Jamie missed hockey. He missed the stench of the locker room after a game and the late night flights when all he wanted was to be in his own bed. He even missed the crushing pressure that settled on his shoulders every time he stood in the tunnel before a game, waiting at the back for the rest of the team to hit the ice before he followed.
His first step on the ice was strong, decisive. An exhale fellfrom his mouth, and there was a sense of tangible relief at being back on the ice. Back where he belonged.
He didn’t go far, looping back around to offer a hand to Tyler, who still had Rowan in his arms. The kids, led by Henri, had formed a train, zipping around the ice while holding on to each others’ jackets. Mila, Sergei’s wife and a retired figure skater, was doing effortless double axles along the walls, while her older sons battled for a puck in front one of the nets.
Jamie watched fondly as Tyler got his feet under him, and moved carefully along the side wall with Rowan in his arms.
“Faster, Papa!” Rowan’s cheeks were already pink, and his eyes were bright.
Tyler shook his head. “No can do, kiddo.”
“Please?” Rowan’s lower lip jutted out, absolutely adorable behind the helmet cage.
“How about I teach you how to skate?” Jamie circled in front of Tyler, holding out his hands.
Rowan’s little brows knit together. “Will I fall down?”
“Probably,” Jamie offered. “But my job is to be the captain, and the captain’s job is to keep everyone on my team safe.”
“Am I on your team?”
Jamie smiled. “Yeah, buddy. You’re a Muskie now.”
Rowan stretched his arms out, and Jamie reached for him, catching Tyler’s eyes over Rowan’s head. “I’ve got him,” Jamie said softly, hoping his words were enough to reassure Tyler that Jamie took the care of his son seriously.
When Tyler nodded and smiled, Jamie felt like he was on top of the world.
“Step, step, step, step,” Jamie said, holding tightly to Rowan’s body where he stood between Jamie’s spread legs. He glided forward slowly, keeping Rowan upright as he got used to balancing his weight on the skates.
Rowan was doing great, giggling when he slipped onto his bottom and learning to hold his arms out to the sides to help him balance.
“Okay, now,” Jamie said, checking that the ice was clear in front of them before returning his attention to Rowan. “You’re going to keep your knees soft–”
“Like mushy bananas,” Rowan interjected.
Jamie chuckled. “Like mushy bananas, and I’m going to give you a little push and see how it goes. I’ll be right behind you, every step of the way. Ready?”
Through the cage, Jamie saw Rowan’s brows tighten as he nodded his head. “I’m brave. I’m a Muskie. I’m ready!”
Jamie let out a whoop as he gently pushed Rowan forward, watching as he stayed upright for one, two three, four and–
“I got you.” Jamie caught the kid as he started to tip to the left. He picked Rowan up, shifting him to his hip so he could look at his flushed and beaming face. “Holy cra–cow, kid! You were cruising!”
“Yeah!” Rowan raised his fists, a huge smile on his face. His smile somehow grew when he looked back over Jamie’s shoulder. “Papa! Did you see me? Did you see? I’m a Muskie!”
Jamie spun on his skates, coming face to face with the beautiful man who wore Jamie’s cropped sweatshirt like it had been made for him. It hung from one of his shoulders, the arms too long, but it was a look Tyler pulled off effortlessly.
It was Tyler’s smile then, as he skated smoothly towards them, that left Jamie winded, the breath punched out of his chest. It transformed his whole face–eyes squinted, cheeks creased and dimpled–like there was so much joy inside him it had burst out all at once.
There was nothing calculated or practiced about it. It was honest happiness, and Jamie wanted to bottle it up in a jar to save, to treasure and protect it because he knew, he justknewthat he was one of the lucky ones who got to see Tyler like this.
In a daze, Jamie handed Rowan over to Tyler, who listenedwith rapt attention as the boy described his first time on the ice. Jamie just watched him, watchedthem, and he wished… He didn’t know what exactly he wished for, only that it felt reachable in that moment. Like if he asked, Tyler might share some of that happiness with him.
His gaze dropped to Tyler’s mouth, andfuck,he wanted to kiss him. He wished he could lean over and press their wet, cool mouths together.
A thought crossed his mind then. What if he’d just met Tyler at the coffee shop? What if he’d seen him, felt the organic pull of him, and asked him on a date?
It never would have happened that way. Tyler wasn’t Jamie’s type, hadn’t been until he landed in Jamie’s life with his adorable scowls and hard brown eyes that sometimes turned soft like browned butter. He’d never liked tattoos on men before, but the dark ink on Tyler’s pale skin looked like it had grown there, like the artwork was a part of him.
