7. Mads #2
He didn’t stay to talk. No one stayed when Ev was in the house.
Like they knew they’d be walking into a powder keg.
Didn’t matter that he was one of the old guard who’d seen some pretty cool things; he was known as an asshole among players and coaches, even though no one ever said the words explicitly in front of me.
I guess they thought I felt something for the bastard, but all he was to me was my kid’s grandfather. That was all.
I gestured to the door. “If you don’t mind, I have work.”
I stepped forward, and he stood his ground before turning smartly on his heel and leaving without a goodbye.
It was okay, though—I wasn’t expecting a goodbye, not when I hadn’t even got a hello.
To him I was, and always would be, the waste of space who’d slept with his daughter and ruined her life.
I agreed with him to a certain extent. If Ryker was out there getting girls pregnant, I’d be pissed.
But one thing I wouldn’t do, ever, was keep my grandchildren away from one of their parents.
I collected my stuff and locked my office door, rolling my shoulders to release the inevitable stress that came with every meeting I had with Ev.
My cell indicated a text, and I checked the screen.
A message from Ryker. Heads up, GP is visiting.
Ryker called Ev “GP”, short for Grandpa.
I sent off a quick thanks and added a kiss.
I loved Ryker, and never a day went past when I didn’t want to tell him that.
Finally, I was at the door to the video room. In there would be the entire team, including Ten. Part of me thought maybe I should have talked more with Ten instead of doing the door-kissing thing, but it was too late now.
I pushed inside and cast a quick look around the room.
Just like with every other team I’d played on right from junior hockey, the lines sat together: the Ds in a huddle, the goalies off to one side looking suitably weird and their gazes as focused as mine.
Goalies always wanted to know everything, and had this uncanny knack of seeing way too much.
I moved straight to the front, noting that Ten was two rows back, centering his line, and looked like sex on a stick.
He was in the same practice jersey as the rest, the same pads, the same everything, but he was different.
He was everything I wanted in one parcel, and he was sitting and waiting for me to make this work.
“Okay, everyone,” I began. “Hush up.”
One by one, they stopped talking, and interested faces turned my way, Benning took a seat at the back and nodded encouragingly.
I met Addison’s gaze, and he nodded as well—this was as much on him as it was on me.
I shuffled the papers on the small lectern and began to read what I’d taken from the web.
“The NHL is teaming up with the various established projects to create more visibility for LGBTQ inclusion in the league. As part of this, there is a list of team ambassadors, and for the Railers that ambassador is Lee Addison, backed up and supported by myself. Lee has some words for you.”
Lee stood up and waved a hand, and was treated to an almost polite set of muted cheers. Looked like the room was full of serious hockey players thinking serious things, some of them a little confused, others who knew exactly what Lee was going to say.
He was very direct in what he said. “You all know what happened. I lost my temper and used a gay slur on a teammate.” A couple of players exchanged glances.
“I used a word that was filled with every ounce of temper and hate I held inside. I apologized for what I did, and have volunteered to become our team ambassador for inclusion on the team.” He sat down, but immediately stood up again.
“So, if you need support or help—because let’s face it, the shit we say sometimes means gay players stay in the closet, because we are the opposite of inclusive—then you know where I am.
And it isn’t just the gay thing.” He cleared his throat again.
“It’s race and culture and things like that.
I have the support of You Can Play, and also Coach Madsen.
” He kind of collapsed in his chair, clearly as happy with public speaking as I was.
There was some quiet chatter, then everyone turned to focus on me.
“Let’s think about what we say,” I said in summary. “Leave the hate at home.”
The players left the room in ones and twos, some talking, some quiet, and finally it was me, Addison, a quiet Ten, and Coach Benning in the room.
“We’re done here?” Coach asked.
“Done,” Addison confirmed.
I wanted to be in the room alone with Ten, so we could talk. I didn’t want to be in the room alone with Ten, because I didn’t know what to say.
In the end, it didn’t matter—Ten left first, with Addison right behind him.
“Anything you want to tell me?” Coach asked.
“I asked for a management meeting at five. Rowe is attending with me.”
“Good. Good. Did you talk to Rowe about what he told me?”
“Not as much as I wanted to.”
No, I kissed him instead.
“I trust you to deal with this in a manner that won’t leave our asses twisting in the wind.” Benning was absolutely dead serious, and I knew what he wanted me to say in return. “This could be a big thing for the league, and needs to be handled right for Rowe and the team.”
He didn’t want me to lose sight of how Ten’s admission would affect the team when they found out, or how management might not be as supportive as I wanted.
The Railers were a reasonably new team with one hell of a lot to live up to.
This was the very start of what everyone hoped would be a long-lived franchise, but one that had a lot of crosses next to its name.
“I will,” I promised.
I left the practice and showered, pulling on clean sweats and my Railers Hockey T-shirt.
I like the dusky blue they’d chosen for the team colors.
Add in white and gold, and we rocked the teams in looks.
Or so I thought. Of course, most of that came from me watching Ten in the uniform, so I was very likely biased.
The door to the coaches’ area opened and quickly shut, and I spun to find Ten in my space.
“Mads,” he began.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” I said. Because, yeah, rules were what I should be thinking about right then. Ten’s dark hair was wet, pushed back from his face, his beautiful eyes focused right on me.
“I wanted to ask something before this meeting.” He looked concerned, like he thought we wouldn’t be able to handle what we needed to.
I swallowed as he wet his lips with his tongue. A nervous gesture, and just that small action had me getting hard. Jesus.
“What?”
“Did you… I don’t think you did, not really, but…”
“Spit it out, Ten.”
“Brady left this message saying he’d talked to you and you hung up on him. Did you tell him about me?” There was pain in Ten’s eyes. He looked both confused and concerned, and I knew he was expecting the worst. Carrying this secret was likely eating him away inside.
I reached out and touched a hand to his arm—briefly, because someone could walk in at any time. “I wouldn’t do that,” I reassured him.
Ten relaxed. “I need to tell them, soon, if I want to…” He looked at me again, then with a sigh he looked left and right before he pressed a kiss to my lips. “I’ll see you up there,” he said, and left.
And I stood and watched him walk away with so much confusion in my thoughts. I did the whole cliché thing of pressing my fingers to my lips, like I could touch the kiss that had been left there. My chest was tight, and I felt like that single kiss meant much more than I imagined.
Was this more than lust? Was I getting in way too deep with a man a decade younger than me, and a family connection complicated by friendship?
Hell, whatever it was, it scared the living shit out of me.