Chapter 21
JAMIE
COOKIES WILL HELP
The water was hot on Jamie’s back as he scrubbed the sweat from his body. He’d gotten in an extra workout after their team meeting that morning, before the official practice and film session happening later that afternoon.
The meeting, which had been divided between reviewing the schedule for the Winter Classic with the team admin, and talking game strategy for their matchup against Minnesota, had left little room for interaction with his teammates.
Beyond a few claps on the back and nods from the guys, Jamie hadn’t been able to bring himself to linger.
He wasn’t ready to answer their inevitable questions.
He’d worked his ass off to get back to playing good hockey, only to fuck up less than a week into his return. And even worse, he’d probably messed things up for the only man who might actually stick around.
It had been a relief to lose himself in training, in the burn of his muscles.
He’d pushed himself on the bike until he was sweating, and moved through agility exercises in the gym.
One of the trainers had worked on a tight spot in his hamstring, and the dull, throbbing pain had allowed him to escape his thoughts. At least for a little while.
Tyler was due at the arena in ten minutes so they could meet with Sharon and come up with a plan for how to handle the pictures and subsequent articles that had come out overnight.
The photos were…Well, they were damning. Jamie looked like a brute. His relative size, looming over that fucking creep falling backwards, painted a condemning picture.
The articles themselves were mixed. Those who shared the videos–which showed the man named Dan reaching for Tyler first–portrayed Jamie as a valiant lover coming to his boyfriend’s defense.
The others were more of what he’d expected: questions about his sobriety, criticism of him being in a strip club, and the assumption that, based on his fight earlier in the season, Jamie had been the instigator of the whole thing.
What he hated, what had his blood fucking boiling, were the things people had written and commented about Tyler.
Jamie couldn’t believe the fucking audacity of people.
He knew there was a stigma about strippers.
In the past, he’d heard comparisons of someone’s partner to a stripper thrown around other locker rooms or on the ice as an insult.
Jamie toweled off. He wished he could wrap Tyler and Rowan up and hide them away in his house. He wished he could provide them with everything they needed to live a happy, peaceful life. He had more than enough to support himself–and he’d always wanted a family.
But would Tyler even want that? Setting his pride and independence aside, would Tyler even consider going all in with Jamie after the clusterfuck last night? Tyler had enough on his plate already. And now, because of Jamie, he was thrust into the public eye, facing a deluge of unwanted criticism.
Tyler was doing it on his own, carrying all of his responsibilities with a grace and poise that Jamie aspired to bring to his captaincy. Tyler was making ends meet, providing for his little family, one Jamie felt honored to play some tiny, peripheral role in.
He’d just slipped into jeans and a team quarter-zip when Mitch appeared, dressed down for their team meeting. “Stop avoiding me.”
Jamie winced, sitting down in his stall to put on his shoes. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Mitch sat beside him. “Are you going to meet with Sharon now?”
Jamie nodded.
“How’s Tyler?”
“Acting like everything is fine.”
“And you?”
“Fine.”
Mitch snorted. “Bullshit.”
Jamie glared at his hands in his lap. Fucking Mitch. “I’m embarrassed,” he admitted. “I don’t regret what I did, because, Mitchy, the way this guy was treating Tyler was fucking horrifying, and I had to do something.”
“I can only imagine, man.”
“I hate that people think I’m like that, though. Like I’m the kind of man who is out in the world starting fights with strangers.”
“You know the team doesn’t think that, right?”
“And the fans?”
Mitch went quiet, giving the question serious thought before responding. “They’re going to see you out on the ice, and they’re going to remember who you are, Sully. That’s all you can control. You’re a good guy. We all know that. And in the meantime, the team has your back.”
“Thanks, man.” Jamie slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
Mitch put a hand on his back. “Make sure Tyler knows you don’t care about this crap. Even when people seem unfazed, all this bullshit can get to them.”
Jamie nodded, shooting his friend a grateful smile. “Do you think it’s going to be okay?” He asked, not trying to hide just how fucking terrified he was that everything was going to fall apart. That just when he had everything he’d ever wanted, it was going to slip through his fingers.
Mitch nodded. “You got this. Both of you.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Tyler said.
His hand was warm, the soft skin of his palm pressed against Jamie’s callouses. Tyler stood next to him, wrapped in his yellow coat and lavender beanie, as they took the elevator up to the team offices.
He still couldn’t quite believe that Tyler was there beside him. It was too easy to imagine a world where they’d never met, or a world where Tyler refused to take a chance on him after their disastrous first meeting.
Everything had changed since then. Jamie was back in the lineup, back with the guys, back on the ice where he belonged. He’d found his game again. He had a man in his life.
Only now he couldn’t quiet the voice in his head that said he’d fucked it all up.
The elevator doors slid open, and Jamie squeezed Tyler’s hand. “Thank you for being here with me,” he managed.
Tyler nudged his shoulder with his head, and Jamie was reminded of how his mom had first described Tyler: a black cat covered in tattoos.
Fuck, Jamie didn’t want to lose him.
A minute later, he and Tyler sat across from Sharon, who’d greeted Tyler with the same detached politeness she used with all the Muskies players.
“So. Thank you both for coming in.” She looked up from her computer with a grim expression on her face.
“Thanks for taking the time,” Jamie said, shifting in his seat.
Sharon surveyed them, and then steepled her fingers on the desk in front of her.
“For now, the team has declined any requests for comments,” she started. “The man in the video is not pressing charges, and given that the footage in its entirety seems to exonerate you, I don’t think we’ll have any issues with law enforcement.”
That’s a small fucking relief.
“My job is to represent the Muskies organization and the players. While I have empathy for you in this situation, Tyler, I need to be clear on what my priorities are moving forward.” Jamie opened his mouth to protest, but she went on.
“While there is still a certain amount of buzz claiming Jamie as the aggressor, those arguments are going to lose steam as the full video continues to circulate online. What fans are fixating on now is why their captain, newly returned from injury and on the cusp of an important game for the team and the community, is spending his free time hanging out in strip clubs and getting into fights.”
Jamie clenched his jaw, indignant. “I’m not–”
“My professional advice is that you immediately put some distance between yourselves. Jamie, you deflect any questions about your relationship with Tyler. People are quick to judge, and in this case, the online response has been overwhelmingly negative.”
Jamie was already shaking his head.
“The Winter Classic is in a few days,” she continued.
“That is the organization’s focus. We’ll release a brief statement explaining that you came to a strangers’ defense, and then redirect their focus to you at practice, looking like yourself on the ice.
Show the fans you’re back and better than ever.
Show them you aren’t distracted by this situation.
Not only does that help the organization, but it helps Tyler.
If he’s no longer connected to you, he can return to a life without this kind of public scrutiny and criticism. ”
“You want me to–” Jamie began, sweat pricking on his skin. He turned to Tyler. “Unless you want–”
“No.” Tyler sat forward in his seat. “Jamie is my partner,” he said, his intense gaze fixed on Sharon. “I have no interest pretending otherwise.”
Jamie wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or kiss Tyler. He chest felt crowded with relief and hope but he was also in fucking disbelief. Jamie was supposed to be the one fighting for Tyler, and instead his boyfriend was fighting for him.
Sharon looked between the two of them. She sighed, her eyes closing.
“Nothing about this job can be easy, can it,” she muttered, before focusing back on Jamie and Tyler.
“In that case, I’d suggest Tyler not attend the Winter Classic in any formal capacity.
He could still go to the game, still join the team families in the suite if he wants, but not participate in the family skate or wear whatever coordinated outfit the WAGs have planned.
Keep him out of photos. Keep him away from you. ”
Jamie felt Tyler stiffen beside him.
“Tyler,” Jamie said, turning to look at his boyfriend. “I want you guys to be there, but–”
“But what? Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed by–”
“No–god, Tyler, it’s not that.”
“If having us there will be a distraction to you and your team, then we’ll sit this one out, okay?
I know how much this game means to you.” Tyler slid his fingers between Jamie’s where his hand gripped his knee.
Jamie felt his muscles relax, his body softening as he let Tyler’s hand–smaller, softer–cradle his.
“I’m in this for the long haul. There will be more games and more chances for us to celebrate how incredible you are. ”
Jamie was already protesting. “Everyone on this team gets to have a moment with their family out there on the ice!” His voice was too loud–he knew that, but it didn’t fucking matter, because the thought of getting out on that ice without Tyler by his side, without seeing Rowan’s toothy grin behind a helmet?
The thought of doing it without them made him sick.
“Yes, this game means everything to me, but so do you. I want to see the people I care about wearing my name proudly. I want to share it all with you.” He looked right into Tyler’s eyes then, finding comfort in his unwavering gaze.
“But I won’t sacrifice you and Rowan’s well-being just because I selfishly want you out there. ”
Tyler looked at him, lips slightly parted, seeming to search his face for something. The ring in his nose caught the light, drawing Jamie’s attention to his mouth. Fuck, he’d forgotten to kiss him that morning. What kind of idiot would forget to kiss a mouth like that?
He’d never make that mistake again.
Across from them, Sharon stood, reaching for a to-go thermos with the Muskies logo on the side. “I’m going to grab a coffee. You two take a minute.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Tyler asked the moment the door closed behind Sharon.
“What people are saying about you, I just…” Jamie pressed his lips together.
He wished his mind was sharper, wished that he was as good with words as Tyler was.
“I don’t think they’re going to stop, and what if this shit follows you and Rowan because of me?
All I wanted was to see you and I wasn’t thinking about what could go wrong.
It was selfish, and fuck, Tyler, I’m so sorry. ”
“Let me decide what’s too much,” Tyler said. “Taking care of Rowan, worrying about us? That’s my job.”
Jamie heard a distinct buzz from Tyler’s pocket, but they both ignored it. He looked at Tyler, hit by a sharp pang of longing that started in his throat and dropped down into his chest. “I want to worry about you, too,” Jamie whispered, his voice breaking at the end.
“Jamie,” Tyler started, but his phone vibrated again. “Dammit, hang on.” He fished it out of his coat and answered. “Hey, Sandra.”
Jamie watched Tyler closely, and saw the exact moment his face tightened with worry. “I’ll be right there,” Tyler said quickly. “Thank you. Tell him I’m coming.” He was halfway to the door when he hung up. He glanced back at Jamie, apologetic. “Rowan’s sick.”
“Oh, shit. Of course, go. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
Tyler nodded, dazed, and then, without looking back, he was gone.
“Is everything alright?” Sharon walked back into the office with her coffee, shooting Jamie a confused look.
“His son is sick,” Jamie said, feeling the frustration of the day catching up with him.
“I hope he’s alright,” she said, sitting down behind her desk. “What decision did the two of you make about the Winter Classic? Whatever you decide to do, the team will want to be prepared.”
“We didn’t.” He paused. “He wants to be there.”
And Jamie wanted them to be there, too. Tyler and Rowan. Fuck, he wanted it so badly.
He knew it was the selfish part of himself, the voice he had made a habit of ignoring. It was the part of him that he pushed down when he was with the team, when he was considering the needs of the guys around him first.
The team came first. Always.
Now, though, he’d tasted what it was like to have a partner. Tyler by his side at the Christmas party, Rowan trusting him enough to reach for his hand–it was the future Jamie had always wanted for himself.
He wanted that moment, out there on the ice–that family moment, with Tyler and Rowan by his side, proudly wearing his name.
He just couldn’t figure out how to have that and shield Tyler and Rowan from the harsh judgement of the world.
“For what it’s worth, that man seems to care about you.”
Jamie buried his head in his hands, making no effort to hold back a frustrated groan.
“Are you okay?”
Jamie looked at Sharon, who was watching him helplessly. He was past the point of pretending he wasn’t upset. He coughed to try to ease the tightness in his throat but what came out was a wet, wretched noise that sounded like he was crumbling from the inside out. “No, I’m not.”
She looked even more uncomfortable. “Is there…Can I do anything for you?”
“No.” To his horror, Jamie felt his eyes burn with unshed tears. He rubbed his eyes in a furtive attempt to stop the tears before they started.
Of course, it didn’t work.
Sharon fidgeted behind her desk. “I have cookies?”
Jamie sniffed, still rubbing at his eyes. Get your shit together, Jamie. “What kind?”
She opened a drawer. “Chocolate chip or Vanilla Wafers.”
“Vanilla, please.” He paused. “If you’re offering, that is.”
She frowned at him. “Will cookies help you stop crying?”
Jamie laughed, which unleashed another wave of tears down his cheeks. “Cookies will help.”