3. Cole

"You clean up nice,"Cole said appreciatively as Brady opened the passenger door of his SUV for Cole. Brady looked slightly uncomfortable in his sport coat, which emphasized his broad shoulders. Cole didn't know a ton of goalies, but he always expected them to be more linebacker shaped. Instead, Brady was tall enough to look slim, proportionately. The scruff he had been rocking on the mini golf course was gone now, his face more boyish as a result.

"My sister said I had to shave," he confessed, his hand finding his bare chin self-consciously. Cole smudged a thumb over his cheek, catching the barest amount of raspy stubble.

"I like it," Cole said to make Brady blush. According to Matthew, Brady always claimed to be straight. However, if Cole coupled Matthew's read on how Brady acted around Blake with his own interactions with Brady over the past few days, he'd wager a bet that Brady existed somewhere in the wild middle, even if he wouldn't admit it. Regardless, poking at Brady was fun, and Cole had decided to do it all evening.

"So I was right," Cole said as he climbed into Brady's oversized SUV.

Brady hurried around to the driver's side. "Right about what?"

"I called you a gentleman yesterday."

Brady shook his head. "I'm Midwestern."

"I know you were voluntold to come pick me up on the way to the rehearsal dinner, but I still appreciate it."

"It's no problem," Brady said. "I really don't understand how you survive with only a bike."

"Out of absolute necessity. Vancouver is fucking expensive. Not having a car saves me enough to make it possible to live here."

"Oh." An awkward silence radiated inside the car as Brady pulled onto the freeway. Cole hated making people feel better about financial inequality. He would coddle Brady through a lot this weekend, because he loved Matthew enough to do it, but it was good for rich boys to think about these things sometimes.

"Have you ever been in a wedding before?" Cole asked after a few minutes of watching Brady drum his fingers on the steering wheel and check his rearview about forty times. Fine. He would diffuse the tension.

"Once. My older brother."

"Were you the best man?"

"Nah. I have two brothers, so Quinn chose his best friend instead."

"And how was that?"

"The day was fine. The marriage is not."

"Sorry about that."

Brady shrugged. "Not my marriage. Have you ever been in a wedding?"

"I officiated a wedding in my friend's backyard once. I cannot explain how different that day was from the wedding we're about to experience, though, so I've never done the fancy groomsman-at-an-expensive-wedding thing before. This will be my first rehearsal dinner."

"It's casual. We'll do a rehearsal, so everyone knows where to go on the actual day and what to expect, and then we'll eat. Usually there are still speeches. Those are pretty unavoidable."

"Are you giving one?" Cole didn't have to give a speech, thank god.

"Absolutely not. Not really a words guy. Plus, I don't think I'd get the go-ahead from Matthew."

"What's your beef there?" Cole asked, trying to investigate gently enough to not raise suspicion.

"There's no beef. I don't know. You could ask him."

"Alright," Cole said. It wasn't the time to push, even though Brady didn't sound convincing at all.

While the wedding itself would be at the Stanley Park Teahouse, the rehearsal dinner was at a private residence that Matthew and Blake had rented out for the evening. The wedding planner waved Brady and Cole into the house, and she shuffled them into the kitchen, where a large bar was set up across the kitchen island. There was a person making drinks and pouring beer and wine, and Cole and Brady each got drinks before heading to the backyard, where the rehearsal and catered dinner would happen.

Fuck, Matthew and Blake were a beautiful couple. It was an undeniable fact, and one that Cole was only a little jealous of. He considered himself married to his work. But sometimes, when he saw the two of them together or Matthew told him something particularly tooth-rottingly sweet about Blake, there was a glimmer of want in his heart.

Not a big glimmer, though.

Blake was in a charcoal-gray suit, the buttons on his white shirt open at the neck, no tie. And sure, he looked nice. But Matthew was wearing a creamy silk blouse that had more open buttons than Blake's and moved like liquid. The rest of his outfit—shoes, socks, pants—was all black. He was radiant, but Cole expected nothing less of his friend. Blake had a hand pressed to Matthew's lower back, and they moved as one entity as they greeted their friends and family.

Brady plucked a bacon-wrapped shrimp from a server's tray and looked longingly at the couple.

"He looks beautiful," Cole said, stepping closer. Unlike mini golf, Brady could try to lose him at any time, but Cole was starting to think that Brady liked him a little. He had a bit of fondness for that huge backup goalie growing in his heart as well. Brady was sweet, like a puppy. Everyone liked puppies.

"Yeah."

"That blouse is divine." Cole knew he was baiting Brady, and it wasn't the nicest thing he had ever done, but c'est la vie.

"What? Oh. Uh, yeah. Absolutely." He gave his head a little shake, and Cole knew that he was expelling thoughts of Blake.

Seeing it in action—the reason Matthew asked Cole to keep his eye on Brady to begin with—made him ache with sympathy for this boy who was clearly struggling with unrequited…something. His longing for Blake radiated off him, and Cole felt it as a physical presence. Blake didn't realize it and Brady wouldn't admit it, but Matthew wasn't crazy.

Cole caught Brady's arm and redirected him, finding the nearest hockey player to start a surface-level conversation with.

By the time Blake and Matthew made it over to them to say hi, Brady had drained his drink. They said hi, and Brady promptly excused himself to get a refill.

Matthew raised an eyebrow at Brady's retreating form. "You're going above and beyond. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"Consider it part of my wedding gift for you. And I think you were justified in your worry. He does seem…attached."

"Yeah." Matthew's agreement was curt and annoyed.

"Don't worry."

Cole hugged his friend. He hadn't forgotten the reason they were all there together. Why it was so important for Cole to keep Brady in check. These two lovebirds were tying the knot, and Cole was so happy for them.

The backyard had filled with guests, and Brady returned to Cole's side as the officiant called the grooms and wedding party forward for the rehearsal. "Got you a refill too," Brady said, handing Cole the exact cocktail he had almost finished. He drained the last sip of his current drink, and Brady exchanged them out, putting the empty glass on a cocktail table that was already collecting empties.

The officiant split the wedding party to two sides, and Cole found his spot at the end of the row behind Amy as they lined up to walk down the "aisle" in pairs. Brady was also the last in his line, but Cole already knew they would walk down together. When it was their turn, he took Brady's offered arm and followed Amy and Luca as the bridal party stacked themselves away from the grooms. Brady and Cole were as far apart from each other as they could be. Then came the flower girl and ring bearer, who were Blake's niece and nephew. They were at the perfect age for maximum adorableness.

And then came Matthew and Blake. They walked down the pretend aisle together, and when they got to the officiant, they faced each other and clasped hands. Cole could already feel the spark of tears in his eyes. Whew. He was going to blubber at the actual ceremony.

"Obviously, we won't go through the whole song and dance tonight, but now you all know where you're standing and how you're walking. Now, I heard a rumor that the dinner is incredible, so let's get to the food," the officiant said.

"Hold on," Blake said, his calm voice rippling over the audience. "I know this isn't legally binding, but I'm not giving up any opportunity to kiss this man." He held Matthew's face so gently as he pressed a kiss to his lips, and a cheer erupted from the small crowd. When they broke their kiss, they stayed in the moment for a little longer, their foreheads pressed together.

Cole knew he had never felt that way about anyone in his life. He had a hard time conceptualizing it, honestly. But looking at Blake and Matthew confirmed to him that, in the very least, love was real. Across the aisle from him, Brady was watching the kiss like his world was ending.

"Now you can go eat," Blake said, not taking his eyes off his husband-to-be.

There was a buffet line, and Cole lost Brady as they filled their plates and found seats at unassigned tables across the back lawn. The entire backyard was beautiful and private, lush with old trees and tall bushes, as well as grass that looked better than a golf course. White flowers littered the tables and draped over the buffet, and the setting exceeded Cole's expectations for what he wanted for his own wedding, if he ever made it there.

However, when you married a hockey player, apparently you spared no expense. Every once in a while, it was nice to go to a rich person's wedding. It was a cultural field trip.

Cole settled at a table with Winter, Amy, and Amy's wife, Margaret—his Caring Cuisine crew. Cole got started volunteering at the location the rest of his table volunteered at, and eventually landed a full-time position in a different kitchen. However, their small network of kitchens shared resources easily, and he still saw them—and Matthew—often. Matthew spent enough hours at Caring Cuisine to justify him receiving a salary, but being a volunteer and not a full-time employee gave him the flexibility he needed alongside Blake's career. It also allowed Matthew to spend time at each location throughout the week, keeping Cole connected to the rest of their friends.

"The two of them really have something special," Winter said, her gaze on the couple of the hour. They were seated with a group of people who were likely related to Blake, if all the blond hair was any sign. "I hate going to weddings where I don't think the couple should be together at all, let alone making it legal. It's much more fun to go to a wedding where you couldn't imagine anything but forever for the people you're celebrating."

"You're a romantic," Amy teased. "How come you never date anyone longer than a few weeks?"

"I don't feel like my standards are unreasonable, but it's hard to meet someone who can clear them. And I'm not going to settle for someone who is going to become more of a problem than a solution in my life."

"Wise," Margaret agreed, looking at Amy like she was her solution.

God, Cole was around way too many adorable lovebirds right now.

"I'd recommend finding a bridesmaid or groomsman to have a little fling with, but the only single one left is that other goalie. Well, and Coley. But I think maybe our little chef already has an eye on the available hockey player. Coley and a goalie."

It would be easier to dispute that claim if Cole wasn't currently staring a hole in the back of Brady's head. He was with a group of hockey players and their partners, and everyone was…beautiful. Rich people, damn.

He couldn't see Brady's face, but he didn't seem very animated from behind.

"I told Matthew I would keep an eye on him," Cole said, stabbing another pear in his salad. The dressing they had used was so light, like they'd used apple cider vinegar instead of balsamic. He made a note to himself for later.

"You're being a hero, seriously," Amy said. The four of them all heard about it when Matthew had to do Whales stuff, and he came back with stories of the hostile backup goalie. "It also seems like you've been getting along with him. Or you've been hiding acting skills from us."

Cole snorted a laugh. "Yeah, no acting skills to speak of. I kind of like him, I think. He has his moments. He was sweet to me yesterday. He drove me here today. I am not miserable about spending time with him."

"He's cute," Winter encouraged.

"He is cute," Cole said, letting himself really consider it. Brady turned his head to look at the other side of his table, revealing his profile. He had a strong jaw, and a nose that Cole knew he had broken before, but only because he had looked at Brady's face a lot in the last few days. The sides of his haircut were tight and clean, but he had some length on top that it looked like he didn't fully know how to style.

Maybe he would let Cole help him with that.

Dessert was mini cheesecakes, and despite Cole's mind being a little preoccupied, the food was good enough for him to notice, for his taste buds to linger on, for him to get a little inspiration from. He hadn't made cheesecake in ages, and while he enjoyed cooking and was very capable in a kitchen, he'd gone to school to become a pastry chef. The cheesecake wasn't a revelation, but it satisfied his sweet tooth.

When he looked over at the table of hockey players again, Brady's cheesecake was sitting at his spot, one bite taken, the man himself missing from the table. A quick scan of the backyard was fruitless.

The bar was inside, and so were the bathrooms, so Cole didn't worry about it. He shifted his attention to the conversation happening at his table, which was either about a dating reality show or a talent reality show, and the fact that he couldn't tell was a little alarming.

Ten more minutes passed. Cole checked his phone. He always wore a watch at work, but his Apple Watch was too ugly to wear for wedding activities.

"I'm going to hit the restroom," Cole lied, not that his table bought it.

He headed up the stone stairs to the terrace and into the main level of the house. There were signs posted to identify the bathrooms—one past the kitchen, and an additional one on the other end of the first floor. He headed through the kitchen first. The bathroom was empty. While he had the opportunity, he relieved himself. Even the soap in this place was expensive. Who was renting out their giant mansion for these kinds of things? People who bought investment properties? Cole would likely never own any kind of house, and here this one was, empty.

Cole headed toward the other side of the house, and that bathroom was empty as well. Where the fuck was Brady? He almost gave up when he noticed the study, right past the bathroom. It was solid wall-to-wall bookshelves, and Cole found Brady sitting at the grand desk in the center of it all, a new drink in one hand, an open book in the other. His sport coat was crumpled on the desk. His eyes were a little red. Cole rested a shoulder on the doorframe.

"There you are," Cole said.

"Were you looking for me?"

Cole stepped inside the room and shut the door. A little privacy might be nice since it looked like Brady wasn't ready for an audience quite yet. He walked over to the desk and sat on the edge, right next to Brady's chair. The desk was bare except for a lamp and a paperweight, and when he looked at the book in Brady's hand, it was bare too.

"Fake books?"

"Some of them have writing in them. Lots are for decoration, I guess."

"This is a weird house." He was trying to lighten the mood, but he didn't think it was working. He switched tactics. "Are you okay?"

"I think I had the realization that everyone has already had before me."

"Oh?"

"Blake," he said simply, chasing his admission with a sip of his drink.

"Do you love him?"

"Honestly, I don't think I'm the authority on that."

"But you want to be the one at the altar with him tomorrow?"

Brady blew out a heavy breath. "I don't… It's not that I want to marry him. I don't know that it's love, even. It's this combination of—don't laugh at me—hero worship. I know that. I had his poster up in my dorm in college. You have to understand, Blake was the first out gay player. And he was a goalie. I have two gay siblings… Actually, maybe all four of us are gay. I don't know. He's always been important. And then I met him in person, and he was so fucking nice. The goalie I was backing up before him had no time at all for me. Did not respect me. Didn't like me.

"And then Blake was there, and he was a good guy. I thought we had something special. At the rink, or on the road, we had a connection. But at home, when he was with Matthew, that Blake disappeared a little. Or I disappeared. I know I'm not the love of Blake's life or whatever. And I don't want to be. But I'm always watching from the sidelines, you know? Backup goalie. Little brother. Second choice."

"Yeah, that all makes sense."

"And everyone has been trying to convince me I'm in love with him, and I've been resisting it for so long that now, watching Blake kiss Matthew like that, like he can't fucking wait for Matthew to be his forever… Yeah. Maybe some crush feelings came to the surface. And now, like, do I have to have a sexuality crisis here, too?"

Cole took the book Brady was holding and set it on the desk, then took one of Brady's hands. It was warm and massive, his fingernails clipped impossibly short, fingers curling around Cole's hand instinctively.

"Thanks for telling me that," Cole said. Proximity to queer people didn't automatically mean you were completely okay with your own burgeoning queerness. "I won't tell anyone."

Brady sighed. "I hate that I've been so oblivious to it. And I know Matthew hates me, and I'm sure he hates that I'm in his fucking wedding."

"Matthew doesn't hate you, but he's used to fighting for everything. He had to fight hard for Blake. He's protective. And I can promise you that if Matthew hated you, Blake wouldn't have asked you to be in his wedding."

"Did Matthew ask you to be my keeper?"

Cole froze at the question. Maybe they were both behaving with transparent motivation.

"Because if he did, I guess I needed it."

"He asked me to keep an eye on you. I chose to spend this much time with you because I like you."

Brady hummed. He took another sip of his drink, then laid his head on Cole's thigh. Cole knew he had alcohol to thank for Brady's admission. He combed through Brady's hair and waited for him to speak again. When long minutes passed without Brady saying anything, Cole knew it was time to go.

"Hey, do you have your keys?"

Brady fished them out of his pants pocket, and Cole took them from him. Brady had too much to drink that night, but Cole was good to drive.

"Let's get you home. No one will miss us." Brady didn't put up a fight. Cole grabbed Brady's sport coat from its pile and draped it over his arm. Brady followed him outside.

"Do you have a license?"

"I don't own a car, but I know how to drive," Cole said. He opened the passenger door for Brady, echoing what Brady had done when he'd picked Cole up that morning. "I'll get you home safe."