Chapter 10
TYLER
TOY VEGETABLES
Tyler didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do with the hockey player sitting on the floor in front of him.
He’d come all the way to the children’s museum, he’d played with Rowan, and he’d apologized, even though Tyler was pretty sure he was the one who owed Jamie an apology for the unanswered messages.
Then he’d looked Tyler in the eye and said: I’d stick around.
Seriously, who the fuck was this guy?
It was too much. Tyler wasn’t ready for a man like Jamie to say things like that to him. But still, there was something about him that had Tyler opening his mouth, had him admitting the gripping fear that he was failing as a father if he considered bringing a partner into their life.
And Jamie? This stranger–although he couldn’t even claim that anymore–had, with all the confidence and certainty in the world, assured Tyler that he was a good dad.
Tyler wanted to be the kind of parent who didn’t need anyone to tell him that. He aspired to be confident in himself, to be certain he was doing the right things for Rowan. But still, hearing it said out loud meant something.
Actually, it meant everything.
Across from him, Jamie bent one of his long legs, shifting his weight. Tyler tried not to stare at those thighs, at the body so different from his own he wondered if they were actually the same species.
Tyler wanted to know more about him. The curiosity gnawed at his throat, wanting to catalogue and document all the pieces of Jamie, to understand how he was built, the things that sustained him.
Even though Jamie wasn’t for him, couldn’t be, maybe Tyler could enjoy their time together.
Maybe, for a little while, he could just be a man in the company of another man.
“If you had a day,” Tyler began. “One that was all yours, what would you do?”
Jamie frowned. “At this time of year?”
“Yeah.”
Jamie slumped back, his heavy brow furrowed.
“If it was cold enough and the ice was good, I’d get my ice fishing hut set up out on the lake.
I’d grab a six pack of Spotted Cow, pick up a burger and cheese curds from Culver’s, put on some Brandi Carlisle, and fish.
Not sure if I’ll be able to manage to get it set up with this,” he paused, waving his splinted hand, “but it’s my favorite way to unwind in the winter. ”
“Really?” Tyler felt himself smile. “Fishing?”
“Ice fishing,” Jamie retorted. “It’s not the same.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Tyler was ravenous for more. “Chocolate or vanilla?”
“Chocolate.”
“Order at a Chinese restaurant?”
“Egg drop soup and General Tso’s Chicken.”
Tyler hummed. He was grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. “Good choice.”
“Go-to hype song?” Jamie asked, his own teasing smile catching the dim light.
““Naturally.””
Jamie barked out a surprised laugh. “Selena Gomez? Not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Honestly? Someone I’d never heard of.”
Tyler laughed then, letting his head fall back. Fuck, it felt good to do this. To have a playful conversation with someone.
Rowan marched back into the tree, his arms overflowing with large, toy vegetables made out of felt. “Papa, Jamie, I have your lunch,” he announced. He dropped the whole pile on the middle of the floor. “Papa, you get beets, and Jamie, you get carrots.”
“What about you?” Tyler asked, shifting forward to look curiously at the pile of pretend produce. “What’s your lunch?”
“I had cabbages,” Rowan said, looking at him like the answer was obvious.
Tyler saw Jamie cover his mouth to hide his grin, and he felt his own smile stretch his cheeks. “Of course,” he said. “Cabbage makes an excellent lunch.”
Tyler grabbed a beet, pretending to bite into it. Across from him, Jamie did the same.
It was odd, sharing this with someone else.
It was so outside of the scope of what parenthood was typically like for him.
These were the moments that belonged to him and Rowan.
Just the two of them. And now there was a large intruder with a blonde mustache licking his lips and humming like the felted carrot was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.
It felt domestic.
“I’ve got to head out soon,” Jamie said, and he sounded apologetic.
“Meeting with the doc for my hand. But,” he suddenly looked nervous.
“I wanted to see if you’d like to come with Rowan to the practice arena this weekend.
The team is home this weekend, and Mitch’ll have the kids there to give Layla a break.
I’m not sure if you know how to skate, but we have a ton of gear if you and Rowan wanted to try it. ”
Tyler blinked at him. It was…Fuck, this was exactly the kind of thing he was hoping to add to their life. Rowan had loved playing with Mitch and Layla’s kids.
“I work Saturday,” Tyler said, apologetic.
Jamie was nonplussed. “Sunday morning is off for them, if you’re up for it.”
“Rowan’s never skated,” he said. “Is that alright?”
“Of course,” Jamie grinned, a dimple divoting his cheek. “There’s nothing cuter than a kid learning how to skate. I’m a legend at teaching them. Helped teach all of Mitch’s kids.”
Tyler worried his bottom lip for a moment. “Is it safe?”
“He’ll be in a helmet,” Jamie reassured. “I’ll take care of him.”
Tyler believed him. He couldn’t explain why, but he trusted Rowan would be safe with Jamie. Something about this man who commanded such physical presence and strength also promised gentleness. Protection.
Tyler exhaled. “We’ll be there.”
Jamie’s face lit up with a pleased smile and Tyler felt something inside of him melt, just a little bit. “Thanks for letting me join you guys,” Jamie said. “I really had a great time.”
“It was good to see you,” Tyler said, like he was admitting something he couldn’t quite believe. “Rowan, can you say goodbye to Jamie?”
Rowan ran over from where he’d found a cloth baby doll in a corner of the hollow tree. “See you soon, Jamie?” He asked, looking between Tyler and Jamie.
Tyler’s heart broke, just a little bit. He gave his son everything, and yet he could see the way his blue eyes lit up at the possibility of having another loving grown-up in his life.
Just another reminder that he could try to give everything, and it would still never be enough.
“We’ll see him next weekend, kiddo,” Tyler said gently.
“Hug?” Rowan asked, his eyes on Tyler.
Tyler glanced at Jamie, who nodded deferentially to him even though his eyes were soft. “Ask him,” he said to Rowan, “and if he says yes, then you can hug him.”
Rowan turned to Jamie and threw his arms open. “Hug?” He repeated.
Jamie knelt down and opened his arms. “I’d love one, bud.”
Tyler had to look away as the hockey player circled his arms around his son’s small shoulders. He couldn’t stand to see the way Jamie watched him, his eyes holding questions Tyler wasn’t ready to answer.
Soft velvet dragged across Tyler’s bare, sweaty shoulder as he ducked through the black curtain into the dressing room.
Even if four years had passed since he’d set foot in The Blue Barn, everything about the strip club remained the same.
He’d picked up stripping on the weekends his junior year of college. The money had been too good to pass up, and he liked it. He loved to dance, and the hard, physical work required to maintain his strength and flexibility was a good balance to the rest of life.
When Tyler finally understood the reality of his expenses in Madison–especially knowing he needed to start saving for a long-term childcare solution for Rowan–he panicked.
He’d hoped the coffee shop job and delivering groceries would be enough to cover their living expenses.
He’d considered taking on another day job, but he didn’t want to sacrifice more of his time with Rowan.
Tyler had asked Sandra and Dotty if they’d be up for keeping Rowan’s baby monitor one night a week while Tyler worked a late shift at the club. It wasn’t ideal, but they were right downstairs in case Rowan woke up.
Tyler had been transparent with them about his work and his financial situation.
Even on a slow night, he’d make enough money dancing to double what he’d made each week delivering groceries.
To their credit, the retired women had met him with nothing but love and understanding.
“She’s a night owl anyway,” Sandra had said with a kind smile, pointing at Dotty.
“She can work on her crosswords with a hockey game on her laptop.”
He was still trying to figure out a way to thank them, to fully express his gratitude for how much they were helping him and Rowan.
“How’s the crowd tonight?” Tyler asked Gio, another dancer who went by the stage name George of the Jungle.
Gio sat at his station with a mascara wand in one hand and a vape pen in the other.
He had flawless brown skin, and wore his thick hair swept back from his face.
His body was bare except for a pair of tiny, glittering shorts, and his skin sparkled with the body glitter they were encouraged to wear.
He’d met Gio when he first started dancing at The Blue Barn in college, and had been relieved to see a familiar face when he returned.
Gio made a noncommittal noise. “Average. There’s a bachelorette party on the left who are on their second round of shots, and a few suits in the back who are repeats.”
Tyler wrinkled his nose. “Is Handsy Dan out there?”
“Thank fuck, no.” Gio shuddered. “He always did have a thing for you, didn’t he?”
Tyler tried to play off his indifference, but they both knew Gio was right.
Handsy Dan was the name the dancers had given a regular who’d been around for years.
He was an older man who sat in the back of the room, and had a nasty habit of getting handsy with the dancers and waitstaff.
Handsy Dan relentlessly propositioned the dancers for paid sex in the VIP room, but he wasn’t going to find anyone at The Blue Barn willing to risk their job or a solicitation charge.
Apparently, last year the dancers had brought up banning him, but he was an old friend of Eddie, the owner, and they were told to deal with him, whatever the fuck that meant.
Back when he was still in college, Tyler had shown up at work to find an envelope of cash at his station with a single white rose.
It wasn’t the cash itself that was the problem–he didn’t mind taking extra cash from customers.
There were some respectful regulars who understood the professional boundaries in place.
But when the other dancers had seen the flower, though, they’d warned him that the cash was from Handsy Dan. Then it happened again. And again.
Every time, Tyler gave the cash back.
Every time, he threw the flower in the nearest trashcan. Putting up with Handsy Dan was just a part of the job. Tyler was used to it.
He stood in front of his station mirror, pulling the sweaty bills from the waistband of the white jock he wore.
He took in the gold highlighter on his cheekbones, the precise eyeliner across his upper eyelids, and the mascara darkening his already thick lashes.
He surveyed his body: the toned, lean muscle he’d inherited from his mom’s side, the silly chicken tattoo on his left hip he’d let a friend do for practice, the dark hair trailing below his belly button.
It was odd, now, to do something so sensual with his body. Tyler barely had time to remember that he was an adult with sexual desires. He was finally coming out of the baby haze, when he’d been sleep deprived and so wrapped up in surviving that he’d barely considered his own needs.
He was starting to remember, now.
He counted the cash from his first solo stage dance of the night.
164 bucks–good for this time of night. He rolled the bills and stashed them in his backpack.
Before the night was over he would work the floor a few times, as well as join a few group numbers and perform another solo stage dance later.
He’d have to tip out the staff at the end of the night, but he wasn’t worried about that yet.
Tyler had moved through his individual routine as he always did.
The lights hot on his bare skin, the stage sticky under his hands and knees.
He was on autopilot, engaged only enough to make eye contact with the blurred faces in the audience and draw them into the fantasy he was creating.
Even though it had been years since he’d been on stage, the movements came back with ease, and Tyler used his time on stage to think through his to-do list for the upcoming week.
He needed to grab groceries–sponges, fuck.
He needed some new sponges. Maybe when Rowan was napping tomorrow he’d have time to sweep, and he needed to check the coupons for what meat was on sale this week.
Christmas was right around the corner, and Tyler had already been squirreling away time to work on a few homemade gifts for Rowan.
He was sewing a vest and a little backpack for Bunny out of an old, ripped pair of corduroy pants, as well as knitting Rowan a new hat with cat ears on top. He’d learned to knit and sew years ago, and it was both affordable and easy to work on during his breaks at work.
His mom would send them a package of goodies from Vermont, with thoughtful, handcrafted toys for Rowan.
Part of his motivation for picking up some nights at the club was to cover holiday expenses. This would be the first holiday he and Rowan had spent on their own, and he wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to create magic for Rowan.
He ran a towel over his sweaty hair, yawning.
“Troy, you’re up on the floor.” Freddy, their floor manager, poked his head into the dressing room. “George, you’re on stage in two.”
Tyler took a long drink from his water bottle and reapplied some clear lip gloss and deodorant. He pulled on the tiny pair of denim shorts the dancers wore out on the floor. He checked himself one last time in the mirror.
There he was. Troy, the alt-grunge, tatted dancer. For a moment, he wondered what Jamie would think of Troy. If his eyes would still darken, if he’d still say: I’d stick around, if he knew.
But there was no reason for him to find out. Even as Tyler got to know Jamie better, they were just two men who happened to meet, who now shared the connection of Jamie’s moms. Nothing more.
He stood up from his station, bumped his fist against Gio’s, and went back to work.