Jake

Trinsky whipped by, flipping to skate backward with a wave to the stands before charging after Minorsk and stripping the puck away with an easy poke. He tore down the right lane, deked around a D-man, and faked a pass to Denny.

But the net was open—wide open. The goalie was fussing with his pads, shooting the shit with one of the coaches, and there was no way Trinsky could ignore a free shot and a chance to impress one of his biggest fans on the planet.

He swung his stick behind him and let it fly, drilling the puck deep into the net.

“Woohoo!” Eddie cheered, clapping and jumping like a kangaroo beside me.

I snickered when Denny pulled a glove off and threw it at Trinsky, no doubt frustrated at him for blowing another play. I caught every other word of Denny’s grumpy, “This practice is important, asshat. In case you’d forgotten, we have a game tonight. Quit fooling around.”

Trinsky rolled his eyes and perhaps promised to do better. Then again, knowing my man, I’d bet good money he told Denny to lighten up ’cause Eddie T was in the house.

Sure enough, Denny glanced up at the stands and flashed a megawatt grin. “Hi, Eddie! Hey, Jake!”

And now everyone on the ice was waving or smiling a greeting. I tipped my chin in acknowledgment, but Eddie didn’t bother playing it cool. I supposed if all of my hockey heroes were collectively chanting my name, I would have been jumping up and down too.

“Hi, everyone! Go, Mase, go! You’re the best, Mase!”

I chuckled at Eddie’s unapologetic gushing. He loved his brother and had no qualms letting the world know he thought Mason Trinsky was the coolest person in the universe. He even called Trinsky “Mr. Cool.” And while I was a tad less exuberant than Eddie, I one thousand percent agreed that Mase was pretty damn great.

My heart somersaulted in my chest every time he skated by. Part of me wished I was on the ice with him, still competing, still giving him hell. But my knees thanked me, and to be honest, retirement wasn’t so bad. I had a great job as an assistant coach at a private college in Denver that had been thrilled to sign me on and was willing to be flexible about my schedule.

What can I say? If Denver was flying to LA for a game, I wanted to be there.

Our three years of secrecy and long-distance was over. Mase and I were done hiding who we were to each other from the world. No more feigning indifference, no more avoiding cameras, no more hours-long FaceTime conversations in hotel rooms on opposite ends of the country. We could be in the same building and I could sit with his brother, cheering him on with a goofy grin that advertise just how far gone I was over my former nemesis who just happened to be the love of my life.

Strange, huh? But oh so cool.

I spent the next hour hanging out with Eddie, who’d surprised Mason by accepting his offer to come watch his practice today.

See, in the past, Eddie had always turned him down—it was too noisy, too crowded, too cold. Fair. But during Eddie’s visits to Elmwood, he probably noticed that the rink was central to everything we did. It was almost impossible to escape an occasional afternoon scrimmage when your brother and his boyfriend were coaches. And he’d liked it.

Eddie still hadn’t warmed up to watching NHL events in person, so having Eddie here today was kind of a big deal. Mason wasn’t used to having family in the stands rooting for him.

But that wasn’t how the Milligans worked. We showed up in droves, screamed the roof down, and whooped until we were hoarse. I was on a slow and steady campaign to ease Eddie into feeling comfortable and damn, I was succeeding.

He bounced in his seat, asking dozens of hockey questions:

“Why do they skate backward so much? Is it hard to skate backward? Why are there circles on the ice? I know the answer. Don’t tell me. Why didn’t Mason shoot the puck? He could score again. How many goals do you think he’ll get tonight? Do you think it will be loud? Do they lower the music if you ask n-nicely?”

Most of his queries were stream of conscience curiosity, but he seemed to genuinely want to know about the music.

“It’ll be loud. That’s the nature of the game, and I don’t think they take volume requests,” I reported, pursing my lips to keep my smile in check. “But…you could wear noise-canceling headphones.”

Eddie widened his eyes and gasped. “You are a genius, Mister.”

I flung an arm over his shoulder in a one-armed bro-hug and chuckled. “Thanks, Ed.”

Mister? Eddie called Mason Mr. Cool, and it definitely fit, but he was still working on the perfect nickname for me. Mr. Serious, Mr. Movie Star, Mr. Hockey, Mr. Elmwood…

We met Mason in the corridor after practice, fresh out of the shower. He finger-combed his damp hair, a wide grin on his sinfully handsome face as he sauntered toward us.

“Eddie, who’s the hottie with you?” 

Eddie frowned, darting his gaze between Mase and me. “This is your boyfriend, s-silly.”

Mase blinked in faux surprise. “Wow, I scored.”

I waggled my brows and smirked. “You sure did.”

Mason snaked his fingers around my nape and pulled me in for a quick peck on the lips. “Lucky me.”

Eddie groaned playfully. “So much kissing. You sh-should get married already. I will be your best man.”

Geez, was I actually blushing? I ducked my chin, meeting Mason’s wicked grin a moment later.

“I think that’s a great idea, Ed,” he said. “But first, I have a game to win. Are you coming back tonight?”

Eddie frowned. “I have to test my headphones first.”

“Your headphones?” Mase repeated in confusion.

I rested my hand on his hip and kissed his cheek. “I’ll explain later. I’ll be here. Love you.”

Eddie was quiet on the drive home, content to hum along to my Spotify deejay’s selections of pop rock as traffic whizzed by on the 405 freeway. My attempts at conversation were met with monosyllabic replies or shrugs, which was Eddie’s way of letting me know he needed quiet time.

Fine by me. My brain was buzzing with a list of to-dos—call Dad, double check the flight info to Seattle for Denver’s next game, make a dinner reservation and ask Denny if Hank would be there too.

I was trying to remember the name of the restaurant on the water that served seafood in trough that rivaled the size of the Stanley Cup when Eddie shifted in his seat.

“You say ‘love you’ a lot. Not ‘I love you.’ Is th-that different?”  

A goofy grin spread across my face like wildfire. I cast a quick sideways glance at my companion, marveling at the extraordinary special needs young adult in the passenger seat who had an uncanny knack for sussing out nuances.

“I didn’t realize I did that,” I admitted.

“You do. Mason does it sometimes, but you say it m-more.”

I bit my bottom lip as I veered toward the Hermosa Beach exit. “Well, ‘love you’ is more casual and ‘I love you’ is more…for us. So maybe I subconsciously want to say it every chance I get, but I don’t want to get too sappy in front of other people. Does that make sense?”

“You’re shy?”

I snickered. “I don’t know about that. I think I’m just…happy. Your brother is…”

“Cool?” Eddie suggested.

“Sure, but he’s kind too and funny and charming and…” I trailed off, aware of the dreamy tone in my voice and Eddie’s curious stare.

He adjusted his glasses and peered out the window, letting silence gather again. A Taylor Swift song drifted through the speakers. I couldn’t believe Eddie wasn’t singing along. He freaking loved her and I was pretty sure he knew every word to “Shake It Off,” much to his brother’s chagrin. If Mase was in the car with us, he would have turned the station, Eddie would have insisted he turn it back and then proceed to sing at the top of his lungs. And of course, I’d join in while Mason sighed dramatically and griped at being held hostage in pop wonderland.

I chuckled at the thought as I navigated the congested streets leading to the beach. And yeah, my face kind of hurt.

I parked in the underground garage of our newly renovated house on the sand, and followed the still quiet Eddie upstairs to the main floor, making a beeline to the kitchen. I was about to ask Eddie if he was hungry, but he spoke first.

“You smile because you’re happy and it’s because of Mason. I think you will be together forever and you’ll get married too. I hope you always smile.”

Wow, that was…sweet.

“I—thank you, Ed. That’s nice of you.” I fumbled to add something more eloquent, but Eddie was humming now. He wasn’t one to linger on sentiment, so I opened the fridge—yep, still smiling. “Want a sandwich?”

“Yes, please. I’ll make my f-famous turkey sandwich, Mr. Smiley.”

My eyes crinkled merrily. “Mr. Smiley?”

“Yes, I’ve made my decision and it’s a good one. You’re happy and smiley and you make Mason smile too.” He brushed his hands together and gently shooed me out of the way. “I’m in charge of the s-sandwiches, Mr. Smiley.”

I laughed, but dutifully sat and watched my boyfriend’s brother putter around the kitchen my mom had remodeled soon after Mase and I came out to our families. We’d slowly blended our lives over the past few years and created something new. Something solid and real.

My heart was full in ways I’d never dreamed.

Eddie was my brother now too. And as silly as it seemed, being called Mr. Smiley was a damn honor.

Trinsky

Tonight rocked. I scored, had two assists, and played some solid defense. And best of all, Jake was in the stands with Mom and Eddie. I had no idea how he’d talked my little brother into coming to a practice and a game. I was sure it had something to do with the ginormous headphones he wore, but I wasn’t going to ask. The people I loved the most were here, and that was what mattered.

I met Jake, Mom, and Eddie in the corridor outside of the players’ exit, grinning like a fool.

“Did you see that goal? Money, baby,” I bragged.

Jake’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Was that yours or did Minorsk help you shovel that in?”

I dropped my bag and lunged for my boyfriend in a fake tackle, squeezing him until he called uncle. And then I slanted my mouth over his in a big ol’ smackeroo. If we didn’t have an audience, I’d have backed Jake against the wall, hiked his shirt up to lick his nipples, and rubbed my scruffy jaw along his abs, licking my way south, but that would have to wait.

Mom snickered at my antics while Eddie studied me with a knowing glance unmarred by his thick glasses and the bulky headphones that made his hair stick up at the sides.

“Minorsk had nothing to do with it.” I released Jake, pinching his butt before pivoting to Eddie and Mom. “Thanks for coming. This is awesome!”

“It was our pleasure,” Mom replied, draping an arm over Ed’s shoulders. “And it was a great game. Right, Eddie?”

My brother nodded enthusiastically.

“Nice headphone.” I tapped his ear lightly.

Eddie beamed. “It was Mr. Smiley’s idea.”

“Mr. Smiley?”

Jake chuckled and put his hand up for a high five. Eddie ignored it and went in for a sneak hug instead. And you know, I could have sworn Jake teared up. I figured there was a side story, but I didn’t press. The melee of players and their families and friends made meaningfully conversation impossible.

We chatted for a few minutes before parting ways. I think we had had plan to meet for breakfast. Don’t quote me, though. It had been a long ass day and the idea of getting on another plane tomorrow sucked donkey balls. I needed food and sleep…and sex.

My adrenaline levels were on the fritz by the time we got home. I wolfed a giant plate of Bianca’s chili relleno on the outdoor patio, gazing at the moonlit ocean in the distance as I ran my favorite highlights from the game by Jake.

“Denny’s one-timer to Schultz was a beauty. I swear that guy keeps getting better and better. Schultz was stoked to score, but I don’t think he realized he wouldn’t have had a chance without Denny or—” I broke off midsentence and narrowed my eyes. “What are you smiling about?”

Jake rubbed his foot against my shin, his expression wistful. “You.”

“Me?”

“When I first retired, I thought it might be rough to be on outside looking in. Somedays I wish I was out there, but tonight, I loved watching you with your mom and Eddie. It felt like the best of both worlds…to openly root for my boyfriend while hanging out with his family.”

“You’re my family too.”

“I know.”

“Good, ’cause it’s pretty obvious that Eddie and Mom feel the same way.” I cocked my head thoughtfully. “What did he call you? Mr. Shiny? Is that short for Mr. Shiny Leather Jacket?”

“Ha. Ha. Smiley,” he corrected, twisting his lips in amusement. “Apparently, Eddie thinks I smile a lot. I can honestly say no one’s ever accused me of that.”

“Mr. Smiley,” I drawled. “I like it. Mr. Cool is a little…”

“Cooler?”

“For sure. I kind of thought he’d call you Mr. Cool too, so we could be Mr. and Mr. Cool.” I captured Jake’s foot and pulled it onto my lap. “But I guess you are kinda smiley.”

“It’s because of you…and Eddie noticed.”

“What do you mean?”

“You make me happy,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“I do?”

Jake nodded. “You still have your asshole moments. You steal covers, eat all the ice cream, and you’re a total slob, but you’re mine. I’m proud of you and I’m proud to be the one who gets to sit with your mom and your brother, and be…family.”

Three years into this love thing you’d think I’d have developed some kind of immunity to random declarations of joy and contentment, but no. I couldn’t get enough. The “I love yous” and “I want yous” were woven into the fabric of our everyday speech. But “you make me happy” was somehow…even more.

Was that possible?

I mean, who said shit like that? You had to be really fucking brave to cut your heart open and hand it over to another human. This man did it over and over and over again.

I met his gaze as I reached out to trace the curve of his full lips.

“Jakey, you fuckin’ own me.”

His Cheshire cat grin split his handsome face in two. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I lifted his hand to my mouth and kissed his knuckles, adding, “Mr. Smiley.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Let’s leave that nickname for Eddie.”

“Okay. I’ll call you Mr. Fucking Gorgeous, Suck My Cock Harder, Baby and you can call me—”

“Mr. Asshole?”

“How about Mr. Fuck Me With That Thick Python, Baby?” I moved his hand to my crotch. “We can test it out tonight.”

“You’re so…you,” he snort-laughed, swatting my shoulder.

“And you so love it.”

“I do. I love this ride, Mase. I love us. I love what we’ve made and I’m so grateful I get to do this with you.”

I brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and closed my eyes. “Me too, Jakey. Me too.”

Look, I didn’t pretend to know what the fuck I was doing here. I fumbled through most days hoping to get it right. But I knew without a doubt that I’d found the other piece of my heart and soul.

As long as I had Jake, I had it all.