37. Jonah

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

jonah

As I finishup with my last student of the day, I rub my eyes and lean back in my office chair, picking up my phone to see if Emmett has messaged me. He’s currently at an away game, but he usually sends me a “thinking of you” text whenever we’re apart.

There isn’t a text from him, but there is one from my sister.

Lauren:

Cullen has not shut up about hockey since getting back from summer break, and I blame you.

I laugh and reply:

I blame Emmett. He’s the one who spent most of the summer coaching him.

When we moved to Rochester, I promised my sister I’d still be there for Cullen in any way I could be. After Emmett left, Cullen wasn’t as interested in hockey as before, and eventually, he gave it up like I’d hoped. Then … then we offered to take Cullen for the summer. Now we’re back at square one, where Cullen’s obsessed, and his mother and I are worried for his safety. But I am glad I can still be there for Cullen, even if I’m no longer in California.

Living in Upstate New York has been a whirlwind of surprises. Mainly of the freezing weather variety. This Cali boy still needs six layers to go outside in the dead of winter, while Emmett goes out in sweatpants and a T-shirt.

He’s definitely not a beachy kind of guy.

When Emmett got a contract with Buffalo’s AHL team in Rochester, I started pitching my services to local colleges. I managed to score a contract with State University of New York, which is an umbrella of colleges with about sixty-four different institutions around the state. Most of my work is on the Buffalo campuses, so driving out to Rochester to go home every day is getting tiresome, especially with the snow and black ice and all that other fun stuff I never experienced while growing up in southern California. But each day when I get home, provided he’s not on the road with the team, Emmett is there. And he makes everything worth it.

Not that living here really is that much of a hardship. Aside from the cold, I love everything about this area. The greenery that turns to orange and red hues at fall, the lakes, the breathtaking scenery … it’s a nice place to live. I also love my job. I built a program from the ground up to help those with learning disorders, and I get to go from campus to campus to check in on my individual students, tutor them when they’re struggling, and actually help these kids get degrees where they might have otherwise dropped out from it being too hard or failed out because they didn’t have the right help.

I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, of where I am, and of the man I’ve become. I might have been lost when I met Emmett, unsure if teaching was right for me, but he and Ben showed me I was heading in the right direction, just taking a detour.

I’m about to start packing up for the day when there’s a knock at my door. I’m sure I don’t have anyone scheduled unless I’ve forgotten someone.

“Come in.”

Surprising me, when the door opens, Emmett’s there, but that doesn’t make sense because his team is in Rhode Island.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be in Prov—” That’s when I notice the subtle differences in his posture and the smirk on his face. Emmett’s is usually sweet. Benny’s, yeah, he could be hiding a dead body in the trunk of his car. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Is that any way to treat your favorite student of all time? Your brother-in-law to be?”

I cock my head. “You’re marrying my sister?”

“Ha, you’re funny. You’re a funny, funny guy, but no, seriously. You and Emmett are going to get married, and then you get to have me as a brother! You’re so lucky.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a guy show up unannounced to his brother’s boyfriend’s place of work and say hi?”

I narrow my gaze. “You really do have a dead body in your trunk, don’t you?” I gasp. “It’s not Emmett, is it?”

“What are you rambling about?”

“You live in Colchester, and you’re currently in Buffalo for no explicable reason other than to say hi? You or Emmett have done something, and history tells me I probably don’t want to know.”

Benny and Harrison moved back to Vermont after graduation and Harrison’s master’s. Benny’s working at getting his dream job of sportscaster but at the moment is working a research position for on-air talent and has a regular game recap article on Sportsnet. He and Emmett are both where they need to be to get what they want in life.

Benny rolls his eyes at my dramatics. “Relax, I’m here because we’re all here. All billion Daltons. Asher called everyone to come to his game tonight. It’s his thousandth NHL game, can you believe that? It’s, like, a massive milestone, so we’re all going to go out and celebrate afterward.”

I won’t dare breathe a word to any of the Daltons, but I only watch hockey for Emmett, and I know Emmett won’t be there because he has his own game tonight in Providence. So I grit my teeth and say, “Can’t wait.”

It’s not the first time I’ve been dragged to one of Asher’s games. He’s Buffalo royalty. He’s spent his entire career with the one franchise and has two Stanley Cups to his name, but it’s been a few years since the team has gotten anywhere close to a third. Before Asher, it had been ten years since the team even made the playoffs, so they treat him like the sun shines out his ass in this part of the country. Asher always gets “He’s the Sidney Crosby of Buffalo,” whatever that means. It’s bad enough I know as much as I already do about Asher’s career, I’m not going to go google someone else’s.

The games aren’t all bad though. Especially when the whole Dalton clan shows up. I get along really well with West’s husband, Jasper, and Emmett’s older brother, Rhys. We’re three math nerds who drink and pretend we’re paying attention to the score. A lot of the time, Asher’s partner will join in on our fun and then get paged from the hospital for an emergency insert whatever long-ass medical term he uses here. I can’t pronounce anything he says, but the three of us are certain he lies to get out of watching hockey.

Of course, when I go to Emmett’s games, I make sure to pay more attention. I might dislike hockey with all the violence and the back-and-forth play that can get tedious and boring if no one is scoring, but when my man is out on that ice? I can’t take my eyes away from him. I’m no expert, but he has so much talent, and watching him is awe-inspiring.

He’s worked so hard to get where he is, and while he might never make it to Asher’s level, I can tell he’s doing what he was born to do. He loves it, and I love him, so I’m supportive. Even if I cringe every time he takes a hit out on the ice.

He’s not as big as most of the guys he plays against, but he is quick.

He’s been saying lately that he’s worried about getting traded—or worse, being sent to the ECHL because the Rochester affiliate team is in Florida, which means moving back to the beach—and how it will screw up all the work I’ve done here to set up this new system for colleges. He’s also worried he’ll never be able to make the NHL and support me the way I do for him at the moment. I keep reminding him that money isn’t everything and what we both make is more than enough to keep us fed with a roof over our heads. Of course, if he were to be traded to one of the bigger cities, we’d be screwed with paying rent, but for now, we’re stable, and we’re doing good.

Really good.

No matter where hockey takes him, I want to be by his side, and I’m willing to follow him anywhere. Now that I have one contract in place for the SUNY schools, I could set up similar programs at any college in the country.

“Are you coming or what?” Benny asks.

“Is what an option?”

“What?”

“Exactly.”

It’s obvious I’ve confused him with what was supposed to be a smartass remark, but hey, if Benny’s right and I’m going to marry Emmett, I’m going to marry the rest of his family too, so I should be supportive. I don’t know why they had to be a hockey family though. Why couldn’t they be interested in chess or something that doesn’t make me feel like I’m losing brain cells as I watch grown-ass men on skates beat the shit out of each other?

I’ll admit, the fights are the best part. Just not when Emmett’s involved. He’s on a good team who has his back though, so he rarely gets caught in the crossfire.

Unlike Asher, who is usually the one instigating fights on the ice. And off it. Apparently, he’s done it since he first signed with Buffalo, but the fans love him for it, and the team gets headlines, so they’re happy.

I know way too much about hockey for someone who doesn’t enjoy it, but as Benny and I leave and meet up with all the other Daltons, I’m happy to be a part of it. Because Emmett is my world, which means hockey games, codependent twinly chaos, and Dalton family reunions are also my world now.

We’re escorted to one of the corporate box things we get sometimes. Not often, but occasionally. Usually, it’s Emmett and me in Asher’s comped seats, but when there’s a group, West usually scores a box.

The best part about the box is the free food and alcohol. They usually have celebration balloons for whatever milestone Asher’s achieved, but today, it’s empty of all the decorations.

Hazel, the other professional hockey player from the Dalton siblings, is here as well, even though she’s in the middle of her own PWHL season. Zoe’s here too, with her husband by her side and a round, pregnant belly.

It’s been a long time since all the Daltons have been in the one room, and I guess I didn’t realize how momentous one thousand games is until now. Though, that doesn’t explain the lack of flair around the room.

“You’d think with it being Asher’s thousandth game that they’d have streamers. They did for his nine hundredth, right? And that was only, what, late last season?”

My brain trips over the messy math. I know there are more games in Asher’s season than Emmy’s, but I don’t know for sure how many there are in the NHL.

Benny approaches me with that trademark smirk. Before I can ask him again if there’s a body in his trunk, he points to the ice and says, “Notice anything different?”

Everyone in the room is staring at me, and I feel hot under the collar.

Then I turn my gaze out onto the ice where the team is warming up. There’s Asher with Dalton on the back of his jersey, but then …

“What the fuck?” I blurt, and everyone starts laughing at me. “What is happening?” My head swivels. “Why are there two Dalton jerseys out there?”

As I ask that, my man, the love of my life, turns toward us, searching, trying to see us.

I’m not sure if he can from where he is, but if he can’t, then maybe he can hear me when I yell, “I love you and am so proud of you!”

He doesn’t respond, so maybe he can’t hear me after all.

My boyfriend is playing in his first NHL game ever, and it’s going to be fucking amazing.