Tate flashed Quinn a smile and then returned to his snacks and tablet.
“He likes coming to the afternoon games to see his dad play,” said Bea. “But the attention span isn’t quite there yet.”
Quinn motioned towards the girls sitting in front of him, who were more focused on licking ketchup off their fingers than watching the game. “I feel that.”
He took a moment to look around. A few curious eyes lingered on him, but no one approached, and he was very thankful. After his sister died, he’d come to hate well-meaning condolences. He still did, and with it only being a few months since her passing, they felt somehow heavier and more suffocating than before.
Quinn would never forget the pain of that loss, but itwasgetting easier every day. He had two little reminders that brought a bit of her back into his life in their own way.
Bea nudged him, a grin spreading to her face when she caught him people-watching. “We’re not so scary, huh?”
Quinn shrugged. “I thought there might be more people here. I was worried it was going to be all ass-kissing suits, laminated eyebrows, and Botox.”
Bea snorted. “They’re playing Minnesota today, and it’s an afternoon game. Wait until the next one.”
When Quinn’s horror pinched his expression, she recanted.
“It’s really not that bad. Yes, there’s a hierarchy with the WAGs, but ever since the NHL got a little Queerer, it’s been evening out. When Logan played for LA, his captain was a late-in-life coming-out story.”
Quinn didn’t follow sports, so he had no idea what she was talking about. That didn’t appear to matter because Bea seemed happy to continue.
“Grant, the LA captain, got divorced and came out. Meanwhile, all the WAGs started fighting for the Head WAG position that used to belong to his ex, like we were in the Hunger Games. Then bam, the next person Grantdates and falls head over heels for was a man, so he slid right into top place. Picture the campiest gay guy you’ve ever met. My god, the drama was so good. The NHL can be like high school, but you just have to find your place.”
Quinn’s eyes moved back to the rink, keeping his breathing steady and calm. Itdidsound like high school. This is why he preferred attending art school at university, where more people shared his own way of thinking. No politics and fighting to be arm candy, just a bunch of unmedicated drama queens or former goth kids like himself.
The crowd reacted loudly as someone on Vancouver’s team almost scored, and Quinn looked to the Jumbotron screen to watch the replay. He really should have learned the names of Eren’s teammates if he was trying to blend in.
But did he really want to?
Quinn sipped his cooler, his nails glinting against the neon lights of the arena. He’d just gotten them done the other day; they were black, but they glowed in the dark, so they appeared pink now. He knew he was far from that goth kid he’d been in high school, but with his shaggy brown hair, skinny jeans and leather jacket, he didn’t feel like he fit in with the hockey lifestyle, either.
His eyebrow and nose were both pierced, and his many tattoos were hidden beneath layers of clothing. But it wasn’t about appearances—it was a question he felt in his gut. Did he want to fit in, or not? He hated…peopling.
“Uncle Quinn?” Emira turned in her chair to face him, giving him the grumpiest look a child could muster. “Why hasn’t Daddy scored more goals?”
Bea chuckled and offered no help to answer, so Quinn was left alone to explain.
“Because the…other team is full of meanies?”
There was a bubble of laughter around him from the other WAGs sitting close enough to hear.
Alara also turned to look at him, cheeks puffing dramatically. “I think Daddy needs to try harder.”
Quinn barely heard the collective mock gasps and the tittering laughter following her comment. He was too busy getting lost in memories of his sister and the indignant way she often spoke of her husband.
The twins had their father’s blue eyes, but they were all Esme. They may have carried Eren’s last name, but they were Harlows at their core.
The girls returned to watching the game, leaving Quinn alone to mull over thoughts of his sister and how much hefucking missed her. She should be the one watching Eren’s game with her daughters, not him.
For the thousandth time, he asked himself what he was doing there.
An arm hooked into his, tugging Quinn into a warm, solid body.
“It’s all good,” said Bea. “We’re right here.”
Quinn squeezed his eyes shut to stop the burning, only opening them once he was sure tears weren’t going to fall.
Bea continued to hold onto him while she socialized with the others, making sure to introduce Quinn to everyone as conversations carried on. The names were lost on him for the most part, but he appreciated her attempts to make him feel welcome.
