Chapter 3 #2
The toddler on the chair turned toward the tattooed man, small hands outstretched. Jamie felt himself smile at the round cheeks and brown hair that looked so much like the man standing in front of him. Then the kid caught sight of Jamie and Mitch, and his blue eyes went wide.
The man hoisted the kid up into his arms. “Hey kiddo,” he whispered, the softening of his voice matching the transformation of his face. “We’ve got some visitors.”
The boy smeared his hands across the man’s cheeks, leaving a trail of what looked like smashed bananas in their wake.
Before he realized what he was doing, Jamie reached for a roll of paper towels he saw on the counter. Tearing one off the roll, he handed it to the man, who took it from him. The man’s soft frown deepened, but he offered a quiet, “Thanks.”
“Hey, buddy,” Jamie said, turning his attention to the kid. He’d always wanted kids–he’d dreamed of coming home to a family like Mitch’s, of having a house full of shouting and laughter and toy trucks on the floor, of so much joy and chaos.
Unfortunately, in order to have that, he needed to find a partner who’d sign up for a life with a professional hockey player who was gone for almost nine months out of the year.
Based on his dating experience since he’d started his career, that man didn’t exist.
The kid grabbed a handful of the man’s sweater. Jamie could barely make out his whispered words. “These guys are pretty big, Papa.”
Jamie stifled a laugh behind his hand. The tattooed man let out a soft breath that Jamie thought might be a laugh. “Yeah, they are.” To Jamie and Mitch, he said: “This is my son, Rowan.”
Mitch took a step closer, raising his hand in a wave. “Hi, Rowan. I’m Mitch.” He shot Rowan a conspiratorial grin. “Did you know, I’m actually a papa, too.”
“Papa, does he have a kiddo?” Rowan spoke against the man’s unshaved cheek, obvious excitement in his little voice.
Mitch smiled. “Three of them, actually. My daughter Stef is right about your size.”
“Wow.”
“Um.” Jamie cleared his throat, turning his focus to the tattooed man. “What’s your name?”
“Tyler.”
Tyler. Jamie’s eyes drifted shut for a moment. It was the perfect name for him–he couldn’t explain why, just that it fit the hard, challenging set of his jaw, the way his eyes watched them like he wasn’t sure if he was assessing a threat or not.
It fit the man who had all but melted when his son had called him ‘Papa.’
Jamie cleared his throat, clearing his thoughts.
“Tyler,” he said, the name slipping from his lips on a heavy breath.
“I’m sorry again for last night, for disturbing you and your life.
There aren’t any excuses for my behavior.
And thank you for taking me to the hospital.
You didn’t have to do that, and…Well, thank you. ”
“Is your head okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Jamie said, waving his hand dismissively. “Is there anything I can do to make things–”
“Hello, lovely people!” A willowy young woman wearing a rainbow beanie and a variety of patterned fabrics wrapped around her body swept into the cramped room.
“Morning, Annabeth,” Tyler said quietly.
“I’m so glad you’re entertaining visitors again,” she said, walking around Tyler to peer at the countertop. “A little sexual release will help with all of the…” She wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of Tyler’s face. “Gunk,” she finished.
“Papa, what’s sketchmule relief?”
Jamie watched Tyler’s face tighten. “Seriously, Annabeth,” he muttered. “These guys are…I don’t actually know who they are. Their names are Mitch and Sully.”
“Oh, hello,” the woman waved absently to them. “Your vibe is too corporate for my tastes, but the glasses and the mustache are nice.”
What the fuck was happening? Jamie felt like he was stuck in a bizarre dream.
“We play hockey,” Mitch offered. “For the Muskies.”
There was absolutely no recognition on any of their faces. Annabeth frowned at them. “I don’t trust men who play games. And aren’t muskies a fish?”
Well, then. They weren’t fans. That was…Reassuring. Some anonymity felt nice amid the clusterfuck that was his public persona.
“Someone made food,” Annabeth said, grabbing a plate from the counter behind Tyler. “I just love how generous people are.” She paused at the door. “Happy trails.”
Jamie watched Tyler. He saw the pinch of his eyes as he stared at the counter where the plate had been, the way those beautiful, tattooed hands flexed against Rowan’s back.
“That was your breakfast, wasn’t it,” Jamie asked, softly.
Tyler nodded, his face falling in defeat. “I’m trying to find a new place,” he muttered.
Jamie didn’t know what to say. It was hard to imagine trying to raise a kid in an environment like this. He knew from years of having teammates with little kids how much they needed routines and calm surroundings.
“Is it just you?” Jamie asked, unable to help his curiosity.
Tyler nodded. “Just me and Rowan.”
“Do your moms still rent their attic out?” Mitch asked.
Jamie turned to Mitch. Oh, damn. That was a good idea.
“Yeah, and I think their last tenant was getting ready to move out. I’ll ask.
” He faced Tyler, who was watching the two of them with that careful, guarded expression.
“My moms have a place about five minutes from here, and they rent out an apartment in their attic.”
Tyler’s expression was flat. “Oh.”
“I’d be happy to ask if it’s available,” Jamie went on.
Tyler stared at him. “I’m sorry, but you’re a stranger who just walked into my house and the only thing I know about you so far is that you have some sort of complicated beef with the snowman my son made and you like to smell hair.”
“I–” Jamie blinked. “What?”
Tyler shook his head. “Never mind.”
“Wait, what is this about smelling hair?” Mitch’s expression was much too amused for the current situation.
“Mitchy, give me your phone.” Jamie reached out a hand and his best friend obliged without further comment. Jamie typed in Mitch’s password, and quickly navigated to a search engine. When he’d found what he was looking for, he flipped the phone around so Tyler could see it.
He watched dark eyes look between the screen and Jamie’s face, his serious expression unchanging. Finally, Tyler nodded. “Okay. At least you’re not some creep pretending to be a professional athlete.”
Jamie sighed. “Would you consider the offer about the apartment?”
“You really don’t have to–” Tyler started.
“Honestly, they’d love to have you live there. They’re both retired teachers and love kids.” Jamie chuckled. “They harass me all the time about giving them grand babies.”
Tyler’s dark eyes flashed with something. It was brief, only visible for a moment, before that mask of indifference settled back into place. “Okay,” he said. “I mean, if it’s actually available, then I’ll check it out.”
As they exchanged numbers, Rowan picked his head up from Tyler’s shoulder, looking back and forth between Jamie and Mitch. “Are you warriors?” His face was scrunched up like he was thinking really hard.
“They’re hockey players, kiddo,” Tyler said, handing Jamie back his phone.
Rowan looked up at his dad. “What’s a hockey player?”
“It’s a game,” Tyler explained. “They wear skates and hold long sticks and try to get a disk into a goal.”
As if choreographed, Jamie and Mitch made quiet noises of protest. “I mean,” Jamie began, “it’s a little more complicated than that.”
“It’s a really intense game,” Tyler went on. “Sometimes their teeth get knocked out.”
Rowan turned to gape at Jamie. “Do you have all your teeth?”
“Row…” Tyler started.
“Actually,” Jamie began, feeling a smile tug at his mouth. “I’m missing a few.” And then he reached up and pulled one side of his mouth to the side, revealing an obvious gap in the back of his mouth.
Rowan stared, transfixed. “Can you eat chips?”
Jamie laughed. “Yeah, I can eat chips just fine.”
His eyes lifted at that moment, catching Tyler staring at his face. It was a quiet moment, nothing remarkable about it, except for the way Tyler looked at him with what might have been curiosity.
Like maybe, just maybe, Jamie wasn’t the only one who felt something.