Chapter 40
GARRETT
I had never made it from the owner’s box down to ice level that fast. Stomach roiling with too many emotions to count, I damn near ran the whole way down, beating the rest of the family members there by a mile.
I was just coming around the last corner before the locker room when the doors flew open. Liam stepped out, still in his sweaty gear and skates. I didn’t even have time to think about how much I loved seeing him like that—I was way too freaked out.
I was just about to call out his name when he turned panicked eyes on me.
“I swear to God,” he said as I closed the distance, “that video is fake.”
I skidded to a halt. “It’s… what?”
“It’s fake.” Liam’s pads creaked as his shoulders fell, and he raked a hand through his sweaty, disheveled hair.
“I have no idea—okay, no, I’m pretty sure I know where it came from.
” He glared toward the locker room door for a heartbeat, then looked at me again.
“But I don’t know how anyone found out.”
“You know who did it, though?”
“Same asshole who’s posted AI fakes before,” Liam gritted out. “Can’t imagine it’s anyone else.”
Fucking hell. I didn’t even have to ask, did I?
I gestured toward the locker room. “Has Chris seen it?”
The dip of Liam’s shoulders answered well enough.
So did the rapid, angry clomping on the concrete behind me. The equipment managers would probably be apoplectic about what Chris was doing to his skate blades, but when I saw him coming toward us, I didn’t imagine he gave a shit about any of his equipment, never mind anyone’s opinion about it.
“What the fuck, Dad?” Chris’s voice echoed off the cinderblock walls. “You guys are really…” He gestured sharply at both of us. “Seriously? And you’re telling fans you’re with him but not bothering to tell me?”
“We didn’t tell the fans,” Liam said evenly. “The video—it’s an AI fake. It’s—”
“But you aren’t denying screwing my dad,” Chris snapped.
I swallowed. “Chris, we’re—”
“No. I don’t want to hear it.” He whirled on me.
In his skates, he towered over me, and his fury seemed to give him a couple of extra inches.
“I don’t fucking care that you’re dating Saints,” he snarled.
“Date whoever the hell you want. I don’t give a shit.
” His voice wavered slightly. “I care that you lied. Again.”
“Chris, I’m sorry. We—”
“You told me to my face you just weren’t ready to introduce me to your new boyfriend,” he ground out.
“Don’t you think that’s different when I already fucking know him?
” He flailed a hand at Liam, nearly smacking his chest protector.
“I thought you weren’t going to hide things anymore.
You weren’t going to fucking lie anymore.
But now you’re—” He whipped his furious glare toward Liam and pointed sharply at me.
“Did he tell you he cheated on my mom? Did he? Huh?”
“Chris,” I pleaded. “I told—”
“Did he?” Chris demanded. “Because he’ll probably cheat on you too. He’s a fucking liar.”
Liam showed his palms. “Listen, I know about—”
“God, fuck you both.” Chris threw up his hands. “I can’t believe—” He turned hurt, angry eyes on me, and his voice wavered as he said, “You said you weren’t going to lie anymore.”
Before I could respond, he stomped back into the locker room. If he could’ve slammed the door behind him, he probably would have. Probably hard enough to rattle the whole arena.
But it just closed gently behind him, cutting off the noise from inside the locker room and leaving us out here in the cacophonous silence.
My shoulders sagged. “Fuck. What do I do now?” I gestured at the closed doors. “Am I even allowed to go in there?”
“It’s probably not a good idea.” Liam put a hand on my chest. “Let him cool off.” I was about to ask him who the hell he thought he was, telling me how to handle my son, when he quietly added, “There’s too many cameras in there.”
My anger instantly lost steam. I had no doubt we were on camera right now—there were cameras everywhere in this arena, not to mention a few people standing off to the sides trying to be slick about watching us.
But the locker room would be full of cameras and microphones, and it wouldn’t do any of us any good to have this out in there.
Fuck. Ironing things out with Chris had been complicated enough. Now we had the added bonus of media interest, especially after someone had… God. Why? Fucking why? What was the point of releasing a video like that?
And what the hell was I supposed to do?
I turned to Liam. “I don’t know how to handle this.”
He studied me, and I swore I could see him shifting from my boyfriend to the team captain. As if he were rallying and collecting himself so he could take charge and fix this. I couldn’t say I minded, because I was fucking useless in that department.
“Listen.” He took my hand between both of his. “We’ll handle this, okay? Let’s give him some breathing room. Give ourselves a chance to regroup.”
I nodded slowly. It sounded way too simple. And way too difficult. And way too much like I was just leaving everything hanging instead of manning up and fixing it.
But I didn’t know what else to do. Just minutes ago, I’d discovered my personal life had been made wildly public. Now Chris was furious with me, all the progress we’d made rebuilding our relationship seemed like it had gone up in smoke, and I was… God, I was paralyzed.
“We’ll get through this,” Liam said. “We will.”
One way or another, sure. Things always worked out somehow.
Whether they worked out well was another question entirely.
He squeezed my hand. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?” It didn’t sound like a come-on. Like he wanted us to go back to his place and screw. An offer of company, I thought. A chance to regroup together.
And… yes. More than almost anything, yes, I wanted to be as close to him as possible tonight.
But I wasn’t sure my conscience could take it. Swallowing hard, I shook my head. “That’s probably not a good idea.”
Liam mostly hid the wince, but not entirely. “Okay. Text me or call me, all right?”
“I will.”
“We’ll get through this,” he whispered again, and I had no idea who he was trying to convince this time.
I just nodded. For a moment, we held each other’s gazes.
Then I headed for the parking garage while he went back into the locker room. No kiss goodbye. No touch. And it wasn’t because he smelled like hockey gear. I didn’t care about that right now—I wanted to hold on to him and not let go, smell be damned.
But… cameras. Chris. Gossip.
So we just… walked away.
All the way to the parking garage, I didn’t know if I was going to cry or throw up. Maybe both. This was exactly the kind of worst-case scenario I’d been afraid of. We’d been outed, and Chris was furious. Not because we were together, but because we hadn’t told him ourselves.
Because I’d lied to him.
Fuck. I wanted to believe he’d see reason once he’d had a chance to cool down, but I was terrified I’d fucked up one too many times.
If we’d had a normal, functional father-son relationship, this would probably be a minor blip.
But we had baggage. Cargo jets full of baggage.
We had a history of no-contact, and Chris had very, very tentatively let me back into his life.
What if this made him slam that door again?
When I reached my car, I started the engine but didn’t pull out of the space. Instead, I took out my phone, and with shaking hands, I wrote out a pair of texts to my son.
Chris, I’m sorry. We wanted to tell you when you weren’t already overwhelmed with hockey and the baby. We didn’t expect someone to out us like that before we had a chance.
I’m sorry. I love you. I want to make this right. Please call me.
I got no response.