Chapter Ten Mateo #3
Jamie still has a grip on my shirt, and he goes after me then, spinning us until my back hits the patio door hard enough to rattle the glass.
It's a shame he didn’t check me like this when he took me skating, but my mouth falls open and I barely remember the man who'd held my hand and kept his head turned away while I came all over myself.
His eyes don't leave mine, and I get hit with the most absurd battle of arrogance and need, and I don't know how much either has to do with me until he speaks.
"Hockey was the first love of my life. The first. Yeah, maybe my parents pushed me more than they should've, but the rink was home.
I wanted to be there more than I wanted to be with my family, or have a lazy weekend, or spend a private night with anyone.
I loved hockey with everything I was, and it loved me back.
Then it broke my heart, and I have spent years desperate for another chance.
I've said yes to every opportunity I've had to be close to it again.
And then just last week, I was asked to say yes again, and I did, and I'm not sorry about that.
But it fucking kills me to hear you say that I'm giving up on us.
Hockey was my first love, but it's not my only one, and I'm standing here begging you not to give up either. "
It's impossible to know what's in his expression when he falls forward against me, but I assume need has won for now, a second fist at my side.
Without thinking, I wrap my arms around Jamie and bring him even closer, his skin warm and his heart pounding.
One of his hands moves to my head and pulls my hair tie free.
I growl and reach for his hair, too. Nothing is going to happen right here, but everything could, and I want to remember how it feels for him to be mine before he leaves and can belong to anyone.
"We'll already be across the country from each other," I murmur in his ear. "And coaching doesn't come with a four-year expiration date. If we're not giving up, what are we doing?"
"You love me. You told me you love me."
"Loving you doesn't change anything about my question."
Jamie shifts until his mouth opens against my neck. "Just keep loving me."
"Okay, yes, but—" I gently peel him off me, and the shadows under his eyes are still there. This time, I pretend I can wipe them away, my hand cradling the side of his head while I brush the darkness with my thumb. "Will it ever be over? The waiting for more?"
"My contract includes a clause about behavior 'outside the scope of my duties as a member of the coaching staff.
' Basically, I got away with being a pain in the ass as a player, but being a captain isn't the same as being a coach.
The late-night antics that were reprimanded back then may be cause for dismissal now. "
"Coming out as bisexual and admitting to the world that you're in love with me are hardly late-night antics."
"To them they might be," he says, leveling me with a stare I expect.
"Please, just give me time to figure that out.
Let me see what's changed since I've been out of the locker room.
Let me get to know everyone there. Maybe behind the bench, I'll be nobody.
And while I'm gone, you and I can still have the friendship we have now. "
I laugh weakly. Sadly. "Gone and the friendship we have now sort of contradict each other, no?"
"We'll have a couple of games down here, so I can see you then. And in the offseason, obviously. And talking and texting, and I don't—I don't want to have to choose, 'Teo."
"You already did, sweetheart."
Jamie's eyes are wet, and I know he wants to defend his decisions all over again. He sighs instead. "Does that mean you won't wait for me?"
I couldn't begin to count how many times I've thought about the promises we once made on top of wishes, but I'm overwhelmed by the memory of them now.
For two men who'd lived full, independent, successful lives before we met, we were incredibly naive that night.
Maybe we've been naive every day since. Jamie and I have been waiting for something we've never had—keeping secrets about things that haven't happened—and tonight's our best chance to make a clean break from it all.
Tonight is our chance to decide we made promises we couldn't keep on top of wishes that won't come true.
But with my hand still pressed to his cheek, I hold Jamie still and kiss him.
He's surprised at first, but it doesn't take him long to realize this is another shooting star, and insisting on my answer now will only give it time to disappear into the night.
His mouth opens easily, and I can't believe it's been almost four years since I've felt the drag of his tongue against mine.
There's so much space behind him, but we don't move away from the door separating us from the ocean and the moon and the bench I suddenly and fiercely miss.
Briefly, I wonder whether he'll sell the house, and whether I'll ever see the bench again, but then he moans and I can't care about anything but him.
Our kiss feels endless—or it ends and restarts a hundred times, just like this thing we have between us—until I know I need to answer Jamie's question.
I give myself another few seconds to memorize something I'm afraid I won't have again, then finally pull back to mumble something foolish against his lips.
"Of course I'll wait for you. I already made my choice, too."
A few weeks later, Harper graduates. I get invited to the party celebrating her, and when Jamie finds me in the backyard, we both stare down the hillside and go nowhere.
He doesn't sell the house because he doesn't need to, and he wants to make sure his daughter has a place to call home no matter what Danielle does with her own empty nest. He'll rent something small and meaningless in New Jersey, where other things will mean plenty.
He gives me a spare key for the house, just in case.
In case of what, I don't know.
There's no party for Jamie before he leaves, though he tries to spend time with the people who want to see him, his parents included.
They're thrilled about his new achievement, the best they could expect after he lost all he had.
He sees Kai too, and that goodbye has nothing to do with achievements or loss. It's just love.
Jamie and I don't meet at the bench. We don't talk about why we're avoiding it, but I figure he's afraid of the same things that have kept me up at night. He suggests one more drive up the coast. I agree. We don't make promises. We don't say I love you. We barely talk at all.
And then he's gone, and we begin to wait all over again.