24. Denny

24

DENNY

I had a bad week. Like super sucky.

All I could think about was Hank. I thought about him constantly and heard about him all over town. He'd become a mini celebrity with locals who were impressed with how he'd handled the situation at the mill. Suddenly, everyone was talking about him.

"Hank Cunningham is just what the Four Forest area needs."

"Hank's a good man."

"Oh, my gosh, he's dreamy too."

Yeah, I agreed. He hadn't needed my help. He'd done it himself. I wanted to tell Hank I was proud of him, but I wasn't sure he'd want to hear from me. And to be honest, I was a little angry with him. He'd blindsided me, told me he loved me, and now I didn't know what to think.

A week of meetings in New York, Philly, and Denver, smiling for the press and assuring everyone I was ready for whatever the fuck came next, and I was mentally and physically depleted. I'd come to the conclusion that I didn't know how to just be…happy.

My value, my purpose, my reason was hockey. What else did I have?

I had friends, I had a home, I had Grams. That should have been enough, but I wanted more.

I wanted Hank.

I admit it, I was greedy. My agent was more excited than me about contract negotiations and PR, and I couldn't have cared less.

"That's it! We're set. I'll meet you in Denver on Tuesday," McD said. "We'll chat before the press conference and get our ducks in a row. You don't have to say much. Something simple about how happy you are to stay in Denver will work. Any questions?"

There was that word again…happy.

I fiddled with my AirPod and sank onto a bench in the empty locker room at the El Rink. "No."

"Great. Sounds like we're ready to go. Talk to you soon, Den."

I disconnected the call and picked up a roll of tape, spinning it idly on one finger as I checked out the familiar surroundings with its lingering aroma of sweaty jocks and ammonia. I rested my elbows on my knees, tossing the tape as I formulated a speech in my head. Not for the press. This one was for Elmwood.

I didn't know how much I'd share, but I knew it was time to speak up.

The Elmwood Juniors' end of camp scrimmages were a highlight every year. We hosted playoff games between our winningest teams and a skills competition where players could show off their stick-handling ability, shooting accuracy, and speed.

The final event was the coach's game, featuring visiting pros and the El Rink and Elmwood High hockey staff, which consisted of former pros who in some cases had been retired for a decade or longer. It was supposed to be fun and silly. No one wanted to risk injury. Or as Smitty put it, "If I have to take ice baths for a month after this, I will be fucking pissed."

We taunted each other good-naturedly on the ice and tried to deliver an entertaining show for the parents and teens. And the entire Four Forest area, along with a contingent from the press.

Our audience ate it up.

Jake, Trinsky, and I skated circles around Vinnie, Riley, Court, and Smitty, showing off our NHL prowess while the older guys hammed it up. Vinnie played air guitar in between puck drops and Smitty made up a ridiculous dance that had the crowd roaring with laughter. It was hysterical, and it reminded me to stop taking myself so seriously and just have fun. So I did.

I showed off my speed, slowing at the net to pass to Jake. At the last second, I deked past Vinnie instead and buried the shot myself.

"Be kind to your elders," Vinnie huffed.

"Oh, right. Like you would do?" Jake teased.

"Fuck, no."

I laughed, tapping my stick to Jake's as I scanned the crowd, looking for Hank.

I thought I'd spotted him earlier, but I couldn't be sure. I checked again at the end of the scrimmage, and again when we lined up for a brief award ceremony where each coach gave a short speech, thanking the kids and their families.

Grams was in the second row next to MK, Niall, Micah, and his girlfriend. I saw Nolan, JC, and Bryson, but…no Hank.

He wasn't here.

"…to thank everyone in Elmwood. You guys rock! I'm coming back next year. Save me some cookies, Grams," Trinsky hollered, passing the microphone to Jake.

"I want to thank our juniors for being so dedicated and…"

"Thank you, parents! Has anyone thanked the parents yet?"

I clapped through speech after speech. And then, the mic was in my hand. I stared at it for a beat, glanced up at the fans once more, and skated forward.

"Hi, everyone. I usually keep it super short, but I wanted to say something kind of personal," I began, blocking out the curious twitter in the arena. "I came here when I was fifteen almost sixteen, and it was a rough time for me. I'd lost my dad, and I didn't know anyone, and hockey was my thing. It taught me some big lessons about cooperation, friendship, and gratitude. As a bisexual athlete who's struggled with depression and anxiety, I know the value of community. Elmwood rocks, and I hope every teen who's come through our camp this summer has felt a little bit of the magic of this incredible place. Hope to see you again next year."

I skated to the blue line and handed off the microphone. Thunderous applause rained from the rafters, and in an instant, I was surrounded by my teammates and the coaches I'd grown up idolizing in a group hug.

"Holy fuck, Mellon. That was more than three fucking words. And did you just fucking come out?" Trinsky asked, gripping my elbow.

"Yeah, I did."

Trinsky thumped my shoulder. "Hey, I'm proud of you, man."

Jake squeezed my head, Court jabbed my side, Vinnie and Riley tapped their sticks to mine, and Smitty hugged the living daylights out of me. I laughed as I gazed up at the audience, looking for Hank one last time.

And…there he was.

Hank stood in the aisle, clapping, his Stetson cocked slightly, a broad smile on his face.

And you know, this was happiness.

It was him.

I sent a text as soon as I was off the ice. I had another speech to give. And this one mattered most of all.

The light next to the barn door illuminated the picnic table and the nearby paddock where a cowboy stood leaning with one foot on the fence, speaking softly to his horses. It was like a scene out of a movie or the cover of a Western-themed romance, complete with a hint of mist on the horizon. He looked solid and safe. Like home.

Hank tilted his hat and met my gaze. "Congratulations."

"For what?"

"Coming out. You knew the risk, and you did it anyway. That was brave."

"I don't know…maybe." I tugged at the brim of my ball cap, took it off my head, and put it on backward to give my hands something to do. Fuck, I was nervous. "There's a chance that the Condors management will have second thoughts about me. I might get to Denver and be asked to clear out my locker."

Hank scoffed lightly. "I sincerely doubt that will happen."

"Doesn't matter. I have no regrets."

My heart was pounding in my ears, and my hands were shaky as fuck. I didn't trust myself with words. I'd already used my quota for the week at the rink, but damn it, I'd come here to say something, and I wasn't going anywhere now.

I stepped closer, drinking in his cool, confident aura. I wanted the right to move into his space, lay my head on his shoulder, and just…be. And maybe I could have it all if I could find my voice one more time.

But he was talking. "I'm glad. Good luck in Denver and in?—"

"No. No good luck, no good-bye," I choked out. "I have something to say, and I need you to listen."

"What is?—"

"I love you."

Hank stilled his hand on Bess's flank. "You…love me?"

"Very fucking much." My voice cracked, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop…not now. "I've been my own worst enemy for a long time. Maybe I've had good reasons, but I don't want to let days and months and years go by, living in a bubble on the ice, living for the next shot, the next game, the next season. I want more. I want you."

"Denny, I?—"

"No, I mean it. Remember when I said I didn't want the big love story? I was lying. I'm just…scared. But I do want it. With you. I want your stories, your smiles, your body, your brain, your patience. I want to ride horses with you, make dinner with you, talk to you, sleep with you, wake up next to you. And I want you to call me sweetheart every day 'cause it's the only fuckin' nickname that matters to me. You matter to me, Hank. I love you."

He pulled me close and crashed his mouth over mine, kissing me till we were both breathless. "I love you too, but it's not so simple. You have a big life ahead of you, Den. A hot career and a lot of eyes on you. Admitting you're bi is one thing, but being in a relationship with a man is another."

I nodded. "I know. It's probably na?ve to think we can have everything we want right away, but I have a proposition."

"Oh, yeah?" His eyes shone and his lips twitched in amusement.

"Be mine from now until…always."

"Done."

"That's not how a proposition works. It's an exchange of goods and services," I reminded him with a shy smile. "I tell you what I want, and you tell me what it'll take to close the deal. Say the word, and I'll do whatever it is to make you the happiest motherfucker in the world. I'll muck out horse stalls, bring you coffee in bed, run errands…you get the gist. I want you…what do you need from me?"

Hank held my face in his hands, tracing my jawline with his thumbs. "I want you to play hockey."

"Wait, I wasn't talking about hockey."

"It's what I want, Den. I love you, and I want you to crush your goals and every record on the books. If we're in this together, we can have it all. I want you to make your dreams come true. And I'll be here for you…in the background. I'll be the guy waiting at home, clothing optional. You be the hotshot. I'll be your compass, your home for as long as you want me, sweetheart."

"Forever."

He beamed. "Forever it is."

We kissed again, slowly as if we had all the time in the world. And maybe we did.

I let go of fear. I said good-bye to my old ghosts, and opened my heart completely…to Hank. He was my rock, my home, my cowboy, my happy place. And this was the beginning of our big love story.