CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Tanner never fucking wanted to go through anything like the shit with Darla during the playoffs again.
It had been difficult enough trying to pull out wins against L.A. when they weren’t dealing with being interviewed by the Boston police and shit, but it was distracting as hell when they were.
In the locker room before game four, Tom kept trying to apologize for his personal life impacting the team that way until Connor gruffly told him to shut it. Jesse rolled his eyes and assured Tom that no one blamed him. There was no way he could have known this would happen.
“Honestly,” he’d joked, tossing a smile at Tanner. “I think we all assumed it would be Tanner who brought home a stalker.”
Tanner scoffed and took the ribbing, glad it had made Tom laugh.
“I guess we should have known that Tanner wasn’t hooking up with a bunch of people anymore though,” Rafe said after the laughter died down. “Look how long it’s been since he got anyone sick!”
He nodded at the whiteboard on the wall and Tanner felt a funny lurch in his stomach as he realized that if he went to the Rockets, that meant all of these inside jokes and team moments would end.
As Tanner got ready for the game, he could feel an odd tension in the room.
Connor’s shoulder was so bad that he’d needed Jesse’s help even dressing for the game and worry over that combined with the thought of leaving, added to awful the memory of what had happened with Darla and the weird mood hung over everything.
Somehow, the Harriers’ PR team had managed to keep everything out of the news so far, and at least they didn’t have to deal with that, but no one was feeling focused and centered for the game ahead.
And no one was surprised when that game ended with the Harriers completely scoreless.
It was almost a relief when they headed to L.A. for games five and six. They lost five and won six, leaving them 3–3 for the series.
Which meant they had to win game seven at home.
Normally Tanner loved playing in their home barn. The fans were loud and the Hawk’s Nest was a great arena. But tonight, as he played sewer ball with the boys to warm up, that weird, bittersweet feeling hit him again.
Leif was in the arena with his mom tonight and they’d agreed that if—knock on wood—they managed to pull off the win, Leif would come out on the ice, go to his dad and congratulate him, then give Tanner a handshake at most.
It hadn’t been an easy decision.
Tanner knew that in the moment, he’d want to hug Leif, to kiss him, but they’d both agreed that announcing their relationship that way would end up overshadowing the Harriers’ victory and neither of them liked that idea.
Leif was also worried that there would be accusations from fans, and even some of the media, about their relationship and speculation that it had impacted Leif negatively during the playoffs.
That idea had caused Leif so much stress that Tanner had assured him he could be chill about it. He could wait.
Even though Tanner knew he’d never really been chill in his life about anything, he’d do his best to protect their secret like he had after the Harriers beat the Rockets in the second round.
Besides, Tanner was pretty sure Leif would have mixed feelings about a Harriers’ Cup win anyway. Would he be proud of and happy for Tanner? Of course. But he’d also feel the sting of his loss and Tanner didn’t want that for him.
The nice thing about the team knowing was that Leif had been able to stay overnight with him. Mickey had only made a joke about putting in earplugs. But even Tanner had been too exhausted for more than some making out in bed and Leif jerking him off, then coming on his stomach.
After they cleaned up, they’d talked more about their plan for coming out to the public and Leif had said that he wanted some time just for themselves.
The team didn’t count, of course, but the public?
Yeah, Leif had spent his whole life with his every move scrutinized by the hockey world and Tanner couldn’t blame him for not wanting that spotlight on their relationship yet.
He’d also said he wanted to protect Tanner from that, and Tanner had kissed him for it.
So they were in agreement. Their closest friends and family would know, some people connected to the Harriers, but no one else.
Not until they were ready.
That night, he’d fallen asleep beside Leif and woken up to find him drinking coffee and talking to Mickey in the kitchen. Surprised but happy, Tanner had hugged Leif from behind, hooking his chin on Leif’s shoulder and burying his face against his neck.
Leif had absently reached up to pat Tanner’s arm and kept talking to Mickey and it was so perfect Tanner had gotten a little teary about it. This was his life now and it was pretty fucking awesome.
But tonight, as they dressed for game seven, he couldn’t think about Leif. Couldn’t think about the way things had gone with Darla or the police investigation, or any of it.
All he could think about was hockey. Which meant that if this was his last game with the Harriers, he needed to do his fucking job as their DJ and hype man.
Tanner cranked up the tunes and shot Jesse a wink. He seemed to pick up on it because he nudged Kady and they started dancing and suddenly the heaviness in the locker room was gone, replaced by the familiar bright, happy energy of the team he loved so much.
“Who’s the hottest team in the league?” Tanner shouted over the music as the minutes ticked down to warmups.
“We are!” guys called back.
“Who’s going to go all the way tonight?” Tanner hollered.
“We are!”
“Let’s do this thaaaaaaaaaaang,” Tanner bellowed and pumped his fists.
He turned to Crawford and they did their chest punches and suddenly everything fell into place.
It felt like a dream as Tanner shot onto the ice after Jesse a few minutes later.
Every lap around their half of the ice, every practice shot, every second of the anthem on the bench. It was perfect and right and Tanner slipped into that beautiful groove.
There was magic in the air as Graham got the first goal of the game and Jesse blocked shot after shot from L.A. That magic practically crackled on the bench as Tanner watched Rafe pull the puck off the boards and shoot it to Mickey, who set Anker up for a goal.
Tanner could feel that magic as he went out again in the way the puck seemed magnetized to his stick, every pass crisp, every shot clean.
L.A. was playing hard but no matter what they did, it felt like the Harriers were unstoppable.
The mood, the certainty that this was their moment, their year, seemed to lift everyone’s mood and even Connor managed a nice little tap in goal despite his bum shoulder.
The look of sheer relief that went across Tom’s face after he got a goal in a few minutes later made Tanner hug him even harder and shove him into the arms of their teammates who did the same.
No one blamed Tommo for what had happened. They loved him. He was one of them, no matter what.
Even when Tanner went down in a tangle of limbs by Jesse’s net after one of the Suns’ forwards smashed into him, he popped up quickly.
He went to the bench because something didn’t feel right at all, but he only laughed when he pulled off his glove to see a finger cocked out at a weird angle.
Dislocated. Fun.
He’d seen Crawford reset his own fingers himself so he tried it, pulling it out and feeling it pop back into place. It sent a weird surge of nausea through him, and he had to put his head down on the boards and breathe through it while Crawford laughed at him.
When the queasiness passed, Tanner glanced up, grinning at his D-partner and jostling his shoulder. “See, I’m a tough guy like you!” he boasted loudly, breaking into giggles a moment later because he couldn’t take himself seriously at all.
Crawford guffawed and that laughter turned infectious. Even their coaches started to chuckle, and Tanner smiled as he watched Jesse at the far end of the ice, swaying to the invisible beat in his head, loose and relaxed, like he’d picked up the mood on the bench.
That energy followed throughout the game and although L.A. managed to score, there was nothing but calm certainty from the Harriers after.
Shot after shot. Block after block. Save after save.
As the clock wound down in the third period, Tanner skated like he’d never skated before and the moment the puck touched his stick, he knew it was going in.
He took it hard to the L.A. net, weaving around their defensemen like they weren’t even there. It took less than a second to deke around one, and then he was slipping the puck in over their goalie’s shoulder, cementing the Harriers’ win.
They’d done it this year. The Cup was theirs.
Leif’s cheeks were a little wet as he watched the Harriers pour out onto the ice to celebrate, tumbling out in a joyous mess of bodies.
“C’mon!” Mandy tugged at Leif’s hand, dragging him away from his seat. “We have to get down there!”
He followed without really seeing where he was going as he replayed that last, beautiful play of Tanner’s.
They’d have won anyway. The Harriers had been two points ahead and it had been clear since the beginning of the game that L.A. was outmatched tonight.
Whatever they’d done to pull it together again, the Harriers had clearly decided that there was no way they would lose.
It had been breathtaking to watch, and although Leif had winced at the sight on the Jumbotron of Tanner resetting his own finger on the bench, he’d also seen the way the team responded to him.
The closeness. The camaraderie.
They’d deserved this win.
So although it had made Leif ache with desire to be out there himself, to see his own team hoist the Cup, he knew Tanner had been right. It hadn’t been the Rockets’ year, but it was the Harriers’ and Leif could be happy for him tonight.
He could be happy for Tanner, for his dad, for the rest of the team.
After a quick walk down a set of stairs and through a winding corridor, Leif found himself standing in the tunnel, Mandy’s fingers still tightly clenched around his as they stared out at the chaos on the ice. Other SAPs were waiting, other family members of players and coaches too.
His mom had come to the game tonight, but she wasn’t with them now, hadn’t wanted to cause any distraction or fuss.
Leif watched as the guys continued to pile on each other, shouting and hugging and shaking each other. His heart ached at the sight of guys ruffling Tanner’s sweaty hair and the way they beamed at him.
He was so adored by this team. Their heartbeat.
It almost made Leif feel bad for wanting to drag him away from them.
But he thought of Tanner mumbling in his sleep last night—something about bananas and a monkey and love you, Princess—and he knew that he’d do whatever Tanner wanted.
Whatever would make him happy.
If he wanted to stay with the Harriers, they’d make it work. If he wanted to come to New York and their GMs could manage to agree to the trade, that was even better. But it would be up to him.
Leif watched as the ceremony began, the league commissioner, Andrew Hale, presenting the Cup to Connor O’Shea, like he always did.
What was not normal was that Jesse was standing beside him.
Leif had never seen a captain and a goalie receive the Cup together but a moment later, he understood that it was about more than their relationship and the lights-out way that Jesse had played.
Connor’s shoulder was too fucked for him to even lift the trophy on his own, but together, he and Jesse carefully hoisted it over their heads.
For a moment they stood there, grinning at each other, the love and appreciation for each other so bright and vibrant that Leif could see it and almost feel it from where he stood.
They skated their lap together and Leif—along with some of the cheering crowd—let out a little gasp as they kissed under the Cup before handing it off to Graham.
Leif held his breath as he watched Tanner hoist it and he was beaming. He was smiling so wide it made Leif’s chest ache with happiness for him.
After every player had made their lap with the Cup, the SAPs and other family were allowed on the ice. Leif made a beeline for his dad. His beard was a little scruffy and he was crying openly too.
“You did it!” Leif said, hugging him tightly.
“We sure fucking did!”
Leif laughed and congratulated him before he pulled back. “How does it feel?”
“Good.” His dad smiled, even though he looked nearly as exhausted as the players. “Really good. This was a long time coming.”
He wasn’t sure if his father meant since he’d hoisted the Cup last as a player for New York or since the Harriers had last won it. It could be either one.
Boston had won under the leadership of Declan, Finn, and Pat O’Shea but that had been years ago, and Leif glanced over to see a crying Connor wrapping his teenage son in a hug, nearly smothered by his other family members as they piled on him too.
Leif spotted Tanner hugging his family and it took everything in him to not go over to him now.
Instead, he waited and he congratulated the other coaches and some players and shook hands and gave back-slapping hugs and finally, finally, when it wouldn’t be weird, he tapped Tanner on the shoulder.
“Good game,” he said aloud, but what he meant was, ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m so proud of you’ and ‘you deserve this.’
From the way Tanner’s eyes glowed as he tugged him in for a quick, friendly hug, he knew it.
“Enjoy every second of it,” Leif said in Tanner’s ear before he pulled back. “I’ll be waiting when you’re done celebrating.”