Chapter Eleven #2
Phil busied himself brewing fresh coffee while he waited for her to be done, and Charlie helped him put out the good coffee cups on the table in front of the couch.
“So,” Ms. Rodriguez said after she’d inspected Charlie’s room, the bathroom, and the contents of the fridge in as much detail as her clipboard full of notes demanded.
As they all gathered on the massive sectional, it struck Phil that he hadn’t sat on the couch like this once since his injury—prim and proper with a straight back at the very edge of the seat.
The couch formed a big L in the middle of the living room, and to keep his knee happy, Phil usually sat in the corner with his legs extended in front of him.
On evenings when he didn’t have to be at the arena, Ben joined him, leaning back into the cushions and propping his feet up on the table or curling them underneath himself.
He didn’t cuddle up into Phil’s space or anything, but he certainly didn’t keep to his own side of the couch, instead staying close enough for their legs and arms to brush together.
Today, Ben sat a deliberate six inches from Phil, both feet on the floor.
Ms. Rodriguez cleared her throat. “This is an unusual situation.”
“Is it?” Ben asked.
Phil was used to hearing him as Coach Morris, when he affected a deep, gruff tone, or as Ben at home, when he spoke a little more softly but still evenly and self-assured. Now, his voice sounded too high, too questioning.
“Mm-hm. Normally, when family members apply for guardianship, they have a preexisting relationship with the child. You indicated on your forms that you never met Charlie before he came to stay with you two weeks ago.”
“That’s correct.”
“So what qualifies you to take care of him over his biological parents?”
Charlie snorted loudly at the word “biological.”
Phil gave him a warning glance.
“My parents threw me out, lady,” Charlie said. “What do you expect me to do, catch a bus back to Utah and tell them the state of California decided I had to live there, so can we all just forget I used to be a girl?”
“I understand this is a tough time,” Ms. Rodriguez said. “But my job is to help the judge make the best decision for you. A big part of it is making sure you’re not going from the frying pan into the fire. I have to ask these questions.”
“I don’t have to like it,” Charlie said mulishly.
“How about you wait upstairs, then,” Phil suggested. “Put on some music, try to relax for a while? Or you could hit the gym. Working out always helps me relax.”
“Only because all you do is work out,” Charlie said, but he headed to the home gym, and a minute later, they heard the blast of Olivia Carpenter or Sabrina Rodrigo or whatever teen actress had become a pop star that week.
“I’ll have to talk to him before I leave,” Ms. Rodriguez warned. “But it might be better to do this part without him. So, we were saying…”
“Right.” Ben steepled his fingers. “Well, it’s like Charlie said. His parents are…not the most accepting people. When he came out, my mother—his grandmother—sent him here.”
“Why didn’t she take him in?”
“Oh, she would never.” Ben smiled ruefully. “I haven’t been back to Utah in almost twenty years, but they call sometimes when someone in the family needs something the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would disapprove of.”
Phil froze in his seat. According to Ben’s CV, he’d spent most of the last twenty years coaching hockey in Utah. Which meant Ben hadn’t been honest with him, and he’d also lied on his application to the Sea Lions. Had he even coached hockey before?
“So you’re taking Charlie in as a favor.”
“No!” Ben said. “I fully intend to care for Charlie in his own right, for his own benefit, to the best of my abilities.
Ms. Rodriguez jotted down a few more notes. “Now, I can’t help but notice you moved to the area very recently, and a number of fields relating to your employment are left blank. What are your career plans?”
Phil shifted on the couch. Ms. Rodriguez asked an excellent question he needed the answer to as well.
“I, uh…” Ben swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. At the corner of his throat, right where it met the neckline of his shirt, Phil spotted a shadow. The last remnant of the hickey Phil had sucked into his skin. “Well, I’ve been applying for jobs. I have a few interviews lined up.”
What kind of jobs? Phil wanted to ask. Not coaching, presumably, if nothing on his résumé had actually happened.
But he did currently coach the Sea Lions.
Why hadn’t he mentioned his job to CPS? Did he not intend to stay with them?
When Ben went looking for a place for Charlie and him, did he mean in another city or another state? Was he planning on leaving?
“And how exactly does Mr. Easton fit into this?”
Phil wanted to know that too.
“You’re living here, and Charlie seems to have made himself quite at home,” she continued. “But I don’t see any proof of address or a rental contract in the forms you submitted. Are you and Mr. Easton together? Or is this a temporary situation?”
“Uh…” Ben began and then didn’t continue.
There was a clear wrong answer, and it was the truth. Ben had never intended his stay at Phil’s to be more than temporary, much as he’d never expected his nephew to be living with him. Apparently, he didn’t even want the government to know about his job, not even to protect Charlie.
By rights, Phil ought to let him get caught in his own web of half-truths and distraction techniques. He’d had ample opportunity to tell Phil the truth and chosen not to. It would serve him right if CPS turned down his application.
But it wouldn’t serve Charlie right.
Ben rubbed at his forehead. The motion caused his shirt collar to loosen a little, revealing more of the mark Phil had left on his neck.
Phil reached out and took his free hand.
“Wh—” Ben started.
“It’s okay, baby,” Phil said.
Ben shot him a panicked look, but Phil just patted his hand. He might not know anything about Ben’s real identity or his true purpose with Phil’s team and in Phil’s life, but he definitely knew how to schmooze.
Phil turned his most charming smile on Ms. Rodriguez. “It’s my fault. I don’t know if you follow hockey, but I’m in the NHL.”
She frowned. “Rings a bell.”
“Well, it’s a living.” He gestured around the house in fake modesty. “But there aren’t any gay players. At least, not openly. I didn’t want that kind of media attention, especially with Charlie moving in as well.”
The frown lines on her forehead cleared slightly but not fully. “So Charlie will have to keep quiet about where he’s living and who he’s living with?”
Ben inhaled sharply. He tugged on Phil’s hand, clearly about to pull away and torpedo his and Charlie’s chance at happiness.
“I’m retiring at the end of the season. It would only be a few more months. Then no one will care what I do.”
Ben’s fingers clenched tightly around his. “Phil…”
Phil put on his best media smile. “You know my knee won’t hold up for much more hockey. Playoffs this year, and then I’m out.” He hadn’t known the words were true before he said them, but as they fell from his lips, a wave of relief so great it made him dizzy washed through him.
Oh shit.
He hadn’t known how much the thought of his contract negotiations weighed on him until he decided he wasn’t going to have any.
Thank God, he’d already made an appointment with the sports therapist. This conversation alone provided ample ground to cover.
“Still.” Ms. Rodriguez frowned down at her clipboard. “You were in the Midwest last year, Mr. Sinclair.”
Sinclair? For a moment, Phil thought she had the wrong paperwork. Maybe that explained all the things she’d said about his job history.
But Ben had agreed with her. Ben admitted he hadn’t spent time in Utah recently. And Ben was nodding along like everything was fine.
Because he was Mr. Sinclair.
Because he hadn’t even told Phil his real name.
And here Phil was, putting his ass on the line and committing to retirement to save Ben’s ass.
“And the year before that, you were on the East Coast. Settling here seems a little sudden.”
“Well—” Ben tracked Phil instead of her, an odd smile on his face. “—when you know, you know, right? I mean, sometimes fate is weird.”
Fate. Phil nearly laughed. Ben didn’t believe in fate. He hated when someone else cleaned his room. He wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of some unseen hand of the universe guiding his life. But he was willing and able to lie his ass off to do what was best for Charlie.
The knot in Phil’s stomach eased. He lifted Ben’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, the tension of his media smile easing into real affection.
Ben didn’t lie for his own benefit, not about their relationship, not about his real name, and not about his job.
He was doing it to help someone, somehow.
Phil was sure of it. He might not like it, but he could trust in it.
“Are you two positive this household will provide the stability Charlie desperately needs?”
Phil felt Ben tense beside him, further evidence that he sucked at subterfuge. How had Phil believed he was a real coach for four months? The thought seemed ridiculous now.
And how were they going to convince this woman to let Charlie stay? The longer Ben stayed silent, the further down her eyebrows drew, skepticism writ large on her face.
Phil said the first thing that came to mind to save the situation. “We’re positive. In fact, we’re planning on getting married as soon as we can so we can both formally adopt him.”