Chapter Ten
MASON
An hour or so passed before either of us paid any attention to the time again. The room had grown noticeably darker, the late afternoon sunlight giving way to the softer glow filtering through the window as evening settled across the campus.
Jack remained tucked comfortably against my side beneath the comforter, one arm draped across my waist as though he'd belonged there for years instead of only a few extraordinary hours. Every now and then our eyes met, and one of us would smile before the silence reclaimed us.
I'd spent my entire life believing happiness had to arrive accompanied by celebration, noise, or achievement. Instead, it had found me in a dorm room with the man I was beginning to fall in love with resting against my shoulder.
I found myself tracing absent circles across the back of his hand, still trying to comprehend how completely my life had changed in a few short days.
When I arrived on campus, I was determined not to let anything distract me from hockey. Every decision I'd made revolved around becoming the best player I could possibly be, and I'd convinced myself there wasn't room for anything else.
Then Jack had walked into my life with his unwavering confidence, kindness, and the remarkable ability to communicate more with a glance than most people managed in an hour of conversation.
Between the rink, an Italian restaurant, walks across campus, and everything we'd shared since, I'd stopped thinking in terms of only my own future.
Every plan I thought about now seemed to include him without conscious effort.
Jack shifted slightly before reaching for his phone resting on the bedside table. He balanced it against one knee beneath the comforter, typed a short message, then turned the screen toward me.
Any regrets?
The question caught me by surprise and I shook my head.
"Not one."
He studied me, almost as though deciding whether to believe me.
Not even telling Coach?
"Especially not telling Coach." I turned to face him. "I spent half the night convincing myself he'd think I'd betrayed his trust. Instead he thanked us for being honest. I don't think I've ever been happier to be wrong."
I wasn't sure how he'd react either.
"Really?"
He shrugged.
"I assumed the two of you told each other everything."
He gave a tiny shake of his head.
Not this. I kept finding reasons to wait. Then waiting became a habit.
I understood that better than he probably realized.
"I've done exactly the same thing."
He frowned slightly.
"I kept telling myself there'd be a better time to tell my family and Corey." I stared toward the ceiling for a brief second before looking back at him. "Then one season became another. Another became another year. Eventually it felt easier to stay silent than risk changing the way people saw me."
Jack reached across the narrow space between us and threaded his fingers through mine.
One conversation at a time.
"Yeah."
For years I'd imagined coming out as one enormous conversation that would define the rest of my life.
Instead, it had begun with Coach that morning, and somehow the world hadn't fallen apart.
Mom and Dad still didn't know. Neither did Emma or Corey.
Even so, the fear I'd carried for years no longer seemed quite so overwhelming.
For the first time, telling them felt possible instead of impossible.
Almost as though the universe had been waiting for me to reach that conclusion, my phone vibrated on the bedside table.
I reached for it, expecting another message from one of the guys asking whether I wanted to meet them on campus.
Instead, Emma's name appeared across the screen.
Home until tomorrow morning. No classes until tomorrow afternoon. You alive?
I grinned as I read the message.
Jack recognized the change in my expression immediately.
"Emma," I explained.
I showed Jack and while he read, a thought struck me so hard I actually sat up a little straighter.
"They're all together."
Jack held my gaze.
"Mom, Dad and Emma." I looked down at the phone again. "I don't think I'm going to get a better chance than this to tell them."
Jack's attention never left me. He didn't hurry me, didn't reach for his own phone, and didn't try to convince me one way or the other. He simply waited.
"I think..." I exhaled slowly. "I think this is the opportunity I've been waiting for."
Only then did he pick up his phone.
Are you ready?
I considered the question honestly.
"I don't know."
His eyebrows lifted.
"I don't know if anybody's ever completely ready for a conversation like this." I looked down at our joined hands. "I just know I don't want another day to pass without them knowing about you."
Then tell them about us. The rest will take care of itself.
"You're right."
Might be an idea to put on clothes and move to the couch.
We climbed from the bed and pulled on t-shirts and sweats. Jack borrowed one of my T-shirts and a pair of sweats instead of changing back into his jeans and button-down shirt.
We settled on the couch and taking a slow breath, I opened my contacts, found Emma's name, and pressed the video call button before I could lose my nerve.
The screen rang twice before Emma answered.
"Well, look who finally remembered he has a family."
"I've called Mom and Dad four times. Not my fault you weren't there."
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"What's that look for?"
"What look?"
"The one that says you've got something to tell us."
"Am I really that obvious?"
"Always." She glanced over her shoulder. "Hang on, I was making coffee. Mom and Dad are in the living room."
Emma flopped onto the couch between our parents.
"There." She grinned. "You've got all three of us."
Mom smiled warmly.
"There's my boy."
Dad lifted a hand in greeting.
"How are classes?"
"Good. I'm going to be busy."
"You'll manage."
"I know."
Mom studied me closely.
"What did you want to tell us?"
Emma folded her arms.
"See? I'm not the only one who can see you want to tell us something."
The conversation drifted through the ordinary questions I'd expected.
They asked about Evergreen, the exhibition game, my professors, the training schedule Coach had already warned us would become more demanding each week, and whether Spokane was beginning to feel like home.
I answered honestly, finding myself relaxing with every passing minute.
If I'd planned this conversation, I'd probably have launched straight into the reason I'd called.
Instead, hearing familiar voices reminded me how much I'd missed them.
Mom's attention shifted away from me.
"Who's sitting beside you?"
I glanced at Jack.
"So much for easing into this," I muttered.
He squeezed my hand and I turned the camera enough to bring him into view.
"This is Jack."
He offered a small wave before holding up his phone.
Hello. It's nice to meet all of you.
"Jack says, Hello. It's nice to meet all of you. They're his words. Jack communicates through his phone because he's mute. He lost his voice because of a medical condition when he was six. I'll relay what he says."
Concern crossed Mom's face.
"Jack says, I'm fine. It's only the way I communicate that's different."
Dad nodded thoughtfully.
"What are you studying, Jack?"
I continued answering for Jack.
"Medicine. I'm in my fourth year. I want to specialize in ENT surgery after I graduate."
"Jack also operates the Zamboni for the hockey program."
Emma's eyebrows climbed.
"You're kidding."
I laughed.
"No."
"He does both even with his study load?"
"Yeah."
Dad smiled.
"I've always admired people who aren't afraid of hard work."
Jack acknowledged the compliment with a grateful nod before typing another reply.
"Thank you."
There wasn't going to be a better opening than the one already sitting in front of me. I drew a steady breath.
"I didn't call just because I wanted you to meet Jack."
Three familiar faces became noticeably more attentive.
"I wanted you to meet him because..." I glanced sideways at Jack before looking back into the camera. "He's my boyfriend."
Silence lasted no more than a heartbeat.
Dad exchanged a look with Mom before saying exactly one word.
"Finally."
Mom rolled her eyes affectionately.
"About time."
Emma practically bounced off the lounge.
"I knew it!"
I stared at all three of them.
"What now?"
Dad chuckled.
"We've suspected for quite a while but weren't sure."
"You never said anything to me. You never asked."
"No," Mom replied gently. "Because it wasn't our conversation to start."
Emma pointed triumphantly toward our parents.
"I've been telling them for ages."
"You've been guessing," Dad corrected with a smile.
"I was right."
"You were."
I shook my head in disbelief.
"So all this time..."
"We've watched you grow into a wonderful young man, Mason. Whether you brought home a future son or a daughter never mattered to us. We wanted you tell us because you were ready, not because you felt pushed," Mom answered.
Dad rested his coffee mug on the table.
"You've spent your whole life making difficult decisions under pressure. This wasn't one we were ever going to make for you."
The knot I'd carried in my stomach for years disappeared so completely I wondered why I'd been frightened at all.
"I honestly thought this call was going to be one of the hardest conversations I'd ever have."
Mom smiled warmly.
"The hardest part wasn't telling us. It was accepting yourself."
The relief flooding through me made it difficult to say anything for a few moments.
I'd spent years imagining disappointment, confusion, perhaps even anger, yet the people who'd known me my entire life, who loved me the most, had accepted the truth with a few simple words and moved on as though nothing important had changed.
In many ways, nothing had. I was still the same son and brother I'd always been.
The only difference was that they finally understood why no girl had ever sparked my interest.
Mom's attention returned to Jack, her smile warm enough to erase the last of the tension lingering inside me.