Chapter 17
HER OTHER DADDY, DUH
Elliot
“Alright gentleman. This is the most important day of the season. When you go out on to that field, I want you to remember that you’re not just representing yourselves.
You’re representing the Redwoods, the entire organization, and the city of San Francisco.
” Coach Mancini paces in front of us in the tunnel, arms tucked behind his back, his red and gold cap flipped backwards on his head.
At six feet tall and forty-something years old, the man has total Daddy vibes.
Like if you fuck with him, he’d put you over his knee and spank you and then kiss it better.
Not that I make it a habit of thinking of my coach that way. I may have harbored a tiny celebrity crush on Giovanni Mancini when he was the young assistant coach out of Houston a few years back, but once he became my coach?
That’s not Daddy, that’s a father figure.
“And most importantly, you’re representing me,” James says from his spot behind Coach, wearing his best “don’t piss me off” look on his face and his baby daughter in a sling on his chest. “And I swear to fuck, if any of you embarrass me out there today, I’m sticking you in a room with my twin five-year-olds and letting them force you to watch videos of spoiled brats unbox loud-ass toys for an entire weekend. Don’t screw this up, boys.”
With a chorus of agreements from the team, Coach steps out of the way and we start our jog out onto the field.
Usually our arrival from the tunnel is met with the screams and chants of a roaring crowd and the sound of our team song, Don’t Stop Believin’ thundering through the hundreds of strategically placed speakers.
But today’s visiting team requires a gentler sort of approach.
Today, the Redwoods’ entrance to the field at Twin Peaks Stadium is met by soft applause and the excited, nervous sounds of adoptable animals we hope to find homes for by the end of the day.
Adopt-A-Pet is my favorite event of the holiday season.
Every year, we team up with one of the big-box stores in downtown San Francisco and have a rotating team of volunteers who raise money and try to adopt out dogs, cats, bunnies, and all sorts of rescue animals.
The stores donate their window space, where the cutest little animals spend their days luring people in while players and members of the Redwoods organization work the streets outside the store, getting people to open their wallets and their homes to our furry friends.
Last year, I was personally responsible for the adoptions of seven dogs, four kittens, two senior cats and the world’s sweetest yellow cockatiel.
This year, we’ve hosting an extra Adopt-A-Pet event here at the stadium, allowing people to visit and tour Twin Peaks Field and meet the animals. With the help of our fellow SF athletes, we hope to smash our previous years’ adoption and fundraising records.
The party is already in full-swing, with different areas set up with adoptable pets, play areas, information stations, and an area for the few members of the media allowed in.
Since we have the entirety of the field to work with instead of just a Macy’s store window, the animal rescue expanded and there’s even a section of farm animals looking for new homes.
I spy a row of mats set up and a woman in leggings and a sports bra talking to a pen full of goats, and I know that I’m definitely going to have to get in on the goat yoga I’m sure she’ll be teaching today.
I’m ready to make my way over and volunteer as her assistant when I notice my Goat rolling around on the turf while a pack of adorable mutts paw at his pant legs and lick at his face.
I totally get them, too. Since Sunday, I’ve thought of little else than getting Alex’s pants off and my tongue all over him.
I am no better than a dog, and I’m fine with that.
“Look at you, hogging all the puppies,” I call out as I jog over to him, scooping up a particularly lovable looking chihuahua mix and snuggling him up to my face. Alex beams up at me from the ground.
“It’s not my fault! They recognize me as a kindred spirit. I’m not going to correct them.”
Fuck me, but he is so damn adorable. A black and white, fur-covered headband topped with kitten ears pushes back his messy, dark curls, held in place on the side with two barrettes, the same shade of green as Franny on his waist. A spray of purple glitter freckles decorate the apples of his cheeks and bridge of his nose, and around his neck, he wears a lilac collar with a bow that sits right on top of his Adam’s apple.
I don’t think he intends the collar that he likely pulled out of storage from an old Halloween costume to be so alluring, but it definitely has my mind going in some dirty directions.
I expected him to be wearing the Thunder branded, football style jersey like the rest of his teammates, but instead he has on a Redwoods home game jersey. Red, gold, and white, with the number 09 plastered across the front.
Fuck me sideways…
“Alex Goat Holmes, are you wearing my jersey?”
He grins, softly shooing away the corgi on his chest so that he can roll over and present his back to me.
Yup, there it is. Another number 09 with BAKER spelled out across the top of the jersey in big bold letters.
I mean, fuck. It's like he wants me to go all caveman, club him over the head and declare to the whole village that he’s mine, all mine. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Alex. The team owners had special clothes made. I know you have your own Thunder football jersey that you’re supposed to be wearing.”
He pushes to his feet, wiping off his knees that makes me want to drop to mine and clean them off for him, then crosses his arms over his chest.
“Did you know this is my first time at Twin Peaks Stadium? And for my inaugural visit, I wanted to represent my favorite Redwood. Is that a crime? Do you not like it?”
“Alex, baby,” I murmur under my breath, taking a step closer to him. He leans in too, and I can practically feel the hum in his chest at our proximity. “I like it too much. You know as well as I do what it means when the person you like wears your name on their back.”
“I know exactly what it means, El. You remember what I told you the other night, don’t you?
I like feeling claimed by you,” he whispers back, tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip.
I want to reach out and run my thumb across it, push past his lips and feel him suck on it the way I want him sucking on my cock.
He’s so close, his eyes dark and swirling with lusty mischief, the smell of coffee and peppermint wafting off him and invading my senses.
The temptation to reach out and touch him is unbearable.
But there are cameras all around us, and we agreed that we’d keep this superstition thing low key, though I don’t think my name on Alex’s back is helping that cause.
Despite the burning in my chest screaming at me to get closer, to touch, to claim him, I tuck my hands in my pockets and rock back on to my heels.
“So, we get to be roaming salesmen today, huh?”
“Yeah, dude. I think this is the best event yet. Don’t get me wrong, I love hanging out with the kids and stuff, but look at all these animals. This is totally my jam.”
“Me too. I look forward to the window adoption events every year. It's cool as hell that we get to actually interact with the animals and stuff today. I feel like it’s going to take all my willpower not take them all home in my pockets.”
“Oh my god, speaking of pockets, follow me!”
Alex takes off, running full speed down to the ten-yard-line.
I follow behind at a leisurely jog, and when I catch up to him, he’s cuddling a palm-sized kitten.
The tiny black cat stares up at Alex with wide, copper eyes—a shade so close to Alex’s that if I didn’t know better, I’d think he and this kitten might be related.
“Look, El. Isn’t she sweet? She fits right in my pocket! She’s the only one from her litter that hasn’t been adopted yet, all because she’s black. Stupid people and their stupid superstitions.”
I suppress a laugh, not wanting to bring up that Alex and his stupid superstitions are the reason we’re in the situation we’re in.
“She’s cute,” I say, giving the cat a little pet between her ears. She purrs, snuggling close when Alex brings her to his cheek to rub against her fur. “I don’t think she’ll have a hard time finding a home today.”
“She’s got one! She’s coming home with us.”
“I’m sorry, I must’ve misheard you,” I say, sticking a finger in my ear and wiggling it around. “I could’ve sworn you said that the cat was coming home…with us?”
“Of course she is,” he coos between kisses to the cat’s wet nose.
“She’s perfect. No wait, she’s purrrrrrr-fect.
And she loves me! I’ve already named her.
Scarlett, because of her eyes. I’ve never seen a cat with anything other than green eyes before.
And look at how she lets me carry her around like a human baby.
Scarlett is a little love monster, and she’s ours. ”
He brings the kitten close so that their noses touch, the black void of fur mewling softly as she paws at his face.
“Alex, you’re a pro hockey player. You’re on the road for like, half the year. Who is going to take care of the cat when you’re out of town?”
“Her other Daddy, duh. You’ve only got, what? Eight away games? Nine at the most? And your season is already halfway over. You’ll take care of Scarlett while I’m on the road, and the two of you will FaceTime me every night. It’ll be perfect.”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“So the cat—”
“Scarlett,” he interrupts.
“Right. Scarlett. She’s going to live with you?”
“I mean, yeah,” he shrugs. “I filled out the adoption paperwork already, and no one else has been interested in her yet. I think they might let me take her home tonight. I’ll just have to go out and grab a few things.
A carrier, food, a litter box. I should probably get one of those robot boxes that scoops the poop for you, because let me tell you, Scarlett might be small, but her poops are powerful and smelly.
You might want to think about getting one for your place, too. ”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to shove off some of the hurt building in my chest at the cool and casual way Alex seems to plan things out.
He’s so sure that when this is all said and done, we’ll be totally okay with just being friends.
Enough so that he wants to co-parent a tiny kitten with me.
Meanwhile, I’m already anticipating the devastation I’m bound to feel when Alex is ready to move on. I don’t know if I’ll be able to breathe around him when he inevitably breaks my heart, let alone share a pet.
“How about this? You take Scarlett home, and when you go out of town, I’ll stay at your place and watch her. That way she doesn’t have to be shuffled back and forth across the city.”
“Hmmph. I guess that makes more sense,” he says, wrinkling his nose as he mulls it over.
Wanting to move on before this cat thing becomes a bigger conversation that neither of us are ready for, I take Scarlett from Alex’s hands, placing a gentle kiss on her head before depositing her back into the kitten play pen at our feet. It’s distraction time.
“Did you see the goats, Goat?”
“What? No! Oh my god, El, we have to go see the goats!” I swear, he jumps five feet into the air out of sheer excitement.
He nearly gives me whiplash when he grabs me by the hand and yanks me in the direction of the farm animals, but fuck it.
Alex’s excitement is contagious and it crashes over me in waves, making me feel warm and delighted from the inside out.
We snag two mats side-by-side near the back, and I glance over at Alex sitting criss-crossed, his knees bouncing like butterfly wings while we wait for our instructor to release the baby goats.
Everything about him is pure sunshine, radiating joy and sugar and rainbows from every pore.
He has an intoxicating zest for the little things in life, and I want to be around it all the time.
I want to tell him that I want to be around him all the time.
I want to kiss him. Hold him. Keep him.
Its so not fucking fair.
“Welcome to Love Story Goat Yoga, hosted by the San Francisco Redwoods! My name is Indigo and I will be leading you through your practice this morning. Today’s lesson is all about relaxation, connection, and laughter.
The goats are our little helpers today. They’re here to help us to stay present in the moment and to remind us not to take ourselves too seriously.
They may nibble on your shoelaces or hop onto your back, and that’s all part of the fun.
If any of them are feeling particularly cuddly, feel free to relax and enjoy the moment. ”
Indigo instructs us to close our eyes as we begin our practice, but I can’t help but keep one eye open, my gaze on Alex as he arches and rounds his back with each breath.
I’m starting to think that Goat is the best nickname I could have given this man.
Since I’ve met Alex, he’s been my reminder to not take life so seriously and to live in the moment.
With his glittering hair accessories and Franny always at his side, he’s like a cool breeze on a summer day, encouraging me to take a moment and appreciate the life happening all around me.
I could learn to be more like Alex—to live in the moment, to not think so hard about the future and the dread that comes with endings.
I may be his gay sex guru and his good luck charm, but Alex is my goat yoga, my relaxtion space, my happy place. Even if it’s only temporary.
So as we flow through the movements and enjoy the pitter patter of baby goats frolicking between mats and on our backs, I keep my eyes on my man, enjoying the view while it’s still mine.