Hunter, page 24
“Don’t mention it.”
I appreciated the time for us to figure out what we were doing. We didn’t have to slap a name on it today, which was good, because I didn’t know where to start.
And I was beyond grateful to have someone in my corner when I went to face my family.
But holy shit…
I was scared out of my mind.
Chapter 24
Hunter
“Are you sure about this?” Rachel watched me pulling my backpack onto my shoulders. “If his family is that volatile, do you really want to be in the middle of it?”
“No.” I met her gaze. “But I don’t want him to face them alone.”
She frowned, and I recognized the expression—she thought it was a bad idea but didn’t actually have an argument that would stop me. And she probably understood as well as I did why I wanted to be there for Scott. Had she been in my shoes, she’d have done the same thing, even if it meant being in the room with a volatile homophobe who’d manage to cow his badass hockey player son.
“I’ll be fine,” I said quietly. “I just want to make sure Scott is too.”
Sighing, she nodded. “Yeah, I understand. But be careful, okay? Both of you?”
“I will.”
“And you’ll be all right in the car that long?”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
She eyed me.
“I’ll be fine. I already took an Aleve, and Scott’s bringing some icepacks in a cooler for both of us.” I hugged her gently, and right then, my phone buzzed. When I checked it, I wasn’t at all surprised to see a text from Scott saying he was waiting downstairs. “I gotta go.” Then I called down the hall, “Gin?”
She poked her head out of her bedroom.
“I’m heading out.” I gestured at my suitcase. “You want to give me a hug before I go?”
“No.” She disappeared back in the room.
Rachel and I both laughed, rolling our eyes.
“Love you, kiddo,” I called out.
“Love you too,” came the response, but she didn’t come out.
“Guess her dolls are more interesting than me.”
Rachel shrugged. “I mean, I can’t argue with—”
“Yeah, yeah. See you in a few days.”
“See you. And I mean it—be careful.”
“I will.” I gathered my things and headed out to meet Scott.
The Ferrari was idling in Leo’s parking space, and my heart did a little flutter when Scott stepped out. He had on sunglasses, which looked sexy as hell on him. Who was I kidding? He was sexy as hell on his own.
He opened the hood, revealing the trunk underneath, and I put my bag and small rolling suitcase beside his in the small comparment. Then he shut it and we both got into the car.
As I was putting on my seat belt, I realized he had his knee brace on. “Is your knee bothering you? I can drive if you want.”
“No, it’s fine.” He glanced at me as he shifted. “I just wear it on long drives so my knee is… Well, so it’s less bitchy when I stop.”
“I can relate to that. And you did bring icepacks, right?”
“In the trunk. Plus we can always swing into a grocery store and grab some frozen vegetables or something.”
“Ooh, road trip snacks.”
A laugh burst out of Scott, and then he wrinkled his nose. “Dude. Gross.”
“What?” I chuckled. “You don’t eat them when they’re frozen. You let your body heat thaw them out, and then—”
“Oh my God.” Even with his sunglasses on, I could see him rolling his eyes, but he was still laughing. “Okay, you first. I’m going to watch you eat half-melted, half-frozen broccoli.”
“I will, if it means I get to watch you chowing down on thigh-melted Lima beans.”
Scott laughed, shaking his head. “No. No. Not happening.”
“Buzzkill.”
He just chuckled, and we continued shooting the shit as he drove us north into Bellevue to I-90, and from there, east toward the mountains.
It was wildfire season, so the sky was thick with rust-colored haze. I wasn’t sure where the fires were right now, only that the air stunk and the visibility was trash, especially as we went deeper into the Cascades. Fortunately, Scott wasn’t any more inclined than I was to drive with the windows down, and we just kept the air conditioning on recirc so we could breathe.
As we neared the top of the pass, Scott pressed his elbow against the window and kneaded his temple.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded, though his features were tight. “Yeah. I’m lucky I don’t have a lot of long-lasting effects from that puck hitting me years ago, but unfortunately, one of them is that altitude changes can give me headaches.”
I grimaced. “Oh. Shit. Do you want me to drive for a bit?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He flashed me a taut but sincere smile and rested his hand on my leg. “I’ll be okay.”
“Just say so if you’re not.” I paused. “Wait, don’t you fly all the time during hockey season?”
He made a face. “Yep. And it sucks.”
“Holy shit. So you deal with that all the time?”
“Price of admission for the job I love.” He shifted in the driver’s seat, tilting his head to one side, then the other. “It’s not too bad. The first year or two, flying and stuff were miserable, but now it’s just kind of annoying.”
“That’s good, I guess. Man, I didn’t realize how long a concussion could fuck you up. Besides the obvious stuff like doing actual brain damage.”
“Yeah, they suck. I see a neurologist twice a year just to make sure I’m still okay to play hockey, and she explained that even where there is brain damage, the brain can learn to work around it.” Scott paused. “Okay, she was a lot more technical about it than I am, but that was how it sounded to me.”
I nodded. “I think my ex-wife’s neurologist said the same thing after her concussion. The brain can’t necessarily repair certain types of damage, but it can adapt enough to bridge some gaps.”
“Exactly. So, it kind of sucks, but…” He half-shrugged. “With as hard as I was hit, I won’t bitch about some minor issues later on. Especially since I know guys whose careers ended over head injuries.”
“Yeah?”
Scott nodded. “Buddy I played with in high school had all kinds of promise, but he collided with someone during a game. The other guy’s head hit him just right”—he tapped his temple—“and that was all she wrote. No more hockey for him.”
“That wasn’t on purpose, was it?”
“No, no. It was a total accident. The guy who hit him felt terrible about it, and visited him while he was recovering. They’re actually good friends now.”
“Oh. Wow. Does that happen a lot? People becoming friends after an injury?”
“It can. Honestly, hockey is a pretty tight knit sport. If I don’t know someone, chances are I know someone who does. Most of the rivalries are on the ice, and once we’re off the ice, everyone’s cool.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel. “There are exceptions, of course. But for the most part, we’re professionals who are out to win, not assholes out to kill each other. The guys who are usually don’t last long.”
“Usually?”
“Yeah, like I said, it happens.”
We kept talking for a while as we crossed the pass and continued down into Eastern Washington. Scott wiggled his jaw a few times, and took a few swigs from his drink, probably to pop his ears. Hopefully the pressure on his head would ease, too; going over the mountains when he was susceptible to altitude changes sounded miserable to me.
As we drove on, I said, “So, about when we see your family…”
Scott glanced at me. “Yeah?”
“Hypothetically, if we do get past the part where you come out and someone asks how we met, what do we tell them?”
“Hmm.” He pulled his drink out of the cup holder. “I guess the truth might not go over too well.”
I laughed. “It’s your call. If you want to tell them you hired my ass—”
He sputtered, nearly choking and spitting on the steering wheel.
I chuckled, earning me a middle finger.
Once he’d recovered, he said, “Okay, no admitting the truth. And no Tinder, either.”
“Really?”
Gaze fixed on the road, he nodded. “My parents look down their noses at Tinder. That’s how my sister met her husband, and they were green for hours after they found out.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I rolled my eyes. “What do they want? For us to meet in church?”
“Ideally, yeah.”
I eyed him. “I was joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Please tell me we didn’t meet at church.”
“No, definitely not. I’m just saying that’s ideal from their standpoint.”
“Okay. Fair.” I thought for a moment. “How about we keep it simple—a friend introduced us. They don’t need to know that the ‘friend’ is an app for male escorts.”
Scott pursed his lips, drumming his fingers on the wheel. Then he nodded sharply. “That’ll work.”
“Do you think we’ll need much more back story than that?”
“Couldn’t hurt. So which friend are we throwing under the bus?”
It was almost seven when we checked into a motel in Spokane. We’d conjured up a friend who’d introduced us, stopped for dinner, and were finally, mercifully getting out of the car. Even Scott’s super comfy seats weren’t enough to stave off my body’s inevitable crankiness, though I was definitely feeling better than I would have if we’d been in my old car.
“I used to make the drive in one day, but…” Scott shook his head as he shut the door to our room. “My knee and back get kind of pissy if I do.”
“Well, my neck and shoulder and all my other defective body parts appreciate taking the long way.”
He laughed softly, but quickly sobered. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m good. Just glad to be out of the car.”
That might’ve been a bit of a stretch. Getting out of the car was great, but my body was incredibly displeased about spending several hours on the road today. God help me when we had to do it all over again tomorrow, not to mention the two days on the way back.
As I put my bag down on the dresser next to the TV, a spasm in my neck and shoulder made my breath hitch. Audibly.
“Hunter?”
I mouthed a curse, then ground out, “I’m good.”
He appeared behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders. “You sure?” He rubbed lightly. “These muscles can’t be comfortable when they’re this tight.”
I sighed, closing my eyes as he kneaded gently. “No. They’re not.”
“From the drive?”
“Yeah.”
“Come on.” He steered me toward the bed. “Take a load off for a few minutes.”
Okay, that was nice. And to my surprise, he joined me, easing down beside me on the hard mattress.
I met his gaze “Tonight might be a, um, low-key night.”
“A low-key—” His eyes widened. “What? You think I’d expect you to put out when you’re in pain?”
“No. I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Just… I know you never would. In a million years. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
I shifted, trying to get comfortable. “Goddammit. This bed is hard as fuck.”
“Yeah, it is. Come here.” He sat back against the headboard and gestured for me to lean against him. Repositioning myself was a challenge, but once I was situated against him…
Eyes closed, I leaned back into him, letting my head rest on his shoulder. “Okay. This is nice.”
He kissed my cheek and wrapped his arms around me. “Better than sitting?”
“Mmhmm. Not quite as good as floating, but it’ll do.”
He laughed, warm breath whispering across my cheek. “I could fill up the bathtub, I guess.”
“Nah.” I laced our fingers together. “This really is nice.” I opened my eyes and realized we were sitting right across from the mirror. With a ridiculous grin, I said, “Aww, look how cute we are.”
Scott laughed and rolled his eyes as a blush bloomed in his face. We were pretty fucking cute together. And he was just adorable.
We sat like that for a while, Scott’s body heat easing the stiffness in my muscles more than the bed would. Magic cure, no, but I had no complaints.
After maybe ten, fifteen minutes had passed, he broke the silence. “So, I was thinking while we were on the road.”
“Yeah? What about?”
Gaze unfocused, Scott slowly drew the tip of his tongue along his lower lip. “Maybe I’m getting myself hyped up for nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” He swallowed, then absently stroked my arm. “Every time I’ve opened up to someone, I’ve expected the worst. My teammates. One of the Gentlemen I was a dick to before. I always go into it expecting them to tell me to fuck off when I apologize or give me shit when I come out.”
“Have any of them been assholes to you about it?”
“No.” He sounded surprised. “Not even one. I mean, there’s still someone I need to talk to who has every right to tell me where to stick it, even more than the other guys, but it’s like I keep going into this expecting people to lose their shit, and they just… don’t. I told one of my buddies on the team, and he basically said he’d kind of suspected as much, and he was just like, ‘whatever, it’s cool’.” Scott laughed dryly. “I might as well have been telling him I’d changed deodorant brands. They all kept telling me no one would care as much as I would.”
“It’s never as big as it is to the person coming out,” I whispered.
“Yeah. So I’m learning. And then this teammate… God. I’ve been a dick to him and his husband, and after I said my piece, he basically told me that if my family disowns me, I have an open invite to spend the holidays with them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I, um… Did not expect that. At all.”
Nodding, I smiled. “Sometimes the people you expect the worst reactions from are the ones who take it the most gracefully.” I covered his hand with mine and watched him. “Do you think it might play out like that with your parents?”
He swallowed. “I don’t know. Maybe? I’ve spent years expecting the absolute worst if I ever came out to them, but with the way everyone else has taken it…” Sighing, he shook his head. “I don’t want to get my hopes up though. You know? I’m going to go in expecting the worst, but there’s some part of me that wonders if maybe I’ve wasted all this time being scared of nothing.”
“They’ve given you reasons to be scared like that, though, haven’t they? You said you thought your teammates would reject you because of the way you’ve been to them. But with your parents, it’s the way they’ve been to you.”
Scott deflated, and he nodded. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
I chewed my lip. Now I felt bad for killing his little glimmer of hope. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Maybe they will change their tune, you know?”
“I doubt it. They’ve been singing that tune pretty loud since I was a kid.”
“You don’t think it’ll be different when it’s their son?”
“I don’t know.” He exhaled. “One minute, I think it might be. I think they might realize it’s different when it’s not just an abstract thing, and that I’m still their son. The next, I’m pretty sure it’ll be worse because I’m their son.”
“Jesus, that sucks.”
“Yeah. I won’t lie—I’m scared shitless to tell them.”
“I know. And I’m not judging you for it.”
He started to speak but hesitated and rolled his eyes. “I was about to say I’m sorry for being such a coward, but I think apologizing is just a habit at this point.”
“How so?”
“Because of all the things I didn’t expect when I came out…” He laughed uncomfortably. “I swear, it’s like I say, ‘I’m sorry’ more than I say, ‘I’m gay.’” His humor, what little there was, faded. “But I guess when you’ve fucked up as much as I did…”
“It’s not just you, though.”
Scott looked at me, brow furrowed.
“I know people who’ve come out later in life,” I said. “They’ve gotten married. Had families. Whether because they were in denial or because they were scared to come out, they essentially lied to people for years. Decades, even. It wasn’t out of malice, but people still get hurt, you know?”
His eyes lost focus again as if he were considering what I’d said.
“It’s shitty,” I went on. “But it’s not really anyone’s fault, you know? We live in a world that makes it really fucking hard to be queer, and people get scared. They get beaten down. Yeah, you did and said some things you regret, and you hurt people. You’ve owned that and you’re making amends for it as best you can.” I laced our fingers together and looked right in his eyes. “But would you have done or said any of those things if you’d been straight? Or if you’d been a gay man who hadn’t spent his entire life being told how terrible that is?”
Scott’s lips parted. He gazed at our hands, the crevices between his eyebrows deepening as he seemed to think about it.
“Yes, it sucks that coming out has involved making a lot of apologies,” I whispered, “but it says a lot about who you are that you’re putting in the effort to make those apologies.”
“What else could I do?” he asked, voice barely audible. “These are my teammates. And people I…”
“You could’ve just come out, moved on, and hoped everyone forgave and forgot. But it sounds like you’ve been having some really difficult conversations to make amends. That’s got to be hard.”
He swallowed. “It kind of is, yeah.”
“And that says so much about who you are.” I pushed myself up a little, trying not to wince, and brushed a soft kiss across his lips. “And for what it’s worth? Whatever happens with your family, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a good man, and you have people who love and support you. If your parents push you away, that’s on them, not you.”
