Chapter 29
LIAM
Being away from Garrett had been an exercise in frustration.
Being on the same plane, being in the same bus, hotel, and restaurants with him, but not being able to touch him? Or even share a grin or a smile with him because God forbid someone caught on to us? I was going to lose my damn mind.
Even practicing yesterday was harder than it should’ve been, and so was today’s morning skate.
The team needed to work and focus, especially after that disappointing loss to St. Louis on home ice the night before this trip.
We were all still bummed about that, but the dads’ trip was always good for a morale boost. I didn’t know if our dads brought good luck, or if we were all just determined to win in front of them, but the Phantoms rarely lost on this trip.
Hopefully that trend would continue.
It would help, I thought, if the team captain could concentrate for more than two seconds.
I could skate and I could stick handle, but I wasn’t doing such a hot job of accomplishing both at the same time.
Social media would have a field day if any of the reporters posted videos of me practicing today. Jesus Christ.
I needed to pull it together. And like, I’d already played numerous games knowing that Garrett was there to watch both of us. There was no reason I couldn’t do it now.
This seemed different somehow, though. As if having Garrett here with all the other dads made it impossible to ignore that he was my teammate’s father as well as my boyfriend. And having my own dad here, too, just made me feel guiltier for keeping Garrett a secret.
Fuck. The dads’ trip was usually great for all of us, but I had a feeling this year it was going to turn me into an anxious mess. Guess I’d find out when we played our first game.
It didn’t help that yesterday, the team’s media department had asked all the players and dads to get together for a group photo.
The dads all put on their sons’ jerseys, which they’d be wearing to every game, and we posed for a huge group photo.
I’d always loved that tradition, and it had always been cool to see my dad wearing my number.
Not gonna lie, though—it’d felt weird to see Garrett wearing Chris’s jersey. It had made my breath hitch in the moment, and seeing the photo posted to social media had done it all over again.
I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel if my dad got involved with one of my teammates.
Okay, my dad was (to my knowledge) straight, and he was quite happily married to my mom. Still—that would be weird, wouldn’t it? If a single, queer, alternate universe version of my dad started dating one of my teammates?
Dad would’ve been around Garrett’s age when I was first drafted. There’d been a few guys on the team then who were the same age I was now.
Dad dating Yuri Petrovich? Or Erik Pettersson? Or—my idol at the time—Alexandre Beaupré?
Shit. Yeah. That would’ve been weird. They were adults and all, and I’d liked all three of those players, but I struggled to imagine how I’d have felt knowing one of them was with my dad.
Or how my other teammates might’ve reacted.
I liked to think we’d have been more mature about it than when my U16 winger’s mom had started dating our coach.
My teammate had been mortified, and the guys had teased him relentlessly about it, but I mean… we were stupid teenagers.
Not that pro-level guys were all that far removed from teenagers sometimes—boys will be boys and all that—but we were adults.
Most of the team was married and better than half of them were dads themselves.
So it should stand to reason that we’d be collectively more mature than the little shits we’d been back then.
At the end of the day, I’d want my hypothetically single dad to be happy. As long as his partner wasn’t a jerk to him or to me, then I could get used to them. Right?
By some miracle, I made it through the morning skate. In the locker room after, I was relieved to be off the ice, but that relief didn’t last long.
“Hey, Saints.” Barns’s voice turned my head. “You and your dad still joining us for lunch?” He gestured at Temo. “He needs a final count for the reservation.”
I thought about it, my brain record-scratching briefly when I heard Chris’s voice elsewhere in the room. Were he and Garrett going? Maybe, maybe not, but it wasn’t like I could tactfully ask without tipping my hand.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. What time?”
“Rideshare vans will be there at 11:30.”
“Got it.”
So, at the designated time, my dad and I joined my teammates in the lobby. We piled into a couple of rideshare vans, which deposited us at an amazing bar and grill we always went to when we were in town.
And…
Oh God. As we got off the vans, I saw Chris. If Chris was here, that meant…
Garrett.
And wouldn’t you know, we all ended up at the same table.
Fucking hell. How was I going to maintain my dignity? Or professionalism? Or this increasingly uncomfortable facade as a man who wasn’t completely stupid for Garrett Kane?
As we settled in and started perusing the menu, I stole a glance at Chris, and I gnawed the inside of my cheek.
Would you understand if we told you the truth?
Would you be angry at us? Would it be too much on top of hockey and the baby?
I shifted my gaze to Garrett. Right then, he looked up from his menu, and we locked eyes across the table. With my dad and his son and a couple of other teammates and dads around us, we stole a silent moment of connection. There was apprehension in his eyes, but also heat. Hunger.
He dropped his gaze back to his menu, and the spell was broken.
So was my concentration. I had to catch my breath, which I somehow managed to do without anyone noticing.
I didn’t even think it was just the secrecy driving me nuts right then.
I wanted to be close to Garrett. Openly affectionate.
I wanted to be able to smile at him without worrying someone would pick up on the chemistry crackling between us.
I wanted people to know what my heart did every time I looked at him.
Trying not to fidget in the plush chair, I slid my gaze toward Chris, who was laughing at something Barns said while they looked at their menus.
My chest ached.
Would you understand if you knew how hard I’m falling for your dad?
“So.” Dad eased himself onto the couch in our suite. “When are you going to tell your teammate you’re seeing his father?”
“When—what?” I froze, irrationally certain he’d felt my blood run cold. With a laugh that didn’t sound convincing at all, I asked, “What do you mean?”
Dad cocked a brow. Then he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Liam, I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night.”
I stared at him.
He scoffed and rolled his eyes again. “I saw you two at the family skate on Christmas, and I saw you two today.” He pointed emphatically at himself. “Do I look stupid to you?”
“I…” Okay. Fine. Fine. He’d always been able to read me like a book, so there wasn’t much point in trying to talk him out of this. Sinking onto the couch, I sighed. “What gave us away?”
He chuckled and joined me, reaching over to clap my knee. “You know there’s a reason your mother and I figured out you were gay years before you came out, right?”
I swallowed. Seventeen-year-old me had been so relieved that my parents had accepted me, I hadn’t thought to question why they said they weren’t surprised.
Something, something, gift horse, mouth…
“I, uh… I kind of always wondered about that, to be honest.”
Dad smiled as he sat back against the couch cushions and pulled his foot up onto his knee. “You’ve never been subtle, son. Never.” His laugh sounded fond. “I’ll never forget being at one of your games when you were in U14, and your mom said, ‘He’s got a crush on that goalie.’”
My stomach dropped. “Wait, you guys knew I was into him?”
“Like I said—not subtle.”
“Oh. What gave it away?”
He pointed at his own face. “You get a look about you. One that’s about as inconspicuous as a sign on the Jumbotron that says”—he gestured as if he were indicating an invisible sign—“Liam St. Clair’s got a crush!”
My face had to be brighter than the goal light. “Shit. Really?”
“Mmhmm.”
I swallowed again, which took some effort. “Did that… Was it weird? Realizing I had a crush on a boy?”
Dad’s lips quirked, and then he shrugged. “It was an adjustment, I guess?” He winced. “I’d love to tell you I was Father of the Year and immediately accepted that my son was gay. But I wasn’t perfect. I took some time to come around to it, and I’m not proud of that.”
The candor caught me by surprise. Dad had never been anything but supportive; it was startling to realize he’d resisted the idea at first.
“I’m glad I caught on when I did,” he said. “It gave me time to chew on the idea and figure out that the only thing wrong was my reaction.”
I exhaled. “I had no idea, honestly. I always thought…”
“Well, then I did right by you, and I’m glad I did. Like I said, I’m not proud of it. But as long as I never made you feel like it was an issue…”
Shaking my head, I whispered, “No. Never.”
“Good. Good.” He seemed genuinely relieved by that. “Anyhow, we knew. And we knew every time you had a crush on someone after that… and when you had a boyfriend.”
I straightened. “You did?”
“Unless you and that other goalie didn’t date.”
My lips parted. “You… You and Mom knew about that?”
“Are you really surprised?”
“I…” I slouched back against the couch, letting my shoulders slump. “Well, damn. If I’d known that, we wouldn’t have stressed ourselves out sneaking around so you wouldn’t find out.”
Dad’s humor faded. “Did you think you’d get in trouble?”
“I was fifteen and in the closet, and one of my friends from school got kicked out for being gay the year before.” I waved a hand. “Of course I thought I’d get in trouble.”
He blew out a breath. “Jesus. I’m sorry. We were trying to let you come to us in your own time. We didn’t realize…”