Not even being good at hockey helped his case. He never made his parents proud. He never shocked them with how stealthy he was on the ice. It didn’t matter. Fletcher Armstrong was great at hockey. But his dad was better. Even better than his pops. Sean Armstrong was the best, and Fletcher would never be able to impress him. He would never be able to live up to his family’s legacy.
Fletcher took a seat on the chair in front of the desk in Coach’s office.
“You’ve been doing really well here,” she told him. Fletcher smiled.
“I really like it here. I think it’s been really good for me.”
Coach raised her mug to her lips and took a sip of her coffee,but quickly made a disgusted face. “It’s cold. I swear I brewed it like ten minutes ago,” she complained. She got up and opened the microwave on the table near the window to reheat her coffee.
“Am I in trouble?” Fletcher asked curtly. It came out ruder than he intended, but it was because he already knew exactly what Coach was going to tell him.
“Yesterday was your mom’s birthday,” she said with a hint of conviction in her tone. The microwave beeped and she removed the mug before sitting back down to face Fletcher.
“I don’t want to talk to her. Or him. I have nothing to say,” he told her sharply, folding his arms across his chest.
Coach tiled her head down slightly. “Don’t be narrow minded, kid. I know they can be a lot, but they really care about you.”
Fletcher gave her a look of disbelief. “Sure, sure.”
She leaned in and gave him a pleading look. “Call your mom, kid. Do it for me.”
“Fine,” Fletcher quickly said, not intending to follow through with it. He stood up and gave her a polite smile before leaving.
* * *
Every time Fletcher had his parents on his mind, it messed up his mood for the rest of the day. Luckily, he had something to look forward to when he got home later that afternoon.
Taylor sat on his couch with his legs propped up on the coffee table. As Fletcher opened the door, he looked and smiled. Fletcher took his shoes off and dropped his bag before walking over to the couch and leaning in to kiss Taylor. “I’m sorry you had to wait,” he said apologetically. “Coach thinks she cancontrol me on behalf of my parents.”
He plopped down on the couch next to Taylor and let out a groan. “Do you want to talk about it?” Taylor asked softly.
“Nope,” Fletcher said, popping the “p.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Taylor asked, trying to offer him a distraction.
Fletcher turned and smiled. “Which movie?” He quickly hopped up and scoured his pantry for gluten-free pretzels and a new bag of M&Ms he got for Taylor on a whim the other day. Fletcher wasn’t much of a sweets person, but he knew Taylor liked them occasionally.
He grabbed two beers from the fridge and placed everything on the coffee table while Taylor clicked through different movies.
“What kind of movies do you like to watch?” he asked Fletcher, reaching over to open the bag of M&Ms and taking a handful out. He put them into his mouth all at once and started chewing.
“Something funny. Like Stepbrothers or Talladega Nights. Anything with Will Ferrell, I guess.” He looked over to Taylor and smiled at the sight of him with a mouthful of chocolate. “Good?” he asked.
Taylor nodded as he swallowed them. “Anything chocolate is good. Except chocolate covered cherries. My grandad really liked them but I always thought they were nasty.”
“Do your brother and sister still live with him?” Fletcher asked curiously. He didn’t know much about Taylor’s family situation apart from the small bits of information he’d managed to squeeze out of him these past few months.
Taylor’s face fell. “He’s in hospice. He has ALS. Itprogressed really quickly.”
Fletcher frowned. “Shit, that sucks. I’m so sorry.” Taylor gave him a weak smile and shrugged.
“He’s lived a good life. He told me before I left to leave and never turn back, so that’s kind of what I’m doing I guess.” Fletcher’s heart clenched for him. He couldn’t imagine how it felt to have someone so close get sick like that.
He scooted closer to Taylor, who threw an arm around him and pulled him in even closer. Fletcher loved it. He was close enough to smell Taylor’s cologne and his aftershave. Both very woodsy scents. Cedarwood, sandalwood, pine. Maybe a hint of Oud. It suited him perfectly.
“I’ve never seen Stepbrothers,” Taylor told him softly.
“Let’s watch it.”
