11. Mads #2
I tended to agree. The Railers were a new team, but we had depth, and we were going to rock this league so hard they wouldn’t know what hit them.
I was going to take great pleasure in watching my team take down both Boston and Florida, then taking Brady and Jamie out for dinner somewhere way too expensive and making them pay.
“My bad,” Jamie said, his voice less echoing. The noise of others in the background had faded a little, but he was still with other guys. “So, the Railers didn’t trade you…” He trailed away expectantly.
“Look, I didn’t want to do this over the phone,” Ten began, looking to me for support.
I placed a hand over his, and caught the approval in Brady’s expression. Yay me, I’d finally done something right.
“Do what, Ten? Jesus, kid, you’re freaking me out,” Jamie said. “Wait, I’m taking this somewhere quiet.” He kept talking as he walked, his voice increasing and decreasing with each breath as he moved. “Are you injured? Shit, Brady said your last game was brutal, but I haven’t watched it yet.”
“I’m not injured,” Ten started, and then stopped. “Can I talk yet?”
There was the sound of a shutting door. “Okay, I’m in the video room.”
“I’m gay, Jamie,” Ten said confidently, and I squeezed his hand.
“Oh,” Jamie said after a slight pause. “Okay.”
“Do you have any questions?” Ten asked as it went quiet. “Should we talk?”
“About what?” Jamie asked. “I’m not talking to you about sex.”
“Asshole, I meant about me.”
“Nope.”
Ten looked at me and shrugged. Even Brady looked confused.
“You’re not angry?” Ten asked tentatively.
“Angry about what?”
“About me not telling you?”
“No,” Jamie said immediately. “Why? Should I be?”
“Brady was.”
Another pause. “You told Brady?” Jamie asked. “What did he say? Don’t let him shout at you, Ten. He’s an arrogant, pushy asshole who’ll try to tell you what to do, but under it all he’ll be worried. He’s just crap at showing affection.”
Brady huffed. “I’m here, actually,” he announced.
Jamie didn’t even react to that. “I knew you would be,” he said. “Look, Ten, I don’t care who you fall in love with. I’m your brother and I want you to be happy. Am I pissed you haven’t told me? No. You must have had your reasons.”
“I was going to tell you next week when we were in Florida.”
Ten sounded so happy that Jamie was supportive, that Brady wasn’t beating me up again. Weird how sentiment hits you when you know someone really well and all you want is for them to be happy all the time. That was how I felt about Ten. That was what love was like, I guessed.
“So why did you move it up to today? Because Brady is there? You have a matinee game with Boston, right?”
Ten blew out a soft breath, and I went from squeezing his hand to lacing our fingers. I didn’t know if he wanted that reassurance, but I certainly needed it.
“Brady walked in on me and my boyfriend.” He looked at me as he said that.
“Okay, so you have a boyfriend. Cool.”
“I’ve had to tell management, and my agent, and the team is next after you and Brady.”
“Wait, did you tell Mom and Dad yet?”
“Yep, they’ve booked all three of their sons into the next Pride parade.”
“Cool,” Jamie said. “I’m up for that. Wait again, who are you involved with?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Is it another player?”
“It’s Mads.”
“Jeez, I thought you just said Mads.”
“I did.”
“Jared Madsen? That Mads?”
“Yeah.”
There was a very definite and prolonged sigh at Jamie’s end. “He’s a good guy,” he finally offered. “Tell him if he hurts you I’ll kill him.”
I tapped a finger on the counter to indicate that I wanted to talk. “Jamie, Mads here. I promise you, if I ever hurt Ten, you can take it in turns killing me.”
Silence. Why was there silence? I was feeling fidgety when the line remained quiet. Jamie was like that—the peacemaker, the thinker, the one who had these weird periods of quiet when he said very little in the way of anything at all.
“I love him,” I said to fill that space, and then, because it was as vital to me as my next breath, I unlaced our fingers and cradled Ten’s face.
“I love you,” I said as I stared into his beautiful eyes.
“I’m too old for you, I have a kid, and I have Ev on my back all the time.
I don’t rake in the big bucks anymore, but I do cook a mean omelet, and I love you, Ten. ”
Weird that my first declaration of love was with witnesses. Somehow it was important that I say it at that moment. As if saying it in front of his brothers would show Ten it was real. I hoped Ten didn’t think I’d cheapened the whole thing.
He didn’t. He rubbed a cheek against my hand, the silk of his hair on my fingers. “I love that you’re older than me, and I love omelets,” he said, “as long as there’s no mushrooms. And I love you too.”
Nah, he clearly didn’t think it was cheap or wrong for us to be doing this in front of his brothers.
No, it was actually Brady and Jamie who ruined the moment, making simultaneous gagging noises and then teasing Ten.
Leaving the three of them to talk was all kinds of easy.
They had things to say to each other, and I went to my bedroom.
This was my space. Personal photos, dark bedding, a gorgeous view over the lake from one window and the front gardens from the other.
The ceiling was tall, the bed huge, and there was plenty of room for two hockey players to stay in there.
So, I guessed this wasn’t my room anymore. And with that in mind, wanting Ten to be with me when I woke in the morning and when I went to bed at night, I began clearing out one side of the closet to make room for his stuff. This was a statement I was making—giving him space, making this permanent.
I could imagine his smile when he saw what I’d done made my heart expand in my chest. I was a sappy, mushy idiot over Ten, and I didn’t care who knew it.
Or, at least who in the family knew it. I wasn’t ready to be the one to expose Ten to the entire world, and we’d cross that bridge when we came to it.
“Breakfast,” Ten said from behind me, pushing his hands down past the waistband of my sweats. “I love you.”
I turned awkwardly, kissed him, and he hugged me so hard I couldn’t breathe at first; he had one hell of a grip.
“You know I need to tell the team,” he said as I held him close.
He was right; the Railers were a good bunch of guys, a family. I was convinced they would support him, and if they didn’t, I’d educate them. With my words, of course. Not my fists.
I’m not a Neanderthal.