10. Jon
CHAPTER 10
JON
While I enjoyed a white Christmas, I was grateful for no snow this Christmas Eve, as it allowed all my teammates to park in my driveway and on my lawn. The annual party was easy to set up—everyone brought a dish, dessert, or beverage, a small kid’s present if they were bringing a child, and a white elephant gift. All the kids got random good presents, and we spent time eating, unwrapping, and stealing each other’s awful presents.
Drake was a saint, from helping with the pre-party cleaning, to being out there in the cold parking everyone, to organizing the food while I played host. Made an easy process even easier.
There was one deviation from the script this year, though. Both Alfie and Ebba had mentioned to me that they were grateful for a Christmas Eve party because they were horribly homesick for Sweden this time of year. I kind of understood. I’d grown up in North America and my mother was Canadian, but my dad and the other Swedish players would take turns being Saint Nick on Christmas Eve to show up at each other’s houses to surprise us kids, and our house hadn’t been an exception. I’d grown up with a lot of the Swedish traditions.
Alfie and Ebba didn’t have kids, but I figured the other children in the house wouldn’t mind a visit from Saint Nick, so halfway through the night, I stole out to my very frigid shed and donned a Santa suit and beard and waltzed back in. The hardest part was trying to maintain a Norwegian accent in Swedish. Especially given that my Swedish accent was American-tinged.
Still, the look on Ebba and Alfie’s faces made the stunt worthwhile. They were both so incredibly happy and Ebba was in tears with laughter. And the kids at the party? They were screeching with joy, especially since they all got another round of gifts, since what Santa doesn’t bring presents?
When the night wound down, and they were getting ready to head home, Ebba pulled me into a hug. “Thank you. A little touch of home.”
“The least I can do.” I gave her a squeeze and patted Alfie on the back. “Your turn next year. I’ll let you borrow the suit.”
He laughed at that.
Ebba gave Drake a hug, too, and switched to English. “You take care of him. He’s a treasure.”
“I know,” he said. “And I will. Promise.”
God, my heart. “I’m not?—”
Alfie shushed me. “Don’t argue with Ebba on Christmas.” His smile was bright. “God Jul, Jon.”
“God Jul,” I called after them.
Drake wrapped an arm around my waist. “You are a treasure,” he said. “And don’t argue with guests.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “You’re not a guest,” I said before my brain caught up with what I was saying .
Both of his eyebrows lifted. “Oh?” There was a hint of a smile on his lips. “Tenant, then? Roommate?”
Fine. I’d say it. “Boyfriend.”
“Ooooh. Boyfriend.” He pulled me close and stole a kiss. “Don’t argue with your boyfriend.”
Mac slapped me on my back and pushed a little yelp out of me.
“Kid’s right. Don’t argue with him.” Then Mac was gone, out the door, too, leaving me startled and laughing out of sheer reflex.
Drake was grinning like he’d won the jackpot. Maybe we both had.
After everyone headed home, I grabbed my cell phone and jiggled it at Drake. “Going to call my parents.”
His eyebrows rose. “This late?” It was almost midnight.
“Well, they’re in Vancouver, so…”
“Right. Time zones. Duh.”
I chuckled, then dialed, and my father answered.
“Hej Pappa, God Jul.”
“God Jul, son. Hur m?r du?”
I laughed, because the answer to that was nearly always the same. “Bra, bra, du?”
“I’m fine, so’s your mother, but I’m sure she’ll fill you in on all those details later. Team’s doing well, I see. Beautiful goal the other night.”
Of course Papa watched every game of mine that he could. “All I had to do was put my blade down. That was all Drake.”
And of course Papa disagreed. “Williams certainly was a major component, but I saw your backcheck and passing to set that up. For someone convinced that they’re not a good skater, you flew up the ice.” Humor laced his words.
I rolled my eyes, paced from the kitchen to the living room and flopped onto the couch. “That’s not good skating, that’s fast skating. Anyone can do that.” I sounded more like a teen than an adult.
“Jon.” His admonishment was gentle and full of love. “You know that’s not true.”
I sighed. “Okay, yes. I helped set the play, and I knew where I needed to go if it worked, but it was Drake who made that happen. I don’t think there’s another guy on the team who could’ve gotten around their D like he did.”
“That’s better,” he said. “And yes, you’re right. It’s also good to see Williams get his swagger back. Kid’s going to be quite the star in a year or two.”
Drake, puttering around the kitchen called out, “It’s kind of rude to talk about someone in a language they don’t understand.”
I gave Drake a look, and said, “I’m telling my father that goal the other day was all you, that’s all.”
“It was not! You’re the one that set up the breakout and got to the net! That was all you!”
In my ear, my father started laughing. “Give him the phone for a moment.”
I stood, paced to the kitchen and held out my phone to Drake. “My father wants to speak to you.”
That made his eyebrows arch so high, I thought they might fly off his face, but he took the phone. “Hello, sir.” A pause. “Gunner.”
Yeah, Papa hated being called sir. Absolutely convinced he was just some dude, not a hall-of-famer everyone looked up to.
“No, I know.” Drake’s gaze met mine. “He’s so smart out there.” The smile that slid onto Drake’s face lit up my world. “Yes.” Another look at me. “I will. Thank you, Gunner. ”
Then Drake handed the phone back to me. “Your dad’s nice.”
“Mmmhmm.” I put the phone back to my ear. “Papa.”
“You hear that? Your papa is nice.”
I stuck my tongue out at Drake, then spoke. “I’ve never ever said you weren’t!”
That got me another bark of laughter, then Papa sobered. “Your Drake is nice, too.”
I took a deep breath. “I know. Papa—” I paused. “You know when you met Mom…”
“Oh,” he said. “Jon.”
“Yeah. Only, I don’t know what I’m going to go when…” I waved my hand, fully aware that he couldn’t see me, but Drake could, and the latter was looking at me with creased brows. But Papa understood. He knew Drake would get called up eventually.
“Jon,” he said. “You’ll do what your heart tells you to do. You’ll do what you need to. If you love him like I love your mother, you’ll walk off the end of the world for him.”
I turned away from Drake as moisture welled in my eyes. “Yeah, it’s like that.”
“Good,” Papa said. “You deserve someone who makes your heart sing.”
My laugh had a little choke to the edge of it. I knew Drake was watching me, but I didn’t turn around until I was sure I wasn’t going to lose it. When I did, I smiled—and he relaxed.
“Speaking of your mother—” Papa said.
Then Mom’s voice sounded in my ear. “So, tell me about this young man of yours!”
This time, my laugh was higher. And then I expounded on all Drake’s virtues—in English—and watched him blush, then drop his head into his hands .
“Okay, okay, you can go back to talking in Swedish.”
“Mom’s Canadian.” I said as I sat back down on the couch.
He threw his hands up and headed back into the kitchen to snag a leftover cookie.
“I’ve driven him to sweets,” I said to Mom.
“You’re just like your father.”
Our conversation after that was more about family—how my cousins and my sister were doing. Sofia wasn’t with them this Christmas, but with her partner’s family. Then Mom filled me in with the various goings on of neighbors and funny stories from Papa’s charity events. “You need to come out here this summer. Your father and I would love to see you. Bring Drake, too.”
I didn’t know if Drake had summer plans. I didn’t know if we’d even be together by summer, what with him likely back on the Lions roster by then. I didn’t say that, though. “The bar?—”
“Can take care of itself. Aren’t you always praising Ella? Saying you should see if she wants to buy in?”
I scratched the back of my head. “Okay. We’ll see what we can swing.”
“Good. I want to meet this man of yours. There’s only so much you can glean from pointless interviews about getting pucks deep and playing on your toes.”
I laughed, because Mom knew. She’d had years of listening to Papa answer media, and not much had changed in terms of canned answers.
We chatted a little longer, then I wrapped the conversation up and ended the call, since it was now past midnight, and while we had Christmas off, we’d be back at it the day after.
And I had a little planning to do for a few days after that—because Drake’s birthday was coming up and I wanted to finally go on that dinner date we’d meant to go on before we’d fallen into bed.
Evidently, Drake also had more plans for tonight, because he came to a halt in front of me, hands on his hips. “You done?”
I peered up at him. “Yeah.”
“Good. Because It’s Christmas, and there’s a package I want to unwrap.”
I burst out laughing at the cheese in that line. Absolutely ridiculous when combined with his try at a leering expression given those innocent blue eyes and that curly blond hair. Like the elf they put on shelves trying to be sexy.
The joy in me shook my whole body, and I had to pull my knees to my chest. I ended up sideways, trying to gulp for air as tears caught in the corners of my eyes.
Drake sputtered into laughter and ended up kneeling by the couch. We both calmed down, but then I snickered and said, “Package,” and we were both gone again.
“God,” Drake said, as he wiped his eyes. “I fucking love you.”
My breath caught. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He put his hands on his thighs. “Yeah. Merry Christmas, Jon. I love you.”
I tipped myself upright. “That’s the best present I could get.”
The way Drake looked at me… Felt like my chest might burst open from happiness. “Yeah?” he said again, this time with a grin that was twinkling more than the lights on the Christmas tree.
Fuck yes. “C’mere.” I beckoned him forward with my index finger and when he was close enough, pulled him into a hard kiss that I hoped left no questions about how I felt. But just in case, I spoke between devouring his lovely mouth. “I love you, too.”
“Oh. Good. Does that mean you’ll take me upstairs and unwrap me?”
I smiled against his mouth. “Absolutely.”
Unwrap. Taste. Feel. Fuck. Love. I did all I could to make Drake understand just how much I loved him.
The day before Drake’s birthday, we played at home, thank goodness. No road trip meant I could plan the next day carefully. I was utterly grateful the scheduling had worked out to my advantage. As it was, today had been nice so far—one of those uneventful late December days. Cold and gray. The roads were dry, but that could change. There was a hint of smoke in the air, and that made it feel like it might snow.
After our morning practice, we took my truck over to the bar. I had some end-of-the-year bookkeeping to do and wanted to make sure we were all set for New Year’s Eve, especially since we’d play a game that night, too.
New Year’s Eve was one of Hideaway’s busiest nights of the year, since we were a safe place for local queer people. I’d witnessed more kisses and proposals on the last night of the year than I could count. It was always a night full of hope and music, dancing, laughter, and love.
This year, after the game, I’d get to experience that with Drake, with my boyfriend. That thought was enough to make me giddy.
But for New Year’s to be a success, I needed to do a little work, especially since tomorrow was all about Drake. “ Are you sure you don’t mind hanging out while I do paperwork? I could drop you at the house.”
“It’s fine.”
I couldn’t tell his tone, I hazarded a quick glance over, but his expression was unreadable, too. “You okay?”
“Huh?” He shook himself. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. No, I love the bar. It’s just…” He trailed off, and the silence stretched out for longer than I liked before he heaved a sigh. “Jerkface messaged me to wish me a happy birthday.”
“Ah, fuck. I thought you had him blocked?”
“I did.” He shook himself. “I shouldn’t let it get to me.” He ticked points off on his fingers. “Number one, he got the date wrong. Two, he disregarded my boundaries. Three, he’s an asshole. Four—” He paused and dropped his hands to his lap. “Four, I’m here with you and we’re going to the bar. Red Dog said next time he and I were both there, he’d play a game of pool with me.”
Oh God. I bit my lip as I turned onto the road that led to the bar. “Don’t bet on that game. Red Dog will want you to, and then he’ll clean your wallet out.”
“Is he that good?”
I huffed a laugh. “Oh yeah. He’ll pretend he isn’t at first, but that man must’ve been a pool shark in his past.”
A few moments later, I pulled my truck into the farthest spot from the door. Red Dog’s Indian was with a pack of other bikes I recognized from Red Dog’s club. Bunch of cars in the lot, too. Pretty nice crowd for a Sunday afternoon.
Indeed the place was packed, and over the loud conversations about the football game on the TVs, Merrick called out “Jonny boy!” and there was even more noise as various people called my name. I saw Drake smiling when Red Dog gestured to him to join the crew.
I caught his elbow. “Don’t lose all your money! ”
He laughed. “I won’t,” he said, then kissed me. Just a peck, but on the lips and in public. Sure, we were in a queer bar, so no worries there, but it was my queer bar so the hooting and hollering had my face uncomfortably warm in no time flat.
I headed to the end of the bar where Lorelei, one of my weekend bartenders, was serving. She was an older white woman with hair that changed color at whim. Like Ella, she took no shit from anyone.
Ella was busy at the other end, near Red Dog’s crew—and Drake. She said something to Drake, and I took a moment to drink in his smile as he bantered back.
“That young man really has you taken, doesn’t he?” Lorelei said. She handed me a glass of water.
“What? I mean…yes?” Embarrassment crept back into my body. “I guess it shows, huh?”
“Honey, you look at him like he’s your moon.”
Well, shit. I scratched the back of my head. “He’s something else.”
“You’re something else, too.” She shook her head. “You two almost make me wish I were in my twenties again.” She paused. “But then I’d be Larry, and I have less than no desire to be him again.” She smiled. “Besides, Stephen has been amazing.”
Stephen was her latest boyfriend. A truck driver for a local company. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now, and you.” I pointed to the back office. “Need to go check on stuff for New Year’s.”
She scoffed. “You only love me because I keep this place sane during the rush.”
“Well, yes. That and your stunning personality, beauty, and your vast knowledge of cocktails.”
She laughed. I gave her a wave and headed into the back. It took me less time than I thought to wrap up the books for the year. We were all set for supplies as far as I could tell. Tomorrow, we’d get a delivery of beer and spirits, and the remaining supplies we needed for a killer party. The DJ was a regular, and I’d hired a few extra hands for the night—all folks that had worked the party before.
I was always nervous about big events here. Part of it was business—these things were easy enough to screw up—but part was also that underlying worry about gathering that many queer people into one location. The Hideaway was off the beaten path, yes, but not unknown. College kids found us. Businesspeople found us. Every so often a bigot showed up—and it only took one with ugly intent to turn a party into a tragedy.
But celebration was defiance, so we would dance and sing and drink and party into the night.
When I headed back out into the bar, I stopped to soak in the surroundings. This place had come a long way in the years since I first stepped into it, and then took over. We operated in the black. We had regulars. We had good staff. This place practically ran without me.
Which was good, since the Otters did take most of my time during the season, as they should. And Drake was occupying more and more of my free time. When he got recalled to the Lions—I shook my head to clear it. We’d cross that bridge. In the meantime, there were things I could set into motion to make sure the Hideaway was properly cared for in the years to come, whether I was here or not.
Hockey was a game where you lived in the moment, but you needed to be able to see a couple moves ahead. I had a sense of game flow and what plays might happen, both on and off the ice.
That moment, standing at the back of the Hideaway, watching Drake try to beat Red Dog at pool while Ella and Lorelei slung drinks at the bar and a football game flashed on the screens—well, it felt like one of those moments where I knew what was coming.
I didn’t know exactly when it would happen, but change? I felt that in my bones.
I suppose that pensive nature of mine—my need to plan—had me more quiet than usual during our ride back to the house. Drake filled my silence with the tale of him beating Red Dog at pool on a very lucky shot, and some of the other antics of Hideaway’s patrons. When we got into the house, he pulled me into his arms.
“Hey, everything okay with the bar?”
I leaned into his warmth and wrapped my arms around him. “Mmmhmm. Everything’s set for New Year’s.”
He and I stood like that in the foyer for a while. Thor rubbed against our legs and Loki squawked from the platform on his scratching post.
Drake chuckled. “Snack time for big kitty.” But he didn’t move. “Do you need to talk?”
I pressed my nose against the crook of his neck and inhaled the clean smell from his shower gel. “It’s almost midseason.”
He pulled back a little and eyed me. “You think the Lions are going to call me back up.”
“I know they will. It’s a matter of when.”
He took my hands in his and kissed each one in turn. “Pittsburgh’s not that far. We’ll figure things out.”
Which meant he wanted to keep this going when that happened. Weight off my shoulders. “I’m glad you want to figure things out.”
His brow creased for a moment, then he chuckled. “Of course I want to. ”
“I mean—” I shrugged. “I’m an old man who’s about to get older. I’m sure a hot guy like you could—” He tickled me. “Hey!” I danced away, laughing.
He regathered me into his arms. “There is no one like you, Jon. No one on this planet I’d rather be with.”
Well, shit. “I guess that’s a good thing, eh?”
His laugh was exasperated. “Come on, let’s get a nap before we have to leave for the game.” Then he pulled me upstairs.
We lost the game in overtime, and that was probably the first sign that the next twenty-four hours wouldn’t go the way I’d planned them. The second sign was the three inches of snow that had fallen while we’d been in the arena, with more accumulating as we walked out.
We had to be careful navigating the parking lot in our dress shoes. Drake wrinkled his nose. “Was it supposed to snow?”
“A little, I think. A dusting?”
Drake climbed into my truck. “This is not a dusting.”
It absolutely was not. The flakes were big and falling fast, and there was already a Winter Storm Warning in effect. Somehow, the weather had gone from less than a half an inch to eight to twelve inches in the hours we’d been in the arena.
The traffic on the roads home was light, which was good, since they were a fucking mess. Even Route 30, which should’ve gotten some attention from the plows, was a nightmare. I was glad to have the truck—with relatively new tires, too .
“Fucking hell,” Drake muttered as we passed a car struggling to make it up one of the hills. “This isn’t good.”
I grunted and focused all of my concentration on getting us back to the house. It was easier once we’d gotten off the main roads. The back roads were completely untreated, and if you didn’t know how they went, they might have been hard to drive, but the truck packed the snow down well enough to get reasonable traction, and I knew every curve. I had to drive slowly, so it took a while, but I got us back to the house, safe and sound.
Still, once I turned the engine off, my body shook, and I slumped back against the driver’s seat. Drake blew out a breath. “This is wild,” he said, looking around at the snow that was still coming down. “Holy shit.”
“I don’t want to do that again,” I murmured. “Not for a while.” I pushed open the door. “Let’s get in where it’s warm.”
The cats sniffed at the snow we dragged into the foyer, where we shed our coats and shoes. My socks were damp, and I hated that, so I took them off right there. “Going to throw these in the laundry and change into something more comfortable.”
Drake followed me—he’d moved some of his things into my bedroom, since we spent every night since our first in my bed. The sex was awesome, but we both had confessed that we liked sleeping with each other. The cats approved, too, having all their humans in one room.
And Drake was very much one of their humans. He was, at least for now, my human, too.
After we’d changed into sweats, I waved my hand in the direction of the kitchen. “Tea?”
He chaffed his hands together. “Please.”
The truck had been warm and the house was fine, but there was something about tonight that was icy—the snow, the loss—I didn’t know what.
As I waited for the kettle to boil, I looked out into the backyard. There was only white and dark. Snow and the night. There had to be four or five inches by now, and it showed no signs of stopping. The weather app on my phone had dark blue bands over the area and we were now under a Blizzard Warning.
There went any plans I had for tomorrow. Well, not true—just the parts that I’d planned outside of the house. “I had a dinner reservation for tomorrow,” I said. “For your birthday.”
Drake pulled two mugs out of the cabinet, and one of the evening blends of herbal tea I kept around. “Oh,” he said. “So it’s your fault it’s snowing?” He almost deadpanned that, but the twitch at the corner of his lips gave him away, and it only took me giving him a look for the grin to appear. “Kidding. But at this rate, we’re never getting that date.”
“Even the weather conspires against us.” I shook my head and poured water into the mugs. We settled in on the couch with our mugs and a blanket, and in no time, had two cats joining us. “I had plans , too. There’s a French place in Pittsburgh…” I waved at the windows. “We are not driving to Pittsburgh tomorrow. The Turnpike might be fine, but the roads around here and in the city are going to be a mess .”
Drake put his mug on the coffee table and snuggled up against me. “An entire day lazing with you sounds like the perfect birthday.”
Yeah, that wouldn’t be so bad. I sipped my tea, then wrapped my arm around him. “I did plan to make you breakfast. I guess I’m making lunch and dinner now, too. ”
“We can build a snowman.”
I blinked, grinned, and started singing “Do you want to…”
Fingers over my lips stopped me. “Don’t!” Drake said. “You’ll get that stuck in my head!”
“Okay, fine. I’ll let it go, then.”
“Ugh. If you weren’t holding a mug of hot liquid with Thor right there, I’d tickle you.” Still, Drake brushed over the sensitive spot on my side.
“So glad you’re concerned about the cat,” I took another gulp of tea. “And now I know where I fall in the pecking order.”
“Pretty sure Loki already told you that.”
He had a point. I set my mug down next to him. “Oh, Loki told me that years ago. Thor, too. But I thought I was a little higher on your list.
He shifted on the couch, and rotated so he could push himself up and kiss me. “You are very high on my list,” he whispered against my lips.
Holding Drake was so easy, and we fit so well together. “Yeah? You like me more than Thor? Loki? Chocolate pancakes?”
I got another kiss for my answer, then another. It didn’t take very long for Drake to go from snuggling against me to laying on top of me, his hard length pressing into my thigh. “I love you more than chocolate, cats, and coffee.” He took my mouth again, and I savored his spectacular kisses and his weight pressing me into the couch. “Come upstairs with me, and I’ll show you exactly how much.”
Well, I wasn’t one to say no to that .