21. Bryson

The right thing to do isn't always the easy thing. At least that was what I told myself.

I'd been honest about my feelings and my fears. I couldn't be Smitty's casual lover or his fuck-buddy. Not anymore. I was too invested. If he stayed and if Jake's star kept rising, he'd have to be equally invested. He had to be sure he'd never regret me. We'd ventured outside of Elmwood and it was…scary.

Smitty wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. He wasn't even out yet.

And that was okay. If he came out, it shouldn't be because of me. And if he stayed in Elmwood, he'd stay for himself. Letting go was the right thing to do.

It just…sucked.

I went to the office at dawn the following morning and ran into JC on the corner of Main Street.

"Bonjour. Comment vas-tu?"

This was what happened when you told a French-Canadian wise guy you took French for four years in high school. "Bien."

"What are you doing out so early? No one wants real estate at—" JC checked his watch. "Five thirty in zee morning."

"I need to handle some scheduling before I head out for Jake's next game." I moved around the larger man, signaling I was in a hurry.

JC arched a brow at my uncharacteristic show of impatience. "I'm sorry about the concussion. I heard he was out of the hospital very fast. That can be worrisome, but he's all right, oui?"

"Yeah."

"And you?" He squinted. "You don't look so good. Maybe you need rest."

"Thanks," I huffed. "See you later."

"Bryson?" JC waited till I turned, continuing, "He's okay. Take care of yourself too."

I was sure he'd add a teasing remark about not getting any younger, but his sincerity was evident. I nodded in acknowledgment and waved.

I was fine.

Perfectly fine.

I rearranged my schedule and reserved flights and hotels to Utica and Syracuse, filling my secretary in on my way out the door.

Tracy furrowed her brow. "Are you okay? Did something happen with Jake?"

"No, he's doing well. Everything is okay," I lied.

She didn't ask, but the "Why are you taking a week off out of the blue?" was plain as day in her concerned expression.

"All right, Boss. Tell Jake to kick ass and take names later. We'll be rooting for him."

I hoppeda plane to Upstate New York, met my ex-wife at the rink, and officially resumed my old life.

I worked from hotel rooms, set up meetings for the following week, and did my best to focus on the two things I knew well—work and my son. I cheered for the Scorpions in Utica and again in Syracuse, fighting my nerves at Jake's return to the ice.

And wishing Smitty was with me.

No one else in that arena seemed concerned that something might go wrong. They cheered like maniacs as Jake skated onto the ice and lost their minds when he scored not one, but two goals…as if nothing had ever happened.

Why did everything feel different to me?

Any casual observer who'd missed the past six months of my life wouldn't have noticed anything different about me. I looked the same, I acted the same, but I was irrevocably changed.

Smitty had changed me. And I missed him with a voracity that rattled me to my core.

I missed him in the quiet moments. I missed the brush of his fingers, his crooked smile, his wolfish expression that always promised trouble. I missed the conundrum of him. That complex, interesting man who somehow wanted me. I missed touching him, talking to him. I hadn't realized how empty my days were until I'd had to fill them on my own again. Or had to listen to other people's adventures.

"…took a catamaran to St. Bart's. So pretty, but we've been there dozens of times. In this crappy winter weather, I'm dreaming of tropical islands twenty-four-seven," Piper said, fussing with her faux-fur hat as we walked toward the players' entrance.

Her ultra-luxe winter ensemble was a bit much, but whatever floated her boat, I supposed, nodding to another parent from the team.

"I bet."

"You should think about taking a vacation, Bry."

I stifled an incredulous huff. "During hockey season?"

Piper's shoulders slumped. "Yes, but when you say it like that, I feel guilty I wasn't at that game last week."

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad. There's not much you could have done," I replied…for the fiftieth time. "And after today's performance, Jake will pretend it was a mere bump on the head."

"He's so you."

I cocked my head. "What do you mean?"

"You always say nothing's wrong. Everything's great. No need to worry."

"I was definitely worried, Piper. I didn't see the point in both of us being upset."

She regarded me curiously. "I appreciate that, but I also think you take on an entire burden that could have been shared."

"You weren't here," I reminded her. "I'm not criticizing you. I'm just?—"

"I know. I'm glad your friend was there. Smitty. He knows Jake pretty well. I heard he got you into the locker room."

"What's your point?"

She chuckled. "It's an observation, not a point."

"Hmph."

"Don't get mad. I'm not trying to be difficult. I couldn't help noticing that he's been around more. And…I approve. Not that you need it, but you have it."

I stopped in my tracks and gaped. "Approval for what? There's nothing to approve of. We're friends."

Piper snorted. "Friends don't look at friends the way he looks at you. Just sayin.'"

"I—what? No, it's not like that."

"Why not? He's dreamy and smart and?—"

"He's not out," I snapped defensively.

Piper snickered, shoving my chest playfully. "There is something between you two!"

"No, there's not."

"Yes, there is. I knew it!"

"You don't know anything," I hissed, shushing her as the players started to file out into the corridor.

"Yes, I do. I know that you've been your old self for the last few months. A little less prim and proper, if you know what I mean. If we have the hockey coach to thank for that, then…yay." She did a pom-pom cheerleader move, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"I—that's not—you…"

Piper threw her head back and guffawed. "Oh, lighten up, Bry. He's hot and he's into you. Win-win."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Okay, listen. I don't know where this is coming from, but?—"

"Bryson, I wasn't born yesterday, and I've known you for a very long time. You like him."

Well, I couldn't deny that. I mean…I could have, but it took far too much effort. I didn't have it in me. "Yeah."

She must have seen something in my expression, because she ceased the playful teasing and went directly into mom mode. "What happened? Did he mess with you? 'Cause if he thinks he can get away with?—"

"Stop. No. He didn't do anything wrong. I just…" I shrugged helplessly and looked away.

"Oh, honey." Piper pulled her cell from her Louis Vuitton bag and started typing. "We'll see Jake later. We're going to the bar."

"No."

I didn't want a drink, and I definitely didn't want to drink with her at that hotel bar. That one belonged to Smitty and me. I wasn't sure when I'd become selectively sentimental, but I wasn't above grasping for excuses to avoid being alone with the one person who probably knew me better than anyone.

Piper had befriended me in those early, ugly post-rehab college days. She joked that I was handsome and that she'd had an insta-crush, but the truth was that in her youth, she'd had a thing for saving broken creatures. And I'd qualified. No doubt I'd seemed like a safe "bad bet." My family was wealthy, well-connected, and my problems with the law were concealed as much as my father's bank account would allow. I'd been fixable. Except for the gay part.

Whatever.

She was as persuasive now as she was then.

And that was how I ended up nursing a Diet Coke in the opposite corner of the bar where I'd met Smitty last year.

"I don't know how to tell you this nicely, but I think you're a self-saboteur," she declared, leaving a red lipstick stain on the rim of the glass as she sipped her Pinot Grigio.

"No, I'm not," I sputtered.

"You are. You always find a reason to walk away from romance."

"There's no romance, Piper."

"And your reason is usually Jake," she continued as if I hadn't spoken. "Jake's too young, Jake needs parents to act like parents, Jake's career is taking off. But I don't think it's fair to Jake. He's got his own life to live, and he worries about you constantly."

"He does? No." I shook my head. "He doesn't."

"Yes, observant one. He worries about you being alone in that huge house, working too much, not having a hobby you love. I mean, do you actually enjoy running?" Piper made an ew face. "I think it freaked him out when Smitty moved across the street at first, but he likes him. And he likes that you have someone around."

I frowned. "Jake doesn't—he doesn't think we're…"

"Lovers?" she supplied with a wink. "Oh, grow up. Jake knows all about the birds and the bees. He knows you're gay and that you probably have gay sex with?—"

"Okay, that's enough." I pulled her wineglass out of her hand and pushed it out of reach.

Piper just laughed and motioned for me to hand it over. "Give mama her medicine, honey. And admit something to yourself, if not me…you like the big hunk, so you pushed him away. It's a naughty habit of yours, and I don't approve. Neither does our son. If you don't believe me, talk to Jake. He'll tell you the same thing. He wants his dad to be happy. And he'd probably really like to not worry about you so much."

Jake worried about me?

That made as much sense as my ex-wife giving her full approval for a relationship no one knew about. Yeah…I didn't get it.

Of course,I obsessed over the idea and because I was me, I worried about my son worrying about me. I decided to maturely confront Jake at breakfast the next day. I also planned to double and triple check that he was physically okay.

"Geez, Dad. Yes, I'm fine," he grumbled, rolling his eyes as he speared a syrupy waffle bite. "I swear. You don't have to stay here or follow me to the next game. I'm good."

"Okay." I watched him over my coffee cup then set it down without taking a sip and blurted, "Your mom thinks you worry about me. Is that true?"

Jake grinned as he chewed. "A little. It's only natural to worry about each other. It's always been me and you, Dad."

"Hmm. I think it's my job to do the worrying."

He shrugged and took another bite. "I don't think it's a job. It's just…I don't know. You're my OG teammate."

"OG?"

"Original gangster," he translated with a laugh. "Why are you asking me that anyway? You seem like you're doing okay. Are you?"

"Sure. Your concussion was…" I licked my lips and sighed. Fuck it. "It's been a rough week."

"Dad, I told you a million and ten times that I'm fine." Jake's gaze was kind, though laced with the expected trace of exasperation.

"I believe you, but I can't help thinking of worst-case scenarios."

Another eye roll.

"I didn't die, and I barely have a scratch. My agent says the whole past week was a blessing in disguise. I got media attention 'cause Smitty was there rooting on his old team, then the concussion, and…I had two awesome games leading up to it. He thinks this is my last season in Syracuse. We'll see," he singsonged.

"That was a great goal in the first period last night too." It was a not-so-subtle attempt to steer conversation to neutral territory and it worked. I didn't want him to get his hopes up and…yep, I was worrying again.

"Right?" Jake beamed and practically levitated off his seat as he launched into a play-by-play ESPN-style. "I could hear Smitty in my head, ‘Make him think you're dumping it. Fake him out. Keep your stick alive.' It worked."

"That's cool."

He cleared his plate and pushed it aside, giving me his undivided attention. "I kind of thought Smitty would be there last night. Or do the Hawks have a game this weekend?"

"Uh…I don't know." I squirmed uncomfortably.

Jake aimed a puzzled half smile my way. "What's wrong?"

Shit. If I said nothing, he'd worry and I'd be lying. Could I tell him I had a crush on Smitty without outing him? Maybe. I didn't know.

This felt…weird.

"Nothing. I…" My hands trembled. I worried my bottom lip till it felt chapped and torn and?—

Jake covered my hands with his larger ones and held on as if knowing I needed this lifeline. "It's okay by me. I don't know if you need to hear that, but…it's there if you do."

A tear leaked from the corner of my eye and spilled over my cheek. I swiped at it and stared out the window at parked cars and the dirty snow drifts melting under the "All you can eat for $5.99" sign.

"I just…I don't want to do anything that jeopardizes your future."

"You never have."

I scoffed. "I did some dumb things when I was younger and?—"

"You told me all that. You even told my agent. It's not an issue." He squeezed my hand. "Look, don't get mad, but Mom gave me a heads-up. She says we always talk around stuff and this is important. I know you want to protect me, but it's not necessary. You always tell me that you want me to be happy. That goes both ways. So if you met someone and you like him, I bet I'll like him too. Even if his name is Smitty Paluchek."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And don't worry about press stuff. That's my agent's job. He has people to handle weird things like my dad falling for my former rival."

I didn't bother hiding the tears now. I smiled through them, though, using the napkin Jake handed over to dab at my eyes.

"I think I really needed to hear that."

"Sorry. I should have said it sooner." Jake studied the saltshaker for a long moment, sighing heavily. "Mom met Eric ages ago. I remember him coming by all the time, and I remember the wedding. I always liked him 'cause he was into hockey, and he was respectful of us. Me and you. I didn't want him to try to be my dad. I already had the best dad in the world."

"Thanks."

"But…I was always a little afraid of you meeting someone," he continued.

I frowned. "You were? Why?"

"I didn't want to share you. Not you. You're mine. No one else's. Maybe it's normal for a kid to feel that way, but I'm not a kid anymore. I'm old enough to know that I'm not going to lose you."

"Never, Jake. You will never ever lose me."

He blinked through a sheen of tears and sat against the shiny red faux-leather upholstery. "Then I think we're okay."

"I love you," I whispered. "Have I told you how proud I am of you?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Like twenty million times."

I grinned and blew my nose. "Good. I'll never stop saying it. Thank you. I don't know if anything will come of…this, but it would be nice."

"Yeah, I think so too. I want you to be happy. Same as you want for me. I love you, Dad."

It took a good minute to compose myself. If we hadn't been in public, I would have been sobbing ugly tears. God knew I was a mess as it was.

But it was all out there—every fear, every concern, all the things we never said had been said. I was a lucky man. So damn lucky.

While this didn't change anything between Smitty and me, it gave me hope. And for now, that would have to be enough.