"Gabe? What happened?"
I turned my head to find Michael standing there, still in his clothes from the night before, his face etched with fear. He looked like he’d run from the parking lot, his tie pulled loose, his eyes searching for the kid he’d called a natural just twenty-four hours ago.
"Michael," I said, somehow furious and confused at the same time.
He stepped onto the ice, his hand reaching out toward me, toward Gabe. "He texted me to invite me to the game last night. I thought—"
"Leave," I said. It was a cold, hard command that cut through the noise of the medical staff.
Michael stopped, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What? Kayla, let me help. I’ve seen this injury a dozen times, we need to get him to the—"
"I said leave!" I stood up, stepping between him and my broken son. I didn't see the man who had brought me Seattle rain. I saw the complication. I saw the reason my son was lying in the ice,clutching a shoulder that might never be the same. "Neither of us want to talk to you right now.”
"Kayla, please…"
"Go!" I shoved his chest, my hands shaking. "Just leave us alone."
31
Michael
The glass in the front door of the Leaky Faucet rattled in its frame as I shoved it open. It was well past midnight, the neon "Open" sign had been dark for an hour, and the only light inside came from the glow of the back-bar spirits and the flickering blue of a TV muted in the corner.
Kayla was behind the bar, her hair pulled into a messy knot, her face pale and lined with a fatigue that went deeper than bone. Gabe sat on a stool, his left arm immobilized in a bulky black sling, his face tight with the kind of throbbing pain that made every breath a chore.
The moment they saw me, the air in the room turned to lead.
"The bar’s closed, Michael," Kayla said, her voice a flat, warning note. She didn't look up from the glass she was polishing, but her hands were shaking. "Go home."
"I’m not going home," I said, stepping further into the room and letting the door heavy-thud shut behind me. "I’m not going anywhere."
Gabe’s head snapped up. Even through the haze of whatever pain meds they’d given him at the ER, his eyes burned with a cold, sharp loathing. "You heard her. Leave. Haven't you doneenough? You got what you wanted. You don't have to suck up to me anymore. The mentorship is over, Michael. You can stop pretending."
"I wasn't sucking up to you, Gabe," I said, my voice rising, the frustration I’d been stifling since the rink finally beginning to boil over. "And I wasn't pretending."
"The hell you weren't!" he shouted, trying to stand up, but the sudden movement made him hiss in pain as his shoulder jolted. He slumped back, his voice cracking. "You used me. You saw a stupid kid who wanted to play pro and you used that to get to my mom. You manipulated everything—my school, my drills, my head—just so you could look like the hero. Was it worth it? Was she a good lay?”
“Gabriel!”
But I held up a hand to stop Kayla. “It’s fine. He’s allowed to be mad at me.” Then I turned my attention to the kid almost in tears. “But you don’t disrespect your mother. You hear me?”
His cheeks blew up as he deflated into a sulk.
"Gabe, stop it," Kayla pleaded, stepping out from behind the bar, her hands out as if she could physically catch the insults flying through the air. "Michael, please, just go. You’re making it worse."
"No.” This got both of them staring at me again as if I were crazy. Maybe I was, but I wasn’t about to leave things like this. “I’m not making it worse, I’m making it honest," I snapped, turning back to the kid. "You think I spent six weeks of my life, in the middle of a playoff run, babysitting a teenager’s edge-work just to get a date? You think I’m that desperate? I have a life, Gabe. I have a career. I didn'tneedto use you for anything."
"Then why did you?" he yelled back, his face flushing a deep, angry red. "Why all that talk about being friends? Why theadvice about Maya? Why act like you cared if I made the scouts' list or not? It was a bribe! It was a goddamn down payment!"
"It was because I saw myself in you!" I roared, my voice echoing off the walls, silencing the room. I was at my wit’s end, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "I saw a kid who was talented and angry and needed someone to tell him that the world wasn't out to get him. I cared because you’re a part of her, and because you’re a kid worth caring about. But mostly? Mostly I did it because I didn't know how else to be near her without scaring her off."
"See?" Gabe sneered, though his eyes were brimming with tears. "It’s always about her. It’s always about what you want."
"Yeah, it is about what I want." I stepped into his space, my breath quick and shallow, the facade completely shattered. I didn't care about the press, the finals, or the status of being a couple. I was done overthinking. I was done playing it safe. "I wanted to be in this room. I wanted to be on that ice with you. I wanted to be the guy who sticks around when the mess starts, because I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want this family."
"You don't even know what that word means," Gabe spat.
"I know exactly what it means," I yelled. "It means I’m not leaving just because you’re being a brat, and I’m not leaving just because she’s scared. I’m staying because I’m in love with her! I’m fucking in love with you both, goddammit!"
