Breakaway (7 page)

Ryan was messy, which was fine, because Lane had his own room, and he wasn’t exactly the neatest person in the whole world either. But Ryan also ate pizza for just about every meal, and they had so many boxes that they could probably construct an entire new apartment with them.

Ryan was also very, very popular with the ladies. Ryan had a lot of girls stay over, and Lane gave him credit for being enthusiastic and, if the moans he heard were any indication, pretty good at it.

It was fine until he came home one night with two girls, Becca and Mandy, and
one was for him
. Lane knew he either needed to tell his roommate he was gay or else learn how to be bisexual really quickly, because he could only make so many excuses. And he was going to have to pay Zoe rent if he kept sleeping on her couch. Her couch was in her living room, which was tiny, but it
faced the ocean
. Lane was too concerned about sea creatures to go
in
the ocean, but he liked looking at it. Like girls, maybe. That was probably a bad analogy.

The thing was, Lane probably wouldn’t mind watching Ryan with a girl. It was the part where
he
would have to do things with one that made him wary of the whole thing.

Sometimes he would open his sock drawer and find the note Jared left him with his phone number on it. Lane finally had a smart phone, and he kept thinking about calling, just so Jared would have his number. But he didn’t.

Calling Jared to ask how to learn to like sleeping with girls was a bad idea. Lane knew that because he’d asked Zoe and she’d told him so.

Lane’s parents were coming to visit for their next home game stint. That was a momentary distraction. Lane cleaned up the apartment as much as he could, ignored the stares of his fellow tenants as he hauled three weeks of pizza boxes to the dumpster, and made sure his laundry was mostly under control. He shoved a lot of stuff under his bed and reminded himself that his parents were only stopping by the apartment. They were staying in a hotel.

Other than the impending disaster of what would happen if his sexual preferences were made public, things were going well for Lane. The Sea Storm were winning. Lane wasn’t cocky enough to think it was all because of him, but there was no question they played better when they actually played as a
team
. They were at the top of their division in the standings, in a constantly rotating battle for first place with the Renegades.

Who they would be playing the next week, in Savannah. Zoe kept telling him to text Jared and see if he wanted to meet up, reminding Lane that
he left his phone number, didn’t he
?

Still, it was a week away, and Lane had to concentrate on their upcoming games and on seeing his parents. He got them tickets, of course, and when they came in to town on Thursday night, he took them to Cruisers. It was basically the only restaurant he ever went to. When Zoe was working, she gave him milkshakes and french fries for free. That was not something he shared with his parents, though. Their little trip was going to shatter enough of their illusions about life in professional minor league hockey. He should leave a few in place if he could.

It wasn’t the money that restricted him as much as his lack of a car, but he’d started saving up for one. Maybe their next trip down, he could take them to dinner somewhere on the beach. He should also really try to explore the city, because it
was
actually pretty nice. And the weather was fantastic. There was no denying that.

Cruisers was busy, and they had to wait ten minutes for a table, even with Lane’s stellar connections and recent professional-hockey-player paycheck in his pocket. Or what was left of it, after taking out the rent and utilities and some gas money for Zoe, which left him enough to pay for dinner for him and his parents and split a few pizzas with Ryan.

Lane had been waiting a long time to buy his parents dinner with money earned by actually playing professional hockey. And sure, it was only a couple of burgers and a few beers, but it meant a lot to Lane to be able to do it.

He wanted to thank his parents for the years of driving him to practice, cheering at the games, and believing in him enough to trust that this day would come. For the sacrifices he knew they’d made for him, for teaching him the game he loved, and for letting him follow his dream.

Instead, he said, “You should get a milkshake. They’re really good.” Zoe wasn’t their waitress, but she came over beaming and waving at Lane from her section of the restaurant. “Sure is busy in here,” she said, leaning on the back of Lane’s chair. “Hi. Y’all must be Lane’s parents. Welcome. Lane, you should’ve told them to sit you in my section. Are y’all going to the game tomorrow?”

His parents were staring at Zoe like she was a strange, foreign creature—and with that accent, her bright, ruby red hair, and the full-sleeve tattoos, maybe she was. Not that they didn’t have girls like Zoe in Canada. They just didn’t usually hang around with Lane. His parents nodded, like they weren’t sure what to say.

“Of course y’all are. Duh. Silly me. Hey, Lane, I’ve got a four top that’s taking for
ever
to finish up, but I’ll come over if y’all are still here when they’re gone. Try a chocolate milkshake. That’s Lane’s favorite, ain’t it.” She ruffled Lane’s hair, which was a thing she did.

Zoe was Lane’s best friend—the first one he’d ever had. Unless he counted Derek Bishop, but Derek never talked to him again after his mom walked in on them kissing. When he saw his parents looking at each other, Lane was happy to finally have a friend to introduce to them.

“And how did you meet her?” his mom asked, her eyes practically shining.

“Oh, umm. Here? The guys and I came here after the game with our rivals, the one that I scored the game winner for. Remember?” They nodded because they were hockey parents, and it didn’t matter that Lane played his games thousands of miles away from home. When their son scored a game winner, they knew about it. “She was our waitress. My roommate is kind of… uh… sometimes he’s not very polite,” Lane said gravely, which made his parents look concerned, like Lane had told them Ryan was a drug dealer. “Anyway we ended up talking, and she gave me a ride back to my hotel.”

Lane remembered what happened
after
Zoe dropped him off, and it made him blush hotly to think about that night while sitting with his parents.

His mom patted his hand. “I’m glad you were polite. Every mother wants to hear that. Someone should tell your roommate,” she said darkly. Then she smiled at him again. “She seems like a very nice girl, Lane.”

They had dinner, and while Lane was talking about the schedule and his coach and the skills he’d been working on, Zoe came back and collapsed in the seat next to him. As promised, she was carrying a milkshake. It had three straws in it.

“Where’s your straw? Don’t say you can’t have any when you’re working, because you always steal some of mine,” Lane teased her, and she hit him upside the head. “Ow. Stop it. Head injuries are serious, you know.”

“Don’t tease me about chocolate.” Zoe stuck her tongue out at him. “And don’t forget I give you those milkshakes for free, Laney. Did y’all like your dinner?”

His parents enthused over their dinner, which was nice of them, considering it took forever, his mom’s burger was overdone to the point of being unrecognizable, and his dad’s was still making soft, mooing sounds.

“Do you live close by, Zoe?” His mom asked, sipping the milkshake.

“Not too far.”

“She has a wicked house on the ocean,” Lane pointed out.

“Uh… that sounds way fancier than it is. It’s a rental. It’s the size of a shoebox, and I can’t live there after December.”

“But it’s on the ocean,” Lane said again.

“I don’t know why you like the ocean so much, since you’re afraid to go in there.”

“I’m not afraid,” Lane protested. “I’m
concerned
.”

Zoe gave him an unimpressed look. “I should probably finish my sidework. Y’all enjoy the milkshake. That’s on me. I’ll be at Lane’s game tomorrow, so y’all can tell me embarrassing stories about him.”

“Do you go to all the games?” his dad asked and beamed at Lane.

“If I’m not working, yeah. I’d never seen a hockey game until Lane gave me tickets to one of his. It’s exciting. He had to explain it to me using the salt shakers and stuff on the table before I went, but I pretty much know what’s going on now.”

“We’ll be happy to help you figure it out, dear,” his mom told Zoe. “We’re experts.”

“I bet. Okay. Well, have fun, y’all. Bye, Lane.”

“Bye, Zoe.” He watched her go with a fond smile. She had clearly charmed his parents, which was great. They asked a lot of questions about her, which vaguely embarrassed Lane. He never realized before how badly they wanted him to have friends.

His parents dropped him off at his apartment, and his mother leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Your father and I are so happy you’re enjoying it here and that you have Zoe,” she said. He just nodded, told them he’d see them the next day, and hurried upstairs to bed.

They had a game the next day, so Ryan wasn’t
entertaining
. They played a few rounds of
NHL 14
, and Lane played as the Leafs—though it occurred to him that maybe he should play as the Lightning, considering that was the team who’d drafted him.

That night in bed, Lane thought about Jared and the night they’d spent together while he palmed his cock through his pajamas. Sometimes he thought about how everything played out in perfect order, and sometimes he thought about it more specifically and lingered on certain moments. The night before, he’d flipped over, pulled his pajama pants down, and gotten off rubbing against his mattress and thinking about how good Jared felt on top of him.

Tonight he was just letting his mind wander, thinking about a hazy, vague future encounter in Savannah, and the one in his hotel room. He kicked his covers off and stroked himself hard and fast, thinking about how Jared had put his mouth on him and how that was maybe the best thing Lane had ever felt in his life. He wanted that again.

He thought about calling Jared right then and saying, “I’m thinking about how you sucked me off, and can you do that again, please, when I’m in Savannah?” And he thought about how Jared had teased him and almost not let him come in his mouth like he wanted to. Lane arched up off the bed and came hard. It felt good but it wasn’t what he wanted, and he didn’t know if he was allowed to have what he wanted or not.

After a few minutes spent catching his breath, he cleaned himself up and made sure his alarm was set, telling himself that he didn’t have time to worry about Savannah right then. He needed to focus on the game and be ready to bring his best to the ice. His parents were already so happy with him. If he could just score a goal or two, and if the Sea Storm could win, they would have the perfect visit. His parents would be proud of him for living up to their belief in his talent. They’d sit next to the first best friend he’d ever made—and one who had nothing to do with hockey. Maybe he had enough money to take them and Zoe back for another burger. Or maybe they’d have to go somewhere cheaper. Still, it would be perfect.

He was almost asleep when the simple, obvious thing he’d been missing all night slammed into him with the force of a freight train. His parents weren’t happy because he’d made a friend. His parents were happy because they thought
Zoe was his girlfriend
.

All those smiles, those looks they’d been exchanging. It was because they thought finding him kissing Derek was nothing more than teenage experimentation.

Lane punched his pillow in frustration. It wasn’t their son’s professional hockey career that made them happy, it was his apparently not being
gay
. Lane had hated the look of disappointment in his mother’s eyes, but suddenly he hated the happy one a whole lot more. Because he
was
gay, and that had absolutely nothing to do with how he played hockey.

Lane sat up and shoved the covers off, yanked his sock drawer open, and found the note from Jared. He took his phone, found the “Add a Contact” button, and typed in Jared’s information. Then he typed a message that said
hey it’s lane can we do that again next week thanks
and sent it before he could think better of it.

He sat there on his bed, his feet on the floor, burning with some new anger that he didn’t know how to deal with. He was grateful to his parents for believing in him. All he wanted to do was thank them, show them how he’d lived up to their expectations and proved himself worthy of all of it—the money, the lost weekends, the constant travel and fatigue.

And all they cared about was who he took to bed after a game. Goddammit.
Goddamm
it. Did it really matter that much to them? Did one stupid thing mean more than all the years of practice and sweat and blood?

Apparently it did.

Lane lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He had tears of anger in his eyes and he couldn’t do anything about it but fume. He tried to take a few deep breaths to calm down, but nothing worked. Finally he got up and took a shower, and he let some of those tears go because they mixed in with the water, and the sound of the spray drowned out the one quiet sob he allowed himself. Then he got out, brushed his teeth, and headed back to bed.

He was going to sleep. He was playing hockey the next day for the Sea Storm—for his teammates—and that required his A game. So that’s what Lane was going to bring. His parents would be there, but it wasn’t going to be for them. Not this time.

He saw the flash on his phone, indicating he had a new message. It was from Jared, and all it said was
hell yeah—j
.

Lane put the note back in his drawer, made sure his alarm was on and his phone was plugged into the charger, and went to sleep.

THE SEA
Storm won both their games that weekend. On Sunday, Lane Courtnall scored the first hat trick of his professional career and was named the game’s first star.