Harrisburg Railers Box Set 1

by R J Scott

  “I’m buying,” I stated, then drew back before I threw aside caution just to feel his lips against mine again.

  “No, I am.” He placed gift number two on his desk, then slipped around me.

  We argued all the way to the coffee machine outside the physical therapy room. In the end, I let him buy because it made him happy. Making him happy made me freaking radiant.

  “Can men be radiant, or is that a term best saved for pregnant women and Disney princesses?” I asked him.

  His unamused look said it all. “Stop canceling our meetings.”

  I suspected my days of skipping out on us alone in any room were over.

  Nine

  Layton

  I knew why I’d said coffee would be good, whether it was the klatch type or could be considered a date. It was the only thing I could think of to get Adler out of my office. Not because I felt claustrophobic with him in there, though; I’d actually got used to the way he filled the room now. It was more how when he touched me I felt like I was losing control, and I was damn sure I couldn’t lose control around Adler anytime soon.

  The coffee was shit, but at least it gave my mouth something to do, even though my stomach was still a mess of knots as each minute toward the presser slipped past.

  “You okay?” Adler asked, concern showing in the small frown between his eyes.

  I shook my head, then checked my watch. Thirty minutes, and there was already the buzz of talking in the press room. I knew that because I’d peeked around the door like a five-year-old at his first Nativity looking for his parents a little earlier. I’d hand-selected some of the journalists, ones I trusted to be supportive, and they were all there except Bryan from OutSportsPA, who promised he’d make it. I was relying on Bryan to be the one to ask the intelligent questions after the big announcement. Pulling the press room door shut, I’d sent out a small prayer that Bryan was heading in soon.

  “I’m fine,” I lied, and sipped at the coffee, wincing as the burned beans taste flowed over my tongue. The last thing I needed was coffee; I was hyper. Maybe Stan had a point about my coffee consumption.

  He touched me again; he did that a lot. Casual touches that were more about attraction than reassurance. I could see the heat in his eyes, I could recall the feel of his lips on mine, and I wanted him so bad.

  “It will go great,” he reassured me, and I’d opened my mouth to tell him I wasn’t worried when I heard the shouting. At first it was just a mess of noise, and then I heard specific words; ugly sounds that had me dropping my coffee in the trash and sprinting down the corridor, landing right in the middle of a face-off.

  Ten had his hand on Jared’s arm. Jared was standing stoic and silent. An older man was shouting at him; I didn’t know who the hell it was. Then I saw a younger man. I knew that was Jared’s son, Ryker Everett, who’d said he wanted to be with his dad for this announcement. I liked the kid, but he was just as angry as the old man, and I couldn’t get my head around what was happening.

  I barreled right into the middle of the group, even as the old guy was swinging a fist with intent to hurt. I ducked and felt the movement of air when the fist passed through where I’d been standing. The old man stepped back, off-balance, but he was still spouting hate.

  “What do you think will happen to Ryker now? The son of a fucking fag. He’ll be dead in the water. You’ve fucked his draft chances—”

  “Enough,” I said.

  “Grandad, stop it,” Ryker said at the same time, grabbing the old man’s fist, which had moved dangerously close again. My brain put everything together. This was Jimmy Everett, former NHL star, Jared’s sort of ex-father-in-law. I know Jared and his girlfriend, Everett’s daughter, didn’t marry, but I wasn’t sure how else to label Everett. He was an old school hockey player who I’d been told had already caused one scene on the property.

  “Someone call security,” I snapped, and pressed a hand to Jimmy’s chest. “Sir, you need to leave.”

  Jimmy snarled, his whole demeanor one of hate, and for a second or two I felt utter fear, then somehow, with Jared trying to pull me away and Adler right there at my side, fear left me in an instant.

  “I want Dad to come out,” Ryker said loudly. Loudly enough to be heard over his posturing grandfather, but also likely enough to be heard in reception. I wanted to tell him to quieten it down a bit, but hell, Jared was staring at his son, and this seemed like a family moment.

  “You don’t know what this will mean—”

  “Yes, Grandad, I do. It will give every other player the chance to love who they want to love, and to play the game, and not to be judged.”

  Ryker was working up a full head of steam now, but his voice broke at the end, and Jared stepped forward to place a hand on his son’s arm.

  “Ryker,” he began.

  “No, Dad,” Ryker said. “Don’t reassure me, or tell me that maybe Grandad has a point in any of this. I’m fucked off with hearing it all.”

  “I wasn’t going to—”

  But Ryker wasn’t listening. He rounded on his grandad and poked him in the chest. Hard. “What if I fell for a guy, huh, Grandad? Would you be so willing to push me into being your golden boy if I turned out to be bi?”

  “Ryker, for God’s sake, keep your voice down,” Jimmy said. “This is how rumors get started.”

  Ryker’s face was like stone, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I kissed a boy at Christmas, and he’s coming to my eighteenth birthday party next week.”

  Jimmy went pale. Jared’s eyes widened. Ten’s mouth fell open. And me? I was in the middle of some great family reveal that was getting out of hand and needed to be corralled somewhere private. Not so that people didn’t hear, but just so the family could talk in peace.

  And then the shit really hit the fan. Some great temper erupted from Jimmy, and he yanked Ryker closer until they were inches apart, snarling something at him.

  “What happening?” a thick Russian voice asked from the corridor we’d run down. One I recognized—Stan. “Drop Jared’s boy,” he ordered. Jimmy released his hold on Ryker, looked right at Stan, and paled, taking a step back. But it didn’t seem to stop him.

  “Selfish, fucking selfish Jared, not a single thought for me, for how you’re ruining my life. And look what you’ve done to Ryker!”

  Everyone froze when Ryker yanked him back and turned him so they were face to face.

  “Dad and I have talked about this. You really think I want him to live a lie just so I don’t have to face adversity in my career? And now I’ve told you about me, but you think it matters to me who he fell in love with?” He had both hands on Jimmy’s arm and was shaking him. I stepped closer, within reach; I had to manage this, needed to be the one in control.

  “Ryker—”

  “No, Grandpa, you don’t get to do this today. I don’t want to see you; I don’t want to hear from you. We’re done.”

  “Ryker,” Jared said from behind me, his voice broken. Fuck. I’d walked into a freaking nightmare. “Think about this.”

  Ryker grimaced. “Oh Dad, believe me, I have. I can’t love someone who hates like he does.” He stepped back from his grandpa, releasing his hold, and the old man slumped a little. For a second I had visions of him having a heart attack, or falling to his knees, or crying, but no, he pulled his shoulders back and squared off to Jared, Ten, and his grandson.

  “Then I’m done with you. And you,” he pointed at his grandson, “consider the check for your eighteenth birthday torn to pieces, and you think about this when all you get is beer league on the weekends.”

  “Who even uses checks anymore?” Ryker snapped.

  Jimmy full-on growled, then stalked away, thankfully in the opposite direction to the press room. But, what if he talked? What if he put out a press release, and… My head hurt, and I went into crisis mode. Something I’d seen pricked at me, and inspired, I turned to Stan.

  “Tell him not to say a word until after the presser,” I said.

&nb
sp; Stan nodded and bypassed us, muttering something in Russian.

  “Don’t hurt him,” I added instantly.

  Stan stopped and turned, looking affronted. “I won’t hurt,” he said. “Just warn.”

  Jared, Ten and Ryker were in a tight hug, and Adler was close to me; so close I could feel the heat of him, and briefly I leaned in to his strength, just needing that moment of connection.

  “Adler,” I said. I didn’t know what I was asking, but somehow Adler knew.

  “I’ll go with Stan and witness the warning,” he murmured. Then, with a squeeze of my arm, he followed Stan.

  How had he known I needed that? This seemingly self-absorbed hockey player intent on getting me into bed who refused to take no for an answer?

  I turned to Jared and Ten, and they’d separated from their hug and were now looking at me expectantly.

  Oh yeah, I needed to have all the answers now. I watched as Jared put an arm around his son, and examined the open affection between them. It reminded me of a time when I used to welcome that sort of affection from my family, but hell, I wasn’t going to focus on that right now.

  I adjusted my tie and brushed imaginary dirt from my suit jacket, straightening it.

  A quick glance at my watch had the time at twenty minutes to go, and I wondered how something so dramatic had taken up only ten minutes of time when it had felt like a lifetime.

  I didn’t have time to go after Jimmy, or to check on the limits of Stan’s intimidation; I had to trust Adler. I had to make sure that everyone was calm, and reassure them all.

  “Hey, little brother,” a deep voice came from my left. What now?

  I heard Ten yelp, and turned to see a guy sweep him up in a hug that seemed endless. This was Brady Rowe, the eldest of Ten’s brothers, who played for Boston, if memory served me right. I knew it was either Boston or Florida, the other team with a Rowe brother. I knew that because I’d reached out to both teams in all of this; after all, they’d be affected as well, given the connection to Tennant Rowe. The hockey world was this mess of interconnections and gossip that I needed to cut off at the knees. Boston had actually suggested I work with them after I’d finished with the Railers. That was the work I liked to get, and I had most of the protocols pretty solid in my head.

  I just needed to work out how everything needed to be tweaked after this presser.

  “Jamie wanted to come.”

  “I know he’s playing on the West Coast tonight,” Ten said, and hugged his brother again.

  I can’t remember the last time I hugged one of my brothers. Not since the night Zach carried me indoors and cried with me. Not since my siblings stopped being able to look me in the eyes.

  When everyone separated, Stan and Adler were back.

  “We put him in a closet,” Adler said in all seriousness. “The irony,” he added.

  “You didn’t,” I began, and then Adler elbowed Stan in the side.

  “Of course we didn’t. Stan just stood there and glared, and I suggested he hold off on commenting until after the press conference.” He smiled at me. “So it’s up to you to make sure this presser is enough to stop the critics.”

  No pressure, then.

  I felt even sicker than earlier.

  Jared, Ten, Ryker and Brady moved away toward the press room, Stan ambling after them, still muttering in Russian, God knew what about.

  I just stared at Adler, probably looking like a lobster being held over a pot of water. He was still smiling, and gripped my arm, squeezing a little.

  “Breathe,” he said.

  So I did.

  The room wasn’t particularly large, but was big enough for thirty or so chairs with some attending journalists standing at the back. I spotted Bryan immediately, and we exchanged nods. I hadn’t told him everything, but he only had to look at the names on the podium to have a good idea of what was happening here.

  Jared Madsen. Tennant Rowe.

  Most of the team were there, ranged down the sides of the room. The leadership group, the captain, both of the alternates, the veterans, Jared’s son and Ten’s oldest brother were in a loose group right by the small stage. Brady was in a Boston sweatshirt, out of place among the team guys in their suits. But he was a statement that needed to be made; that it wasn’t just the Railers who were facing this today. Brady was both family and a representative of an original six team.

  And yes, I’d looked up what that meant when Ten had explained that his brother was up his own ass about being in a team with history. I’d thought it might be an issue, and said so, but Ten and Jared had just laughed. Clearly big-brother-Boston-player wasn’t an issue.

  Between the two groups stood Adler.

  Seemed to me that everyone was there to support Ten and Jared, except for Adler, who was there for me. I shook my head to rid myself of the idiot thought, but Adler wasn’t looking at the stage; he was staring right at me.

  The owner of the team, Felix Cote, stood up. “Welcome, everyone,” he said, settling the room as Ten and Jared took their seats. “We have a prepared statement, and there will be copies available at the door. Tennant and Jared will take limited questions afterward.”

  I waited as Felix took a seat. We’d talked this through, who should read the statement. Jared had said it should be him, but I’d made my point and they’d listened.

  It didn’t matter who spoke the words. Jared could be perceived as leading Ten astray, or being a bad influence. Ten could talk and make it sound like Jared had changed him somehow, like maybe he was a kid who didn’t know his own mind.

  In the end we’d compromised.

  Only when Ten started to talk did I relax a little. We’d rehearsed this. I’d warned them to stay on script. They could do this.

  “I’m gay,” Ten said simply. This wasn’t the results of a talent show that needed long pauses—this was direct and to the point. “I’ve known this for a long time, although I’ve only recently felt the need to tell everyone about the person I truly am and about the man I’m in a committed relationship with.”

  “That would be me,” Jared said. “I’m friends with the Rowe family, having played with Brady. When Ten was traded here from Dallas, we reconnected as friends, and then fell in love.”

  I nodded. The distinction had to be drawn that they’d been friends first, and that this wasn’t a hangover from some teenage thing. We’d decided no one needed to know about the early kiss the two had shared.

  Now it was Ten’s turn again. “When I was younger I always aspired to be like my brothers. Brady and Jamie were both drafted to NHL teams, and when we practiced as kids, I was just as quick as they were, I could shoot like they could. I was a crap defenseman, and my goalie skills were for shit, but I was a good shooter. I wasn’t any different from my brothers; I was just a skater.”

  A few of the journalists turned their heads to look at Brady, who smiled at Ten.

  “I didn’t have brothers,” Jared said, “and I wasn’t a superstar like Ten is, but I played damn well until I had to retire on medical grounds.”

  I nodded again; I’d suggested they remind the audience why Jared had to stop playing. They all knew, but the fact that Jared had mentioned it meant that it would be part of their reports and posts.

  “Gay wasn’t the issue.”

  “Or bi,” Jared added.

  “We’re still hockey players, and work hard at being the best we can.”

  “We can play,” Jared said, “so we played.”

  They looked at each other then, and that wasn’t scripted at all. The smile between them was beautiful, heartfelt, and I saw the flashes as people caught the images for their reports. This was the image I wanted.

  Happy. Settled. In love.

  “Bryan from OutSportsPA,” Bryan introduced himself, “This is a question for Ten. Do you feel that now you can be true to yourself, you’ll play better hockey?”

  “Absolutely,” Ten said, emphatic and with a smile.

  “Stanley Cup better,” Jared
said, and nudged Ten in the side.

  Ten threw him another smile, then wrapped up the interview with the thank yous. “We want to thank the Railers organization for their support in this, and for being the first professional hockey team to have to face the inevitable issues that will arise,” Ten said. “I could not wish for a better team to be part of. From the owner down to the players, every single member of the team has shown compassion and understanding.”

  Ten’s hand moved from the desk and dropped into his lap, and I just knew that he was touching Jared’s knee. When Jared followed suit and then brought their joined hands up to the desk, there were more photos. We’d decided against overt PDAs just yet; our plan was to roll them out when people were more comfortable, even though I’d agreed with Jared that pulling Ten into his arms and kissing him soundly would make one hell of a statement.

  Part of me hated that he couldn’t do that. Well, not yet, anyway. Slow and steady wins the race.

  The hand-holding was nice. A positive image that would unfortunately be enough for the haters to start the expected backlash. But also enough to show just how much these two men were in love.

  I’d missed some of what Jared had said, but whatever it was had the journalists chuckling. It must have been off script, because I hadn’t written anything funny in the give-and-go speech we had happening here.

  And then it was done, the speech finished, and I couldn’t help myself. I looked at Adler, part of me desperate for his approval of what had happened here today.

  I couldn’t see him, and shock that he’d left curled inside me, until I felt the touch of a hand at the small of my back.

  “You did good,” Adler whispered.

  I relaxed a little and heard Adler’s low chuckle. Bastard knew he’d got to me.

  “So,” Ten said, and I snapped back to the podium. “Any questions?”

  “What do your brothers think?” someone asked. We’d prepped for this, but it was supposed to be Ten answering, not Brady. Only Brady being there was an added bonus.