Chapter 22
TYLER
WE’RE NOT ALONE IN THIS
“Let it out, kiddo,” Tyler murmured, rubbing Rowan’s sweat-soaked back as he unloaded the contents of his stomach into the toilet.
Rowan whimpered. “Papa, it hurts.”
Tyler hated it when Rowan was sick. He hated watching his kid suffer, knowing there was nothing he could do but sit by Rowan’s side as he worked his way through it. Tyler had tried to give him some ginger tea, but it had come right back up.
He wiped Rowan’s mouth with a wet cloth before he climbed back into Tyler’s lap, curling up into a tight ball, crying softly against Tyler’s chest. They’d been camped out on the floor of the bathroom for the past few hours, alternating between reading books and throwing up.
Dotty and Sandra had wanted to stay and help, but they’d already committed to driving to the Twin Cities to be with Dotty’s mother for New Year’s before coming back to Madison for the Winter Classic.
He and Rowan were in it alone.
But it wasn’t really just the two of them. Not anymore.
They had Jamie.
Tyler remembered Jamie mentioning he had practice that afternoon, followed by a team-only event in the evening, and another practice at the outdoor rink tomorrow, and then…
Tyler couldn’t remember what else Jamie had on his schedule, only that almost every hour of the days leading up to the Winter Classic game was full.
This was Jamie’s life. Hockey defined Jamie–it was as much a part of him as fatherhood was to Tyler.
From what Jamie had told him, his previous partners hadn’t been able to reconcile with the fact that Jamie always put his team first. They had wanted him to put them first, always wanting more–more time, more attention. More.
Tyler wanted to be different. He didn’t want more than Jamie was able to give.
But right now, he just wanted to call his boyfriend. He wanted to tell Jamie how tired he was, how much it hurt to see Rowan like this. He wanted to hear Jamie’s low voice in his ear, reassuring him that he was a good, competent father. That Rowan was going to be okay.
His phone vibrated on the floor beside him and he sighed as he picked it up. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. Are you doing okay?”
“I’m okay.” He rolled his neck, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders.
Rowan shifted against him. “Papa, my tummy,” he whimpered. Tyler made a soft, soothing sound and pressed a kiss to his damp curls.
“Is Rowan alright?” His mom must have heard Rowan’s voice.
“It’s just a stomach bug.”
“Honey, please think about coming home. If you were here, I could–”
“We’re okay. I promise, we’re okay.”
It was quiet for a moment.
“Tyler, we…We’re worried about you.”
Closing his eyes, Tyler tipped his head back until it thunked against the bathroom wall. He forced himself to take a deep breath, releasing it through his nose. “Did you see the pictures?”
“We did. It’s awful, the things they’re saying about you.”
Tyler couldn’t argue with her. He’d caved and read some of the comments online.
Some nosy internet sleuth with nothing better to do had put two and two together, finding Tyler’s blurry face in the background of a picture from the team Christmas party at Jamie’s house.
Even though Rowan’s face was hidden, it was clear Tyler was holding a child.
From there, the comments went wild: Tyler was a gold-digger, or he was somehow blackmailing the Muskies captain into sleeping with him, or, the worst of them, where people claimed it should be illegal for strippers to have children.
That he was somehow incapable as a father.
Tyler waited, knowing his mom wasn’t done.
“Are you sure being in Madison is worth it? I don’t know what you have going on with this Jamie fellow, but having your name in tabloids? Is this really what you want?” He heard her sigh. “I just wish you’d come home, Tyler. I wish you’d let us help.”
“I’m right where I want to be,” he said, but his voice sounded weak in his own ears.
“You wouldn’t have to dance if you were back here,” she pressed. “You know we don’t judge you for it, but those late nights away from Rowan? I just don't understand–”
“I need to go, Mom.”
“Tyler,” she began.
“Love you. Say hi to dad for me.”
He heard her sigh. “I love you too.”
He hung up, tossing the phone on the floor.
Tyler forced himself to take a slow breath–in, hold, and then out. The strain of holding himself together for Rowan while projecting confidence he didn’t feel to his mom was almost too much.
Of course, it was tempting to throw in the towel on their life in Madison. If he was back in Vermont, he had no doubt his mom would be right there on the bathroom floor beside him. His dad would be warming up homemade chicken stock or running to the store for ginger ale.
So many things about their life would be easier.
And yet, Vermont wasn’t home anymore.
At some point, returning to Madison had become so much more than a stubborn display fueled by his own need to prove something.
Tyler’s job at The Daily Grind had become routine.
Rowan had come to love Dotty and Sandra like family.
An accidental run-in with a professional hockey player had given them a community.
Madison had become their home.
Rowan’s cries had quieted, his breathing slowing. He’d fallen asleep curled up in Tyler’s lap. Tyler grabbed his phone.
“Tyler!” Kids' voices were loud in the background when Layla answered the phone. “How are you? I saw the articles. What a bunch of crap.”
Tyler made out Henri’s voice shouting, “Mom, crap is a bad word!”
“Yes, I know, sweetie. But sometimes people do mean things and it’s okay for Mom to use a bad word. Really, Tyler, are you guys okay?”
Tyler smiled, even as his eyes welled up with tears. “Rowan’s got a stomach bug,” he managed, his voice cracking. “Sorry. A lot going on right now, you know?”
“Oh, babe,” Layla said. “That’s so much. How can I help?”
“No no, you’ve got your hands full with the kids.” Tyler sniffed, running a free hand over his eyes. “I just needed to talk to a friend.”
“I’m so glad you called. You never need a reason to call me, okay?
Raising kids in this world is hard. It’s so, so hard.
Even when you have all the resources, it’s still hard.
You’re a part of this family now, and we take care of each other.
Do you have what you need? Tell me what’s going on with Rowan and we’ll get you taken care of. You’re not alone in this, Tyler.”
Tyler was really crying now. He wiped tears from his cheeks as he explained Rowan’s symptoms, and within minutes, Layla had asked for his address and had ended the call with a promise that everything would be taken care of.
He let out a shuddering exhale, tightening his arms around Rowan.
We’re not alone in this.
The next few hours passed in a blur. Rowan woke up and allowed Tyler to move him into the bath. He gave him a quick wash and changed him into clean jammies before carrying him to the living room.
They cuddled up under a quilt on the couch with a pile of books. It had been a while since Rowan had last thrown up, but Tyler wanted to be certain before he tried to get Rowan to eat anything else.
When Rowan said he wanted to draw, Tyler climbed onto the floor beside him, a pile of colorful crayons laid out beside an old brown paper grocery bag. He cut it in half to expose the blank paper on the inside.
Tyler let his mind wander for just a quick, brief moment.
He thought about Jamie standing up for him at the club, the misconstrued photos and articles, the gravity of the Winter Classic, and again, about Jamie.
What he had with Jamie was still so new, but the past twenty-four hours had solidified Tyler’s belief in what they had together.
He loved the way Jamie had stood up for him and Rowan.
Tyler never would have put “protective instincts” on a list of desirable qualities before, but now that he’d seen Jamie’s commitment to taking care of them?
It made him feel cared for and safe and like maybe he didn’t have to do it all by himself.
He wasn’t going to let some bullshit that people were saying on the internet keep him from showing up for Jamie. Their Jamie.
We just got him, and he belongs to us. Maybe, maybe, we can belong to him, too.
He remembered what Jamie had said in Sharon’s office: I want to see the people I care about wearing my name proudly.
Rowan’s soft humming pulled him from his thoughts. Tyler leaned over, looking down at the swirls of blue, orange, green, and gray on the paper. “What are you working on, kiddo?”
“This is the day we met Jamie.”
“Oh yeah?”
Rowan nodded solemnly. “Mmhm. It was gray out, but he was big and tall and serious, and now we know him and he’s our friend and you give him mouth kisses sometimes.”
Tyler didn’t know what to say. Toddler words were remarkable like that–simple combinations, no beating around the bush.
Honest. Raw.
Rowan resumed his drawing. Tyler leaned back against the couch, reaching for his phone. His fingers itched and there was a warm humming head as he navigated to his social media profile.
There were still so many things Tyler didn’t know. He couldn’t predict the future. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to build a life that felt financially stable. He didn’t know how long they’d be able to rely on Dotty and Sandra.
He didn’t know how to shield Rowan from a future where strangers publicly criticized Tyler’s job.
But they were going to go to that fucking hockey game.
It only took him a minute to find the right picture. It was the snowman Jamie had made them on Christmas morning, Muskies jersey and all, illuminated in the dim light of the gray morning.
He quickly typed: Always cheering our captain on.
There was a knock on the door right as he hit the button to post it.