The Nature of the Game (Stick Side Book 2), page 21
“Who told you that?”
“None of your biscuits.”
“Oh my god.” Ash fell onto the couch, charmed by him, yet embarrassed for him at the same time. “That was so bad.”
“You’re laughing, though.”
“Only so that you don’t feel bad about how bad that pun was.”
Dan’s laugh made Ash’s belly slip and he grinned up at the ceiling. Hauling himself up, he got back to work.
Finding the hockey puck from his first goal in the NHL, he weighted it in his palm. When you stopped to think about it, pucks were tiny things—only three inches across, one inch thick, and weighing about as much as a couple of apples. And yet they meant so much to so many people. Whether he was passing the puck to a teammate, setting up a shot, or flipping one over the glass for a fan, it was odd to think that this little piece of rubber had driven him for most of his life.
As hard as he’d worked to get where he was, it sucked that it could all get taken away if his club decided it didn’t want him.
“What’s wrong?” Dan said from behind him, appearing on silent feet.
“I was just thinking . . .” Shaking his head, Ash placed the puck on the shelf next to the television. “Never mind.”
Dan’s eyes fell shut on a wince, fingers closing gently around the item he held. His eyes opened after a few seconds, and he stared glassily at the wall as if seeing something else entirely. Swallowing hard, he cupped whatever it was in both hands, then looked Ash straight in the eye with a gaze that was hopeless and bleak. It made Ash’s heart thrum with nervous fear, not unlike what he’d felt upon returning home after the hurricane.
Dan’s voice was whisper-soft when he spoke. “We’re never going to get past what happened between us, are we?”
Ash’s breath stopped.
“You hold yourself back. You think I don’t see it, this wall between us, but I do. And I don’t know how to knock it down.” Self-deprecation twisted Dan’s lips. “I’ve been trying, but . . . I know I fucked things up a long time ago, but I’ve been trying to make things right. I just . . . I don’t know what else to do to prove to you that I’m not going anywhere this time. That I’m not who I was. I don’t know how to get you to trust me again. I don’t even know if I should keep trying. Do you want me to go? Is that it? You know how I feel about you, Ash. And there’s a part of me that’s just waiting for you to tell me to leave, to get lost . . . and another part that’s dying for you to love me back. But I don’t know what else to do. I wish you’d tell me where I stand with you so I can stop guessing.”
“Dan, I . . .” It hurt, seeing Dan like this. Rubbed Ash raw and knotted his insides. Felt like there was sandpaper at the back of his throat. “I want to trust you. I do. My heart says I can, but my head . . .” His head was smart. His head remembered trusting this man once before and ending up heartbroken. His head knew that going down that path again would only lead to hurt.
Dan was already nodding, like he’d expected that answer. He took a deep breath. “I think . . . I’m gonna go.”
“You’re . . . What? No. But . . . dinner.”
“Oh.” Dan glanced toward the kitchen, as if he’d forgotten he’d cooked them an entire meal. “It’s mostly ready. Just need to let it simmer a bit and take the biscuits out of the oven in a few—”
“No, I mean . . . You should stay. For dinner. You made it. You didn’t even get breakfast this morning, either.”
“Oh. I’m, uh, not really hungry.” He firmed his jaw and lifted his head. “Thank you for letting me back into your life. I wish . . .” He trailed off. Clearing his throat, he went on. “I wish things could be different between us, but I understand why they can’t be. I really missed you.” His words were low and unsteady. “And I’m glad I got to be in your life again, even if—” He hiccupped and wiped away a stray tear, slicing Ash through the chest. “Even if only for a little while.” He set his item down on the table, gently, so tenderly . . .
And then he was gone.
The sandpaper turned into claws and Ash couldn’t swallow past it, couldn’t breathe past his burning nose. His skin itched and pulled, and it felt like he’d tumbled into a dark, ugly, bottomless pit of heartache.
On the table lay one of the sun catchers Dan had made him a lifetime ago, a crescent moon made of some type of pale wood. A round crystal hung from the top point of the moon on a clear string. A+D had been burned into the widest part of the moon. Next to the sun catcher was the small pile of Ash’s clothes Dan had brought back. On the very bottom was a familiar denim-blue sweater with the faded logo of his old AHL team in Syracuse.
Dan had returned his sweater in a silent, final goodbye to what they’d once been.
I’m not that person anymore! Dan had wanted to yell at Ash. I promise! Please see me!
Actions spoke louder than words, however. But hadn’t Dan proved that he wasn’t running away this time? What else did he have to do?
As he pulled into the hotel parking lot for the second time that day, eyes blurry with tears, throat aching with the effort of holding them back, he admitted to himself that there wasn’t anything else to do. Maybe Dan’s actions six years ago would always be between them, an immovable wall of pain and loss that Dan tried to climb but that Ash couldn’t see around.
Which meant that what they’d been doing lately, getting to know each other again, the sex, sharing a bed, trading texts . . . It wasn’t meant to lead anywhere. Dan had thrown his whole heart into it, his whole self, laid it all out on the line, hoping that, like him, Ash was done living in the past. But when Ash had picked up the puck, something clearly on his mind, Dan had known as soon as Ash refused to share that Ash was never going to share anything important with him ever again.
Was this what Ash had felt like back then, when Dan had left him? Like someone had stolen all of his dreams? Without Ash, Dan was facing a future that was gray and dull and fuzzy along the edges.
His jaw ached from clenching his teeth to hold off the tears. His hands hurt from gripping the steering wheel too tightly. A headache pulsed at his temples, part lack of food and part tension.
It was nothing compared to the black, empty hole in his heart that reminded him too much of the past.
Heading inside, Dan firmly—finally—shut the door on that part of his life.
AUGUST 2003—SIX YEARS AGO
Taking a last look around his apartment, Dan admitted to himself that he’d miss it. Before Ash, he hadn’t had any emotional attachment to it. It was sparsely furnished and belonged to Westlake Waterless Printing, one of the company’s handful of apartments in the city that housed visiting employees and stakeholders from out of town.
He and Ash had made a lot of memories here these past few months. Cooking and watching movies on the laptop and relaxing. Kissing and sleeping and having sex.
So yeah, he’d miss it, but not enough to stay.
The decision to drop out of school and follow Ash to Syracuse had been a surprisingly easy one to make. They’d flown to Syracuse every weekend for the past month and had found a two-bedroom apartment near the university that they’d co-signed the lease on just last week. They were moving in in two weeks. On top of that, Dan had found a woodworker twenty minutes outside of the city who was willing to take him on as an apprentice.
Everything had come together so easily and now it was time to go. Their flight was in a few hours.
He was looking forward to exploring a new city and building things full-time and making a life with Ash. He’d miss Mitch, though. Ever since Dan had moved out of their home in the Hamptons two years ago to attend college in Manhattan, they hadn’t seen each other as often as they used to. Holidays and the occasional weekend. So basically, nothing would change there. Mitch was going to be happy for him, Dan had no doubt. So was their dad.
Their mom, however . . .
“All set?”
Ash stood in the doorway separating the kitchen and the bedroom, his wide shoulders taking up almost the entire space. He’d slowly moved his stuff back to Syracuse over the past few weekends; all he had left now was a backpack with a few toiletries, T-shirts, and underwear.
“Yeah.” Dan nodded. “All set.”
“And you’re still sure about this? It’s not going to be easy for you, having to hide our relationship—”
“It’s not going to be easy for you, either.”
“No, I know, but—”
“Ash.”
Ash stopped talking.
Dan held out a hand. “I’m sure.”
“Okay.” Ash took his hand and reeled him into a hug. “Okay.”
Nosing his way to Ash’s neck with a sigh, Dan twined his arms around Ash’s waist. “You give the best hugs.”
“I’ll put that on my resume.”
“No. Only I get them.”
Ash pulled away with a quiet laugh, but it wasn’t long before his expression pulled down again. “Sure you don’t want me to come with you to talk to your mom?”
“Yeah.” Dan patted Ash’s chest, then turned to lift his suitcase. He’d packed the essentials; everything else he’d already shipped to Syracuse. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know, but I can be your backup in case things get heated. I’m a defenseman, you know. That’s my job.”
“Thank you. Really,” Dan said through a chuckle. He placed a small kiss on Ash’s jaw. “But it’s probably best if I do this alone. You head on to the airport; I’ll be right behind you.”
They separated in the lobby, getting into different taxis in the early afternoon drizzle. Ash threw Dan a wink and a grin before getting into his own. It wasn’t until Dan was ensconced in his that his heart started to pound and his upper lip beaded with sweat. I’m dropping out of school and quitting my job to move to Syracuse to be with my boyfriend wasn’t going to go over well.
He should leave out the boyfriend part—his mother wouldn’t understand it—and make it about himself and his desire for a career of his own choosing.
Yes, that was definitely the way to go. Keep it professional, leave out the personal.
The drizzle turned into a downpour, thundering onto the top of the cab, raining down the windows like tears. Dan rehearsed his speech on the drive, hands clenched into fists. It made him a coward that he’d waited until the very last second to talk to his mom, but this way he could say his piece and then leave, escaping the fallout.
And the fallout would be ugly. Greta Westlake didn’t like being said no to.
He left his suitcase at the security desk in the lobby of Westlake’s office building, shaking water out of his hair, and took the stairs up eighteen floors. If he was sweating before, it was nothing compared to the lakes his armpits had become by the time he reached Westlake’s floor, his face gleaming with perspiration. He was out of breath; possible it had more to do with the upcoming conversation than with the climb.
Slipping into his mother’s outer office two minutes before his scheduled meeting time, he fell into a chair to wait and made inane small talk with Elise. Elaine? Elena? Erica? His mother went through executive assistants so fast Dan could never keep them straight.
Right on time, his mother ushered someone out of her office and gestured Dan inside with a quick word to Elise/Elaine/Elena/Erica. Inside his mother’s inner sanctum, it was cool and spacious and bright. The corner office’s two walls were made up entirely of windows that looked out onto other office buildings’ windows. It should’ve made him claustrophobic; instead, it gave him a false sense of security, like being enclosed in bubble wrap.
He took a seat in one of the two chairs facing the sturdy wooden desk, knowing full well that the little round two-seater table in front of the window was only for show. A large dresser behind the desk was actually a fancy filing cabinet, dry cleaning encased in plastic hung on a hook next to the door, a mini fridge hummed obnoxiously to his left. As well as a computer, the top of the desk held papers, folders, a notebook open to a to-do list, a cup of pens, an empty coffee mug, what was possibly a mint wrapper, and one of those palm-sized daily calendars with a saying for each day. Dan turned it toward him while his mother was still in the outer office with Elise/Elaine/Elena/Erica.
It was a word of the day calendar. Today’s word was unacknowledged—not recognized, accepted, or admitted.
Dan gulped.
“Dan.” His mother came in and shut the door. “I know you know this, so I’m not sure why I should have to tell you, but that’s not the way we dress at the office.”
No, a polo shirt, dark, pressed jeans, and loafers weren’t appropriate except on casual Fridays, which today was not. “I took a vacation day. I only came in because I need to talk to you about something.”
“Oh?” She steepled her fingers.
Standing, he took a folded sheaf of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to her.
“What’s this?”
“My resignation,” he said. Her eyes flew to his. “I know I should give it to Mark technically, since I’m interning under his supervision, but . . . You’re my mom and it’s your company, so . . .” He sat with a helpless shrug.
“I see.” She unfolded the letter and spent so much time reading it over that he was sure he’d lost her attention.
He cleared his throat. “I’m moving to Syracuse.”
“Syracuse?”
The way she said it, one would think he’d said Siberia.
“Yeah. There’s a woodworker there who’s agreed to take me on as an apprentice.”
She scoffed and tossed the letter aside. “Woodworking. Dan, how many times do I have to tell you that it’s not a real career?”
Should he mention the dozen pieces of one-of-a-kind wooden furniture at home she’d had specially commissioned?
“I know you think that,” he said, slowly, almost placating. “And maybe I won’t ever be a household name, but I have to try.”
“You’ll fail.”
It was his turn to scoff. “So what if I do? At least I’ll have tried.”
“No.”
“No?” With some amazement, he found himself quietly amused. He smiled gently. “Mom, it’s not up for debate. I’ve already got the apprenticeship set up, and I signed the lease on an apartment last week.”
“Something wrong with your apartment here?”
“Um . . . It’s four hours from my apprenticeship?”
“And you couldn’t find someone here to apprentice with?”
“No, actually, I couldn’t.” Hadn’t tried, but that wasn’t the point. “Mom, look, I didn’t make this decision lightly. But the truth is that I don’t want to study business and accounting. It’s fine. I’m good at it. But I don’t love it like I love woodworking. That’s what I want to do. I don’t . . .” He stalled out, then took a deep breath and said, “I don’t want to work for the family business. I hope you can understand.”
“I understand.”
Shoulders loosening, he huffed out a relieved breath. That was easier than he’d expected. “Good.”
“I understand that you don’t appreciate how hard I’ve worked to expand and elevate this company to where it is today. How hard I’ve worked to ensure we stay relevant to current needs. I understand that you don’t understand why it’s important for this company to remain a family-run business.”
Mouth agape, Dan reared back in surprise, shoulders hitting the back of the chair. “What? I . . . I understand that you want this to remain a family business. I do. But isn’t that an archaic way of looking at things? Do you know how infrequently family businesses actually remain in the family these days?”
His mother narrowed her eyes. “We will not be one of those companies.”
“So you’d rather pass it along to me or Mitch even though we may not be the best bet for the company? We might not be the best ones to run it. Could even run it into the ground. Wouldn’t you rather pass it on to someone who has the knowledge and experience and entrepreneurial drive to see it succeed?”
“Once you graduate and have a dozen years working here under your belt,” his mother said, sitting back in her chair, calm and unruffled, “you’ll have everything you need to keep this company successful.”
“I appreciate your vote of confidence in my abilities.” Dan stood and wiped his palms on his thighs. “But my decision’s been made. My flight leaves for Syracuse in a couple of hours.”
“No.”
It was an effort not to roll his eyes. Where previously he’d been amused, now he was exasperated with her refusal to listen. “Mom—”
“Did you know that I had to pay my own way through college when I was your age?”
The sudden change in subject threw him. “Okay?” Where was she going with this?
“My parents could afford it, but they wanted me to learn hard work and perseverance. You’re very lucky that I’m paying your tuition.”
“I know that.” Was she implying that he owed her somehow?
A perfect eyebrow raised. “Do you? I don’t think you understand how difficult it is to work one, sometimes two jobs to pay for tuition, books, and living expenses, all while maintaining your grades.”
Ah. He got it now. She was threatening to take away his tuition if he didn’t do what she wanted. He almost laughed in her face—he was dropping out, so none of it mattered, anyway.
“If you don’t complete your degree and come work for me, I’ll take Mitch’s college tuition away.” Her voice was indifferent and cold. She could’ve been telling him to eat his greens or pick his dirty socks off the floor.
Every urge to laugh fled. “What? You wouldn’t do that.”
“You think not?”
“You want us both to have a good education. There’s no way you’d do that.”
“Daniel Greyson.” The use of his full name stilled him. “If I don’t see you back in this office tomorrow morning, ready to work, and if you don’t start classes again in September as expected, Mitch won’t see a penny of college tuition from me.”
She didn’t look away from him the entire time, didn’t blink, didn’t fidget. Her expression, her entire body language, was remote and frigid. It didn’t invite debate or discussion.
