Chapter 23
Milo
My parents are standing in my doorway on this dark November night, glaring at Beau, and I’m standing behind him, hiding from their animosity like a fucking coward.
“Miles Winfield Hall, who is in your house at this late hour?” Mom is glaring daggers at Beau, as if he’s the whole reason I’m gay.
And in all fairness, if I didn’t know I was super gay before meeting him, I would now. Beau would absolutely “turn me”, so to speak.
“Winfield?” is all Beau asks, turning to look at me with a devilish smile on his face. He’s ignoring all the heat coming from my parents and just giving me this dopey, lopsided smile, like he won the lottery by hearing my stupid middle name.
“Yeah, it’s a family name,” I tell him, fighting the smile. My brain is firing on half cylinders because one, I just had earth-shattering, life-changing sex, and two, my parents are here and I need to be panicking. I just know if I smile right now, they’ll take that as a personal attack.
“Miles!” my father huffs at me again. Their hands are literally on their hips, and I could almost swear there’s steam coming out of their ears. They look like the trademark image of disappointed parents.
“Mom, Dad, come in.” I wave them in, unsure of what else to do.
It’s not like I can ask them to leave. Beau walks away from the door, shaking a little with each step from silent laughter.
They watch his retreating form with more malice in their eyes.
“Please come inside,” I beg, shivering as the cold air flows past them into the house, surrounding me in a freezing embrace.
Mom huffs at me and shakes her head. I see literal tears in her eyes.
Oh my god, it’s going to be one of those talks.
Sure enough, when Mom and Dad stomp all the way into the living room and turn on Beau, who’s just sitting on the couch, Mom already has tears running down her cheeks. I can feel the eye roll coming and have to force it deep, deep down.
“What are you both doing here?” I ask once I’ve shut and locked the door and made my way into the living room. Mom spins on me.
“Don’t you think this should be a family conversation?” Her voice is full of contention and malice, and it’s all directed at Beau. Again, like I wasn’t already gay before I got here. Like he’s personally responsible for this development.
“I think—”
“What kind of conversation are you expecting to have at eleven fifty-eight?” Beau asks matter-of-factly. I look at the clock, and he’s right. It’s fucking late. As if to emphasize his point, I see my dad fighting a yawn.
“I don’t think that’s really any of your business,” Mom snaps, but she’s trying not to yawn herself, so it doesn’t come across as fiercely as I’m sure she would’ve liked.
“Mom, Dad, why are you here?” I try to keep my voice stern and direct and to the point, but it’s hard. When Mom swings those teary eyes my way, I almost fold immediately.
“You haven’t been answering your phone!” she bellows.
“We talked. This morning!” I reply, trying to keep my calm and failing miserably.
They’ve done this a few times. I miss a call or two, and they just show up, even though Colorado is a thirteen-hour drive from Minneapolis.
I’m really starting to understand where Beau is coming from when he says they don't respect boundaries.
They have suitcases. They must have planned this trip when we talked this morning if they’re already here.
That’s so frustrating. They planned a whole trip out here without even telling me.
“There’s no way that’s true. I would remember,” she says with a sharp nod.
“Mom, we talked about the club. You were pissed at me. Remember?” I’m trying to keep the exasperation from my voice because I know that’s just going to piss her off more.
“What club?” Dad asks, but Mom interrupts him.
“I don’t remember any of that, honey.” She waves me off with a dismissive hand, and I want to groan. How does she always do this? How does she always blow me off with so little care?
If she doesn’t remember, it must not have happened. At least that’s how things work in her mind.
“Son.” My dad’s voice is low and gruff. He’s pissed. “Are you going to introduce us to your little friend?” He quirks a brow and nods at Beau, who’s just smiling at me. He mouths "little friend" like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and he’s not wrong.
“This is Beau.” I gesture at him halfheartedly, not really wanting to turn their ire onto him. “My teammate.”
“Teammate?!” My mom half screeches. “What were you thinking?”
“What was he thinking about what?” Beau asks with faux innocence. He turns to look at me and bats his lashes, getting more comfortable on the couch.
“Son, I really think this is more of a private, family matter.” My dad is playing friendly, always worried about appearances. “Would you mind excusing us?”
“No, Dad,” I start, stopping Beau from standing up and leaving me alone.
But he doesn’t look like he’s willing to move an inch.
“Beau was right. What kind of productive conversation can we expect to have this late? We should get some sleep.” I grab their suitcases from where they were left haphazardly by the door and start to move toward the big guest room, before stopping.
That’s where Beau’s stuff is, but is that where he’s sleeping tonight?
I stare longingly at my room and think about sleeping beside him again. I think about dozing off in his arms and waking up wrapped up in him. But can we really do that with my parents here, breathing over our shoulders?
“Beau is in this room, so y’all will be in the other guest room down the hall.” If Beau is surprised by this announcement, he doesn’t say anything. My mom is grumbling behind me. I can hear her steaming and stomping as we make our way down the hall.
Once I’ve deposited them, my mom grabs my collar and yanks me to her level.
“We are not done talking about this, Miles,” she hisses in my ear. I turn toward the door, only to see that Beau saw that interaction.
I feel myself flush with embarrassment at her actions. She doesn’t know how to behave.
Once we’ve left them to their own devices, Beau pulls me back to the kitchen.
“What the fuck—” He looks at me with wide eyes, checking me over as if he’s looking for an injury. “I didn’t realize it was that bad. Are you okay?” His hands continue to pat over my body until I huff out a laugh.
I know what he’s doing. I know he’s trying to make me feel lighter, something that seems almost impossible when my parents are around, but he actually succeeds. I feel a weight lift from my shoulders.
“I didn’t know they were coming,” I gasp out, bent over, resting my hands on my knees. “What do we do?”
“What do you mean?” Beau asks.
“They can’t stay here. We’re not going to be able to do anything,” I say as if he just asked the stupidest question.
“What do you mean, we can’t do anything? I thought you said they knew you were gay?” He quirks a brow at me, daring me to say it, daring me to be open with him about just how shitty a situation I’m in with my parents, daring me to tell him that I don’t feel comfortable being myself with them here.
“We, ah…” I start, but I’m embarrassed.
“If you’re about to tell me we can’t be together around your parents, in your own home, you’re gonna get popped upside the head, I swear, Milo.” He chuckles low. “Also, can we talk about Miles?”
“Milo is short for Miles.”
“No duh.” His laughter is light. “Your parents are so damn condescending to you. You hear it, right?” He puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me close, almost close enough to kiss.
“Yeah, I think I’m starting to.” I chuckle low. Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed with this hot embarrassment as want simultaneously overcomes me. I don’t know if we’re there yet, but I know what I need. “Hey, will you… I mean, can you…?”
“Do you want me to come sleep with you tonight?” he asks me, and I flush red-hot before nodding slowly. “C’mon.” He swings an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close and smacking a kiss on my forehead. “Let’s try and get some rest before we tackle this mess with your parents tomorrow, yeah?
“Yeah.”
Later, when we’re curled up together in bed, his body draped around mine, his arms holding me close, I feel so content. As I drift off to sleep, I realize I want to be here in his arms forever. This is home.
I wake up to a loud and honestly quite angry gasp that sounds annoyingly familiar.
“Mom, get out.” I groan into my pillow. Beau is still curled into my side, but he’s groaning, too, and shoving his rock-hard morning wood into my hip, grinding into me with little thrusts.
“I was just…”
“Get out!” I call out again. Beau and I are both scantily clad in only our briefs, and this is such a gross violation of privacy on my mom’s end. I’m a fucking adult, goddammit.
I hear her shuffle out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.
“There goes any hope of sleeping in,” Beau mumbles against my ear, his breath tickling my skin. He nuzzles into my neck, and I sigh a contented sigh. “Do they always do that?”
“She’s never barged into my room before,” I answer honestly, because she genuinely hasn’t. Not before. Something about this trip must have really set her off for her to be overstepping this much.
What is it about Beau that makes them so mad?
We move around the room in lazy silence, just kind of brushing against each other and peppering gentle kisses as we get ready for the day.
When we finally step out of the bedroom together a few minutes later, my mom is making her way back toward my room in a huff.
“Finally!” She waves a wooden spoon at us. “Breakfast is getting cold.”
I can smell the scramble hash she made, and I wonder for a second if maybe this morning won’t be a total shit-show.
But then we finally meander out to the kitchen, where my very upset father is sitting with his arms crossed and a deep, angry scrunch to his brows.
“You’ve scarred your mother,” he accuses.
“If seeing two adults cuddle is scarring, she probably shouldn’t have barged into our room like that,” Beau says matter-of-factly, and both of my parents swing on him, glaring all their malicious intent as hard as they can.
Our room.
I love the way that sounds, especially coming from his mouth, the way his lips curve around each word. I just want to jump on him.
“Your room?” my mother shrieks. “How long has this been going on?” She turns quickly to me and throws up her hands.
“And with a teammate, Miles?” She shakes her head, blonde curls wildly flouncing in the morning light.
“What are you going to do when this blows up? You think he’s going to keep your secret when he dumps you? ”
Each word feels kind of like a dagger. When this blows up. When he dumps me. Sounds like my parents have a clear view of how this is going to go.
“Even if things didn’t work between us, I would never out Milo. That’s not okay.” Beau’s brows are pinched, and I can tell he’s growing more and more frustrated. He looks over at me with an exasperated look in his eyes, and I can tell he’s teetering close to the edge.
“We are just worried about you, Milo.” My mom’s voice is chock-full of what feels like faux concern. It’s dripping with condescension and false niceties. Nothing about the way she’s behaving feels genuine. “Honestly, Son, what is your plan here? Just continue to screw each other in private?”
I flinch at her crass words.
“I don’t know, I was kind of thinking it would be nice to…” I look at Beau, and even though he doesn’t know what I’m about to say, he nods encouragingly. “I was thinking it would be nice to maybe come out?”
“WHAT?!” Mom is screeching like a banshee now, her arms flailing as she continues to squawk and crow.
“You cannot be serious, Son.” Dad has his face buried in his hands, and Mom is full-on sobbing now. “Nothing good can come from it. I mean it, nothing. You’ll get booted from the team, and you’ll go out an absolute disgrace.”
“What will people think?” Mom cries, big crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks.
And there it is. That’s all they really care about: appearances.
What will their friends think about them having a gay son? What will random hockey fans think about them having a gay son?
I’m just about done with her crocodile tears when Beau puts his hand up.
“That’s enough,” Beau shouts, bringing everyone to silence