Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Brandon
I did not think it was possible for the Foleys’ house to be louder than it always is until right now with Vicky’s WAG party beginning.
“Are you about ready to get out of here?” Danton asks me from the doorway of my bedroom.
I wince as the sound barrier is broken by the collective squeals of almost two dozen wives and girlfriends greeting a new arrival. “Beyond ready,” I say.
Danton nods his head. “Sounds like Clemmers’ wife just got here.”
“Come on.” Danton tips his head, gesturing for me to follow him. “Let’s go rally the troops and get out of here.”
“I’ve got one here.” I point at Danny, who is lying on my floor, playing with my stuffed hodag.
“He still hasn’t given that back?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s his now,” I say as I bend down to pick him up and place him on my hip. I ruffle his head and grab the stuffed monster from his hands. He looks at me with wide, watery eyes. “We’ll put him on my bed for safekeeping. We don’t want anyone at the game to steal him.”
Danny grins at me. Crisis averted. Together, the three of us head up the stairs to collect the rest of Danton’s kids so we can all vacate the premises as instructed by Vicky.
“Ahhhhhh!” A group squeal is directed my way the minute my foot hits the first floor.
“He’s so cute!” one of the women says. “He’s gotten so big.”
“Please tell me you’re talking about Danny,” I say.
“Obviously,” she says as she comes over and tries to pull Danny from my arms. He grips me around the neck tighter.
“Sorry, Sandra,” Vicky says, coming over to join us. “Danny is quite attached to Brandon. There’s no separating the two.”
“Yeah.” Danton laughs as he comes up behind me. “It’s only slightly easier to pull Danny away from him than it is Ryan.”
“I’m not surprised by that,” Michelle, Coach Chris’s wife, says as she walks up to me. I can feel the color draining from my face. I hope to the hockey gods she doesn’t notice. “You two are turning out to be quite the duo.”
I nod my head. “Yeah… I mean, we play a similar style… so it was easy to build chemistry.”
“You boys definitely have some chemistry,” Michelle agrees.
She takes a sip of her champagne. It could be my paranoia, but I swear there’s a hint of knowing in her eyes.
But I don’t think her look is nefarious.
After all, this is the woman that masterminded Connor’s escape from Chicago and saved Gavin from the career-ending fallout that was headed his way.
But still, I feel exposed.
“Aren’t they just so much fun to watch?” Vicky asks. She takes one look at me and seems to sense my discomfort. She shuffles herself to stand slightly in front of me. “You know, we housed Ryan here as well when he was a rookie. Both of these boys are the model houseguest.”
“I think you work perfectly together,” Michelle says, positioning herself closer to me. She looks at me with a very soft smile, then quietly adds, “If you or Ryan ever run into a problem, let me know.”
Ryan
It’s the perfect night for a baseball game.
The temperature is warm, but not stiflingly hot and there isn’t a cloud in the sky making it so we can see the stars as they start to come out as day fades into night.
The stadium is also packed with Mules fans who cheer every time we’re shown enjoying the game on the stadium’s jumbotron.
The crowd goes wild. Excited to celebrate the team’s first appearance in the playoffs in over a decade with us.
That’s one of the best things about St. Louis.
This is a sports city. They showed up for us even when we weren’t doing the greatest. And now they’re relishing the excitement of us preparing to take on Winnipeg in the first round of the postseason.
Not all NHL teams are so lucky. Places like New York, Boston, and all of Canada are brutal on their teams. But not St. Louis.
They loved us even when we were losing. It’s nice.
“You’re imagining things,” I say to Brandon, who’s sitting beside me at the game tossing peanuts into his mouth as he shells them.
He holds the bag of nuts out for me, and I grab a handful for myself. “I’m telling you, she knows,” he says as he chews. He washes his peanuts down with a sip of his beer.
“There isn’t even anything to know,” I say.
Because there isn’t. Not officially anyways.
Sure, we’re both gay, and residing in separate closets, but what is there to worry about.
If anything, this is a good thing. Because if either of us ended up being in the center of a big gay controversy, Michelle is exactly who’d I’d want in either of our corners. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Who said I’m worried?” He pops another peanut into his mouth. “It’s only our careers on the line.”
“Okay. Now you’re being ridiculous. No one is losing their career anymore over something as trivial as this.”
“Okay, that’s probably true,” he agrees and holds the bag out to me again. I take some more. “But we can say goodbye to any and all privacy we might want regarding the matter.”
No one can say he’s wrong about that. The evidence of how true his statement is currently resides in Buffalo.
People, who strangely enough aren’t even hockey fans, refuse to leave Gavin and Connor alone.
They want every little detail about what is going on in their lives.
It’s creepy, and whenever I think about it, I want to put an extra deadbolt on my closet door.
But also, before I do that, I’d like to sneak Brandon in there with me so at least neither of us is alone. I’ve done enough alone. I’m tired of it.
I’m also tired of pretending that I don’t want Brandon. I’m tired of convincing myself that we’re a bad idea. How can someone who brings me so much comfort be bad? How can someone I associate all things good with be wrong? He’s not.
All I’ve been doing is making up excuses.
It’s me trying to push away something good before it can decide to treat me like I don’t exist. Brandon isn’t like that and it’s not fair of me to punish him for what my family did to me.
I’m ashamed to think of how I punished his parents with my silence, when they did nothing but open their arms for me.
Only because of the way my own family treats me.
I turn to look at him again. He’s focused on the game.
And despite the seriousness of what we were talking around, he looks happy.
At ease. Comfortable even. But maybe that’s just because he’s surrounded by our team at a baseball stadium on a warm night with his hair curling around the edges of his hat, a beer in one hand, and peanuts in the other.
He turns and looks at me. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, with a small ache in my heart. I take a sip of my beer.
He smiles at me, then pulls his attention back to the game. “What are we doing after this?”
“Probably heading out to Mickey’s.” I grab another peanut out of his bag, crack it open and pop it into my mouth, then toss the shell onto the ground.
I watch him blindly do the same as he keeps his eye on the game.
He’s watching everything unfold with great intensity.
A true athlete who studies each aspect of whatever sport he’s watching. Even one he’s not playing.
“Is everyone going?” He leans forward in his seat, wearing a look of anticipation. The sound of the ball thumping into the catcher’s mitt causes him to sit back in his seat with a frown.
“Probably. What are they gonna do? Go home to their empty houses?”
“If they’re smart, they’ll pick up their better halves from Cap’s house before they start diving into Mules fanfiction.
” He looks over his shoulder at me, with a hint of teasing in his eyes.
It looks good on him. This new, older version of Brandon who’s no longer afraid to joke around with the older boys in case he can’t quite keep up.
“I’m sorry. What?” I laugh.
He flicks his eyes over me, quickly, and a slight blush colors his cheeks. “Believe me when I tell you, you don’t want to know. I have learned too much about the secret lives of WAGs today.”
I hold his gaze with my own. Good God has he gotten good looking over the years.
As we stare at each other I start to feel that familiar vibe from him.
The vibe. The “if we were anyone else, anywhere else we’d be wrapped around each other” vibe.
I wet my lips and I can’t help but notice that he does the same.
Crack!
The spell is broken. Brandon turns back to look at the game.
In a flash, he’s on his feet. Whoever was at bat for St. Louis just smashed the shit out of the ball and it’s sailing over the outfield bleachers.
I rise and start cheering with the crowd.
A grand slam! It’s exciting, but I don’t think it’s the reason I feel my stomach flip when Brandon turns to face me again, holding his hand up for a high five.
I hit it and take a moment to enjoy the unfettered joy on his face.
I’d give anything at this moment to kiss him.
To be as brave as Connor Kennedy was in this crowded baseball park.
Within seconds, I’m pushed about by my teammates all around. Everyone is slapping high fives. Brandon, of course, being Brandon, crouches down to include Danton Foley’s kids. It’s clear that they love him, especially Danny, who Brandon is lifting up onto his shoulders.
“Isn’t this great?” Danton asks me. He slings his arm around my shoulders, and we look up to see that our box is being shown on the jumbotron again.
Brandon and Danny are projected onto the screen for the entire stadium to see.
Together they dance like a couple of complete dorks to the music.
It’s ridiculous, but it makes my cheeks burn with affection for him anyway.
“This is our year,” Danton says. “I can feel it.”
“Me too,” I say. Because I can’t deny it any longer. Brandon has changed the trajectory of the Mules. He’s changed the trajectory of me.
Brandon