Chapter 11
JAMIE
BABA BARLEY
Jamie tugged at the hem of his red sweater, frowning at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He ran his fingers over his mustache, attempting to straighten a few of the stray hairs that refused to fall into place.
Fuck. He should have gone with the green quarter zip. Would Tyler think he was trying too hard? A sweater and black jeans felt casual compared to the suits Jamie wore to games.
They’d had a bit of milder weather, which had left only a few clumps of dirty snow at the base of the trees and exposed the brown grass in his moms’ neighborhood. Jamie dodged a crusted bank of ice at the edge of the sidewalk and jogged up the steps to his moms’ house.
He’d barely knocked on the side door when the interior door opened, revealing Tyler with Rowan on his hip, their brown mullets a mirror to each other.
“How’s it going, guys?”
Tyler’s smile was tired. “We’re good.”
Jamie held up a paper bag. “I brought presents. Can I show you?”
Rowan’s eyes got huge, and he squirmed out of Tyler’s arms. “Jamie, I want to see!”
Jamie had texted Tyler earlier, checking to see if he could bring them both some team gear to wear.
Tyler had emphatically told Jamie he didn’t have to, but had ultimately agreed.
Now, Jamie pulled out a kids-sized, green home jersey–one of his–and handed it to Rowan.
“I was thinking you could wear this, if you want.”
Rowan looked up at him, breaking into a big, toothy smile. “Is this yours, Jamie?”
Jamie nodded, feeling his chest warm.
Rowan touched the number three on the back, then the stitched letters above. “What does it say?”
“It says Sullivan, and then my number: three.”
“One, two, three,” Rowan counted with his fingers. “Papa, put it on me, please?”
Tyler helped Rowan pull the jersey over the thermal shirt he already wore. “You look good, kiddo,” he said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“So,” Jamie began, fishing the last two pieces of clothing from the bag, “I mean, obviously, you don’t have to take this if you don’t want to.
I just thought…” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Here’s one of my jerseys.
” He held up one of his jerseys that matched what Rowan was wearing.
“Or this.” He returned to the bag, pulling out one of his oldest team crewneck sweatshirts.
The team logo was faded, and he’d cropped it so, on his body, it hit a few inches above his bellybutton. “Thought you might like this.”
Tyler’s eyes brightened, his mouth curving up into a grin. “That,” he said, pointing to the sweatshirt.
Five minutes later, Jamie watched Tyler strap Rowan’s carseat into the back of his truck. Tyler’s hands moved quickly, although Jamie was having a hard time ignoring the way his black skinny jeans hugged his ass.
Once Rowan was situated with Bunny and a handful of blueberries for a snack, Jamie pulled out of the driveway.
“Jamie?” Rowan called from the back seat.
“Yeah, bud?”
“Can we listen to Baba Barley?”
Jamie glanced at Tyler. “What?” he whispered.
Tyler smiled, shaking his head as he pulled out his phone. “He means Bob Marley,” he said softly.
“Oh my god,” Jamie laughed, and something warm and fucking big tangled in his chest. “Yeah, we’ll get some Baba Barley for you.” To Tyler, he added, “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Once Bob Marley was playing, the rest of the drive was quiet. Rowan’s small voice sang from the back seat, and Jamie’s face ached from grinning.
They parked in the player’s garage, and Rowan clung tightly to Tyler’s hand as they walked into the practice arena. It was where the team spent a lot of their time, including meals, training, meetings, and some of their medical staff had offices there.
“Mr. Sullivan!” Tanya, the security guard, gave him a fist bump. “How’s the hand?”
“Cleared to skate this morning, so that’s good,” Jamie replied. “This is Tyler, and his son Rowan.”
Tanya practically beamed as she introduced herself. “Well, aren’t you all the cutest? Lovely to meet you both.”
Jamie led them down the hallway to the locker room. It was mostly empty at this time of day, but he knew Mitch and his teammate Sergei were bringing their kids to skate.
Jamie had done a poor job concealing how much he cared about this going well. Mitch had only teased him for a moment, before laying off with one of those smiles that said he saw right through Jamie. “It’s a sweet thing to do,” he’d said. “The kids and I will be there.”
More than anything, Jamie wanted to make sure Rowan had fun.
The boy was up in Tyler’s arms, watching his surroundings with those big, curious eyes. It was probably overwhelming, being somewhere new, but he seemed to be hanging in there.
When Jamie opened the locker room door, children’s laughter echoed off the low ceilings. Without thinking, he placed a hand on Tyler’s lower back, nudging him down the hallway.
Tyler looked back over his shoulder, his eyes wide.
Shit. Jamie drew his hand back. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a whisper. “I don’t know what I was–”
“It’s okay,” Tyler said, his brown eyes searching Jamie’s. “You just surprised me.”
“Sully!”
Mitch’s kids came running down the hall, followed closely by Sergei’s youngest daughter.
“Hey, gang,” Jamie said, smiling down at the gaggle of kids, who were already geared up in skates and helmets. He’d helped teach Stef how to skate last year, and now she toddled along on her skates just like her older siblings.
“Dad is making us stretch before skating,” Henri said, scrunching up her nose. “Stretching is boring.”
“Stretching keeps you from getting hurt.” Jamie didn’t try to hide his amusement. “Come on. I’ll put some tunes on and we can make it fun!”
Then, it was chaos. The younger kids ran circles around the adults. Jamie introduced Tyler to Sergei, who shook his hand with the sort of stoic, rough politeness Jamie was used to from him. Sergei’s teenage boys strapped into hockey gear as they exchanged conversation in rapid Russian.
It took a while to get Rowan in his skates and helmet, but Jamie and Tyler worked together. Once Rowan was geared up, Jamie and Tyler sat side by side and laced up their skates.
Jamie missed hockey. He missed the stench of the locker room after a game and the late night flights when all he wanted was to be in his own bed.
He even missed the crushing pressure that settled on his shoulders every time he stood in the tunnel before a game, waiting at the back for the rest of the team to hit the ice before he followed.
His first step on the ice was strong, decisive. An exhale fell from his mouth, and there was a sense of tangible relief at being back on the ice. Back where he belonged.
He didn’t go far, looping back around to offer a hand to Tyler, who still had Rowan in his arms. The kids, led by Henri, had formed a train, zipping around the ice while holding on to each others’ jackets.
Mila, Sergei’s wife and a retired figure skater, was doing effortless double axles along the walls, while her older sons battled for a puck in front one of the nets.
Jamie watched fondly as Tyler got his feet under him, and moved carefully along the side wall with Rowan in his arms.
“Faster, Papa!” Rowan’s cheeks were already pink, and his eyes were bright.
Tyler shook his head. “No can do, kiddo.”
“Please?” Rowan’s lower lip jutted out, absolutely adorable behind the helmet cage.
“How about I teach you how to skate?” Jamie circled in front of Tyler, holding out his hands.
Rowan’s little brows knit together. “Will I fall down?”
“Probably,” Jamie offered. “But my job is to be the captain, and the captain’s job is to keep everyone on my team safe.”
“Am I on your team?”
Jamie smiled. “Yeah, buddy. You’re a Muskie now.”
Rowan stretched his arms out, and Jamie reached for him, catching Tyler’s eyes over Rowan’s head. “I’ve got him,” Jamie said softly, hoping his words were enough to reassure Tyler that Jamie took the care of his son seriously.
When Tyler nodded and smiled, Jamie felt like he was on top of the world.
“Step, step, step, step,” Jamie said, holding tightly to Rowan’s body where he stood between Jamie’s spread legs. He glided forward slowly, keeping Rowan upright as he got used to balancing his weight on the skates.
Rowan was doing great, giggling when he slipped onto his bottom and learning to hold his arms out to the sides to help him balance.
“Okay, now,” Jamie said, checking that the ice was clear in front of them before returning his attention to Rowan. “You’re going to keep your knees soft–”
“Like mushy bananas,” Rowan interjected.
Jamie chuckled. “Like mushy bananas, and I’m going to give you a little push and see how it goes. I’ll be right behind you, every step of the way. Ready?”
Through the cage, Jamie saw Rowan’s brows tighten as he nodded his head. “I’m brave. I’m a Muskie. I’m ready!”
Jamie let out a whoop as he gently pushed Rowan forward, watching as he stayed upright for one, two three, four and–
“I got you.” Jamie caught the kid as he started to tip to the left. He picked Rowan up, shifting him to his hip so he could look at his flushed and beaming face. “Holy cra–cow, kid! You were cruising!”
“Yeah!” Rowan raised his fists, a huge smile on his face. His smile somehow grew when he looked back over Jamie’s shoulder. “Papa! Did you see me? Did you see? I’m a Muskie!”
Jamie spun on his skates, coming face to face with the beautiful man who wore Jamie’s cropped sweatshirt like it had been made for him. It hung from one of his shoulders, the arms too long, but it was a look Tyler pulled off effortlessly.
It was Tyler’s smile then, as he skated smoothly towards them, that left Jamie winded, the breath punched out of his chest. It transformed his whole face–eyes squinted, cheeks creased and dimpled–like there was so much joy inside him it had burst out all at once.
There was nothing calculated or practiced about it. It was honest happiness, and Jamie wanted to bottle it up in a jar to save, to treasure and protect it because he knew, he just knew that he was one of the lucky ones who got to see Tyler like this.
In a daze, Jamie handed Rowan over to Tyler, who listened with rapt attention as the boy described his first time on the ice.
Jamie just watched him, watched them, and he wished…
He didn’t know what exactly he wished for, only that it felt reachable in that moment.
Like if he asked, Tyler might share some of that happiness with him.
His gaze dropped to Tyler’s mouth, and fuck, he wanted to kiss him. He wished he could lean over and press their wet, cool mouths together.
A thought crossed his mind then. What if he’d just met Tyler at the coffee shop? What if he’d seen him, felt the organic pull of him, and asked him on a date?
It never would have happened that way. Tyler wasn’t Jamie’s type, hadn’t been until he landed in Jamie’s life with his adorable scowls and hard brown eyes that sometimes turned soft like browned butter.
He’d never liked tattoos on men before, but the dark ink on Tyler’s pale skin looked like it had grown there, like the artwork was a part of him.
He watched Tyler skate, Rowan laughing and clinging to his neck. Tyler’s hair fluttered around his ears, his lavender beanie perched on his head.
Jamie wanted him. His body fucking wanted him, to the point of distraction. But Tyler didn’t have time for dating. He definitely didn’t have time for someone like Jamie.
It seemed unlikely that Tyler, whose time was already stretched so thin, would understand that the Muskies were like a family.
If Jamie’s ex-boyfriends hadn’t been able to handle how much of Jamie’s attention was occupied by his team, it was hard to imagine this beautiful, vibrant man who deserved everything, settling for so little.
It was hard to imagine him settling for Jamie.