CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Of course, I have to survive the weekend here first , Shea thought with a sigh as he pulled into his parents' driveway half an hour later.

He took a few deep, cleansing breaths then turned off the vehicle. There was no point putting it off any longer.

The air was chilly when he got out and, shivering, he grabbed his overnight bag, the cake box, and the small gift bag he'd stashed in the backseat. Despite his mom saying she wanted nothing besides dinner with him and his dad, Shea didn't feel right showing up empty-handed.

He walked up the sidewalk to the modest brick home on the outskirts of London. He'd grown up here. Played ball hockey in the summers. The cul-de-sac at the end of the street meant that there was little traffic going by most days, so he and his sister had played safely for hours without being interrupted.

He remembered running out into the street to play with his friends or go to practice and trudging up the sidewalk, hockey bag slung over his shoulder, tired and hungry after a game.

He hesitated outside the blue front door, then knocked. It never quite felt right to let himself in anymore.

The door swung open a moment later, his mom on the other side.

Sonya Barnett was tall for a woman, with a toned, athletic figure and light brown hair. Her expression brightened when she spotted him and she stepped back so he could come inside. "You made it! We were starting to get worried."

"Just heavy traffic on the way out of the city," he said, dropping his overnight bag to the floor. "Sorry. I should have given you a heads-up that I was running late."

"Oh that's okay. We're so glad you're here!"

‘We' being her , apparently, because his dad was nowhere in sight. Shea could hear the sound of hockey playing in the background so he assumed his dad was watching a game.

Shea and his mom stared at each other awkwardly for a moment before he leaned in for a hug.

"Hey. Took you long enough, squirt," a familiar voice said.

Shea glanced up to see his older sister Emma wheeling into the hallway in the light, foldable wheelchair she used indoors.

"Em!" he said, grinning. "Didn't expect to see you here."

He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then gestured toward the larger, sturdier chair she used outdoors. "You got new wheels?" He whistled. "Tight. I like them."

"Thanks!" She glowed. "Much better for off-roading."

Shea grinned. His sister had been badass before her lupus diagnosis and she was still badass now.

She was only three years older than him. She'd already been diagnosed by the time his knee had gone to hell and the one who'd helped him navigate it and come to terms with the fact that an NHL career wasn't viable for him.

He felt a little guilty he hadn't reached out recently other than sending her a quick thank-you text after her birthday gift had arrived in the mail.

Speaking of …

"Happy Birthday, Mom," he said, handing over the gift bag and cake box.

"Oh, I told you I didn't need anything!" she protested, taking them. "All I wanted was dinner with the family."

"It's nothing huge. Just a cake and something small," he assured her.

"Well, I guess I better find a place to store this cake, huh?" she said, peering down at it.

After she disappeared into the kitchen, Emma raised an eyebrow at Dom. "Sucking up?" she asked quietly.

He chuckled. "Something like that. If only it worked as well on Dad."

Emma made a face. "Yeah, well …"

"Man, I am glad you're here," he said, crouching down so he wasn't looming over her. "I've missed you."

"Yeah, I could tell from all those texts you send me," she teased, her pretty face animated with laughter.

"I'm a bum," he agreed with a sigh. "But I do miss you."

"I know. And you're desperate for someone to play mediator this weekend too, I'll bet." Her blue eyes twinkled.

"I mean … little of both?"

She grinned. "Honesty. I appreciate that."

Shea winced because he wasn't being nearly as honest as he could be. He knew she'd be supportive of the whole escort thing and she wouldn't bat an eyelash about him being into men except for using it as an opportunity to tease him.

What he wanted to do was talk about Dom with her but he couldn't do that without outing Dom, so he had to stay quiet on that front. Ugh .

"Are you two coming?" their mom called out.

"Yeah, be right there." Shea stood, his knee crackling, and Emma gave him a worried look.

"You doing okay?"

"Yeah, just turning into a rice crispy treat," he joked. "Knees are a little stiff after the drive that's all."

He rarely had pain in his left knee anymore but he did get some stiffness in both and he'd probably wind up with one knee replacement at some point down the line.

"Good. Now, shall we go into the lion's den?" she asked with a grin.

"I'm going to run my bag up to my room and then I'll be in."

Shea jogged up the stairs, then down the hall to the left. His former bedroom was now a guest room and there was a wide, comfortable bed that he tossed his bag onto. He pulled out his phone, then shot off a text to Dom. Made it to my parents' place. Wish me luck.

Good luck! came seconds later and Shea smiled at the quick response before realizing it probably had less to do with him than with Dom's boredom.

Shea took a deep breath and before he could second-guess himself, he jogged down to the first floor and into the living room.

Tom Barnett glanced away from the TV. "Hey."

Shea's dad didn't look much different from the last time he'd seen him. He still had thick sandy-blond hair—going gray at the temples—and a strong build. He probably still worked out daily, like he always had. There were maybe a few more wrinkles, but otherwise, he still looked like the guy who used to bark at Shea to hustle more out on the ice.

"Hey," Shea managed, stuffing his hands in his pockets for lack of anything better to do with them. It wasn't like he and his dad were going to hug. "What game are you watching?"

"St. Louis and Montreal."

"Ahh. What's the score?"

"Tied at two. Second period."

"Cool."

Shea took a seat next to his mom on the couch. His dad was on her other side and Emma was in her wheelchair.

His parents had taken her diagnosis hard and his dad had taken a while to get on board with Emma needing to use mobility aids, but sometime in the period between when Shea had fallen out with them and when they'd reconciled, they'd done some remodeling on the house to make it easier for her to navigate.

Thankfully, it had been a fairly open-plan house to begin with, but he could see that they'd left wider paths between furniture pieces so she could easily use her chair and he knew they'd converted the first-floor room his dad had always used as an office into a bedroom Emma could stay in when she came to visit.

It was progress, for sure.

They watched the game in silence for a few minutes before his mom spoke. "So, you said there was heavy traffic leaving Toronto?"

"Yeah, you know, lots of commuters. I probably should have come tomorrow morning or something."

"Toronto traffic's the worst."

Although they mostly watched the game, the evening of family togetherness was … awkward. Not bad. No one got into any arguments or anything but the conversation was stilted and occasionally tense when there were a few close calls.

Shea was immediately wary when, during intermission, the subject of the Fisher Cats came up.

"So you and Olson are friends, right? Is he actually injured?" his dad asked. "Or are they sitting him because he's been playing like shit?"

"Injured," Shea said tightly, irritation immediately flaring in him. "And did you ever think maybe there's a reason why he's been playing like shit?"

"Yeah, cause he's fucking old." Tom snorted. "Washed up. I knew that last contract of his was a bad one. They're overpaying him and now they're stuck with a useless anchor on their roster when they should be bringing up some of the young guys from the Black Bears."

"He's not washed up!" Shea protested. "Yeah, his game has changed in the past few seasons but it's not like he's useless to the team. His faceoff percentage has been excellent and he's a big locker room guy. I know he's done a ton to mentor younger players. Actually—"

He caught a sidelong glance from Emma and winced, realizing how heated he was getting. "Look, never mind. Can we … switch subjects?" he asked with a sigh. "I don't want to start a fight with you, Dad."

"Yeah, alright," Tom said gruffly. "I don't want to fight with you either."

Shea's mom shot him a grateful look. Shea slumped back against the cushion and pulled out his phone. I deserve a fucking good blowjob for how well-behaved I'm being tonight.

He immediately turned off his phone screen and rested it facedown on his thigh. He definitely didn't need anyone glancing at it and seeing anything incriminating.

But it buzzed a moment later. Happy to. Is that part of or separate from the ideas I have to come up with?

In addition to, Shea typed out.

Greedy. I like it.

Shea smiled, putting the device down again. He caught a curious glance from Emma and ignored it.

Unfortunately, she cornered him when the game was over and everyone was headed to bed.

"Come chat with me in my room for a bit. We need to catch up."

Shea groaned. Stupid nosy sisters.

But he'd never been able to say no to her so he followed her into the room, shutting the door behind them.

"I tried to be good!" he said as she wheeled over to the bed.

"Oh, I know you did. And Dad's doing the bare minimum, as per usual." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah," Shea agreed with a sigh. There was little else to say about that.

"So what's going on with you?" Shea asked as she transferred from her wheelchair to the bed.

He sprawled on the floor, stretching his back.

"Oh, you know, just trying to save the world." Emma grinned down at him, getting comfortable on the bed and propping herself up with a few pillows.

She worked as a grant writer for a disabilities non-profit and loved her job.

"How's Alex?"

"Good." She smiled. She and her boyfriend lived in Ottawa where he worked as a commercial real estate law clerk. "Trying to convince me not to overdo it."

"Which you inevitably ignore," Shea pointed out.

"Yes. But he loves me anyway."

"Good thing someone does," he shot back teasingly.

"Hey! You love me and you know it," Emma said as she tossed a throw pillow at him. He batted it away, then used it to prop up his head so he could see her better.

"Yeah, you're alright," he agreed.

"Did he have to work this weekend?" Shea asked. "Is that why he didn't come?"

Alex was a great guy and everyone got along well with him so it was a surprise not to see him.

"Yeah. Someone's out on paternity leave so the office is a little short-staffed."

"Well, tell him I said hi."

"I will."

A wave of affection washed over Shea. Growing up, they'd spent so many nights like this, Shea sprawled on the floor of Emma's room as they talked about life. He hadn't realized until now how much he'd missed this time together.

"What about you?" She flipped her long sandy-brown hair over her shoulder and divided it into sections, weaving them together into a braid. "What you been up to?"

He shrugged. "Work mostly."

"And axe throwing with NHL players?" she teased.

"Just … one player," he said, not surprised she knew what was going on with him. "And a couple of other buddies."

"Mm-hmm." She shot him a doubtful look. "The one player you were hotly defending tonight, in fact."

"Yeah, look, Dom's a client and he's going through a hard time right now. It feels shitty to sit there and say nothing while Dad drags him."

"Is he a friend as well?"

"Yeah."

"Is that all he is?" She arched an eyebrow. "Cause it kinda seems like more to me."

"What the fuck?" he sputtered. "Since when have I ever dated guys?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Shea swallowed hard, looking away. "Look, I wouldn't say dated but there have been a few guys over the years. Just sex, you know?"

"Okay … So, what, you're bisexual but heteroromantic?"

Shea flopped onto his back and scrubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know what I am, to be honest."

"Oh shit, I didn't realize this was a full-on crisis of sexuality," she said, her tone a little amused but mostly sympathetic.

"Em …" He propped himself on one elbow again. "I'm not having a sexuality crisis. It's … complicated is all."

"Yeah, well, it would have been nice if I'd learned that my brother was dating a dude from him instead of a sports gossip page," she said, her tone turning a little tart.

"Well then maybe you shouldn't read sports gossip pages," he pointed out. "Besides, I'm not dating anyone . Especially not Dom. We're just hanging out and stuff."

"Mm-hmm. Sure. We'll go with that."

"You're the last person I would've thought would take those things seriously," he said irritably. "Look, they're always trying to stir up drama. They did the same thing when he was spotted with Audra! It's all bullshit and you know it."

"I don't take it seriously," she protested. "Although I do tend to agree that where there's smoke there's fire. And the fact that you two spent more than one night together … well, that tells me this is a little more than just sex."

Shea's face grew warm. "We're not. It's not …"

"Holy shit." Her jaw dropped. "You're in love with him."

"What? How in the hell did you come to that conclusion?"

"Your fucking face told me, you dipshit." She laughed as she tied off her braid with the elastic on her wrist.

"Look, I—I have feelings for him," Shea admitted. "But that doesn't mean that he returns them or that we're dating. Besides, whatever happened to public figures having a right to privacy ?"

"They do!" she protested. "But I want to know what's going on with you ."

Shea sighed. "I'm hanging out with a guy I have feelings for. Who happens to be a public figure who is very protective of his privacy. And it's confusing as hell and I know it's never going to go anywhere, which sucks , and I really, really need you to not push me for any details, okay, Em?"

"Okay," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you. And I'm not mad I'm—"

"Protective of him?"

"Yeah."

"You must love him then."

Shea closed his eyes. "Like I said, it's complicated."

"Well, I'm happy for you."

"Happy that some guy has me totally mixed up in the head?"

"No." Her expression was a mixture of fond and amused. "But happy you're not afraid to fall in love with someone despite the fact that, well, he's a dude."

"Yeah." He swallowed hard. "It's difficult when you don't fit into the neat little boxes that society has for everyone."

"You're telling me," she said drily. "People don't know how to handle a pretty girl in a chair who refuses to be your stereotypical anything."

"Fair," he agreed. And he felt another wash of affection for his sister because however complicated shit was with his parents, things with Emma had always been simple. He'd always trusted her to understand and never judge him.

"Are you going to tell Mom and Dad?" Emma asked.

Shea winced. "I honestly don't know what the hell I'd tell them."

"Tell them that you're bi."

"Ugh. Really? I mean, I'm not sure I am, exactly."

"I get that. But it's an easily digestible thing to explain. They have a frame of reference for what bi is."

"True."

"So, start with that, maybe."

"Won't it bring up questions about Dom though?" he said.

"It might," she agreed. "But I think we can figure out a way around that."

"Thank you," he said, grateful he had her in his corner. "I'm so glad you're here this weekend. Seriously."

"Well, someone has to keep you and Dad from killing each other. God knows it's not going to be Mom."