Save of the Game (26 page)

Ethan rubbed at his temples. “I’m not good with any of this stuff,” he said, frustrated. “I don’t even understand half of what this shit means.”

“You don’t really have to,” Zoe assured him. “Most of the finances and stuff are handled by Susan Adams. She works for the Storm front office and is the one who’s in charge of the Sea Storm Foundation. I met with her at the beginning of the year, and she told me they’d gotten a grant writer to look over the materials before they sent it off. So maybe you could find out who it was and see if they’d write another one?”

Ethan groaned and put his head in his hands. “How did you do this? Do marketing for the Storm, take photographs, and bartend all at the same time?”

“Because I’m a certified badass,” Zoe said, patting him on the arm. “And really, most of my job was getting the players in to work with the kids, and doing the marketing, which I was doing for the team anyway. But if you want to do that stuff, make it more available and have lower fees? You’ll have to get more money. Definitely.”

“I could donate my stipend back to the camp,” Ethan said slowly. “I won’t… I mean, I’ll be okay without it.” He’d already discussed that with Riley, who would have to pay the bills if Ethan wasn’t getting a regular paycheck. He hadn’t expected a stipend at all, and had hoped to maybe get a part-time job in addition to doing outreach and running the camp. It wasn’t like Ethan’s hockey paycheck contributed all that much to the household income, anyway.

It wasn’t like
Riley’s
did either. They just didn’t make that much money.

“This is really great of you, Ethan. I mean it,” Zoe said warmly. “I think you’re gonna be so great at it. No lie. When Ry told me that you were leaving the team to take over this and the outreach, I shrieked. Like a girl, even.”

Ethan smiled at her. Not because she shrieked, but because she thought he’d be a good fit. “Thanks. I’m excited about it, even if I’m a little bummed by all the money stuff.”

Zoe patted him on the arm, stood up and stretched. “I bet you’ll be able to get the Storm to petition the ECHL for more money. Once they see what a great job you do. I mean it, Ethan. I think this is your calling.”

“Me too,” Ethan said. “Thanks again.”

“Thank
you
.” Zoe came around the table to hug him. “I’ll miss you. Ryan’ll miss you too. This part really sucks. Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ethan said. “It does. But hey. You never know what’ll happen.”

“Right. I mean, if you’d told me when I put my application in at Cruisers that one day I’d wait on a table of rowdy hockey players and end up marrying one of them, I would’ve ripped that sucker up and thrown it away.” She laughed. “I’m so glad I didn’t.”

“Everyone’s glad about that,” Ethan said, hugging her back. “And don’t start that. We’ve got the rest of the summer to annoy you into being glad to leave.”

“Never gonna happen,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m about a thousand percent sure you’ll be in the wedding anyway. And I hope you don’t mind, but you’ll probably have to walk down the aisle with my maid of honor. Who, as it happens, is my
mate
of honor.”

Ethan grinned. “Lane?”

“Yup. I asked him to be in the wedding, and the first thing he said was ‘Do I have to wear heels? Because I don’t think I can walk in those, Zoe.’” She giggled. “I told him flats would be acceptable. Anyway he looks good in a suit, so you shouldn’t mind. Right? Because you like guys that look good in suits too. And I need something to shock my family, since they’re gonna be too happy I’m marrying a guy. I just won’t tell them how me and Ryan fuck one of my bridesmaids sometimes.” She paused. “Or maybe I will. There’s gonna be an open bar. You never know what might happen.”

“I’m Irish Catholic,” Ethan reminded her. “I have a few ideas about open bars and weddings. It’s not my first rodeo, Mays.”

When Zoe left the apartment, Ethan stared at the papers and tried to make sense of all the financial stuff. He liked to think he was a pretty street-smart guy, but he wasn’t so good when it came to business stuff. Before he got frustrated at not knowing what any of it meant, he got Riley’s MacBook from the bedroom and settled down at the table with a pen, a Pepsi, and a notepad.

Riley found him two hours later, scowling, writing notes, pausing to type on the computer, and chewing on the end of his pen.

“Are you doing homework?” Riley teased.

“Yeah,” Ethan said. “Zoe brought over all the hockey-camp stuff. Did you know kids had to
pay
to attend that?”

“I just assumed,” Riley said, leaning in to look at the notepad. “But why are you taking so many notes?”

“Oh.” Ethan shrugged. “I have to look up a lot of these words. Like, I know what they mean, but not in the context of business shit. Like foundation and
501c3
and nonprofit—which I thought meant for free but it doesn’t. I still don’t really get that. And then I gotta look up some of the words in the definitions of those words and so on.” He gave Riley a crooked grin. “I might be able to give Becker a run for his money on
Trivia Crack
, though, if there’s a category for big words and money stuff.”

Riley took Ethan’s face in his hands and kissed him, slow and hot. “This is what I meant, Ethan. When I said that if something matters to you, you find a way to do it.”

“Riley.” Ethan was embarrassed, but he smiled against Riley’s mouth and kissed him back with enthusiasm. Kissing was much better than studying. “Thanks. But mostly I’m just starting to think your sister must be a genius. Ugh. Business is hard.”

“Does this note say
local boxing rink
? That’s not for the camp. Is it?” Riley arched his eyebrows. “It’s a hockey camp run by an enforcer. Maybe that’s part of the curriculum.”

“Huh? Oh, no. That’s for me.” Ethan shrugged. “I need to keep in shape if I’m not playing hockey. And maybe I could make some money, ’cause I’ll need a part-time job. And yeah. I know we agreed you’d cover living expenses and shit, and I’m fine with that. I promise. But I gotta support my vices. You know? And I… I have to do something, Riley. Like, something to contribute. And I said I’d give my stipend from the grant thing back to the camp, because it’s not like it’s that much, but at least it’s something.”

“You are contributing something,” Riley said and kissed him again. “But I get it.”

Ethan was distracted by the kissing. He didn’t really mind, but he should probably finish all the financial stuff and put it away first. “You’re still showing up to help at it, and I’m not paying you anything.”

“I figured that was part of the deal. And no problem. I’m gonna take a shower,” Riley said, straightening. He’d been running, so he was sweaty and his hair was pushed back off his face. Ethan was suddenly looking forward to seeing Riley in a suit at Zoe’s wedding. A fancy one. Maybe with a vest.

“Okay,” Ethan went back to his notes and forced himself to stay put and not have a cigarette. He was going to have to stop smoking, because he didn’t want any kids to see him do it, think it was cool, and then get addicted. He’d hate himself forever if that happened.

“Hey, Ethan?” Riley asked, quietly, from the doorway to the bedroom.

“Yeah?”

Riley looked momentarily uncertain, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what or how to say it. Instead he said, “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” and went into the bedroom.

Ethan stared at the budget paperwork again and the simple answer to all his problems crashed into him like a freight train headed straight for the Obviousville Bridge.

There was one thing Ethan needed to make the hockey camp what he wanted it to be. Money. And probably someone to deal with the money, so Ethan could focus on what he was really good at and concentrate on the kids and making a difference through hockey instead of paperwork and grants.

As it happened he knew someone with a lot of money. And that someone’s sister was pretty good at math and accounting.

Riley would give Ethan the money he needed. Ethan was sure of it. He wasn’t as sure about Madison. Maybe she wouldn’t want the task of running a hockey foundation or whatever a 501c3 was, but she’d definitely be his accountant. He was sure of it. She was turning into a pretty big hockey fan—and she knew what a Corsi statistic was and how to calculate it for every single person in the ECHL. Madison was sort of terrifying, but in a good way. Ethan had never met anyone that smart, and he knew she’d take good care of the hockey camp and probably have some ideas about how to manage the finances.

Everything Ethan wanted, he could have. But he’d have to ask Riley for money, and that was the one thing he didn’t know if he could do. It wasn’t money for a pizza or bringing his family down for a visit or even paying their living expenses for a year or two for Ethan to work with kids. It was serious money, an investment. Asking for that would be the single most vulnerable thing Ethan had ever done.

Riley would have to believe in Ethan’s ideas and his vision for the camp—enough to give him what might be millions of dollars to see it come to life. And if Riley didn’t think he could do that, it would break Ethan’s heart. And if Riley
did
believe in him and
did
give him the money, would it make shit weird between them? What if they broke up?

Ethan broke out in a cold sweat. If they split and Riley took his funding away, it would leave Ethan with nothing. No boyfriend he loved, no hockey camp. Holy shit. Ethan would be devastated. Worse than when his dad left. Worse than anything.

Riley wouldn’t do that. Even if something happened with the two of us, if he gave me his word, he’d stand by it. That’s what he does. That’s who he is.

If he trusted Riley that meant what he said—that Ethan could do anything he wanted if he put his mind to it—and trusted that what they had together was the real thing, then Ethan could do this. All he had to do was ask.

Ethan took a deep breath, got up, and went into the bedroom. By then Riley was out of the shower and dressed in a pair of jeans and no shirt. He was shaving.

Ethan had let his scruff grow after they won the championship, but he shaved it because Zoe told him he looked more like a hooligan than usual. He was also giving Riley beard burn.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Riley said, smoothly dragging the razor down his face. Riley’s beard had made him look a bit like a mountain man. Or maybe an indie-band front man. It would be hard to choose which was more appropriate.

“Can I—do you have a minute?”

“Really?” Riley gave him a weird look in the mirror. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh. Right. No. I… look. It feels weird to have this conversation with you shaving. So could you, um… finish that, put on a shirt, and come into the living room?” Ethan held up his hand. “I’m going to smoke, but I haven’t in six hours or something. And I really need to. Okay?”

“Okay,” Riley said, looking a little concerned. “Is everything all right?”

This is only the scariest thing I’ve ever done and the most vulnerable I’ve ever been. But yeah. Everything’s peachy.
“Yeah,” Ethan said. “I think so.”

Ethan smoked two cigarettes, and Riley met him in the living room looking hot, comfortable, and healthy. He stretched out on the floor with his stupid coconut water beside him. Ethan loved him so much. He really did. And he was terrified. But somehow, deep down, he knew it was going to be okay.

“You look like you’re about to faint,” Riley said. “I know you like watching me stretch, but try and control yourself, Kennedy.”

Ethan snorted. Then got light-headed and needed to breathe. His hands shook—partly from the rush of nicotine and partly nerves. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“When you say you’re rich, how rich are you?” Ethan winced. Maybe he should have practiced first. “God. Sorry. I just—this is so tacky. My mom would yell at me if she heard me right now—”

“My parents are fourth on the list of United States billionaires,” Riley interrupted without a change of inflection. “You could have just googled that, dude.”

Ethan scowled. But holy fuck. Billionaires? He wasn’t sure what Riley’s parents did exactly, but it was something about oil and financial planning and banks. Ethan didn’t understand it. “Not your parents, moron. You.”

“Well, I mean… unless they disinherit me, that’s about the same.”

“But if—Riley, if I—could you—” Ethan shook his head and told himself to stop being a pussy and go for it. Then he berated himself for using misogynistic language and said, “If I asked you to fund my hockey camp so I could get more kids in and have it not cost so much for everyone, could you do it? Like, do you have enough money to do that?”

Riley stared at him, his face expressionless, and for a moment Ethan thought he really would faint. But then Riley smiled—bright and so
happy
—like Ethan had just
given
him millions of dollars instead of asked for it. “Yes. I’d love to.”

“It might be a lot, though. Like, millions? I don’t know. And I’ll get someone who’s good at money stuff to manage it. I was thinking maybe your sister if she wanted? But, um… if you wanted me to pay you back that… that’ll probably never happen. But—”

“Ethan,” Riley said, unfolding from his strange contortions on the floor. “I don’t want the money back. And yes. It’s fine if it’s millions.” He was still smiling. “And I bet Madison would love it. That’s a great idea.”

“Why do you look so happy about giving me money?” Ethan grumbled as Riley walked him toward the wall. Ethan realized he was shaking like a goddamn leaf. He hoped Riley knew how badly Ethan wanted to be tied up and fucked hard right about then.

Somehow he didn’t think he’d have to ask for
that
, though.

“That’s not why I’m happy. I mean, I’m glad I can help, and it’s a great cause. But mostly I’m just happy that you asked me. I know what it means that you feel like you can.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Ethan muttered. Riley leaned in and kissed him so intensely he would have fallen over if not for the convenient wall at his back. Breathless, Ethan said, “So what’s it mean?”