9. Mads #3
He shook his head sadly at me. “I left my old Railers jersey here last time and couldn’t find it in the closet, so I checked the laundry in the second bathroom, because you know you never remember to empty it. I found a load of stuff in there—couple of jerseys, some boxers. They’re not yours.”
“They are,” I lied, thinking back to when the hell I would have used the second bathroom. The only one who ever set foot in there was… shit.
“Dad,” Ryker began, oh-so-freaking patiently. “Unless your name is Rowe and your number is ninety-four, then they’re not yours.”
“He’s not… I don’t…” There it went again; my capacity for rational speech was out the window.
“Then there was the text.”
“What text?” This was getting worse by the minute. Ryker knowing about Ten was something I’d wanted to manage; drip-feed him the information.
“The one Ten sent about the blowjob and then signed it ‘Suck you later, J,’ with like twenty kisses.”
Oh fuck. I was scarlet. “I didn’t want you to find out this way,” I said. “Ten isn’t out, he’s—”
“Is it good?” Ryker asked.
I balked at the question, and my dismay must have been written on my face.
Ryker snorted a laugh. “Not the sex, Dad. I meant are you and him happy? Because Mom and Martin are happy, and I want to see you the same way in your old age.”
I caught the twinkle in his eye and poked at his chest. Then I sobered a little. “You think I’m too old for him?”
How the hell I thought asking my teenage son a question like that would help, I don’t know, but out it came. I waited with nervous tension in my chest.
“Martin is years older than Mom,” he said matter-of-factly. “Is it serious?”
“I love him,” I said without thought. “We’ve been going slow. I want more now, but it’s difficult. He’s not out—you can’t tell anyone.”
“I wouldn’t do that, but you realize if he comes out he’ll be the first one to do that in the NHL? I hope that goes okay for him, because I like Ten. He has this awesome Butterfree that he evolved.”
“I have no idea what you mean, but that’s a good thing, right?”
“Give me your phone, Dad,” Ryker asked, holding out his hand. I passed it over to him, and he typed in my code.
“How did you know my code?”
“You use my birth date, Dad,” he said, with that duh expression only a technologically savvy teenager could muster. He clicked a few buttons, then held it still for a moment. “Okay, there you go. Pokémon.”
“I don’t want that on my phone—”
“Dad you have to get down with the kids like me and Ten.” He couldn’t help smirking.
That earned him another poke, then an out-and-out wrestle that ended up with us on the floor.
The door to Ryker’s bedroom slammed open and Ev stood in the entrance. “What the hell?” he said, staring at the two of us sitting on the floor.
I glanced at Ryker, who nodded. I was supporting him, there for him. Like the very best defenseman I could be, I had his back.
“Grandpa,” he started with confidence. “I’m not getting an agent. I’m staying in school, working on my game, aiming for the draft, I might even go to college, and I’m getting Dad to run me to the airport this afternoon. I have a history paper to get done.”
Ev looked like a goldfish, and I wanted to say that, but I had to stay the grown up here.
Ev crossed his hands over his chest. “I’ll take this to court,” he threatened, looking right at me.
Then I couldn’t help it. I snorted a laugh and had to hide it behind my hand. Somehow, I’d regressed, and I wondered if the Pokémon game’s influence worked that fast. When Ev didn’t move, I pulled the cloak of adulthood more firmly around me and levered myself off the floor.
“I’ll see you out,” I said in my politest voice.
“Ryker?” Ev said, and there was a touch of anger in his voice. “You’re listening to him? He’s a loser who didn’t even last eight years in the league.”
Ryker came to stand next to me, and we bumped shoulders. “He’s my dad.”
Which was how it came about that we saw Ev off the property. Then we watched an old game with yours truly in fine defensive form, and drove to the airport.
The last thing my son said to me as I stood by the car was a very heartfelt, “Love you, Dad.”
Sometimes simple words like that have the power to knock you to your knees. “Love you too,” I called. “Play hard. Keep your head up.”
“Always,” he shouted, and pushed into the terminal.
I drove home with music blasting and the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders. I’d rocked that father stuff and I was the best dad in the entire world, or at least it felt that way.
I was back well before Ten was due over, and excitement filled me at the thought of telling him what Ryker and I had talked about, and also teasing him for leaving his dirty wash in my hamper.
Yes, it was serious, yes, I wanted Ten as much as breathing, and yes, I was falling completely head-over-heels in love with him. I wrote a quick text to Casey about what had happened with Ryker. She sent me back a smiley face and a simple thank you.
There was nothing to thank me for. Not really. I was just doing my job.
And now I really wanted to kiss Ten, and talk to him, and make love to him, and he couldn’t get there soon enough.