Chapter Eleven Jamie
(I Slept in My Own Bed)
Adecade ago, if anyone had told me how well Taylor McKeon and I would work together one day, I would've rolled my eyes.
If anyone had told me we'd have a decent chance of becoming friends, I would've laughed and told them to fuck all the way off.
Now, as my first season of coaching begins with him at my side, both are true.
I'm breathing more easily than I have since the night my playing career ended.
During the first week of October, I stop in one of the empty hallways of our practice facility and lean against the wall with my phone in my hand.
I keep waiting for him to be a dick to me, but maybe we'll actually make it to opening night without an argument worthy of a headline or two
It's early morning for Mateo, but it means the school day hasn't started, and I get a quick response. You have less than a week to go. And I could do without any more McKeon/Sinclair headlines tbh.
Well when you put it that way
Are you still nervous?
You know I am. Are you still watching the game at Kai's?
You know I am. And Sophie said she'd come with me.
That makes me feel better and worse, knowing they'll be together while I'm so far away.
And Harper will be with her soccer team, their season already underway and going well, so the loneliness hits hard.
The good news is that I rarely have time to sit with any feeling long enough to be bothered by it.
Coaching in the NHL is a full-time job on top of a full-time job.
Let me know how I look in my suit
I can already tell you how pretty you'll be in your suit.
My smile comes easily, or maybe it's been there since the first message from him. I use old PR skills to hide it when footsteps round the corner, and tuck my phone into my pocket.
"Ah, here you are. I was wondering whether you'd finally realized there are fewer groupies for middle-aged coaches than for 20something phenoms," Taylor huffs. "But seeing that look on your face? I'm guessing you're not looking for groupies at all."
I scoff, also a skill picked up from a press conference or several. "There's no look on my face."
"And your phone?"
"I have one, yes. Even use it occasionally to keep in touch with my daughter and my friends and a few old teammates who'd still love the opportunity to kick your ass."
"Somehow I don't think your conversation was about my ass," he says. "But whatever. I don't care who you're fucking. Never did, except for how I could use it to get under your skin."
We're on the same team now, and several of his records have been mine for a while, so I know he has no reason to mess with my head.
I don't point out how rarely it worked even then, all those years ago when I wanted hockey more than I wanted anyone.
I don't point out that it could work now, if I weren't so intent on making sure I can love two things at once.
Our friendship may come sooner than expected, but I won't tell him about Mateo. I can't.
That friendship matters more.
That friendship is more.
We win our first two games. We lose the third.
We start a road trip and win the fourth.
Taylor and I have great things to say about the team.
The team has great things to say about us.
Mateo tells me I'm just as pretty as he'd imagined I would be.
I imagine him in the boxer briefs he wore on prom night.
My parents are proud of me again, and I hate how much I care. Harper and Kai remain my north stars, even while they shine in a busy, busy sky.
I'd say I'm getting settled in New Jersey, but that's not entirely accurate.
I'm traveling with the team, which makes hotel rooms home as much as the small house I've rented.
When we have a homestand, my early mornings and late nights are spent on the ice, or close enough to it.
There's little time for me to want someone in my bed, no matter how often Taylor drops hints about all the women in his.
I don't have a spare minute to miss Mateo, but he's on my mind every day.
I feel like it's all those years ago when I wanted to pretend that wasn't true.
I have trouble falling asleep after a tough overtime loss. I miss you
He juggles conferences and a soccer tournament and his second year of teaching AP English. I miss you too.
We have a night off, and Taylor and I go out for dinner and drinks, and he wants me to get laid. I'm eating garlic parmesan wings but I'd rather have mango chipotle with you.
Mateo goes out with Sophie and some of the other teachers, and someone tries to set him up on a blind date. I haven't forgotten the taste of your mouth.
That turns me on more than eight simple words should.
I almost bring up the idea of phone sex, and not for the first time.
The years we've waited for each other have been built upon months built upon weeks built upon days, and more than a few of those were lonely.
I stop myself now because Mateo and I have lines we won't let ourselves cross, even if the exceptions have been exceptional.
I'll never forget the broken little sounds he made when he jerked off behind me.
I'd brought a mess of contradictions to his door that night, and they excused the bourbon and dancing and orgasm that followed.
And we've only kissed twice—at the beginning of something that made perfect sense and at the moment I was afraid I was ending it.
Making each other come from across the country would be normal in a way nothing else has been.
I won't break Mateo’s rules to ask for that tonight.
I don't actually say anything else to him, but I hope he says no to the blind date.
Harper's team loses in the second round of the playoffs, but it means I can fly her out for a quick Thanksgiving visit. We catch up when I'm not at the arena. She asks about Taylor's son and half my roster before I remind her she has a new boyfriend. Then she asks about Mateo.
My kid wants to know if you and I still talk. I guess we can't hide from her forever
She's 18 now. She'd still have to keep it quiet, but it's not the same as when I was her teacher and coach.
So you think I should tell her?
I think she's your daughter. You'll know what to do and when to do it.
If only it were that easy.
Christmas comes, and I cling to a framed picture of a bench I haven't sat on since the day I left California.
Mateo and I could've said our goodbyes there, but I'd made peace with the ocean alone that morning.
I could've flown home for a turnaround holiday hello, but I wasn't going to find any of the relief I needed if I couldn't spend more than a few hours with the man I love.
There's a game on New Year's Eve, and we win it. I call Mateo before I've left for home. Taylor sees me, but he only winks and waves and believes things about me that aren't true. For the first time since my arrival on the East Coast, I wonder whether his sister visits often.
Mateo asks whether I plan to make any resolutions, but I can't imagine why I'd bother.
Harper surprises me on my birthday. We're playing later tonight, but she's at my door absurdly early after her red-eye flight, and she takes me out to breakfast.
"You really don't mind that I'll be busy all day?" I ask.
She smiles, and I've missed her so much. "You didn't mind when I made you follow me all over campus in August, and I don't mind now. I'll be perfectly happy being introduced to Nikolai, Roman, Erik, and Jonathan before you have actual work to do."
"You mean, before they have an actual game to play. And you and Simon are still together, right? I didn't miss some big breakup news?"
"Yes, we're still together. Everything is great. I also think you have a really hot team."
"Just what every dad wants to hear on his birthday," I tease.
My phone vibrates against the table, and I glance down as if all texts are created equal.
After a second of letting my heart kick at my chest, I take the opening I've been given.
"Hey, so, I know we talked about you coming to the game when we're back in California next month. Are you still up for that?"
"Yeah, of course. I'll be able to see you there, plus catch up with a bunch of friends who stayed close to home.
And mom. She'll probably want to have a spa day or something?
Are you getting two tickets? I'm sure I can find somebody who'll want to go with me.
Lizzie might be home then, but I don't know for sure yet. "
"How would you feel about me giving the second ticket to someone?"
She looks at the phone in my hand, then back up at me. "Was that Mr. Z? Did he text you for your birthday?"
"It was, and yes," I say. "Would it be okay if I give the other ticket to him?"
Harper pauses, and I can't tell whether it's about Mateo or all the friends she could take to the game instead. Then she shrugs and gives one of her shortest responses ever, mostly because she has a forkful of pancakes in her hand.
"Totally fine."
Harper's here. We're having breakfast. You think you'll be okay going to the game with her next month?
I don't have time to reach for my bite before Mateo texts back. I'll be totally fine.
Two peas in a fucking pod. I shake my head, and my daughter and I talk until my game-day routine begins.
She gets to meet Nikolai, Roman, Erik, Jonathan, and everyone else.
Taylor has at least as many responsibilities as I do, but he takes time to show Harper around, and I'm grateful for all the ways the past is the past, even while I miss it with everything I am.
If I look around the arena for Mateo, it's not because I'm comparing one love to another.