Jamie’s tongue slipped from his mouth, tracing his own lips subconsciously. Belatedly, he realized it was his turn to talk.That’s generally how conversations work, Jamie. “Of course. Yeah. It’s no big deal. If you want to go, I can text you the tickets. And there’s parking nearby so you won’t have to walk too far.”
“Will you be playing?”
“No.” Jamie held up his braced wrist. “Not for a few more weeks.”
He thought maybe Tyler looked disappointed.
“I’ll text you,” Jamie went on. “The details. For the tickets.”
Tyler grabbed his mug and flashed a quick, crooked smile at him. “Thanks for the company,” he said, and then Jamie watched him go back to work. Watched him smile and laugh with the baristas behind the counter, watched him put the mug away in the dish bin until he finally decided he should leave.
As Jamie walked out the door, he thought about what Sharpie had said.
You are a person outside of hockey.
CHAPTER 8
TYLER
THE STEADY, UNYIELDING SHORE
“Come on, Row. Let’s get your coat on.”
Tyler was exhausted. Rowan had been waking up in the middle of the night and struggling to go back down. The endless loop of trying different things–night lights and chamomile tea and stories and even a spray bottle of water he’d taken to calling “monster spray”–was wearing Tyler down. None of it was working.
The last thing he wanted to do was leave the house.
When Jamie had originally offered the tickets at Mitch and Layla’s house, Tyler hadn’t taken him seriously. But then Jamie had shown up at The Daily Grind with his serious, handsome face and ordered the sweetest thing on the menu.
It had been unexpectedly nice, spending his break with the hockey player. There was an edge to their conversations, like they were both feeling the other out, searching for something before they shared too much.
Tyler hadn’t meant to say what he had about writing. About poetry. Nothing about Jamie had indicated that he was the kind of man who understood the ache of losing a creative practice.
And yet, Tyler had opened his mouth, letting those vulnerable words fall between them, and Jamie had listened. He’d watchedTyler intently, and behind the concentrated frown there was a softness that promised gentle understanding.
It was too much, having that kind of ease and chemistry with someone so unexpected. Tyler had retreated, terrified by the ease he felt in Jamie’s presence. There wasn’t time for him to indulge in fantasies. There wasn’t time to imaginewhat ifs.
He needed to focus on finding another job, something that paid better than delivering groceries. He was trying to make it work, but no toddler could tolerate going between a car seat and a grocery cart for hours on end. No amount of Bob Marley or toys could curb the meltdowns that typically started about an hour into his two to three hour shifts.
He needed to find a long-term childcare solution. He needed to update their health insurance. He needed to find time to sew a patch onto Rowan’s pants that had ripped at the knee.
Tonight, he was going to take his son to a hockey game, because their landlords’ son–who Tyler definitelyhadn’tbeen thinking about non-stop–had been kind enough to give them free tickets.
That was all.
Half an hour later, Tyler used the pass Jamie had included with their tickets to park in a garage near Culver’s Arena. There was heavy traffic, but eventually they had parked and joined the flood of people walking toward the arena.
Rowan was already whining and wriggling in Tyler’s arms, but was also too nervous to walk with the throngs of people around them.
This was Rowan’s dinner time, so they’d have to make do with the snacks they’d packed from home in the stands. Tyler’s backpack was stocked with some fresh fruit, a bag of cherry tomatoes, and some sliced sausage.
Everyone was decked out in orange, green, and white. Beanies and scarves and hockey jerseys worn on top of hoodies. It was loud, an air of excitement making the night feel warmer than it actually was.
“No outside food or liquids,” the older woman working the entrance informed Tyler, his backpack open on the table in front of her. “You can either throw them away or take them back to your vehicle, sir.”
“Papa, where’s Jamie?”
Tyler shifted Rowan on his hip, the sound of the crowd around them pressing in on him.
