Risking the Shot (Stick Side Book 4)

by Amy Aislin

  Navigating to an app, he muttered, “Are you sure you want to see this? No one really cares about my art except my parents and my Gran.”

  Was that true, or was that simply Tay’s perception of things? “I want to see.” Was dying to see.

  “’Kay. This is my latest page.” He passed the tablet over. “I haven’t added any dialogue yet, though.”

  On the iPad, the drawing on the screen was divided into two panels. On the left: a birds-eye view of two characters walking through a forest. Colorful flowers bloomed and light filtered through the treetops. On the right: a front view of the two characters, showing one blushing, and the other sort of side-eyeing his friend like he didn’t want to be obvious that he had a huge crush.

  Dakota didn’t know much about art or art styles or whatever, but looking at Tay’s, he knew how it made him feel. New. Fresh. Happy. There was something in his style that was decidedly sweet. Maybe in how the emotions of the characters came through. Maybe it was how the background set the mood or how it wasn’t quite fully fleshed out. He could tell that those were flowers, and that was a small forest creature, and what was a tree versus a tall bush. But it all had a blurry sort of dreamy quality to it that was fanciful and light.

  “Tay. This is . . .”

  “My art style’s changed a lot since I started this. See?” Tay did something and the lovely page Dakota was looking at was replaced with a four-panel page.

  His eye was drawn to the drawing in the bottom left, of two men—different than the previous two—laughing together in the rain. Drawn from the torsos up, their love for each other was obvious in the way they gripped each other’s waists and smiled at each other. Again, the background was blurry, obviously rain but done in a way that wasn’t explicitly detailed. The details came in the characters’ drooping hair, in the droplets traveling down their necks and temples. The style was similar to the previous page, but not as polished.

  “This one’s from the second book.”

  Reluctant, Dakota passed the tablet back over. “Second book?”

  “It’s a trilogy. Each brother gets his own book.”

  “Can I read it from the beginning?”

  Tay’s smile was beautiful. “You want to? I can export it and send you a PDF. Except the third book’s not finished. I’m only about halfway done. Maybe less.”

  “I’d love to read it.” Tay was in his lap now, sitting on his knee. Dakota kissed the top of his head. “Thank you.”

  “Just don’t laugh when you read the first book. I was still figuring out my style.”

  “What are you going to do with these once you complete the third book?”

  “Hm. I don’t know.” Closing down the app, Tay swung the cover back over and set the tablet on the coffee table. “I had this idea, once, that I’d post it to Instagram, one chapter a week. But then I chickened out, so . . .” He slumped into Dakota, his head resting against Dakota’s chest. “I don’t know. I also don’t think it’s ready to see the light of day. I’m sure I’ve got typos and grammatical errors everywhere.”

  “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  Tay tilted his head back to look at him upside down. “You really liked it?”

  “Your art is . . . whimsical. The colors are vibrant and the detail is stunning. From what I saw, you’ve got a way of conveying emotion that’s simple but that punches the reader right in the gut. I’m sure a lot of other people would love it too.”

  “You’re good for my ego,” Tay said, patting Dakota’s knee.

  “I’m just honest.”

  Straightening, Tay sat up and faced Dakota again, bunching the bottom of Dakota’s T-shirt in one fist. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it when you asked. I honestly didn’t think you were interested. Thought you were just asking to be nice.”

  “If I’m asking, it means I genuinely want to know, okay? I’m not just making idle conversation.” He kissed Tay’s nose, earning himself a smile. “I’m interested in everything about you. Even in whatever happened today.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You didn’t seem like yourself when you got here.” Part of that could’ve been attributed to whatever was going on between them, but there’d been more under the surface.

  Groaning, Tay fell backward onto the couch. “It was a disaster.” He was very dramatic.

  Stifling the urge to laugh, Dakota rubbed his leg. “What was?”

  “The first practical for my pre-hospital care class. And it wasn’t even an actual practical, just the prep for it. It was like my mind was a blank slate, two years of knowledge just . . . poof. I panicked. Couldn’t answer the most basic of questions.”

  “Why?”

  “Because being responsible for someone’s life scares the absolute shit out of me.”

  Whoa. “Okay.” Dakota crawled onto Tay’s thighs, staring down at him. It was a nice vantage point—brought back all sorts of memories from when Tay had stayed the night—but he forced himself to stay on topic. “I’m sure you’re not the only one, though. I’m sure others in the class doubt themselves too.”

  “Maybe,” Tay mumbled, sighing. “Thing is, I don’t actually . . . like it.” The final two words were whispered like he didn’t want to be overheard by the gods of paramedicine and be cursed to forever relive his disaster of a practical. “Some of it is interesting, but as a whole . . . I don’t think I want to be a paramedic.”

  Dakota took one of his hands and held it up to his own chest. “That’s not a decision you want to make when you’re feeling so down.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it for months.”

  “Okay. But there are ways to hit pause while you do figure it out. What if you take a break from classes for a couple of years? Even one year? There’s nothing that says you absolutely have to graduate in four years, right?”

  “No,” Tay said slowly. “I thought it’d be a good backup after hockey.”

  “Are you retiring from hockey tomorrow?”

  “No.” That one was whip-fast.

  “Next year?”

  “No.”

  “Two, three years from now?”

  Tay was scowling at him. “I certainly hope not. And I get what you’re saying. I have time to decide.” He blew out a breath that puffed his cheeks. “I wanted to help people. Like my parents. My mom’s a firefighter and my dad’s a nurse, you know? This seemed like a good way to give back like they do.”

  “There’s other ways to help people, though. Some are more indirect but just as important.” Dakota poked Tay in the belly button, making him squirm. “Come on.” Hopping off Tay, he held out a hand. “I want to show you something.”

  In the den next door, he selected a slim hardcover off the bookshelf and handed it to Tay.

  “What’s this?”

  “My brother illustrated a children’s book a few years ago.”

  Tay ran his thumb over the cover. Illustrated by Owen Cotton. “What’s it about?”

  “Acceptance.” Owen had used animals to showcase differences and prejudices. “It’s meant to teach kids that just because someone’s different than you doesn’t mean you don’t have commonalities that can bring you together.”

  Opening the book to a random page, Tay pointed to the one on the left. “Like the cockatoo and the bear who both like berries.”

  “Exactly. It’s won a couple of awards, one of them an award voted on by the public.” Dakota sat on the edge of the desk as Tay flipped through the book. “This is how Owen does his small part to help. With his art.”

  Hint, hint, nudge, nudge.

  His meaning wasn’t lost on Tay. He smirked, eyes crinkling, and handed the book back. “Why do you have—” His gaze traveled past Dakota to the bookshelf. “—six . . . ten . . . fifteen . . . seventeen copies of this book?”

  “I buy one every time I see it in a store,” Dakota said, putting the book back where he’d found it.

  “Does your brother know?” Tay led the way back into the family
room where he opened the cracker box and uncapped the peanut butter.

  “Oh yeah. Proud older brother over here.”

  Tay spread peanut butter on one cracker, covered it with a second into a mini sandwich, and popped the whole thing in his mouth.

  “You know, the reason I asked about your art originally was because I wanted to see if you’d be willing to design a new logo for Once Upon a Time Cakes.”

  “Really?” Tay licked peanut butter off his top lip. “Ooh, yes please, let me at it. Your logo’s very . . .” Biting his lip, Tay made another cracker sandwich. “Square.”

  Dakota snorted a laugh. “Andy called it chunky.”

  “That’s a good word for it.” With several sandwiches on his plate, Tay sat back into a corner of the couch, bringing the plate with him, long legs extended and toes squirming under Dakota’s thigh. “Hey, I’ll trade you a logo for a cake.”

  “You need a cake? What for?”

  “Mom’s birthday. First Sunday in April.”

  “Right.” A memory prodded the back of Dakota’s mind. “You did mention that at the Foundation’s party, didn’t you? I forgot.”

  “Me too,” Tay said, mouth full. Crumbs dotted the neck of his shirt. “But if my sisters ask, I was totally on top of it.”

  Thanks for that opening, Tay. “Speaking of your sisters . . .”

  Tay flicked crumbs off his shirt and onto his plate. “What about them?”

  “You said once that you’re not close.”

  “They’re not the first people I’d call if I was in an emergency or if I wanted to chat.” He bit into a sandwich. Chewed thoughtfully, frown lines marring his forehead. “Things have been better the last four or five years, but before that, they didn’t want anything to do with me, so it kind of created this . . . I don’t know . . . a divide between us. I was always chasing after them when I was little, trying to tell them a story or about my day or show them something I’d drawn. It was always ‘Not now, kid’ or ‘Go bug Mom and Dad, kid’ or ‘Can’t you see I’m on the phone, kid?’”

  Dakota’s heart stopped. Broke. Fell to his knees. Everything made so much more sense now. Of course, Tay avoided certain topics. They were ones that had to do with him, with who he was at the core, the reasons behind certain—maybe every?—decision he’d made. If his own sisters didn’t want to hear about it, why would anyone else?

  Had Tay made that connection? Probably not. No wonder he didn’t like talking about himself.

  Dakota wrapped his fingers around Tay’s ankle, hoping to ground him. Not that Tay needed any grounding—he’d spoken matter-of-factly while taking occasional nibbles of his food. “You said things are better now?” Not that it mattered. Childhood scars didn’t magically go away.

  “Yeah. They don’t tell me to go away anymore.”

  And that was better? Wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement. Although, it was clear that to Tay, it was.

  “They were very interested in you.”

  Dakota’s heart wove itself back together. His fingers tightened on Tay’s ankle. “You told them about me?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Smirking, Tay set aside his empty plate and licked his thumb, tongue swirling around the digit in a way that had Dakota imagining it as something else. Something further south. Tay shucked his suit jacket, tossing it somewhere behind him, and crawled up Dakota’s body.

  His kiss was playful and fun, and he tasted like . . .

  “Mm.” Dakota smacked his lips together. “Peanut butter.”

  “And you—” With one last kiss, Tay dropped onto Dakota’s chest and tucked his face in his neck. “—sadly don’t taste like scotch.”

  A puff of laugher escaped. “Sorry. Already brushed my teeth.” Dakota wrapped his arms around Tay. It wasn’t ideal, two six-foot-plus guys on a narrow couch. Their feet hung over the other end, and Tay clutched him with a death grip so he didn’t roll off.

  Dakota pet the back of his hand. “I won’t let you fall.”

  The response was immediate—Tay’s grasp slackened and he sank more fully onto Dakota, trusting him with his weight.

  A lump lodging in the back of his throat, Dakota blurted, “I’m going to tell Andy about us.”

  Tay tilted his head up. “You don’t have to. We’re on your timeline, remember?”

  “I know. My timeline is now.” Except . . . “Shit, maybe I shouldn’t.”

  Planting an elbow on the cushion, Tay propped his head in his hands to look down at him, a scrunch to his brow. “How come?” Not upset, merely curious.

  “Because he’ll tell his friends at preschool and those friends will tell their parents. And all of a sudden, they’ll all know that Andy’s dad’s boyfriend is a hockey player named Tay. People aren’t stupid; they’ll connect the dots.” What he didn’t add was that someone might out Tay, accidentally or on purpose, but Tay wasn’t stupid either; he’d seen where Dakota was going. “And I can’t ask Andy to keep it a secret either.”

  “No, of course not. That’d be like admitting there’s something wrong with our relationship.”

  Thank God he understood without Dakota having to explain it. Andy had already been exposed to diverse relationships: his Uncle Owen had been in a relationship with Kas for as long as Andy had been alive, and a cousin of Dakota’s in Halifax was in a triad. To ask Andy to keep his relationship with Tay a secret would confuse him. It was the wrong move; Dakota could feel it in his gut.

  Tay’s finger drew figure eights on Dakota’s chest, and he looked away, thinking deep thoughts. Then he shrugged. “Let him tell his friends. I’ll give my agent the heads-up that I might be outed, but I don’t think I will be. Outside of my team and my family, nobody knows me as Tay.”

  “Are you sure? Because I can wait until the off-season to tell him. Not that there’ll be less risk, but at least you won’t be in the spotlight.”

  Folding his arms on Dakota’s chest, Tay rested his chin on his hands. “If we win the next two games, we clinch a spot in the playoffs.”

  Meaning the off-season could be weeks away, if not months if Tay’s team made it all the way to the Stanley Cup final.

  “I don’t know if I can keep our relationship from Andy for that long,” Dakota admitted. “It’d be hard not to do this.” He kissed Tay’s forehead. “Or this.” Ran a hand through Tay’s hair. “Even when he’s in the room.”

  “Yeah,” Tay whispered, eyes slipping closed as Dakota kept sifting his fingers through his hair, the soft strands gently falling back into place. “I know what you mean.”

  Of course he did. He’d had to hide for a long time.

  “How about you?” Dakota asked. “Did you decide on coming out or not?”

  Tay blew out a breath that tickled Dakota’s collarbone. “We’re so close to the playoffs. It’s not the right time to come out. And if we make it to the playoffs . . . That’s not the right time either. It’s not what I want people to focus on, and it’s not something I want my team distracted by.”

  “Off-season, then?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Heavy-lidded eyes half opened. “I’m sorry.”

  “No. You don’t apologize for doing what’s right for you.”

  Dakota’s heart melted into a puddle of warmth when Tay snuggled his face into his neck.

  “Kota?”

  “Hm?”

  “I’m so tired. If you keep doing that, I’m gonna fall asleep.”

  “Go ahead.” He kissed Tay’s temple. “I’ll wake you at five so you have time to go home and get your stuff before practice.”

  “But Andy . . .”

  “You let me worry about that.”

  Not that he was worried. Andy wouldn’t wake up until close to seven.

  Tay was asleep a second later.

  It wasn’t a comfortable position. They were too tall for the couch, Tay was a warm, heavy, and bulky weight on his chest, and Dakota’s back wouldn’t thank him for sleeping on a couch.

  It would be worth it.

  The sun hadn’t made
an appearance yet when Tay snuck into the house the following morning with the goal of slinking past his roommates like he’d been here all night.

  Luck was not on his side.

  Dean and Grey were coming down the stairs as he walked in the door.

  “Walk. Of. Shame,” Grey said, much too delighted for five thirty in the morning.

  Behind him, Dean’s brow was lowered in concern. “Everything okay?”

  “Of course, it is,” Grey jumped in. “You can tell by the smile on his face.”

  Was he smiling?

  “Walk of shame,” Grey whisper-shouted as he walked past Tay on the way to the kitchen.

  “It’s not even a true walk of shame,” Tay muttered, following Grey. “All we did was talk most of the night.”

  “Aw. I think I like that better.”

  Tay sank onto a barstool at the island, heart light as air. God. He’d almost fucked things up with Dakota because he couldn’t talk about himself, and because of his past with Fiona, Dakota had taken that as Tay pulling away when it was the furthest thing from the truth. And Tay hadn’t even known what he was doing. Hadn’t known he was causing Dakota all sorts of stress. When had the habit of switching too personal topics away from himself become ingrained in Tay?

  A clang drew him out of his thoughts as Dean removed a pan from a cupboard. “Everything’s okay, though?” he asked Tay. “You haven’t been yourself the past few days.”

  He’d been that obviously upset? Great. “Yeah, I’m . . .” Now he was smiling like a dope again. “Yeah.”

  “Good. You eat yet?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll make enough for the three of us while you get ready.”

  “Thanks. Uh . . .” Tay turned to Grey, who was chopping onions and veggies for omelets. “You’re supposedly a genius, right?”

  “Supposedly? Who’s not taking me seriously?”

  For some reason, Dean thought that was hysterical.