Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Craig

"Box!" Cam yelled as we wrapped up a fruitless power play against San Jose.

I spied the player leaving the penalty box as I streaked past the sin bin, the puck on my stick, and not a soul near me. The thunder of Cam taking out the player exiting the box with a check that rattled the boards and made the home fans cheer reached me as I zeroed in on the San Jose goalie who was tracking me like a hawk following a rabbit. He was a big Canadian, a lovely guy when you weren't on the ice. He was known to chop your legs if you got on his nerves. I was planning on getting on his nerves big time in a few seconds. He dropped low, closing his pads to block his five-hole. A player in bright teal appeared at my left, his stick swinging out in an attempt to lift mine. The stick hit my skate and bounced back at him. I moved to the left, shifted to take a backhand shot, and the puck flew cleanly over the tendie and into the net.

"Fuck yes!" I shouted as I sailed to the side to get hugs and pats from my line. That sweet little goal was my seventh in five games. Being in deep feelings with Jamie had not only improved my personal life but it had also done wonders for my game. Life was good. Everything was buttercups and butterflies.

We won that game handily, flogging San Jose with seven goals to their one. I'd pulled in a goal, two assists, five hits, four blocked shots, played over sixteen minutes, and ended with a great plus-minus of +2. The press were curious as to what had brought around my improvement. I told them I owed it all to prune juice. That got a laugh. I wasn't really the kind to broadcast my personal life, and so I played this new relationship with Jamie incredibly close to my vest. Not that I was ashamed. How could I be? He was smart and gorgeous and funny, even if he did add too many letters to his words. I wanted to take it slow and ease into the serious stuff after I was positive he was in this for the duration. I already knew he would never do me wrong as Leon had, but I was still scared. My sister assured me the fear would fade over time. I just needed to give Jamie a chance. Time to prove he was not a shitty Leon sort.

Deep down, I knew that. I had to convince my scarred and skittish heart.

Time. Claudia was hardly ever wrong about such things.

So, we kept dating, kissing, and getting to know each other while time slowly repaired my heart. Jamie was solid gold. I had told him that just last night, had whispered over his soft lips that his affection was gluing my heart back together.

"Like kintsugi." He chuckled as his fingers combed out my curls and then freed them.

"What's that?" I had asked, roughly nipping at his jaw as we rolled around on my sofa, his lean body pinned under me, his waistcoat lying over my coffee table.

"It's a form of Japanese pottery repair where the broken bits are rejoined using a special lacquer and then dusted with gold, silver, or platinum. I love how bouncy your hair is." I loved that imagery. My busted heart being pieced back together bit by bit, Jamie's gentleness being the glowing golden seams that would fix my shattered pieces. "It's a lovely philosophy. To embrace the imperfections."

I locked my elbows, rearing back enough to gaze down at him, wishing I could speak with the refinement he did.

"I really like you," fell out of my mouth.

His hot gaze grew warmer as his fingers, still in my hair, tugged me back down for a kiss that nearly set the couch cushions on fire. "We all have flaws, nicks, and chips, love. I'm just happy to be the gold dust being sprinkled over your healing heart."

He was way more than mere dust. He was a huge vein of precious metal, rich and shiny, filling my life with golden warmth.

The shouts of a happy team filing into the showers pulled me from the memories. Smiling at nothing in particular, I hustled around, eager to scour the sweat and stink of sixty minutes of hockey off my skin. Jamie and I were going to a local jazz club where some of his associates were having drinks. To say I was nervous would be an understatement. Jamie was introducing me to his brainiac friends. The niggling voice of self-doubt from the little boy who was teased unmercifully by the other kids for being slow for not being able to read always poked its head up when I was faced with this kind of situation. I swear Leon used to drag me to every damn big brain club gathering he could to ensure my ego stayed trodden down.

Tension radiated off me on the drive to pick up Jamie. I pushed it aside—no sense in filling his ear with my worries—and kissed him hello when he crawled into the front of my SUV looking as spiffy as ever.

"Do you ever not look like someone who waits on the king?" I asked as he buckled up.

"Better a footman than a barrister. Those powdered wigs are itchy," he replied with a smile that made me forget my name. "You look rather fetching. Congratulations on that game-winning goal! The girls and I were hooting like silly owls. Oliver has dropped hints that I need to keep kissing you so that you keep scoring goals."

"I like the sound of that," I replied earnestly.

"Then we'll have to ensure we keep kissing regularly for good goal health."

That made me laugh nervously.

"Are you sure everything is okay? You're sending off some weird vibes," Jamie asked.

I waved his worry off. There were a hundred jazz clubs peppered throughout LA and the surrounding counties. Leon was probably at one of the ritzier ones nestled tightly in Pacific Palisades or Bel Air where he lived. I was acting like a victim again. That had to stop.

By the time we arrived at Plum Pit Jazz Emporium on South LaBrea Avenue, it was well past midnight. I was starved, as I always was after a game, and was praying this club had food. Thankfully, it had a full menu as well as a funky little quartet sitting on a stage backlit with plum-colored lights. The Plum Pit was two stories with a spiral staircase leading to the second floor. Servers in dark purple shirts hustled about delivering cocktails and platters of bar food. My stomach growled.

If it had been just us I would have tried to get Jamie upstairs for more privacy as people sort of knew my face. I wasn't LA-famous, but hockey folks knew me on the street. I loved the fans, I did, but when I was out I tended to be a little on the standoffish side now and again. Sometimes a person simply wants to be a person, unknown, left alone to enjoy his food or the music, or whatever was going on. I know it's all part of the pro-athlete thing. Play in a big market town, and you belong to the fans, or so many Storm backers felt.

Thankfully, the incredibly pushy fans were outnumbered a hundred to one by people who respected your privacy. Kids didn't count, obviously. Kids were always welcome no matter what I was doing.

Jamie found his people right off, a table of eight tucked behind an ivy-covered trellis in the corner, and he led me to them with his fingers meshed firmly with mine. Okay, this was a nice set-up. We were hidden from the front door and all those eyes. The stage was to our right, the bar and kitchen close at hand.

I smiled and nodded at the people waving at us, pleased as punch to be introduced to this group of scientists and math folks as his new boyfriend. It may have been a slip as we'd never discussed using the B-word for each other, but if it was a slip, then it was a slip I was fully behind. The names flew at me, and I tried to match the name with the face. Four men and three women, all seemingly polite and kind. We sat, ordered drinks, and asked for a menu for me. Then I lost the flow of conversation as Percy-with-the-freckles, a math professor of some sort, began talking about the general anti-science mentality overtaking the country, which led to everyone tossing things into the verbal hat. I had no clue. Socratic discussions about varying theorems and how to incorporate them into the college classroom left me sitting and sipping my ginger ale with a slice of lemon.

Jamie seemed to be enjoying himself. It must be hard to be such a learned man spending your days with two kids, a grumbly cop, and two hockey players. Not that we weren't smart, I mean Jackson, Oli, and I all had degrees. Granted they weren't in advanced mathematics or quantum math, but they were still degrees. Seeing Jamie getting so into the discussions, I settled back into my chair to enjoy the music. The beat was up-tempo. Brass horns filled the air.

I ordered a burger and fries from a passing server, then sat back to nurse my soda.

"I'm sorry," Jamie whispered in my ear a few minutes later when the band was taking a small break. "I've not tried to include you in any of the conversations."

"It's fine. I took you to Charlie's house last weekend, where we did nothing but sit on the floor, eat junk food, and play NHL ‘24 for five hours. It's equalizing itself out."

He grinned, kissed me on the lips, and then moved his chair a bit closer. "Well, I'm going to steer us into something less maths-oriented as soon as Rachel wraps up her bitch fest about teaching quantum mathematics to young adults who struggled with linear algebra yet somehow passed into college."

"That was me. The kid struggling with algebra."

"Jamie, are you dating a man who can't whisper enumerative algebraic combinatorics as pillow talk?" Freckled Percy asked, then sniggered into his Cosmopolitan.

Jamie ruffled like an angry rooster. I gave his thigh a pat under the table.

"I'm a hockey player, not a math professor, but so far, my pillow talk seems to be pleasing my man," I replied just as my burger and fries arrived.

"I just love it when you ask me to handle your big stick," Jamie purred.

Everyone at the table, aside from whom I suspected rather liked Jamie, roared. I pecked my boyfriend's scruffy cheek, then dove into my food. Things at the table quieted down after Percy left. He suddenly recalled he had papers to grade, and I was slowly brought into a lively discussion about the charity work the team and I were involved in.

The band returned as I ate my last seasoned French fry. I made a mental note to come here again—the food was so good. The music was nice too, not my general vibe but catchy.

"I'm going to go wash my hands," I told the table as I rose.

They were sticky with salty beef juices. Jamie smiled up at me. I moved through the crowd, sleepiness settling on my shoulders like a warm scarf now that my belly was full. I checked my phone as I waited outside the locked men's room door. It was now after two in the morning. I hid a wide yawn behind my phone. We'd have to go soon. I had morning skate at nine, and coming into practice dragging ass would get you chewed out. Coach expected his players to maintain good health habits, and one of the most important was proper sleep.

While I waited I sent Claudia a voice note. She'd be getting up in a few hours and would want to know how this meet-and-greet had gone. I'd vented to her earlier in the day about how anxious I was.

Hey C! So, the big brain squad has been super nice, aside from one of them who's crushing on Jamie, so he doesn't count. Goes to show not all big brains are big jerks. Give hugs and kisses to Bruno for me. Love ya. Talk later.

The band started playing a Kasami Washington song, Askim, one I had enjoyed a lot during my dark days with my ex. I'd always enjoyed the sound of a smooth saxophone and Kasami was one of the best in my humble opinion. Leon was a jazz enthusiast, a snob of the highest caliber, who made fun of anyone who wasn't as knowledgeable about the genre as he was.

The beautiful music was completely overshadowed by the remembrance of one terrible night being dragged through the mental mud for citing the incorrect album title at a small dinner party. Leon had latched onto my mistake like a steel trap, unwilling to stop berating my intelligence despite his stuffy friends trying to gently lead him onto another topic. Things got worse when they left. He picked at me relentlessly, stripping me down to bloody bones before announcing that he wasn't sure he could even fuck a man as inferior as I was anymore. He'd locked me out of our bedroom—I'd made the mistake of moving in with him—for a week. When he deemed I'd learned my lesson he'd let me back into his bed.

"Fucker," I snarled softly as the memory picked at me like one does a torn hangnail.

The bathroom door opened. I glanced up from my shaking hand still holding my phone and into hazel eyes I knew far too well.

"Craig, imagine running into you here. Did you track me down here in order to admit your foolish mistake?" Leon asked, his short blond hair damp from where he had wet-combed it into submission.

I gaped at his beauty. He was stunning. Tall, broad-shouldered, lean-waisted, with a classic Germanic beauty. High cheekbones, sunny hair that disliked humidity and curled despite his best attempts to tame it. Seemed the only thing Leon Schmied couldn't get under his thumb was his hair. Everything and everyone else was firmly in his control. "You look surprised to find me here, yet you know I visit all the clubs."

His thick accent made me shudder. Was that shiver lust or disgust? It was hard to tell. I hated that I still found him so fucking pretty despite knowing what a horrid bully he was.

"I'm here with someone," I managed to cough out, the meat juices on my fingers completely forgotten.

"Oh?" He rose to his toes—he was a few inches taller than me—and craned his head this way and that. "And what does this someone mean to you?"

"He's my boyfriend," I countered, using my shoulder to move him aside. He may have been taller, but I was a hockey player. I knew how to use a shoulder and an elbow.

"How droll." He stepped to the side to avoid the incoming check. Pity. It would have knocked him onto his ass. "As if anyone would wish to spend time with a dimwit."

I spun to face him; my hands fisted so tight I had to force myself to loosen the one gripping my cell phone.

"If I'm such a dimwit why are you begging me to come back to you?"

That got him on his heels but only for a moment. A litigator like Leon was never off-balance for long.

"That was an unfortunate word choice. I am sorry, seeing you here was so unexpected that it shocked me into speaking poorly."

His brown-green eyes were framed by lush brown lashes. The hair color was not God-given but was mixed by his stylist Olaf.

"You don't know how to speak any other way. I would like to end this discussion, so if you'd please move so I can use the bathroom?"

"Craig, don't be so callous. It is serendipitous that we met here. I've been yearning to?—"

"Go yearn in your hand."

"You're being petulant again. It is not a good look on such a handsome face. You should smile more, Liebling."

"Seeing you makes me want to vomit not smile. Now move."

"I don't think you wish to be rude to me. Just remember whose name is on the pedigree papers."

"Bruno was a gift. You can't take back a gift."

"I wager a judge would think differently about that." He smiled at me, a demonic grin if ever I'd seen one. "You have no proof of your claims. I have the AKC papers citing me as his purchaser. That is all that I'd need."

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law," I fired back.

His left eyelid twitched, a sure sign I'd hit a nerve. "Do not think to argue legalities with me, Craig. Trust me, you will lose, and it will be a painful loss indeed. I suggest you ponder your choices well and try to make a sensible choice this time. This is why you require me to help you through your life, my pet."

The threat was subtle, nothing most guys would even pick up, but I heard it.

He drew in a slow breath that stretched the fabric of his Leon Boss dress shirt over his muscular chest. A woman wiggled past on her way to the lady's room, dark-lined eyes narrowing as she picked up the vibes between us.

"Here you are! Come on, baby, the rest of us are preparing to leave." She grabbed my arm and then tugged, sliding in to curl into my side as if we were together. Leon snorted. He knew full well I wasn't here with this pretty brunette with the big blue eyes, but he was smart enough to not act up in front of witnesses.

"It's been a pleasure running into you again," Leon purred, his sight locked on me as if the young woman wasn't even here. "I expect to hear from you within a week pertaining to my property. I've been more than patient with you about their return, but if I do not have them in my possession by Friday at five p.m., or have the appropriate financial restitution, I will press charges, and we will rehash our depressing relationship in court. What would come out would make Depp versus Heard look like a preschool sandbox spat. Wonder what the Storm would think of having all that hit the papers?"

He left us then, striding off to rejoin some pretentious group of friends. I watched him climb the circular stairs with a dull horror slowly starting to grow in my breast. If he sued me, then our sex lives, and much more, would be out there for public consumption. The Storm was very supportive of their queer players, but they wouldn't want me to be featured in a gay love story gone horribly wrong. I'd have to recount all the terrible things he'd said to me in front of a judge and jury and?—

"You're trembling." I looked down at the little thing grasping my arm. What a brave woman she was. "I hope what I did was okay. I know that tone and the expression he was wearing. I've dated a few assholes like him. Was it cool that I stepped in?"

"Yeah, that was incredibly cool. Thank you. What's your name?"

"Lydia Lawrence. I know who you are. My boyfriend loves the Storm."

"This Sunday, bring your boyfriend to the game on me. I'll leave some tickets at Will Call for Lydia-the-brave Lawrence."

Her eyes rounded. "Oh wow, that would be great! Thank you so much, Craig." She rose to her toes to peck my cheek before releasing my arm. "Do you want me to escort you back to your table?"

"No, you go to powder your nose. I'll be fine."

She seemed unsure but then dashed off to the ladies' room. I shook off the encounter the best I could before returning to our table. Apparently, my powers of disguise were lacking. As soon as I sat down, Jamie glanced at me, and the soft smile he'd been wearing turned into a look of concern.

"You look upset. Did you not get into the men's room?"

"No, I never did get in. A huge pile of shit met me at the door." His brow wrinkled in confusion. "Can we go? I need to get out of here."

I stepped out into the clammy night, drew in a shuddery breath, and waited for Jamie to exit after settling our tab. What I would say to him I had no clue…