15. Killian #2
Dad lets out a clipped laugh. “You’re lucky your stunt didn’t earn you a dislocated shoulder. Seriously, Killian? Your mother would have passed out if she were here.”
My brothers both make a face, and I know they regret their teasing because Dad always takes it a notch too far.
“Aw, Dad,” I say, trying to ease the tension. “That was nothing. It happens all the time.”
“Yet you were the only one who thought it would be smart to collide with the goal post.”
Tristan huffs. “Lay off him. Even if he got hurt, that save was amazing, and it pumped his team up. ”
Dad lets out a soft sigh, and he nods. He pats my shoulder, right where it’s sore, and I try not to grimace. “You’re right. You did well, Killian.”
Awkward, but I’ll take it.
“Okay.” Gerald claps his hands together. “I’m starving. Shall we go? I got reservations at that Italian place a few blocks down.”
“Nice.” The grin I paste on my face is forced, and my shoulder’s throbbing. It was wishful thinking that they’d want to head home right after the game, and I remind myself to be grateful that they even made it.
We’re getting into Dad’s car—Dad’s driving, with Gerald in the passenger seat and Tristan and I in the back—when Rhys’s voice calls out to me.
“Hey, Schultz!”
I peek over the car door to greet him, only to see that he’s walking with Maddox.
Maddox, who’s still wearing my jersey. Even if he’s wearing a hoodie underneath it and maybe more layers, it’s enormous on him. He’s so adorable I want to grab him by the cheeks and squeeze him.
And, that easily, the exhaustion leaves me entirely.
“Heeey!” I say to Maddox, probably too lively, and completely ignoring Rhys. Rhys hides a snort behind his hand. And even if I know where they’re going because I overheard Rhys and Caleb talking about it in the locker room earlier, I want any excuse to talk to Maddox. “Where are you headed?”
Voice low, Tristan asks Gerald about who my new friend is, and I’m also vaguely aware of how Rhys leans down by Dad’s window to greet him.
“Dinner with Caleb and Nick’s families.” Maddox studies me, and I can’t help but find it cute how the chilly weather makes his ears and freckled nose all rosy. When he talks, puffs of air slip from his mouth and vanish into the cold. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Perfectly fine!” To prove my point, I raise my arm and flex it as obnoxiously as I can.
Maddox’s expression remains blank. “Liar. ”
“Killian?” Dad asks. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah!” Leaning over the car door, I smile at Maddox. “See you soon?”
“Yes,” Maddox says softly. He returns my smile, and I swear to god, my heart does a fucking somersault.
My giddiness must look ridiculous because Rhys’s face lights up and his mouth twitches.
As Maddox and Rhys turn away, I take a few seconds to take in my name and number on Maddox’s back. Gerald calls me, and I finally get into the car and snap my seatbelt on.
Dad backs up and the car’s quiet until he asks, “Was that boy wearing your jersey?”
“Oh. Yeah!” I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce you. That was Maddox. He’s tutoring me in statistics.”
“A good friend?” Gerald asks. “He must be, right? Since he’s wearing your shirt?”
Are we good friends now? I guess? I hope.
“We’re good friends,” I say, convincing even myself.
Nobody else speaks as we drive to the restaurant, though there’s a strange tension in the car that I can’t place. Beside me, Tristan is tapping his knee as he looks out the window, and Gerald’s giving Dad a hard look that I can’t decipher.
Well, whatever. I don’t care what that’s about. I bring my phone out instead and text Maddox.
Me: Can’t believe you called me a liar in front of my dad.
Maddox: You are.
Me: I’m perfectly fine, thank you.
Maddox: If you say so.
Maddox: We’re going to that popular Mexican food truck a few blocks away from campus. I would’ve invited you, but you’re with your family.
Me: It’s cool!!
I stare at my screen for a while, considering what I want to type next.
“Quit that,” Tristan says beside me .
“What?”
“That goofy smile. It’s creepy.”
Wheezing, I flip him off before going right back to my texting.
Me: You looked really hot in my jersey by the way.
Maddox: I look hot all the time.
Me: True.
Me: Real talk though. I’m so fucking exhausteeed. I’ll probably collapse right when I get back to the dorm.
Maddox: Plus you injured your shoulder.
Me: Not injured at all. Didn’t you think my save was a good one? :(
Maddox: It was a great save.
Me: Thank you. I think so too. Dad said it was stupid, so I was doubting myself :p
Maddox: He said that?
Me: Implied it heavily.
Maddox: He’s wrong. It was incredible… though you scared me and I hate you for that.
Me: Awww, you were worried about me, pretty boy?
Maddox doesn’t reply to that, which probably means he doesn’t want to bother or he’s already with the rest of their group. I put my phone away just as Dad’s turning into the parking lot of the restaurant.
We follow him inside and we’re waiting for our table to be ready when Tristan says to me, “Is it Maddox you’re texting?”
Gerald overhears him and nudges my shoulder. “Our baby bro’s in love.”
Love’s a strong word, but I won’t deny it. My infatuation with Maddox is probably some version of that anyway. Pointing between my brothers, I say, “Envy’s not a good look on either of you.”
“We’re both married,” Gerald says. “Happily married with kids. We’re not envious of a schoolboy crush.”
Tristan snickers. “You were smiling the entire car ride. Seriously.”
“I wasn’t smiling,” I lie .
As if right on cue, my phone buzzes, and I grin wide again when I see it’s Maddox. My brothers exchange a look, then burst out laughing. Whatever, though. Talking to Maddox makes me happy, and I don’t care what anyone thinks about that.
We’re led to our table, and I drift in and out of the conversation, my phone under the table. Maddox and I don’t text regularly, and before this, our few exchanges were all about meeting up for tutoring—and that one time I practically begged to go to his dorm after that weird drama with Ulrich.
I didn’t take him for the texting type, but here he is, responding to my messages even if he’s out with other people.
Is he smiling the entire time, too?
“Killian,” Dad mutters. “Stop texting. It’s disrespectful.”
“Sorry.” Frowning, I obey.
Dad props his chin on his hand and gives me a long look, and I can’t help but shift in my seat. “Who have you been texting all night?”
“Um… Maddox.”
“You’re dating him?”
“No.”
“But you’re into him?”
I nod. “Yes.”
Even though I don’t want to, I brace myself.
When I came out in high school as pan, my brothers crushed me in a suffocating embrace, and Mom said she loved me, no matter my sexuality. Dad was the only one who was quiet for too long, his eyes narrowed, until he finally echoed Mom’s words.
It wasn’t until later that same day that he quietly asked me if I was sure—as if it was a choice.
He told me to be careful, and that he’s worried about what it’d mean for me and my future.
Dad said that he’s smart enough to know that there are queer players in the NHL, but there’s a reason most of them don’t announce it.
He said I’d become a target of scrutiny .
It had been a difficult conversation, but I told him I’m not scared of what other people think. He didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push the subject.
Now, though…
I can see that the same doubts are running through his head, like they always do when we broach the topic of my sexuality. Dad’s eyes dart away and he folds his arms, frowning.
“What?” I ask. “You’re okay with me liking a guy, right?
“Yes.” His tone is dry. “Of course.”
My hackles rise. “Then why do you sound annoyed?”
Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not annoyed. I’m worried. You know how I feel about all this, especially if you’re going to be in the public eye.”
“Dad,” Gerald says, and I raise a hand to cut him off.
“Well, you’d better get used to it,” I say. “Seriously, Dad! This is getting old. We don’t even know if I’m going to do the whole pro hockey thing.”
His jaw tightens. “What else would you do?”
That shuts me up real quick.
“Seriously?” Dad asks. “I was going to surprise you with the news, but you know my old friend who works with Donlan Sports Group? He said that you’re having a breakout year and a lot of agencies are taking notice.”
I blink. “Huh?”
“I said agents are taking notice of you. Are you really going to let go of this opportunity?”
When I don’t have an actual answer to that, Dad shakes his head and lets out an exasperated sigh.
“I'm glad you have hockey, because that's where your real talent is. Let's make sure you focus on that strength instead of getting distracted.”
I narrow my eyes.
Fuck this.
“You’re right,” I say with more conviction than necessary.
Honestly, I should probably fight him on this.
This is my chance to speak my mind, but I’m exhausted.
So I settle on what I think he wants to hear.
“I’ll do my best to earn a spot on a pro team.
But, Dad, you don’t have to worry about what everyone else will think about my sexuality.
I don’t care about that, and neither should you. ”
It's stiff, but Dad nods. “You’re right. I apologize, Killian. I… worry, is all.”
“You don’t have to!”
Dad doesn’t respond to that. He only presses his lips together tight and gives me a stern look.
Beside me, Tristan squeezes my elbow, and it at least helps me relax my stiff posture. I keep my head down and glare at the table.
For the rest of the night, I barely say anything, and I’m sure Dad and my brothers notice it, but they don’t call attention to it. It’s an awkward dinner, and I simmer in irritation, just antsy about getting dinner over with.