“So it’s got some sort of limited shelf life. I get that. And I’ve got a kid. So no, I don’t have a name for this. You just sort of happened, Roe.”
He’s still for a second, then says, “I’m not good at the long-term thing. Every time I’ve tried, I end up being the guy someone regrets letting in.”
“You’re not him with me.”
That gets his attention.
“I mean it,” I say. “You don’t scare me off. You don’t make me doubt this. I’ve just never done something like this.”
He lets out a slow breath. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I want this too,” he says. “Even if we don’t have a roadmap yet.”
We sit with that. The quiet agreement of it.
Then he adds, “And for the record? I’m not planning on leaving.”
I turn toward him. “You sure? You could get called up at any time.”
“True.” He grins. “Is that a deal breaker? To me, getting called up to the Knights isn’t me leaving. But I’m not looking for a way out either. That’s new.”
I nod. “We can figure it out.”
His hand finds mine—calm, certain. No rush. Just here.
He gives a laugh into my neck, kissing where his puffs of breath land. “Sounds like some ground rules were just established.”
I try and glare at him but fail and end up just rolling my eyes.
Long moments pass.
“Why can’t Jamie talk to you about hockey, Gabe?”
I sigh, struggling to find the words as I let a bare foot sneak out from under the blankets to push off from the decking and keep us in a slight swing.
“I told you my dad played . . . and like I said, it was the most important thing in his world. When I played . . .” I shrug. “He loved me. And then I decided to test whether that love went beyond hockey. I stopped playing. It wasn’t hard. I didn’t really love it anymore at that point. Not like—“
“Jamie,” Roe finishes and I nod.
“Yeah, not like that.”
“Go on.”
“My dad always pushed hockey. Everything else was nothing—wind—compared to that.”
“That’s hard.”
I nod. “Yeah. It was the ultimate barometer of who you were. As a son. As a man. So, hockey and I have an uneasy truce. Wecoexist. I push back every discomfort for Jamie, and I’m still fucking it up.”
Roe’s hand slides up my arm, and it feels so good just to be near him, touching each other in these little ways.
“I can guarantee that you are not fucking up with him.”
“I want . . .” I trail off, trying to find the words. “I don’t want Jamie to know how much it costs me. Hockey, I mean. I just want to support him and be there and keep all that other shit packed firmly away. Or get past it all and not have it cloud my relationship with him.”
Roe gives a little laugh. “Yeah, I may know a thing or two about that feeling. Wanting to bottle up the bad and only let people see the good.” He shifts his weight, getting closer still to me. “It never lasts, Thatch. Trust me. You can’t kick the can down the road indefinitely.”
