Dating Washington (Discovering Me Book 2)

by Ann Craven

  Day one of the draft would only see first round choices made. If they didn’t pick Kenny, he’d come back for rounds two through seven tomorrow.

  But he didn’t want to come back.

  The scouts below knew who he was. He’d been through the scouting combine and the many many interviews. They knew his story, a story that would take on another life as soon as his name was called.

  A hand slipped into his clammy palm, and he turned to see Asher smiling at him.

  “You ready for this?”

  Was he? Kenny took a deep breath. “I think I am.”

  Asher squeezed his hand. “No. No thinking. This is the day your dreams come true, Kenny. Be ready for it.”

  “How do you have so much faith in me?”

  Asher’s brow arched. “Not faith, Kenny. I love you and as the man who loves you, I get to peer into your future.”

  Kenny laughed. “Oh, really? And what does this future look like?”

  “One day, an entire arena will be chanting your name. And do you know what you’ll be doing?”

  “What?”

  “Thinking about me.”

  Kenny threw his head back and laughed. “Naturally.”

  Asher glanced at his phone. “Wylder, Nicky, and Becks are watching the draft on TV and they’re all texting me incessantly to see how you’re holding up.”

  “Why don’t they text me?”

  “Nicky won’t let them distract you. Not today.”

  Kenny grinned. His friends were more supportive than he could have imagined. He thought back to when he’d become friends with Nicky again and had to teach him the hockey basics. Wylder didn’t care to learn the rules, but she still watched him.

  And who knew what Becks thought about all of this?

  Releasing Asher’s hand, he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Thanks for coming.”

  Asher looked up at him. “You think I’d ever miss this?”

  Kenny couldn’t help himself. He kissed his boyfriend right there in front of everyone. If any of the scouts or GMs looked to the balcony, they’d see him. But Kenny realized a long time ago if a team didn’t want him because of who he was, they weren’t the ones for him.

  And if that meant he fell to the second round, so be it. Hockey was important to him, but it wasn’t all of him.

  He led Asher to their section. Danny and a few other secret service followed closely. They’d gotten much better at giving them a little space in recent months.

  Albert McCullen waved from his seat, beckoning them to him. He grinned. “I forgot how exciting the draft is. I haven’t had an amateur client in years.”

  Kenny sat next to him. He’d gotten to know the older man quite a bit and liked him. They definitely had a future together. Hopefully. If Kenny was even drafted.

  He rubbed his face as his thoughts ran wild with every scenario. He’d pored over draft rankings, seeing himself anywhere from thirteen to forty-five. Yet, part of him waited for it all to fall apart.

  Maybe that was residual fallout from everything with his mom. He’d talked to her once since she left six months ago, and it hadn’t gone well.

  His dad was a different story. They were trying.

  The commissioner gave his speech and then started calling teams up to make their choices. They went through the song and dance of giving jerseys and getting pictures. Number thirteen passed by, and before Kenny knew it, they’d reached twenty.

  “Who has twenty-one?” Kenny asked.

  Albert glanced at his list. “Washington.”

  “How ridiculous would it be if you ended up in Washington after I left it?” Asher laughed.

  Kenny only shook his head. Whoever drafted him probably wouldn’t want him to compete for a spot for at least a year or two. He was going to Boston College no matter what.

  Albert stared at his phone. “There’s a rumor Columbus is trying to trade to get another first round pick so they can take the Ohio boy.”

  Kenny tried to suppress any excitement. Playing for the Jackets would be a dream.

  Albert’s phone rang as Washington drafted a goalie.

  He grinned as he hung up. “Welcome to the NHL, kid.”

  “What?” Kenny only stared at him.

  “That was the GM of the New York Islanders. They’re going to go up there as soon as Washington is done and take you with the twenty-second pick.”

  “The Islanders?” New York? Where Asher would undoubtedly want to be after college.

  Commotion came from the end of the row as people stood to let someone through.

  “Sorry. Excuse me.”

  Kenny recognized the voice, but his mind continued to work furiously. An NHL team was going to call his name.

  “Asher,” the voice said.

  “Senator.” Asher stood and moved a seat away. Kenny wanted to call him back, but then his dad dropped into the seat.

  “I’m not too late, am I?”

  “You came.” Kenny’s voice was no more than a whisper.

  He smiled, a new look over the last few months. After torpedoing his standing among his conservative base, it was like a darkness had been lifted from his dad. “Of course, I came, son. This day—”

  His words were cut off as Kenny’s name boomed across Nationwide Arena. “From the Defiance Academy Knights, the New York Islanders take Kenneth Montgomery with the twenty-second pick.”

  A cheer rose up for the hometown Ohio boy, and Kenny’s shoulders shook as Albert took hold and jerked him up from his seat.

  “Kenny,” Asher called. “That’s you.”

  Right now, every TV tuned to the draft no doubt broadcasted his stunned face. Was this what it felt like to have all your dreams come true?

  Kenny stood on shaky legs and hugged Albert and then his dad. Asher tried to hug him as he passed, but Kenny pulled him into a bruising kiss. The cheers grew louder.

  Danny and the other secret serviceman pounded him on his back as he passed. Ushers guided him across the arena floor to the stage where a jersey waited with Montgomery ironed across the back.

  Officials from the team shook his hand and congratulated him, but as they lined up for pictures, Kenny’s gaze drifted to where Asher still jumped up and down in the stands.

  Who was he kidding? His dreams came true six months ago. This was just icing on the cake.

  And it was a damn good cake.

  Epilogue

  Asher

  Three years later

  “How are you still so nervous about these things?” Kenny massaged Asher’s shoulders. They’d crept back up around his ears again with the anxiety he always went through before a big reveal. And this was the biggest one yet.

  “You’re one to talk.” Asher relaxed a bit as he smirked at his boyfriend. “I seem to remember someone dry heaving over a toilet before last month’s NHL awards ceremony.”

  “You know that’s only because I was terrified I’d actually win and have to go up and give a speech.”

  “You play in front of almost twenty thousand people regularly. How does a room full of other hockey players scare you?”

  Kenny wrapped his arms around Asher from behind. “I just figured no one would want to hear what I had to say.”

  Asher turned in his arms to meet his gaze. “Uh, Ken, in case you forgot, there were like a million articles written about you after you were nominated for the King Clancy award. It didn’t even matter that you didn’t win. They recognize your work with Hockey Is For Everyone, making sure kids of all races, sexual orientations, and incomes can fall in love with the sport. It was incredible.”

  Kenny shook his head. “I could never make as big an impact as you. This show is what’s incredible.”

  In his time at MCNA, Asher had participated in some of the most amazing projects, but this one was his baby. And the stakes were high. He felt like he was about to strip naked on the world stage, but Kenny’s words made it feel more worth it than any reporter’s or art critic’s.

  “I’m so prou
d of you.” Kenny wrapped his arms around Asher’s waist, pulling him close. It was Asher’s favorite place to be and it immediately relaxed him. “I know this is a huge deal for you, but your mural makes everyone speechless. It’s beautiful.”

  “No one has seen the finished piece yet. Not even you. I just want people to interpret it for themselves. This isn’t about my thoughts and views. It’s supposed to help the American people express theirs.”

  “And they will.”

  “It’s Times Square.” Asher took a deep breath. He’d spent his summer break painting the mural on a massive brick wall on campus. But the mural was just the study piece. It was practice. Once he’d completed it, Asher photographed it and spent most of the fall semester creating a digital masterpiece that was about to go live on the largest billboard in Times Square. It was his first step toward becoming a political artist. It wasn’t controversial. That wasn’t what Asher was about. His work was meant to get the American people talking about the issues of the day. Because talking lead to action, and though he had no desire to enter the political ring himself, it would always be in his blood.

  “POTUS has arrived. Everyone is waiting for you, Asher,” Roxie said. “It’s time.”

  Kenny took his hand and led him out to the waiting crowd. His mother and father stood near the podium with secret service keeping the crowd at bay. She was nearing the end of her second term as president. In little more than a year, the White House wouldn’t be home anymore. It was kind of scary and exciting all at once.

  “Ready?” Roxie asked.

  Asher nodded. It was almost sunset and the reveal would happen in just a few moments. It was time to make his statement.

  “Good luck, babe. I love you.” Kenny squeezed his hand one last time before Asher stepped up to the podium. The crowd was huge and most had no idea what they were about to see.

  “Good evening ladies and gentlemen.” Asher cleared his throat. “I apologize. I did not get the public speaking gene from my parents. So, I will let my art and the poet, Emma Lazarus speak for me. She said it best in her poem The New Colossus.”

  "Give me your tired, your poor,

  Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

  The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

  Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

  I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

  Asher’s hands shook as he folded his notes. “I’m no politician. My sister got that gene too.” He paused for the laughter from the audience. “Caroline is definitely the rising political star in this family. So I’m not here today to talk politics. I don’t care if you’re Republican or Democrat. Right wing or left or somewhere in the middle. We are all people who yearn to be free.”

  Asher took a step back and looked up at the enormous screen. No one had seen the finished piece yet. Not even his best friend, Harper. She’d only seen bits and pieces of the mural in progress.

  Asher stuck his hands in his pockets and waited beside Kenny and his parents.

  “I’m so excited,” his mother murmured just as the LED screen flickered to life.

  The first frame showed a line of ships sailing across the ocean in a single line. The Spanish Conquistadors, Pilgrims seeking religious freedoms, slave ships, ships carrying Irish peasants and European prisoners bound for the New World. The ships evolved as time progressed in an endless march across the sea, bringing immigrants from all over the world. Ellis Island and Lady Liberty came into view, the immigration lines teeming with huddled masses. From there came a march of refugees from every war the modern world has ever known. From the first World Wars, Korea and Vietnam to The Cold War, The Persian Gulf War, the war in Afghanistan, and the war on terrorism. Through the end of slavery to the liberation of Holocaust survivors, the crumbling of the Berlin wall, and the dissolution of Japanese internment camps. Syrian refugees with nowhere to go. Latin American’s searching for a better life. No matter what stood in their way, they all made it here. Every fiber of the American heartbeat was represented in Asher’s work. The ancestors of every American alive today. The melting pot of languages and cultures that made America one of the greatest nations in the world.

  Silence fell across Times Square. Even the traffic came to a stop.

  “Marry me?” Kenny whispered, looking to Asher with tears in his eyes.

  “Yes—what? No wait—what?”

  Kenny looked back up at the mural. “The man who can say a thousand words without uttering one. The guy who can stop traffic in Times Square because his heart is so big. That’s my guy. The only one I will ever love. Marry me?” He met Asher’s gaze, his eyes burning bright under the dazzling lights of Times Square.

  The crowd began to stir, but Asher was only dimly aware they were softly singing the National Anthem. His mother was bawling, but Asher smiled as his anxiety vanished. “Yes. You’ve always been the only guy for me.”

  Asher and Kenny now have their happily-for-now, but are you more of the happily-ever-after type? Sign up for your bonus chapters here.

  Next up, Killian gets his story told! Get Dating Texas here. Turn the page for a preview.

  Dating Texas

  Chapter One: Killian

  There was only one thing Killian “Killer” James wanted in his life, only one plan. Hockey. More specifically, stopping the next puck. That was as far as he let himself look into the future. Each puck coming for the enigmatic goaltender represented a new chance to be great, a new path toward his dreams.

  He slid back closer to the crossbar, squaring his body up with the opposing shooter streaking through the neutral zone. His winger raced to catch up with him, but Killian saw how it would all play out. With the defense stuck chasing the play, it was only him and the centerman.

  It happened in slow motion. The shooter drew his stick back, telegraphing his play, and Killian slowed his breathing. The sounds of the crowd no longer reached him as he tracked the puck. It flew toward the upper corner of the net, a perfect shot.

  Killian barely moved as he stuck his glove out, plucking the puck out of the air. The impact reverberated up his arm, and the silence in his mind shattered, allowing in the excited chants from the stands.

  “Killer, Killer” wound around the arena, but he didn’t acknowledge them.

  Kenny Montgomery, a teammate, slapped him on the back. “Nice save.”

  Killian only grunted. Defiance Academy had the best high school hockey team in the Midwest, but something felt off that night. The forwards bungled passes. The defensemen missed hits. It was the last game before winter break, and their minds were already on the three weeks off.

  Kenny lined up to take the face-off, but the puck only glanced off his stick before careening toward the far corner.

  Guys from both teams scraped along the boards, trying to push the puck free. It popped out of the melee, coming right to the stick of a defenseman standing near the open corner of the net.

  Killian dropped his leg out, sliding into the splits as he shifted from post to post, taking away the shooter’s easy angle. The puck hit Killian’s leg before the opposing shooter tried to stuff in the rebound. Killian whirled around as three opposing players jammed the net.

  He didn’t know how many saves he made in a matter of seconds, but by the time he managed to cover the puck, his name once again drifted toward the domed ceiling.

  Lifting his eyes, he took note of the time. Four minutes left. A tie game. If his teammates couldn’t score, Killian could at least give them the tie.

  After winning the face-off, Kenny took off down the ice, only to have his shot blocked by the opposing goaltender who steered his rebound to his own man. All ten skaters bore down on Killian. He made stop after stop and didn’t see it coming.

  The hit.

  As he lifted his blocker, a big body slammed into him, and the two collided with the goalpost, knocking the wind from Killian. A sharp pain speared through his shoulder, and he dropped to the ice as a whistle rang in his ears.

&n
bsp; “Killer?” Kenny bent over him. “You okay, man?”

  Killian looked back at the dislodged net. He didn’t know who’d hit him, but the douchebag just skated away.

  “Yeah.” He grunted, trying to push away the pain. “I’m fine.” As he tried to push himself up, he gritted his teeth and fell back, agony spreading down his arm.

  The trainer walked out onto the ice as every eye fell to Killian. Along with Kenny, he helped him to his feet. The crowd roared their approval.

  “I can finish the game.” Killian met the trainer’s eye.

  Coach Ryan joined them. “Where are you hurt?”

  “Nowhere, I’m fine.”

  “Don’t lie to me, James. We all saw the hit you just took.”

  Killian clenched his jaw, refusing to tell his coach about the pain snaking along his shoulder. He was a hockey player; he’d played with worse. The team needed him. He glanced at the scoreboard. Two minutes. He could play through any kind of pain for two minutes.

  “Let me play.”

  Kenny gave him a nod of respect, but Coach didn’t look nearly as impressed. “No. If you’re hurt, you could make it worse. Go to the locker room. We’ll put Matthews in net.”

  Matthews sucked, but Killian wasn’t about to say that out loud. The truth was, no one who made the Defiance Academy team sucked, but it had been Killian leading them in net for the last two years. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone else coming in now.

  Coach Ryan pointed to the tunnel. “Go.”

  Anger burned through Killian, fueling each step as he left the ice. He didn’t bother grabbing his skate guards before storming down the tunnel and into the locker room. Ripping his mask off, he hurled it at the concrete wall, wincing at the pain the movement caused.

  He could have stayed in the game. His breath rasped in his throat, and his chest heaved. No one would ever claim Killian James was a calm guy. Not when it came to hockey. To him, the game was life. He’d make it pro no matter what kind of pain he had to play through.