Epilogue
EPILOGUE
I haven’t stopped checking the arrivals board since I got here like an hour early. Seb texted about two hours ago to let me know he’d made his connecting flight in Toronto and my stomach hasn’t stopped flipping since.
Obviously we’ve talked on the phone and facetimed these past eight weeks – I think we’re experts at phone sex now. But it still feels weird. Knowing I haven’t physically seen him in all this time.
Fuck I’ve missed him.
It’s not the same over the phone.
I even went into duty-free and sniffed the aftershave he wears when I got here. I can just imagine someone recognizing me and posting it on social media:
Austin Donoghue goes full psycho over boyfriend’s cologne!
A little girl came up to me when I sat down and asked to take a picture with me. I’m still getting used to all the attention that comes with playing in the NHL, but I’m not about to complain. It’s scary as fuck, but worth it. Especially when kids get excited to talk to you.
During my first NHL game, I thought I was literally going to shit my pants. I tried to pretend like it wasn’t the first time, and then the first thing the ref said before the opening puck drop was: “Welcome to the NHL Austin.” Fuck.
My ma in the crowd, jumping up and down and screaming with the uncles and aunts I’d managed to get tickets for. Overwhelming isn’t even the word.
But this - waiting for Seb to show after eight weeks apart - this is something entirely different.
People start funneling through arrivals, looking exhausted, carrying crying kids and wheeling suitcases behind them.
I hear the blood rushing in my ears while I wait for Seb to appear.
I see the top of his head above a few of the more normal-sized dads and little kids. His mop of golden hair. His hand brushing it back off his forehead. And then I catch sight of his face.
Fuck he’s handsome.
A big, cocky grin spreads across his face and my heart lurches.
And he’s mine.
He speeds up his walk, Samsonite suitcase trailing behind him. He lets go of it when he reaches me and I throw my arms around him, greedily taking him in.
“Missed you.” I speak into his shoulder as he squeezes me almost too tightly.
I pull away to get a better look at him. My hand on the back of his neck as if trying to stop him from getting away.
“I’m better-looking than you remember, aren’t I?”
“Fuck you.” I laugh. I lean in and kiss him, quickly. If I let myself linger, we’ll end up putting on a show for the whole airport, and I want to save that for when we’re alone and we can take our time.
I put his suitcase in the trunk of my car while Seb studies it with a grin.
“What?”
“You couldn’t even do one reckless thing and buy a Ferrari could you?”
I snort. “I’m not quite making Ferrari money.”
“Not yet.”
“Shut up and get in.”
Seb opens the passenger door of my shiny new Volvo and I climb in beside him. My music starts playing through the stereo and Seb hums along.
As I drive through the tunnel leading out of the airport, the lights illuminate Seb’s face in a weird green hue and he looks fucking beautiful. I squeeze his knee and he rests his head on the seat and turns to look at me.
“Tired?” I ask.
“Not too tired.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too. Things haven’t been too bad here?”
“I told you, things have been good.”
I can hear the tension in his voice any time we talk about my reception in the media. The way people have talked about my sexuality. My relationship with Seb. Of course there have been trolls. But people get trolled over the stupidest shit. I meant what I said to my ma that day in the car. I’m not gonna let people bully me or make me feel bad over something I am. The hardest part has been trying to keep my uncles from tracking every online troll down and smashing their cars up with baseball bats or some stupid shit like that. It’s probably been harder on my family than it has been on me, but my teammates are awesome, and I’ve had some pretty cool encounters with fans, and that’s all that matters in my books.
Then there were whispers of a ‘sex tape’ of Seb, but I guess the NHL has better contacts than Seb’s dad, because it was buried pretty fast after that. All I wanted to do at that time was protect Seb, and I’m glad the NHL did what I couldn’t.
“So, you ready to be a student again?”
Seb closes his eyes and groans.
“More homework, why am I doing this to myself? Maybe I should be more worried about playing for the worst team in the NCAA?”
“Hey, don’t shit talk them, they gave you a full-ride, and they’re close enough for us to see each other more often.”
Seb’s quiet as he looks out of the window. I wonder if he’s worrying about us being apart again when he starts school in the fall, or if he’s regretting that he wouldn’t have been able to afford tuition without the hockey scholarship.
“You know I would have paid-”
“Shush, I told you, I’m not a trust fund baby anymore.”
He catches my eye in the rear-view, a glint of mischief. “I’m a strong, independent WAG – who’s about to have a grad degree.”
“Sorry, I forgot.”
He smiles and squeezes my hand.
“Anyway, they’re not that bad, they just had a couple of bad seasons. I’m sure as soon as I’m captaining them they’ll-”
“Captain?”
“You’ve gotta dream big superstar, how else will I impress those NHL scouts and get to face off with you again?”
I groan. “I think I prefer you as a boyfriend. You were fucking annoying as a rival.”
He picks my hand up and kisses the knuckles.
“You were just too easy to mess with.”
I grin at his reflection in the mirror, my heart doing that stupid little fluttery thing it does when I look at him.
“Fuck you.” I say.
He treats me to one of those obnoxious, rich-boy grins in the mirror, only now, I see right through it.
THE END