by Eden Finley
“Well, with Ash and me, it always seemed like I’d be the one giving in all the time because it was Ash. I had some weird hero worship thing for the guy from when I was a kid. Not to mention we had nothing in common. The main thing that connected us was our family and our childhood. Add that to the guilt over being closeted, it made for an uneven relationship. Everything was about him. The one thing I had was keeping us a secret—which is a big fucking deal, I know—but that meant to make up for it, I was giving him everything he ever asked for or wanted. We weren’t equals. I loved him, yeah, and it’s not even his fault that’s how our relationship was, but I still have no desire to go back to that.”
Lennon’s body relaxes, and I didn’t realize how uptight he was while I answered that question until the tension leaves him. He leans in and his hand finds my thigh. “You didn’t need to explain that, but I’m glad you did. I’ve been … curious, because until now I thought the only reason you weren’t together was because of your career. That maybe … I mean, you have matching tattoos, for fuck’s sake.”
“You saw that, huh?” I wrap my arm around his shoulders. “I don’t regret the tattoo or what it means. Ash was a huge part of my life. He’s part of me. But we had way more problems than my closet door. And even if I were to come out tomorrow, I’m kinda taken with someone else now.” Leaning in, I kiss the side of his neck. “Some gorgeous blond Clark Kent lookalike guy I can’t get out of my head.”
“He sounds hot.” His laugh is short and self-deprecating and then he turns serious. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can, but I might not answer.”
“Fair enough. I’m, umm …”
I get the feeling whatever it is, it’s serious, so I make him take another hit of the joint, which is almost finished.
He nods as if building the courage to say what’s on his mind. “Why doesn’t your family know how much pressure they put on you?”
Ah, shit. I grab the joint and wish there wasn’t only one drag left. Still, I savor it while I try to get my excuse together in my head.
“There are a lot of reasons.”
“Have you tried to explain it to them? Because the impression I get is they’ve never seen your side.”
“They haven’t. They live in a world where they see the activists on the streets, the pride parades, the fight for love, and they think that’s how it’d be across the board. Hell, Massachusetts was the first state to legalize same-sex marriage, so my brothers and I were brought up on it, if you know what I mean. But none of my family has experienced the bullshit of the industry yet—even Nic, Vic, and Leo, who are in sports. They don’t understand it’s not that easy. How can I be the asshole who yells at the people who love me so much they want me to have the world? Like I’m ungrateful for their support.”
“So, you grit your teeth and let them believe you have an issue with being gay instead of telling them what it’s really like for gay men in sports?”
“I tell them,” I argue, but it’s flat, because I think we both know it’s not the truth. “I tried telling them in the beginning. I think I suck at words or maybe at getting them to understand it’s not about being a coward but about risking the thing I love most. Like, Nic and Vic are in MMA, where you work your way up. You have your competitors and that’s it. I have guys in the AHL eyeing my fucking spot. My teammates are also my competitors. We all want first line, we all want MVP, and we all want to be the one to put the biscuit in the basket. I’m replaceable, and any shit on my career could be career suicide.”
Lennon smiles.
“What?” I ask.
“Considering you think you’re bad at words, you just explained it pretty well to me.”
Ugh. He’s right.
“Why can’t I talk to them like that?”
“I don’t know, but I think you need to find a way. Right now, there’s a whole lot of confusion going on in that house. Everyone thinks the only thing getting in your and Ash’s way was the closet door. They think the only thing between you and happiness is saying two little words at a tiny press conference. It’s about time you set them straight.”
“Or not so straight.”
Lennon lets out a loaded sigh. “Man, this conversation is too deep for my first time being high.”
I laugh harder. “Just wait until the conversation that’s coming after our explosions earlier.”
Lennon grumbles and rests his head on my shoulder. “I wanna sleep.”
“Ha. You’re all chill when you’re high. I think I like it. But uh, my legs are going numb, my ass is sore, and I think I have a splinter in my back.”
With a groan of protest, he moves away from me so we can open the trapdoor again to climb down and face the music.
This has been a good break from the family drama, but Lennon’s right. I need to try to explain my situation so they understand.
Chapter Twenty
LENNON
I’m not sure I like being high. First, getting out of the treehouse is fucking hard. Ollie looks up at me as I cling to the top of ladder and cry it’s too far to fall and I’ll die. In my defense, it looks super high. Like me.
“I can’t see shit,” I complain.
“Your glasses are in your pocket.”
“Oh.” That explains it.
“Come on, babe. Jump. I’ll catch you.”
“Aww, he called me babe. That’s cute.”
He laughs.
“That was out loud, wasn’t it?”
He nods and holds out his massive hands. “Come on. It’s only a few feet.”
“Looks way more.”
Ollie laughs again and climbs the first two rungs of the ladder to bring him closer.
I huff. “Fine. But I hope you’re a better goalie than you are a sniper.”
“Ouch, Lennon. Ouch.”
I laugh my ass off as I slide my body into the manhole. Then I laugh more at the word manhole. Because apparently pot makes me mature. Super mature.
Maybe I should go backward instead of forward down the ladder, but I can’t turn now, and it’s small and cramped, and damn, half a joint and everything’s blurry.
My foot gets stuck on one of the rungs, but my body’s too uncoordinated to stop me from falling.
An unmanly squeak leaves me, and the last thing I see before falling to what I can only assume will be my death is Ollie’s smile. I land on top of him with a thud, surprised to find I’m not, in fact, dead. He lets out a grunt.
“Did I hurt your manhole?” I ask.
He bursts out laughing. “High Lennon is fucking funny.”
I whine. “I don’t like being high. Makes me think I can fly … and rhyme, apparently.”
“You’re such a lightweight. Are you okay?”
I reach into my shirt pocket and pull out my glasses to slip them on. “Yeah. You? Am I going to have the Dragons suing my ass for breaking their best forward?”
His hand skims down my side and palms my ass. “I won’t let anyone near this. I promise.”
“My hero,” I quip.
“Not a hero. I’m just determined to make it mine.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I think Ollie knows what his words are doing to me, because he smiles as if he can read my mind.
I want him to want me like that. I want him to possess me, and fuck me, and wait … he said he doesn’t do that. I go to open my mouth to get him to clarify, when—
“Uncle Ollie!” a little voice screams.
I scramble off him and notice the twinge in my foot. My ass lands on the lawn, and I wince as more pain shoots up my leg.
Shit. I think I’ve twisted my ankle.
“Hi, honey,” Ollie coos. “I, uh, fell, and my friend was trying to help me up.”
With all the innocence of a child, she doesn’t even blink. “Grandma’s looking for you.”
“Of course, she is,” he mutters.
We climb to our feet, and yup, definitely injured something in the fall. I put weight on my fo
ot and hiss at the pain.
“Are you okay?” Ollie asks, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Ankle.”
He bends down to lift my pant leg. “It’s swelling.”
“That’s what he said.”
Ollie ignores my joke. “You might’ve broken it.” He turns to his niece. “Can you go get Uncle Vic or Leo? Or your daddy if you can’t find the others?”
She scampers off with a nod.
Ollie pulls me closer. “Here, lean on me.”
I can’t help it. I break into song. “When you’re not …something. Sooooommmmmething. I don’t knooooooow the words.”
Ollie shakes his head. “I hate to see how much pain you’re gonna be in later when you’re not high.”
“I don’t think I’m high anymore. It already hurts.”
“You’re so high. Come on, let’s get you inside the house.”
We start hobbling our way to the front door when I gasp.
“How are we going to explain this? We got high and fell out of the treehouse?”
Ollie finds me hilarious, apparently. “Okay, I’ve decided you should be high all the time. Like always. It’s pure entertainment.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. My articles won’t make sense.”
“They don’t make sense when you’re stone-cold sober either.”
I mock offense. “To repeat your words earlier. Ouch, Ollie. Ouch.”
Ollie kisses the top of my head. “You started it.”
I want to stay like this, with Ollie’s warmth wrapped around me and his lips close, but as we enter the house, he deposits me on the couch in the living room and pulls away. I try to cling to him, but he pushes me back into the seat.
“I’ll be right back. I’m just gonna get you some ice.”
“I’ll get it,” a voice says from the doorway to the kitchen.
I tilt my head back and see Leo’s retreating form upside down. “The basketball brother has a nice ass.”
When I pull my gaze away and meet Ollie’s, he cocks his eyebrow at me.
“But you have a nice face.”
Ollie tries to cover another laugh and sits on the coffee table in front of me and brings my leg up so my foot is in his lap.
Slowly, he unties my shoe and gives me an apologetic look as he removes it.
I hiss and squirm even though his touch is soft, and even though I’m in pain, the way he’s caring for me and trying to be gentle as he inspects the ankle makes me want to say screw the ankle and climb on top of him on the coffee table.
Not a good idea.
“What happened?” Leo walks back in, ice in hand.
“Fell out of the treehouse because he’s high,” Ollie says with a laugh. I give him the finger.
“Poor Clark,” Leo says, and I imagine he uses the same level of condescension with the kids he coaches.
Ollie and I cock our heads at each other in question. He turns to his brother. “You did hear—”
“Ollie, Ma wants you out back,” Vic says as he enters the room.
Ollie doesn’t move, just puts the ice Leo hands over onto my ankle. “Yeah, not happening. My b—uh, Lennon needs me.”
“Clark will be fine with Leo. Ma. Outside. Now.”
Again with the Clark thing when Ollie literally just called me Lennon.
Ollie’s jaw hardens. “And I said Lennon needs me. We can sort our shit later.”
Ah, so he’s not really staying for me. He’s avoiding facing his family, and I can’t say I blame him. There’s been miscommunication between them for so long, I wouldn’t even know where to start if I were him.
“Here, let me at least look at his foot,” Leo shoves Ollie out of the way.
Instead of going outside, Ollie joins me on the couch and holds my hand. “Leo studied kinesiology in college. He knows shit.”
“Doesn’t make me a doctor,” Leo mumbles, “but it doesn’t look broken. Can I touch it?”
I nod.
“If it hurts, squeeze my hand,” Ollie says.
As soon as Leo’s fingers press into my skin, I yelp and do as Ollie says.
He flinches. “Ah, I said squeeze it, not break it.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m messing with ya. It doesn’t hurt.” Ollie grins at me.
Leo moves my ankle, slowly rotating it. “Sore?”
“Yeah, but not a lot.”
“Most likely sprained. Keep the ice on it. Twenty on, twenty off. Should be fine in a few days. If not, maybe go see a doctor.”
“Thanks,” I say and go to place my foot on the ground.
Leo grabs my leg and puts it back up on the coffee table. “And keep it elevated.”
“Now you really need to go outside,” Vic says to Ollie.
“Nope.”
Vic grumbles and heads back through the kitchen to the backdoor.
“She only wants to apologize,” Leo says quietly.
“Ma’s version of an apology is weighted with guilt,” Ollie says. “You think I don’t already know what she’s going to say? You never told us we were overstepping. Which I did, but you guys never listened. Or understood, I guess.”
“You never pushed either,” his brother says.
“All of you thought it was because I was embarrassed about being gay and not that I truly just wanted you guys to drop it because there’s not much I can do if I don’t want to risk my job.”
Leo leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “For what it’s worth, we’re all sorry. We never …”
He slumps, and if I had to guess, it’s because he knows whatever excuse he’s about to come out with isn’t enough for years of pretending Ollie’s opinion on this was wrong, even though he’s the only one who actually has a right to an opinion on coming out.
Leo continues. “We never thought about what it’s like for you. I mean, not in depth. It’s easy to tell you to come out, because to us it’s an abstract thing. Which in retrospect is kinda ridiculous when you think about it. I work in locker rooms, and I’ve heard how teenage boys talk. I guess I figured they grow out of it? We admonish them for slurs, but they probably just get smarter about not saying them around us. And just because I don’t have any major issues with my kids, that doesn’t mean problems don’t exist. So, I’m truly sorry for not trying to understand.”
Suddenly, Ollie’s using my hand for support instead of the other way around. His grip is tight, and my thumb runs along his skin in small circles, trying to reassure him.
Ollie seems to relax but doesn’t look his brother in the eye. “Maybe I should’ve tried to explain better before now. Before Lennon …” His eyes meet mine, and his face softens. “I thought no one would understand. The few times I tried explaining it to Ash, he thought I was being petty and making a mountain out of a molehill.”
The back door bangs against the kitchen counter as it opens, and Max is trailed by the twins. Now I’m in a room with all the Strömberg brothers, trying not to get a hard-on. Because seriously, there’s an electric charge when all this Norse beauty is in one room.
“We’re sorry,” Nic and Vic say at the same time.
“So, this is how Ma is gonna play it?” Ollie asks, unamused. “All of you are sent in to butter me up for her big show? I’m guessing confetti cannons, a big scene in front of the extended family, and embarrassment for all. I’m not in the mood to go through that tonight.”
“Okay, I don’t want to know what you guys were so busy doing in the treehouse that you didn’t hear everyone leaving,” Leo says.
Ollie frowns. “Huh?”
“Well, when you stormed out, everyone was kinda quiet.”
“Ooh,” I cut in. “That’s bad in this household.”
The brothers all break into simultaneous smiles.
Nic nods in my direction. “He catches on quick.”
“Ma asked everyone to leave,” Max says. “Well, after they ate, anyway.”
“Ma’s outside by herself,” Vic adds. �
��She wants to talk to you alone. Dad’s dropping Grandma back home, and everyone else is gone. It’s just her.”
Ollie’s face morphs into something that looks a hell of a lot like awe—like he can’t believe his mom is finally taking it seriously.
He stands, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. “You’ll be okay for a bit?”
“Is he kidding? I get to hang out and perv on all his hot brothers.”
Ollie laughs. “That was out loud too, babe.”
“Oh. Well, shit. They’re all twice my size too. And two of them are MMA fighters … I might go find somewhere to hide.” When they all continue to stare at me, I realize I’m still talking. “My thoughts are still coming out aloud, aren’t they?”
Ollie leans over and kisses the top of my head. “Yeah, but I promise they won’t touch you.”
“Pot is bad,” I say.
The brothers laugh, and when Ollie makes his way out back and I meet their stares, they’re still smiling at the nerdy guy who yelled at them earlier and then called them hot.
“Sorry,” I say. “For, uh …”
“Calling us on our shit?” Vic asks.
“Someone had to do it,” Leo says. “How are we supposed to know we’re fucking up if no one tells us?”
“Ollie’s lucky to have you, Clark,” Max says.
I narrow my eyes. “Lennon.”
The twins shake their heads and Nic says, “Oh, if you think for one second we’re going to forget you guys totally lied to us for months, you’re higher than we thought.”
Wait, what? “So, you’re saying …”
Max pats me on my shoulder. “Welcome to the family. Clark.”
Chapter Twenty-One
OLLIE
Ma is a lot of things:
A strong woman who raised five boys.
A loving wife.
Protective.
Over the top.
Meddling.
Happy.
The woman sitting in front of me isn’t any of those things. “I’m so, so, sorry, Oliver.” Her voice isn’t her own, either. “You hear about what happens to those who aren’t brought up in a supportive environment, so we wanted to … I don’t know, we always wanted you to know how much you were loved and how much we support you.”