Jamie winced, then nodded.
“So, what do we need to do?”
“I’ll text Sharon. She’s the head of PR for the Muskies. We can go to her office together, and ask her to help us make a plan.” Jamie cradled Tyler’s face in his big hands. “I need you to know that I don’t give a shit what anyone online says about you. If your job makes them uncomfortable, that’s their own fucking problem.”
Tyler had to fight to keep his eyes from welling up. “I,” he began. “Thank you. For saying that.”
Jamie yawned. “I’m so tired,” he said, his words stretched as he yawned again.
Tyler ran his fingers through Jamie’s hair. “Get comfy, big guy.”
Jamie nodded. “Come here.”
Their bodies found each other under Tyler’s pile of quilts. Jamie’s skin was hot, and Tyler didn’t hesitate to press himself close, trying to steal as much warmth as possible.
“We’ll figure this out,” Tyler murmured against Jamie’s neck. “I promise. We’ll get through this.”
It took Jamie a minute to respond. When he did, his voice was a soft breath against Tyler’s hair. “Okay, baby.”
CHAPTER 21
JAMIE
COOKIES WILL HELP
The water was hot on Jamie’s back as he scrubbed the sweat from his body. He’d gotten in an extra workout after their team meeting that morning, before the official practice and film session happening later that afternoon.
The meeting, which had been divided between reviewing the schedule for the Winter Classic with the team admin, and talking game strategy for their matchup against Minnesota, had left little room for interaction with his teammates. Beyond a few claps on the back and nods from the guys, Jamie hadn’t been able to bring himself to linger. He wasn’t ready to answer their inevitable questions.
He’d worked his ass off to get back to playing good hockey, only to fuck up less than a week into his return. And even worse, he’d probably messed things up for the only man who might actually stick around.
It had been a relief to lose himself in training, in the burn of his muscles. He’d pushed himself on the bike until he was sweating, and moved through agility exercises in the gym. One of the trainers had worked on a tight spot in his hamstring, and the dull, throbbing pain had allowed him to escape his thoughts. At least for a little while.
Tyler was due at the arena in ten minutes so they could meet with Sharon and come up with a plan for how to handle the pictures and subsequent articles that had come out overnight.
The photos were…Well, they were damning. Jamie looked like a brute. His relative size, looming over that fuckingcreepfalling backwards, painted a condemning picture.
The articles themselves were mixed. Those who shared the videos–which showed the man named Dan reaching for Tyler first–portrayed Jamie as a valiant lover coming to his boyfriend’s defense. The others were more of what he’d expected: questions about his sobriety, criticism of him being in a strip club, and the assumption that, based on his fight earlier in the season, Jamie had been the instigator of the whole thing.
What he hated, what had his blood fuckingboiling, were the things people had written and commented about Tyler. Jamie couldn’t believe the fucking audacity of people. He knew there was a stigma about strippers. In the past, he’d heard comparisons of someone’s partner to a stripper thrown around other locker rooms or on the ice as an insult.
Jamie toweled off. He wished he could wrap Tyler and Rowan up and hide them away in his house. He wished he could provide them with everything they needed to live a happy, peaceful life. He had more than enough to support himself–and he’d always wanted a family.
But would Tyler even want that? Setting his pride and independence aside, would Tyler even consider going all in with Jamie after the clusterfuck last night? Tyler had enough on his plate already. And now, because of Jamie, he was thrust into the public eye, facing a deluge of unwanted criticism.
Tyler was doing it on his own, carrying all of his responsibilities with a grace and poise that Jamie aspired to bring to his captaincy. Tyler was making ends meet, providing for his little family, one Jamie felt honored to play some tiny, peripheral role in.
He’d just slipped into jeans and a team quarter-zip whenMitch appeared, dressed down for their team meeting. “Stop avoiding me.”
Jamie winced, sitting down in his stall to put on his shoes. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Mitch sat beside him. “Are you going to meet with Sharon now?”
Jamie nodded.
“How’s Tyler?”
“Acting like everything is fine.”
