it as a waste. All those choices you made, even if some of them were mistakes, they’re leading you in the right direction.
” I thought about all the decisions I had made in my life—dating Ben, staying with him, leaving him, choosing to play hockey professionally, accepting the trade to Burlington—all the big, most foundation-rocking moments had led me to meeting Gabe.
“Man, I hope so. I’m kind of tired of being alone.”
“You won’t be. And you aren’t. You’ve got us and your pack.”
“I know, and I love all of you. But you know, it’s not the same. I’m a cuddler. I want someone to hold every night. Is that so much to ask?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Maybe I should get one of those big body pillows? Have some random, probably copyrighted, hunk printed on the front.” He looked up thoughtfully as he stuffed another marshmallow in his mouth. “Think has that?”
“Most likely,” I said with a chuckle. I noted he said “hunk” and not “babe,” which was interesting. I hadn’t seen him with any of his dates, but I had assumed he was also straight.
Before we could talk some more, Chris and Emmy appeared with Ryland, one of the newest additions to the team when you didn’t include me.
He was an aggressive center and a walking brick wall of a man.
I started pouring a cup for them, but Chris held his arm out.
“We’re here to give you guys a break. Go walk around, explore, talk to some fans. ”
“Actually,” Emmy said, “I saw Gabe about to give an interview over by the gazebos. He told me to tell you to meet him there.”
An interview? Huh. Gabe probably wasn’t too thrilled about that.
“Thanks, guys.” I clapped them both on the shoulders of their heavy coats and walked out of the booth.
Dylan spotted Soren, who was with Julian and our assistant coach, taping some of the sticks that the kids had brought with them.
There was special tape for today’s event with room for signatures from their favorite players.
He split off from me as I went to look for Gabe.
Maybe he needed rescuing from the press.
It didn’t take long to find him. There was a scenic area on a small hill that looked over the rink with the lake behind it.
A large oak tree rustled its branches in the cold wind.
I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my heavy coat and walked up the cobblestone path toward the gaggle of news reporters and cameramen.
“Hey,” I said, making eye contact with Gabe as a producer was handing him a mic. He waved at me, blue eyes lighting up. “So sorry to cut in, but Coach needs you for the puck drop that’s about to happen.” It was a lie I made up on the spot, but Gabe ran with it.
“Oh, really?” He turned to the smiling producer, handing the mic back to her. “I’m so sorry, I’ll have to come back. Or you can interview Michael—he’s one of our left wingmen. He’s right over there.”
“Perfect,” she said and pointed down the hill, nudging the PA next to her. “Go hand him a release and bring him up here, please.”
I walked with Gabe down the hill. A couple of kids ran past us, shouting about getting to meet Soren.
He was pretty popular, having saved some really tight and memorable goals, but the funny thing was, he was also the most antisocial out of all of us.
The attention made him uncomfortable, and from what I’d sensed, it wasn’t just because he was secretly a shifter.
“Thanks for rescuing me,” Gabe said.
“That was okay, right? I figured you might not have wanted to be on TV.”
“No, you’re right. You know me well.” His smile radiated almost as brightly as the silver chain glinting around his neck.
He looked good today—as he did every day—in a dark blue Patagonia coat that helped bring out the colors in his eyes.
“Want to sit?” He pointed at a bench that had just been abandoned by an exhausted set of parents, their little girl asking if she could put her skates on and go on the ice again.
“Yeah, my feet hurt. I think I’d rather serve hot chocolate out on the ice. These Nikes aren’t doing it for me.”
“Maybe I can give you a foot massage later.”
“That’d be nice,” I said, already getting excited at the thought.
We sat down on the bench, keeping a small bit of space between us. “I couldn’t stop looking at you this morning,” I admitted to Gabe. “I think Dyl noticed.”
“He barely notices the nose on his own head, but he notices that, of course.”
“Are you upset?”
Gabe shook his head. “No, no, not at all. I’ve been meaning to tell the pack.”
“You have?”
“Of course. They know everything about me; they need to know about us next.”
That softened some of the worry that pricked at my heart. Still, though, it wasn’t a complete kicking down of the closet door. Events like these would always need to have us be separate, no one knowing about the true connection Gabe and I shared.
That fucking sucked.
“Well, Dyl shouldn’t act surprised when you say something.”
“Watch him drop to the floor. He loves his dramatics. I think it’s from all the Broadway he loves to watch.”
I chuckled at Gabe’s joke. A feeling of lightness filled me, like I was a couple of seconds of floating up and away into the cloudless blue winter sky. It was all because of Gabe.
And it had lowered my guard, heightened my expectations.
Maybe we didn’t have to be all that undercover?
I decided to test it. I reached out and put a hand on Gabe’s. A simple moment of touch. Something comforting and warm.
He tensed. Shifted. Moved his hand away.
His eyes flitted up the hill, to the cameras currently pointed at our teammate’s face.
POP!
That bubble we’d been floating in finally found a sharp object.
I swallowed down the hurt. Gabe looked apologetic. He was saying sorry, but I couldn’t hear him past another voice in my head. A louder one.
Nah, I’m not holding your hand or kissing you until I feel good about it.
That had been Ben. He’d used my craving for touch and connection as a way to punish me for mistakes he perceived me to be making.
Did I forget to take the trash out? Cold shoulder.
Did I leave the laundry in the dryer for too long?
He’d give me his cheek if I went in to kiss him.
They were small things that all accumulated into a form of psychological abuse that took a deep toll on my psyche.
And the scars of it throbbed with Gabe’s rejection.
My chest grew tight.
Relax. I’ve got this. I’ve got this.
But I didn’t. Reality was that I didn’t have it. I was losing it. This pressure, this constant need of having to be aware and not being able to even graze Gabe’s hand in order to avoid any suspicions… fucking fuck. This sucked.
This was too much.
“Are you okay?” Gabe asked.
Three words that coalesced into a wrecking ball, breaking down the dam that held back my emotions. I could feel myself spiraling. I dropped my head into my hands. “No, Gabe, no. Fuck.”
Then the flood came.