Name From a Hat Trick - L.A. Witt Page 0,117

“Fuck…”

Maddox watched me for a moment, then quietly asked, “Is this about that dude you’re dating?”

My head snapped up, which didn’t help the lingering dizziness at all. “Huh?”

He smiled, and he gave my knee a firm pat. “Come on. The press probably buys all that shit about you guys being friends, but we’re your team.”

I swallowed. “So you guys… You all…”

“Yeah, we know.” He shrugged. “None of us are going to say shit to anyone about it. And we didn’t say anything to you because we didn’t know if you wanted us to know.”

“But… I mean, how much have you guys talked about this?”

“Dude, we’re not a bunch of gossipy kids.”

“No, you’re hockey players,” I said dryly. “That’s worse sometimes.”

“Okay, fine,” he conceded. “But it hasn’t been anything like… I mean, it was more like somebody asked once ‘Is Kelly dating that guy whose daughter can’t come to games?’ and then a few days later someone was like ‘oh hey, yeah, I think he is.’” Maddox shrugged again. “It’s nothing more than that.”

I nodded slowly, shifting my attention to the cushion between us. I believed him—hockey players could be the worst gossips, but they kept it in-house even if it was something seriously scandalous. And this crew was pretty cool with gay guys, so me having a boyfriend wouldn’t be much of a scandal. I didn’t know why I’d worked myself up over them finding out about us, except that I worked myself up over everything, so why should that be an exception?

“What’s the deal with him?” Maddox asked. “You worried about the press finding out or something?”

I sighed, rubbing my hand over my face. “The press. My parents.”

“Your folks don’t know?”

I shook my head.

“Like, about you and him? Or about you?”

“About me,” I whispered. “I told my brother a while ago, and he’s worried about how they’ll react, so that helped. I mean, they’ve never said anything homophobic, but they’ve never said anything supportive either, so I have no idea.”

Maddox whistled. “Shit. That sounds terrifying.”

“Right? So I’m freaked out about that, and then Devin and me… We had a talk last time we were in town. Right before we flew out.” I swallowed. “I guess he’s had a lot of partners bail because his daughter’s got some medical issues, and he basically said that dating him means the package deal. He has joint custody, so she’s with him a lot, and if I can’t deal, then…” I gestured over my shoulder with my thumb. “Might as well get out.”

“He said that?”

“Not exactly. That’s… That’s just how it sounded, I guess.”

“What exactly did he say?”

I took a deep breath and ran him through as much of the conversation as I could pull out of my rattled brain. When I was done, I sighed. “I adore his daughter, but man, I am terrified of dating someone with a kid. Like, I can teach her to skate and put together games so she can watch some hockey, but…” I met my teammate’s eyes. “I can barely take care of myself. Just thinking about trying to be a boyfriend and whatever he wants me to be for his kid…” I gestured at myself and shakily said, “For fuck’s sake, look at me.”

Maddox’s brow pinched. “So this was all… You’re freaking out about maybe being a stepdad?”

Face burning, I nodded. “I know it sounds fucking stupid, but—”

“Naw, I get it.”

“You do?”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed humorlessly. “You don’t think it scared the shit out of me, getting the whole preinstalled family? And I was already a dad when I met Crystal. She was scared as hell about becoming Dylan’s stepmom, too.”

I swallowed, stomach somersaulting. I’d known at the time how freaked out Maddox had been over going from a single dad of one to a married father of four, but hearing him confirm it now did nothing to calm my nerves. “That’s what’s freaking me out too. His daughter is great, but I mean… The longer I’m with him, the more I want to be, but the more it freaks me the fuck out. I don’t even have my feet under me as a gay man, you know? Or just…at all. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I barely know who the fuck I am, and I—”

“Whoa, whoa.” Maddox touched my shoulder again. “Breathe, dude.”

I did, and realized I’d almost started hyperventilating again. Leaning forward, I kneaded my forehead with the heels of both hands. As my heart rate and breathing came

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