17. Weston

CHAPTER 17

Twenty minutes after Quinn left to pick his parents up from the airport, there was a knock on the back door. Weston would have ignored a front door knock, but he was right to check on the back door. It was Hunter, smiling at him through the rectangular window in the door.

"Hey, Quinn is picking up his folks from the airport," Weston said, assuming that's who Hunter was there to see.

"I know," Hunter said, and Weston got it. Hunter was there for him. He opened the door wider and welcomed him in. "Are you ready for the game tonight?" He sat at the dining room table, nearly as comfortable in Quinn's space as he was in his own. This was Quinn's best friend. His person. His family.

"I think so. We just show up and watch it?"

Hunter laughed. "Yeah. I mean, you barely have to watch it. I usually don't, really. Brady has another guy on his team from Minnesota, so they always split a box for their families when they're here. You're not locked in to your seat for three hours. You can get up and talk to people and get food and stuff. It's pretty sweet."

"Then I guess I'm golden."

"Do you know what you're going to wear?"

"This?" He had jeans and a hoodie on. He knew it wasn't sporty, but it's not like he had a lot of wardrobe options.

"Do you want to borrow a jersey? Quinn's will probably swallow you alive."

"Uh, sure." He followed Hunter back to his place. Hunter had an entire section of his closet that was just Vancouver Whales merch, because Brady was generous with his family, and Hunter was basically his brother. Weston was a little bigger than Hunter, who was truly the most precious little twink Weston had ever seen, so Hunter found his largest jersey, which was from the Whales' outdoor game the previous season. It had a cool retro logo on it and was mostly green, their third color, instead of blue like their standard jerseys.

"That'll give you street cred, too," Hunter said, when Weston pulled it over his head to try it on. It fit.

"I appreciate it."

"Well, I appreciate you. Quinny has been really struggling. And then you come along, and he's starting to get the color back in his cheeks, you know?"

"I guess. Yeah. I'm really glad he's finding himself again."

"Is he doing okay? I know when I see him, he's trying to put on a brave face, especially since our fight. We had the I'm okay, you're okay, we're okay conversation, but things are still just weird enough that I don't really believe him when he says he's doing good every single time I see him."

"I think he's okay. He's been making art."

Hunter beamed. "Yeah?"

"I don't know what he's supposed to be like, but he has energy. He smiles, at least around me, a lot."

"Good. He's so fucking bad at being alone. He always needs someone." Hunter smiled, like hearing that would make Weston feel good and not like he got a bucket of cold water dumped on him. He always needs someone.

Weston was just…someone.

He knew that. He knew this was casual. He knew that Quinn had just gotten divorced from a man he'd spent the better part of a decade with, and Weston was just someone.

"Thanks a lot for the jersey, Hunter," Weston said before heading back to Quinn's. When Quinn picked his folks up from the airport, he'd take them to their condo where their car was and head back. Then he and Weston and Hunter and Jon, when he got home from work, would carpool to St. Paul for the game.

"My babies!" a pretty, older blonde woman yelled down the hall when she caught sight of them.

"That's my mom, obviously," Quinn said as she enveloped Jon and Quinn and Hunter into hugs, holding on to Hunter the longest, like he was as much her son as the others were. From what it sounded like, Hunter needed the momming. It was sweet. Weston couldn't help his jealousy.

"This is Weston," Quinn introduced.

"I'm Nancy," she said, hugging him too. "I've heard so much about you, honey. Let me show you the suite."

She took his hand and pulled him into their box, and Weston shot a bit of a worried glance at Quinn, who gave him a welcome to Nancy, I guess look. Quinn didn't leave Weston alone with her, though. He got a strong handshake from Mike, Quinn's dad.

"Oh, is this Lee?" the man standing next to Mike Griffin asked. He probably saw Quinn once a year and had no idea. Fuck. Weston didn't know what to do.

"No, this is Weston," Quinn stepped in. "Lee and I aren't married anymore."

"Oh, son, I'm sorry. Weston, nice to meet you. I'm Brian Craine's dad. Number fifteen out there."

"Let's find the food, how 'bout it, sweetie?" Nancy said, showing Weston where he could find drinks and which options in the buffet were gluten-free. She'd called ahead to explain Weston's situation and have the food clearly labeled. His own mother wouldn't have done that for him.

"Your jersey is perfect, honey," Nancy said while they all grabbed food.

"Hunter lent it to me."

"Quinner is so good at finding the nicest boys, isn't he?" She gave Weston's cheek a pat. He knew she was trying to extend the compliment to him, but being lumped in with Hunter and he assumed Lee didn't feel great. The conversation with Hunter from earlier rang in his head. Quinn always needed someone.

"Alright, Mom. Enough embarrassing me," Quinn grumbled. They found seats at the front of the box. It was fun to have this opportunity. The box was as cool as billed, with five short rows of seats in the front and some mingling space in the back. They ate, and both teams exploded onto the ice, skating circles. Quinn explained warm-ups to him and pointed Brady out. Both goalies looked the same to him, but Brady was number 40, and according to Quinn, he would be the one playing that night.

"He's the backup goalie, so he doesn't play as many games, but his coach is a good guy and usually plays him when they're in Minnesota, especially if it's early in the season."

They talked about what to expect, and Hunter and Mike came and sat down right behind them. Mike was asking Hunter about school, since it sounded like he used to be a teacher, too. Hunter was so much a part of this family that belonged together seamlessly, and Weston was wearing someone else's jersey and asking questions about how long the quarters were. It never boded well when you asked a question about a sport that made everyone who heard you ask laugh so hard.

Apparently, hockey was three periods. Live and learn.

Hunter himself had worn a vintage Whales crewneck, and he had rainbow laces in his Vans. He was the most adorable little morsel. Weston felt neither sporty enough nor cute enough to fit in.

Weston's jealousy was bowling him over. It was out of left field, and he tried desperately to focus his attention on the game when it finally started. Jon and Hunter came to sit next to them, and despite the assurance from both Hunter and Quinn that they barely paid attention to the game and that there would be other stuff to entertain them, the other three men next to Weston were fully engaged, cheering and jeering at the right places.

Quinn wrapped his arm around Weston's shoulders a few minutes in, and while Weston's body responded to the comfort of the touch, his brain was still going a mile a minute.

The crowd was ecstatic to be there. The arena was loud, and the sounds of hockey were lovely. But he barely knew what was happening. It was all moving so fast, and every time he thought he knew what was going on, the refs would blow their whistles and everyone would have to regroup for another face-off.

He didn't even realize when the Whales scored their first goal. He took his eyes off the ice for one second, and their entire box was on their feet.

Quinn pulled him up to cheer along, and he watched the goal on the jumbotron, the Minnesota Northern Lights' goalie looking sad in the moments after the goal. He couldn't imagine choosing to be a goalie, and that was Quinn's whole family. Wild.

He excused himself to use the restroom, and when he was done, he grabbed another hard seltzer. He could use it. When he looked back down at Quinn, he and Hunter had their heads tipped together, making each other laugh. It made his heart hurt. He and Quinn were nowhere near the little bubble they'd created for themselves in Duluth.

"They have a lot to catch up on," Jonathan said, appearing next to him out of nowhere. Jonathan gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Is there…uh…anything for me to worry about there?" Jonathan was intimidating, big and athletic, a little stoic, especially when in the mix of a lot of people.

"No," he said confidently. A confidence that came from trusting both Quinn and Hunter. "They're soulmates, don't get me wrong. The summer was a little weird. You know about their fight? Our fight?"

"Yeah. I know."

"We're working through it. We're going to be okay. You'll be okay."

Jonathan was so confident, but that might come from how Hunter looked at him, with all the love in the world in his eyes. He wasn't worried about his man because he knew with absolute certainty that Hunter was his.

Weston had none of that certainty. Quinn wasn't his man. Quinn was just his casual…thing.

When he flicked his eyes back down to Hunter and Quinn, Hunter was draining the end of his Coke.

"That's my cue," Jon said, giving Weston's shoulder a pat before grabbing more snacks and bringing Hunter another drink.

Quinn came to find him when Jon made it back to their seats, and he saw the look on Weston's face.

"Are you not having a good time?"

"No, I am, I just…this isn't really my thing. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Let's take a walk," Quinn suggested. They dipped out of the suite and wandered the concourse, hand in hand. They checked out the store, even though they didn't buy anything (they were fans of Brady's team, and Brady's team only, he was informed), and then went to find ice cream.

"Thanks for giving up a stream day for this. I really appreciate it. I'm really happy you got to meet my family. Hopefully, you can meet Syd soon, too."

Quinn wanted Weston to meet his whole family. Weston was so confused. Quinn gave him an ice cream-y kiss as their full lap of the concourse came to an end.

"We don't have to go back. We can just hang out, walk around."

"No, let's finish out the game," Weston said. Quinn got to see his brother play one game a year in person. He wasn't going to be the reason Quinn missed it.

Nancy made sure to get a few photos of the two of them with the ice behind them, and Quinn even kissed his cheek in one of them, which made Nancy declare it a "fridge photo." Was Weston going on Quinn's mom's fucking refrigerator?

Brady's team won, and their whole box was alight with screams as the rest of the arena filed out quietly. They headed down to the visiting team's family room, which was small but allowed them to see Brady fresh out of the shower, with a nice suit on. He had a bottle of water in his hands, a beanie on his head, and a big goofy smile on his face as he pulled his parents into a bear hug. The three brothers looked like one person drawn by three different artists.

"There's our winner," Jon said, pulling his youngest brother into a hug.

"Not a shuttie but I'll take it."

"You looked good in net. You're taking your puck tracking seriously," Mike complimented.

"Yeah, Blake and I have both been putting in extra hours, and it's paying off for sure."

He hugged Weston when they met, and when Nancy called for a group photo, Weston volunteered to take it.

The Griffins arranged themselves for a photo, and he knew that even if Hunter wasn't Jonathan's boyfriend, he would still be in the photo, and Weston would still be on the other side of the camera.

"Let's get some with you too, honey," Nancy said, waving down the closest arena employee to take a photo of the entire group. Quinn beamed as Weston walked toward him, and he got tucked under Quinn's arm the way Hunter was under Jonathan's.

He was on the outside; he was on the inside. He didn't know what to think about it.

They headed to a restaurant for more family time, and since they had carpooled, Weston was along for that ride as well. He had little to contribute to the conversation and sipped a Coke to stay awake. The game was long to begin with. Hockey was exhausting.