Chapter Six #2
“I can’t promise you I have all the answers or any idea how we’re going to do this,” Ben tacked on. “But I can promise that you’re safe to be yourself with me.”
It was a very heartwarming moment. Unfortunately, ten minutes later, Ben pulled into Phil’s driveway and realized he had absolutely no idea how Phil felt about trans people.
He didn’t even know how Phil felt about gay people.
Professional athletes were not a group known for their inclusivity, so Ben was inclined to be cautious.
On the other hand, Ben had kissed him on the mouth two days ago, and he’d said nothing about it since, so Ben was also inclined to be very fucking confused.
A light still shone in the kitchen window, which meant they had to face this moment.
Ben debated whether he ought to prepare Charlie somehow, but what would he say?
I’m staying with this guy who may or may not be a homophobe.
We can leave if he is, but it will take a few days.
I am hopeful he might be okay with gay people though—and into me since he did kiss me back when I laid one on him because I had to get him to stop talking about my secret undercover job.
Also, I’m unfortunately attracted to everything about him.
Ben would be ashamed to post that on an anonymous Reddit thread, much less lay it on a child who was now his responsibility.
In the end, he said nothing at all, and led Charlie inside, carrying the suitcase. It was pale pink and had a luggage tag that read, “If found, please return to Charlotte Sutter,” with an address in rural Utah.
Charlie would need something different when he and Ben found a permanent place to stay. Maybe a duffel bag. Charlie seemed like he would be into the aesthetic of something he could carry on his shoulders.
“Hey,” Phil called from the kitchen. “You hungry? I’ve got some cornbread and chili heating in the oven.”
“Is it your meal service shit?” Ben asked without thinking. “Uh, I mean, stuff.”
Charlie, unlacing his boots in the entryway, shot Ben an extremely disdainful look.
“No,” Phil said, coming out of the kitchen. “I promise I used sugar in the cornbread and beef in the chili.”
“All right, then. Uh, this is my nephew, Charlie. Charlie, this is Phil, my…landlord?”
“I’m not your landlord.” Phil held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Charlie.”
Ben breathed a silent sigh of relief as they shook hands.
“So,” Phil said as they went into the kitchen. He made for the oven, but Ben stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Phil rolled his eyes, then sat, put his leg up, and let Ben do the serving as Charlie also settled in at the table. “Charlie. Do you like hockey?”
Ben groaned, taking his seat.
“Uh, I don’t think I’ve ever watched it.”
With his spoon sticking out of his mouth, Phil said, “It’s the best game on earth. I’ll take you next time the Sea Lions play. You’ll see.”
“Sea Lions?” Charlie asked doubtfully. “Aren’t they kind of a shitty mascot?”
“I’m gonna tell Frankie you said that. He’ll show you.”
“Frankie’s the guy who wears the Sea Lion suit at home games,” Ben explained.
He found Frankie to be palatable in five-minute increments.
He imagined he would feel the same way about anyone who chose to wear what amounted to a knockoff furry costume and make themselves ridiculous in front of a crowd of thousands for a living.
To each their own, but the goal horns were bad enough without doing a stupid dance every time he heard one.
Charlie frowned down at his plate, crumbling the cornbread with his fork. “Grandma didn’t say you worked for a hockey team.”
“She doesn’t know.”
“So what do you do?”
“I’m the head coach.”
Charlie squinted at him. “They let people like us do that?”
Ben snuck a look at Phil, but Phil was watching Charlie studiously and didn’t so much as glance in Ben’s direction. “I’m not out at work.”
“I thought after the stuff you wrote it would be hard to hide?”
Ben swallowed heavily. “Your parents let you read that?”
“The school library had internet access.”
“Why would you look me up? I was never around, and I can guess what they said about me.”
Charlie fixed him with an expression of pure determination, his fine-boned jaw set, his lips a thin line. “If you knew about one person in the entire family who was even a little bit like you, wouldn’t you want to know all about them?”
If Ben let it, the emotion would choke him. “I’m sorry you were alone.”
Turning back to his chili, Charlie said, “It’s not your fault.”
By the time they finished eating, the digital clock on the oven read nearly midnight. Ben picked up Charlie’s things and showed him to the guest room Phil had gotten ready or, rather, had his cleaning service get ready.
“I’m down the hall,” Ben said. “If you need anything, or— If you need anything, come get me.”
Charlie looked set to claim he wouldn’t, but instead just said, “Thanks.”
After, Ben should have gone to bed himself.
Morning skate started fucking early, and then he was going to have to start figuring out the school system in California and how to get a kid he had no legal connection to into it.
He had no idea where to start. He’d researched a lot of topics over the course of his career, but family law in California was not one of them.
Ben didn’t go to bed. He didn’t sit down at the stupidly massive desk with the stupidly comfy chair in Phil’s guest room and start researching.
He went downstairs into the kitchen and let Phil pour him a glass of whiskey.
“So,” Phil said conversationally, throwing back half the glass. “Your niece is a nephew?”
“Seems so.”
“That why he needs a place to stay?”
“Yeah. My family is…my family won’t let him be himself. I’ll start apartment hunting in the morning. I know you don’t—”
“I don’t what?” Phil’s gaze was calmly assessing, giving nothing away.
“I know how most hockey players feel about people like Charlie. And about people like me, while we’re at it.”
“I’m not most hockey players.”
Surprising even himself with the suddenness of the movement, Ben pushed his chair back, legs scraping awfully over the kitchen floor, and got to his feet. “For fuck’s sake, stop being nice to me.”
Phil remained seated. Of course he remained seated; his knee didn’t work. “No,” he said.
“Why?”
Phil let out a long, gusty breath. “I can’t control a lot of things.
I can’t make my knee heal up faster. I can’t make the team get along.
I can’t control whatever you and Trout and Pulvermacher are saying about my contract running out in the summer.
I can’t even make you tell me the truth about what you’re doing as a coach, even though we both know it’s not right. You know what I can control?”
Ben shook his head.
“I can control how I react. I can control how I treat people. Charlie needs a place to stay and people who accept him? I can do that for him. You need someone to help you coach a hockey team and not ask questions you can’t answer?
I can do that for you. Maybe it turns out you were an asshole taking advantage of my kindness later on, but at least I will have been kind. ”
When Ben inhaled after hearing those words, he understood for the first time what it meant to breathe easy in someone else’s presence.
“Careful,” he said and had to clear his throat around the emotion clogging it.
Phil arched an eyebrow.
“You’re making it hard not to kiss you again,” Ben clarified.
Those lines around Phil’s eyes crinkled up again. He spread his arms wide and jerked his shoulders up a touch as if to say, have at it.
There were a hundred reasons not to, but Ben set both hands on Phil’s shoulders, straddled his lap, and kissed him for all he was worth.
Just like the first time, Phil didn’t react for a split second before responding with heat and eagerness.
Ben had acted in panic then, trying anything to shock Phil into silence (to great effect if he did say so himself).
This time, he was aware enough of his own actions to relish Phil’s soft lips, his smooth, clean-shaven skin, and how eager he seemed to be kissed.
Phil wasn’t passive. His strong hands came up to grip Ben’s ass, crushing him tighter into Phil’s lap. But when Ben pressed him back harder into the chair, he made a soft, pleased sound into Ben’s mouth.
The kitchen chair beneath them creaked ominously.
Ben forced himself to pull away and stand up.
“Thank you,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”