6. Wes

6

Wes

“Where. The fuck. Are we?” Blake asks, his eyes roaming the sleek, achingly hip room. “Silicon Valley does weird things to its bars.”

He’s not wrong. I’m holding a twenty-two-dollar cocktail, while blue light and techno music washes over us. “This is how I’d picture a bar on the Starship Enterprise.”

“Nah,” my teammate Will O’Connor says. “Where are the alien women with three tits?”

Forget the alien women. Where is Jamie? I take a sip of my over-priced cocktail and scan the room again. I’m aching to see his blond head pop out of the crowd. But no. It’s just us.

After their win, San Jose sent a messenger to our locker room to tell us to meet ’em here. You can have your goalie back after we buy him a drink, the note said.

So I guess Jamie made some new friends tonight. He must be out of his mind right now. Honestly, my head is sort of blowing up with ideas about what might happen next. Was that Ottawa scout in the stands tonight when Jamie became San Jose’s hero? I bet he was.

My man’s whole life is about to change. And I feel all the things. Excitement. Astonishment. Disbelief. Worry. And—fine—a twinge of fear. He won’t have as much time for me now. I don’t need to be the center of attention. But I like being the center of his attention.

But I push that ugly emotion back into its cave. This is Jamie’s night and I can’t wait to watch what happens next.

Some of my teammates hit the dance floor, burning off their post-game energy. Lemming corners a leggy woman at the bar and starts turning on the charm. But I only slurp my drink and watch the door.

Just when I’m sure he’s been kidnapped by my opponents, that golden head bobs into view, surrounded by a bunch of guys in teal jackets. I feel a rush of relief that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. And then I’m on the move, crossing the space, plopping my empty glass down on the nearest surface and hug-tackling him like I’ve needed to do all night.

“Hey!” he says with a laugh as I squeeze him. “Sorry about your scoreless period. Better luck next time.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile, and everything is right in my world. “I’ll get you next time.” I take his handsome face in two hands and smack a kiss onto his cheek.

When I step back, a whole bunch of hockey players are staring at me. Pitti—the goalie whose arm is now in a sling—looks particularly stunned. As if I’m the alien with three tits.

They already know I’m that guy—the dude who’s married to a dude. But apparently they’ve never seen it up close.

“So are we drinking or what?” Jamie says easily.

“Yeah,” Nik Sokolav says, snapping out of it. “And Pitti is buying, because you saved his ass tonight.”

“Aw, man,” Pitti says with a chuckle. “Fine. Cheap beer for all my friends.”

“Cheap beer here is nine bucks,” someone points out. “Ouch.”

“And don’t forget your thirsty opponents,” I put in. “We lent you Toronto’s best goalie coach. It’s time to pay up.”

“We better get started, then.” Pitti slaps Jamie on the back with his good hand and leads him toward the bar.

* * *

Several beerslater I’m feeling high on life. Jamie is busy exchanging war stories with his new friends from California. But I’m making plans. It’s a four-and-a-half-hour drive between Toronto and Ottawa. But a little research on my phone shows me a couple of towns between Toronto and Ottawa. Like Belleville and Kingston. We could buy a small house on Lake Ontario, and rent Jamie a studio in Ottawa.

On the nights when both teams are at home, we could make the two-hour drive and meet in the middle. It would be our getaway place. Also, if Jamie is in the minors for a while, his season would be shorter than mine by a couple of weeks.

And we’d have our summers. Sure, they’re only six weeks long. But I fell in love with Jamie over a few summers that weren’t much longer than that, right? He’s made all the sacrifices so far. I’m willing to make some for him.

When it’s finally time to leave, I’m just bursting with ideas. They come spilling out in the cab on our way back to the team hotel.

“…And you’ll be an even more valuable coach with some pro experience,” I point out. “When you go back to coaching—and I know you’ll want to—you’ll have your pick of jobs.”

Jamie listens patiently to all of this word vomit. It’s hard to stop me when I get on a roll. We’re all the way back to the hallway outside of our hotel room by the time I finally take a breath and unlock the door with my key card.

He walks in ahead of me, tossing his wallet on the desk and dropping a shopping bag the San Jose players gave him on our way out. There’s a teal jersey in it that he wore tonight during his NHL debut.

Wordless, Jamie strips off his jacket and then his shirt. Then he flops backward onto the bed and stares, motionless, at the ceiling.

I might have blown his mind a little. I’ll give him a minute before I launch us into victory lap sex. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth.”

“No.”

“No?” I pause in the doorway of the bathroom. “But I ate some weird bar snacks. I think they were gluten-free pretzels.”

“No, I mean…I don’t want to drive two hours every four days just to see your face.”

“Oh.” I swallow. “Okay. There’s seventeen flights a day on Porter. That’s my other idea. It’s a one-hour flight time.”

“Wes.” Jamie sits up suddenly. “I had a great time tonight. Except when I thought I was going to barf.”

“Were you nervous?” I ask, trying to understand.

“No! But I ate a lot of Mexican food. The first dive nearly broke me. But that’s not the point.” He shakes his gorgeous head. “I had a lot of fun, but it was just that. A wild night. And now I have more than five calls from that scout on my phone.”

“He’d be crazy not to call you tonight,” I point out. “He’s probably peeing himself wondering if any other teams are after you.”

Jamie makes an impatient noise. “Look, it is a fun story. My parents will be dining out on that for years. The sports blogs are going to eat it up. But I bet not one of them points out the unfair advantage I had tonight.”

“What advantage?”

“I know you guys so well. I watch every Toronto game. I personally know every player on every line. Sure—I went in cold. But Blake’s first wrister? It was like watching old video. I knew it was coming. That period was, like, optimized for my enjoyment. And it will never happen again.”

“Well, sure, not exactly like that, but—”

He holds up a hand to silence me. “Here’s the thing? I don’t want my whole life to turn on a cute story, or a sound bite. If Bill Braddock called me right now and offered me the promotion I was supposed to have, I’d take it in a hot second.”

Oh.

“I’m a good goalie, Wes. But I’m a great coach. I’m honestly kicking myself right now, because I should have pushed harder for that job. I should have made more noise. I blew it. That’s been hard to accept. But I won’t let a fun accident derail me from what I’m really supposed to be doing.”

I sit down heavily on the bed beside him. I spent the evening galloping off in one direction, and it’s not easy to rearrange my thinking. Again. “So you don’t want to go to Ottawa at all?”

Slowly he shakes his head. “We’d never see each other. If you were in prison I’d be allowed more conjugal visits than we’d get if I move to Ottawa.”

I bark out a laugh. “Let’s not test that theory.”

“Wes.” Jamie beckons to me. And when I lean in, he wraps his arms around me. “I love you so hard. But don’t plan this for me, okay? I know it’s hard for you to understand, because you love your job so much. But I love mine, too.”

“I know,” I say quickly, wrapping my arms around his sturdy body. “I know you do. You were just so amazing tonight. I can’t even handle it. I’ve never had more fun. Ever.”

“Is that right?” Jamie thrusts a knee between my two legs and grabs my ass suggestively. “We have all kinds of fun, though. Half the time you can’t even remember your own name afterwards.”

“True.” His skin smells like locker room soap, and I want more. Burrowing closer, I kiss his neck. “Fine. I won’t try to plan your life. But does that mean I have to call off the goon squad I hired to teach Bill Braddock a lesson?”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “Save the violence for the rink. This is a problem I have to solve by myself.”

“You know I’d do anything for you. Even drive to Bellewood to do you.”

Jamie snorts. “Belleville.”

“Yeah. There, too.”

He laughs and then kisses me.