Chapter Fourteen

 

 

THEY WENT to see Gabe later that afternoon. Shane tried very hard to think about his life and what he was going to do now that the end of his career was in sight and he was in a relationship with Troy. A relationship.

Of course he could be about to get fired for said relationship. Troy was adamant it wouldn’t happen, but that was the thing about Troy. He just said something like it was fact and made it happen. Shane wouldn’t be surprised if he scored goals back in his hockey-playing days just by looking at the puck and saying, “Get in the net, goddammit.”

“Come in, come in.” Gabe waved them to have a seat. “I’m happy to see both of you, of course, but concerned what this might be about.” Before either of them could say anything, Gabe looked sternly at Troy and said, “I was under the impression you and Mr. North were getting along a lot better, now, Cally.”

“Oh, we are.” Troy sat down in one of the chairs and looked completely comfortable. “Definitely.”

“Then what’s the problem? I know you’re stubborn as fu—heck, Cally, but things are going well, aren’t they?” Gabe glanced between them. “As well as they can go with you and other people, I mean.”

“Okay. First of all you can say fuck in front of me and Shane, Bowie. Actually, here, let me do it for you.” Troy cleared his throat as though he were about to make a pregame speech. “Me and Shane are fucking. Brian Quinn is a fucking asshole scumbag, and he found out about it. So he’s now trying to blackmail me into leaving after the season. After I recommend him for the head coach’s position, of course.”

There was a long moment of silence. Shane tried to pretend his face wasn’t on fire, and Troy looked over at him and said, “I leave anything out, Shane?”

“Umm.” Shane resisted the urge to murder him. “I don’t think so. Other than I still kind of hate you.”

“But the two of you are involved.” Gabe’s deep voice didn’t give away so much as a hint of whatever he was feeling about Troy’s incredibly graceless announcement. “As in, sexually?”

Oh, God. Shane slumped down in his seat when Troy started snickering. “Could you not?” he hissed and kicked Troy in the ankle. “Dude, he’s our boss.”

“He’s also my best friend who’s known me for twenty-something years. And that’s a stupid question, Gabe. What other kind of involved would we be?”

“Maybe you’ve developed a friendship based on your mutual love of jigsaw puzzles,” said Gabe, straight faced.

“No,” hissed Shane. “We have not.”

Gabe leaned back in his seat, and he suddenly looked very pleased with himself. “Oh my God. Why didn’t I see this happening? Maybe I did. You’re welcome for bringing in a good influence for the locker room and a boyfriend, Troy. Wait until I tell Monica.” His smile was full of affection. “That I’ve lived to see this day. Aw.”

“Hey, Bowie? Can you cut the sentimental crap for a second?” Troy broke in. “I’m glad you’re happy for me. I really am. And I’ll drag Shane to dinner and let Monica make fun of me if you want. But right now we do have a fucking problem.”

“Yes, tell me. Exactly how did Brian Quinn find out about this? You two run into him on a date?”

“Uh.” Shane glanced at Troy, at a loss how to answer in a way that didn’t embarrass the hell out of them both.

Troy didn’t appear to have Shane’s sense of decorum, nor did he seem to care about embarrassing anyone. “It depends on what you count as a ‘date.’ And if you can have one on the bus. And in the locker room after a game.”

“Oh, Cally,” Gabe sighed. “Does he have evidence?”

God, Shane hoped to hell not. Though, if he had a video recording of that time in Troy’s office…. Jesus, he shouldn’t think about that.

“Does he need it? I’m not gonna deny it.” Troy’s eyes flickered over and met Shane’s. “Not this time.”

There was a wealth of meaning in that statement. It made Shane stare down at his knees for a minute to keep his emotions under control.

“What about you?” Gabe turned his attention to Shane. “No one should be forced to come out until they’re ready, and I won’t let anyone—even my well-meaning friend, here—make you. If this is something you’d prefer to keep on the down-low, then your decision will be respected.”

That was nice to hear. “I’m fine with coming out. It’s time.” Shane sat up straighter in his seat. “I’m ready, and I swear the only reservation I have is that it might mess up something for the team, or for you, Mr. Bow. I… I don’t think I’ve said this, but thank you for the contract. I don’t know what you saw in me that made you want me on your team, but I’m really, really grateful. I hope my—well, this thing with Troy hasn’t made you think less of me.”

Shane hated saying things like that to people, especially because he couldn’t follow it up with sex banter like he did with Troy. He meant every word, though, and he wanted Gabe to know just how much he did appreciate the chance he’d been given to play for the Ravens. The season hadn’t gone the way he’d imagined. Hell, it hadn’t gone the way he thought he wanted. But the chance to end his career on his terms, and as himself, was invaluable.

The scowling boyfriend was pretty okay too. Or would be after Shane got over the embarrassment of hearing him discuss their sex life with their boss.

“It doesn’t make me think less of you at all.” Gabe smiled kindly at him. “And you’re welcome. As for the reason I wanted you on the team…. You have a lot of integrity, Shane. I could see it in you when you played for the Ducks, and I’ve seen it in you all season. And now, even though I know Cally is embarrassing the hell out of you. But for the love of God, just call me Gabe. Or Bowie.”

Shane didn’t think he could manage “Bowie,” but Gabe might be okay. Maybe. “Okay, Gabe. Thank you.”

“If you’re amenable, then I think I’ll discuss this with Monica,” Gabe continued. “What I think we should do, honestly, is set things in motion before we confront Quinn. Then it will be too late. I’m hopeful that we can get Quinn to drop this and move along quietly, but in case he doesn’t….” Gabe looked hard at Shane. “We have to make sure we’re handling the issue of your relationship as professionally as possible. Especially if it becomes necessary to address the media.”

Which meant either he had to stop playing or Troy had to stop coaching. Since Troy would probably be coaching hockey on his deathbed, that left only one option. Shane had known that was likely the minute they walked in the door. “I understand. That’s fine.”

Gabe gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry that it has to be this way, Shane. You’ll be compensated as per the terms of your contract, of course.”

It was strange to think his last game had come and gone, but Shane was actually glad. No fuss, no pressure. It also meant no last skate, but he’d still get his victory lap. Just not on the ice. And wasn’t that what he was in Asheville for? “Of course.”

“Wait. Someone want to clue me in here?” Troy looked annoyed. “I hate when I don’t know something.”

Of course Troy, who saw only surmountable obstacles, wouldn’t understand. “It means I’m done playing, Troy,” Shane said. “As of today I’m retired.”

“What?” Troy’s scowl was dark as thunderclouds. “It does not mean that. What the hell are you talking about?”

“Actually, yes it does.” Gabe talked over Troy’s belligerence with obvious ease. “Troy, be sensible for a second. You can’t be Shane’s coach if there’s even a possibility we have to make your relationship public before the end of the season.”

Troy was on his feet in all his angry, blustering glory as he strode around Gabe’s office like he was behind the bench. “I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to let Brian fucking Quinn take Shane’s last game away from him.”

Jesus, he was so dramatic. Shane exchanged a look with Gabe, who gave a half shake of his head and shrugged in a “feel free to deal with him” gesture. Lucky him.

Shane stood up from his chair. “Cally, get a grip,” he said bluntly. “This isn’t about what happened to you, and it isn’t about me either. Think about the team. Okay? You’ve had me skating on the second line for entire games. If I’m still playing and the team finds out we’re involved, what do you think they’re gonna assume? That I’m good at hockey or good in bed?”

Troy’s brows drew together in a scowl, and with the sharp point of his widow’s peak, he looked a bit like an exceptionally angry anime character. All he needed was the little red symbol thing flashing over his head. “Both? Because they’re true. And they should know me well enough to know I wouldn’t put you on the ice at all if you sucked, regardless of how you sucked.”

God, Shane was going to die of embarrassment before the day was over. There was no denying he was touched by Troy’s concern for his feelings, which of course manifested in a temper tantrum. But it wasn’t helping anything, and Shane also knew it wasn’t just about him. Troy might think he was over the whole thing with St. Savoy, and Shane thought he was, for the most part, but the vehemence of his reaction was telling.

Then again, it was Troy. Vehement reactions were his specialty. Shane walked over and put his hand on Troy’s arm. “Hey. Would you stop and think about this like a rational human? We worked hard to get to this point, Troy. You worked hard. All of those guys trust you, and that didn’t come easy. I don’t want them feeling like yet another coach has lied to them, and I know you don’t want that either.”

“I’ve had you on the second line because your forechecking and your puck management skills are way better than Moore’s,” Troy snapped. His arms were crossed over his chest, his muscles tense beneath Shane’s hand, but he didn’t shrug Shane away. “I’ve never once let my involvement with you influence my fucking game decisions, and you goddamn know it. Both of you. And if you compare me to that asshole St. Savoy—”

“I’m not,” Shane interrupted, teeth gritted. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared momentarily out the window in Gabe’s office. “Jesus, Troy. You know I’m not. But do you wanna fuck everything up just ’cause you’re fucking me?”

Troy stepped forward and got all in Shane’s space. Then he grabbed Shane by both shoulders and shook him. Not hard, but enough to suggest he’d maybe like to do it harder. “I’m not just fucking you, idiot. I’m in love with you.”

The office went silent. Shane went stock-still and gave Troy a dazed expression as the words sank in. Troy was in love with him. Well, of course he was. Troy got angry about hockey, and he loved hockey. And that’s why he was so mad on Shane’s behalf.

Some of Shane’s annoyance evaporated, but he couldn’t help the snort of laughter as Troy dropped his hands from Shane’s shoulders. “Of course the first time you said that to me, it’d be dramatic as possible. Of course it would be.”

Troy didn’t look embarrassed or concerned in the least. He actually looked like he was ready and waiting for Shane to argue about it. “You do know me pretty well. Yeah.”

“And I love you anyway.” Shane couldn’t say he wasn’t a little embarrassed at saying it back in front of someone else. Though what other option did he have? He did love Troy. It turned out that falling in love wasn’t as hard as he’d always thought it would be, when it was with the right person. “God help me,” he added.

“Well, you’re a contrary motherfucker, North.” Troy’s smile was reserved, private, and for some reason, it made Shane’s eyes prick with sudden heat. “And I still don’t think you have to sit out the rest of the season just ’cause I gave you my letterman’s jacket.”

“Wait. You don’t really have one of those, do you?” Gabe asked from his desk. “Did you even get a letterman’s jacket, Cally? I thought your grades in high school were terrible.”

“It wouldn’t fit me even if he did have one.” Shane grinned and did the “brush your shoulders off” gesture. He couldn’t help it. He might be concerned about the situation, feel vaguely murderous about Troy’s emotional outbursts, and still not be sure what the hell he was going to do next season… but goddamn if he wasn’t happy. “I have way broader shoulders than he does. Even when I was seventeen.”

“I don’t know how I didn’t see this coming.” Gabe shook his head. “Would you two sit down? I’m happy for both of you, and lord knows I’m open-minded, but we really don’t have time for the PDA you two look like you’re three seconds from indulging in.”

With a sheepish smile, Shane returned to his seat. That was probably true, though Shane definitely planned to yell at Troy before he blew him. Definitely.

“So, we’re agreed that Shane will sit out the season—”

“No,” huffed Troy, his legs straight out in front of him, arms crossed again. “I’m still objecting.”

Shane threw his hands up in the air. “I’m fine with it, but what does that matter? Apparently Troy can’t hear a goddamn—er, sorry—word I’m saying.”

“I can hear you just fine,” said Troy. “You’re not using your inside voice.”

“You don’t even have one,” Shane protested and kicked out at his ankle.

“I never said I did. And I’m being honest here. I’m objecting to Shane missing the rest of the season because of stupid Quinn’s dumb plan. My God. I bet he even drew this thing out on a dry-erase board, and it still sucked.” Troy aimed a mulish look at Gabe. “But you can’t make me not object, Bowie. So there.”

Gabe didn’t appear to care if Troy objected or not. He rolled his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. “Cally, get over it or I’ll suspend you for insubordination and you can join Shane in the press box.”

“And who will coach the team? Quinn? My God. Not only is he a blackmailer, he has the worst ideas for offense in the history of the goddamn sport. Besides. He doesn’t talk nearly as loudly as I do.”

“No one talks as loudly as you do,” said Shane.

“I’ve coached before,” Gabe reminded them with a pointed look at Shane. “I can do it.”

“You’ll spend the whole time worried about net-front defense, and the offense will go to shit,” Troy informed him, which… if there were anyone on earth born to be a coach, it was Troy Callahan.

If he and Troy were up in the press box together, Shane was absolutely certain they’d end up giving each other a quick handie. Probably not the best timing, what with everything else going on. “Just be quiet and give in. I don’t want to have to sit next to you if you’re watching someone else coach the team anyway.”

“If you’re done blustering, Troy, I’ll continue.” Gabe waited patiently, and after a few long seconds, Troy muttered fine, and Gabe continued. “All right. Here’s the plan. We’ll reconvene at my house after the game tomorrow night. Troy, don’t act any different than you would with Quinn—”

“Umm, impossible. I hate his fucking face,” Troy interjected.

Gabe didn’t even miss a beat. “Suck it up for the game, kiddo.”

“Oh my God. You can’t call me kiddo.”

“Watch me. And Shane, sit in the press box and look… well, like you’re irritated to be there. We don’t want to tip Quinn off that we’re up to anything.” Gabe raised his eyebrows. “I can tell you’re dying to say something, Cally. What?”

“Maybe you should suspend me instead of Shane. That way, Shane can play his last game. He should get that, Gabe. You used to play. You know how important that is.”

“You’d really let Quinn coach just so I could play?” Shane asked, incredulous. There was no way that would work. Troy would shout plays down from the press box and end up ejected. “Because that means we’d lose, and we need the points too much if we want to make the playoffs. I’ve played a lot of hockey, Troy. Besides, I thought I put up some good numbers that last game.”

“Your plus/minus was shit, North.”

“Don’t blame me for that. I didn’t cause a single fucking turnover, and you know it,” Shane argued hotly and pointed at Troy. “Our defense falls apart under sustained zone pressure when it’s man-to-man in practice, Cally.”

Troy let Shane finish, and there was a small smirk on his mouth that told Shane he’d walked right into some kind of trap. It was confirmed when Troy ignored the opportunity to bitch about the Ravens’ passing and said, “Gabe, that reminds me. Before I had this shit come up with Quinn, I wanted to make a recommendation for our coaching staff next year.”

“Troy,” Shane hissed. “Not the time.”

“North? I’m the head coach and if I want to discuss staffing with the GM, I’ll do it whenever I’m goddamn good and ready. You’ve basically been the assistant coach this whole season, and you know it.” Troy looked very smug as he settled back in his chair and laced his fingers over his knee. “You heard him just now, Bowie. That’s a hockey coach, right there.”

Shane was both annoyed at Troy and pleased with the compliment. “I can’t believe you.”

Gabe took the chance to speak again, before Troy could say anything else. “As a matter of fact, Shane, I was going to ask if you’d be interested in joining the coaching staff. It was something I mentioned to Stu Hargett as a possibility when I signed you, and that was before you and Troy went and made my life difficult by being perfect for each other.”

Troy’s smirk flashed immediately into a scowl. “Gabe, take your goalie stick and shove it up your—”

“Thank you,” Shane said loudly as he stood up. He reached out a hand toward Gabe. “Really. For everything. I feel like I should apologize for… uh. Deciding maybe I liked this guy.”

“You love me, North.”

“Not right now,” Shane muttered.

Gabe didn’t even try to hide his laugh. “Wow.” He shook Shane’s hand and then placed a hand over both of theirs and patted gently. “I know you didn’t come here with the intention to seduce my head coach. No one likes Troy that much when they first meet him.”

“Yeah, well, I’m an acquired taste like that Pappy Van Periwinkle of yours.” Troy went around Gabe’s desk and, to Shane’s surprise, engulfed him in a very tight hug. “Thanks, Bowie. You could probably fire me for this.”

“I could definitely fire you for this,” Gabe agreed and hugged him back. “But I knew you’d make things difficult, Cally, because that’s literally all you do. I still remember how annoying you were in drills. This asshole ran me in goal once, Shane. During a game. And we played for the same team.” Gabe chuckled. “Can you believe that?”

“Yes,” said Shane. “I absolutely can. And I bet he somehow blamed the forechecking.”

Gabe’s laugh told him he was right. “All right. Get out of here and have a moment or whatever you need to do. I’ll call Monica and see you both later.”

Troy was in a mood when they left the arena. They’d driven separately, and when Shane’s car wouldn’t start—again—Troy went on a very long rant about how Shane should buy a pair of squeaky roller skates because they would be more reliable than his Rabbit. Shane told Troy that the Rabbit was made for warmer climates, so if they got in and Troy kept talking, the hot air would be enough to get the car going.

“Are you coming over?” Troy asked, though as usual, it sounded like more of a dare. “I’ll make dinner.”

“Okay.” Shane paused. “I’m going to go home and grab a few things. A suit for tomorrow, and I think I want to call Alani. I’ll come over when I’m done.” He smiled and shook his head. “She’s going to say, ‘I told you so’ a lot.”

Troy stepped closer and reached out and smoothed a hand through Shane’s hair and down the back of his neck. He gave a gentle squeeze. His expression was fierce, but not with anger, and there was enough sincerity in his voice to make Shane’s insides feel stupid and warm. “I wasn’t lying when I said you’d be a great coach, Shane.”

“Yeah.” Shane let himself relax into Troy’s touch. “I know. Don’t worry. If I think you’re being an abrasive asshole… well, wait. You’re always an abrasive asshole. But I’ll call you out if I think you need it.”

Troy rested his forehead against Shane’s. “That’s exactly why you’d be a great assistant coach. It makes you an annoying as hell boyfriend, though.”

Shane grinned. “You said ‘I love you’ and used the word ‘boyfriend’ first.” No need to point out that Shane had been thinking of Troy that way for a while. He threw his hands in the air and made a noise that was a fairly decent impression of a goal horn.

“Yeah, well, I believe in calling a spade a spade, and a boyfriend a boyfriend.” Troy kissed him. “I’ll pick up some of that bitter shit you call beer and make you spaghetti.”

“Ain’t love grand.” Shane watched Troy stride away toward his car and appreciated the way he attacked the pavement as though he were marching off to war. Shane shook his head, got in his car, and drove home.

He called Alani the second he got in the door. “Okay, first,” he said, before she could say anything, “I want you to just get the ‘I told you so’ out of your system. So. I’m waiting.”

“What’s it for this time?”

This was not the time to ponder the many and varied times Alani had been right about something. “Guess,” said Shane dryly.

“Hot Coach McDirty Texts?” At his noise of assent, she squeaked. “Ha-ha! You guys are totally in love, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Shane winced and held the phone away from his ear at her happy shriek. He couldn’t help but add, “Wait until I tell you how he totally said it first too. In front of our boss.”

Shane told her all about the blackmail attempt while he packed up some clothes and a few toiletries. He put the rest of the Miller Lite in a bag for Troy—hey, now that he was done playing, he could drink IPA all the goddamn time if he wanted—and threw away some lunch meat that had grown another life form on top of it.

Alani was, as Shane expected, disgusted and not surprised by Quinn’s behavior. “I told you that guy was a creeper. I can’t believe he thought that would work. Ugh. So you’re just gonna what? Stop playing forever?”

Shane rolled his eyes at her dramatic turn of phrase. Apparently everyone thought it was a way bigger deal than he did. “Yeah, basically. And I’m going to come out too. Even if Quinn keeps his mouth shut about this, which he probably will, I’m ready.”

“Aw, good.” Alani sounded pleased. “I hope it goes as well for you as it did for me.” Her parents had been fine with her coming out, but they wanted her to find a nice girlfriend so one of them could maybe be convinced to bear them some grandkids. “Wait. So Troy was really going to let Quinn make him leave the team? For you?”

“He knew I’d never go for that,” Shane assured her. “So don’t say it’s romantic.”

“That’s why it’s romantic. Duh.”

“Umm… what?” That shit made Shane’s head hurt.

“That he knew you well enough to know you’d never let that happen. Aw.” She sighed happily. “I can’t say I’m not going to miss you like crazy, but….” Her voice wavered suspiciously. “Ugh, Shane.”

“Alani,” he warned. It’d been an emotional day. He’d quit his job, confessed his love to a man for the first time in his life, maybe scored a coaching position, and he had just told his best friend he wouldn’t be coming back.

“It’s just… you found this place you feel safe, you know? And I… I’m really, really happy for you, Shane. I admit I worried sometimes with you in that hypermasculine sport, that you’d never… never get to be yourself. And now you can. That’s just so great.” She sniffled.

Fuck. Now he was sniffling. “Stop it. I hate when you do this, you know.”

“Make you cry because I’m happy for you?”

“Say things like this,” he said desperately. “So, yes.”

“You’re such a boy, Shane. Anyway, I’m coming to visit, so tell Hot Coach McDirty Texts he better have a guest room. And does his car heater work better than yours?”

“Yup.”

“Good. I’m in. So, wait. If you’re not playing next year, what are you going to do?”

“Coach, apparently. I guess that was sort of the plan all along? Like, Gabe wanted to bring me here, have me play a year, and hopefully transition me onto the coaching staff.” Shane still wasn’t sure how he felt about that or if he believed Gabe.

“Oh my God. You’d be so good at that.”

Shane frowned and walked over to stare out of the window into the parking lot. As much as he loved the idea, he couldn’t shake the feeling he didn’t deserve the opportunity. “Yeah.”

Alani caught the tone in his voice. Of course. “Are you—you don’t want to? Honestly that sounds perfect. Why aren’t you more excited?”

“Because how do I know….” Shane swallowed hard. He felt stupid, and he knew it was old self-doubts flaring up. But, hell. If Troy still had insecurities over what happened with St. Savoy, Shane couldn’t be expected to immediately get over his own. Right? “How do I know I’m not getting this job because I’m fucking the head coach?” he blurted. It sounded dumb when he said it out loud, especially knowing Troy as well as he did.

“Shane, would you stop worrying about what everyone else thinks, for five minutes?” she said bossily. “Do you think you’d like it? Coaching, I mean. I already know you like fucking the head coach.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I do. Like the coaching, that is. I—Troy said I’d basically been doing it all season, and honestly, Alani? My favorite part of being here hasn’t been playing hockey as much as working with the team. I think it’s perfect for me, but I can’t get over feeling like I didn’t really earn it.”

“You’ve played this sport for sixteen years, Shane. How is that not earning it? Did that other guy play professional hockey for sixteen years?”

“No. No, he didn’t,” Shane admitted. “I think he played in college.” Or maybe he just went to a few games. Shane had started to doubt that Quinn had ever held a hockey stick in his life.

“So you don’t think, oh, I don’t know, maybe you’re a better coach because of all that experience?”

Shane frowned. “You can lay off the heavily ironic tone of voice, Al. I get it.” He expelled a breath. “And I know you’re right. It’s just… old habits die hard, I guess.”

“I know. Well, fuck ’em, Shane. Your last career was all about what everyone else expected, so make this new one just about you.” She paused. “You and Hot Coach McDirty Texts.”

He hadn’t thought about it that way, that maybe he’d let the personal narrative about his career define him, instead of the other way around. Alani was right. It was time to write a new narrative, and he was the one with the pen. Or something. “Alani. His name is Troy.”

“Okay. But I’m kind of fond of Hot Coach McDirty Texts.”

It felt good to laugh, even if it made Shane realize how very much he would miss her. “Good. So am I. And hey, I’ll bring him with me when I come back to get my stuff. How’s that?”

“Deal,” she said. “Now tell me that I-love-you story again. I got fifteen minutes until I gotta go hit the beach, and there’s nothing good on television.”