dug his phone out of his back pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to Dakota. “Want to give me your phone number? So I can call when Andy’s jersey is ready?”
“Uh-huh.”
Never had Tay heard a more sarcastic uh-huh. So maybe he wanted Dakota’s number for other reasons too. Dakota didn’t seem to mind; there was knowing in his eyes as he passed the phone back to Tay.
“Thanks again.” Dakota nodded at the jersey in Tay’s hands. “For that. And for today. We had fun, right, Andy?”
“Mm-hmm.” Latched onto his dad’s leg, Andy nodded.
Tay waved as Dakota towed Andy toward where Calder was still talking to Lacroix. “See you soon.” He hoped.
Dakota smiled at him over Andy’s head before Tay lost sight of them in the crowd.
As Tay brought the hockey sticks back to the equipment area, he grinned to himself and pulled an Andy, hopping on the ice. Though with a little more skill and managing to stay on his feet. Getting his phone out again, he tapped out a quick text to Dakota so he’d have his number too: Hi, this is Tay :) Then he joined Stanton and Grey in the chase for Smarties.
When Tay was little, there’d been a point where he’d felt like he’d tried all of the solo sports imaginable. He’d been an energetic thing; his parents kept signing him up for sports that required a lot of physical activity. Dance. Tennis. Gymnastics. Skiing.
None of them took, not until he started playing hockey when he was six or seven. It was the first time he’d ever fallen in love, and a large chunk of it had to do with it being a team sport. One of Tay’s favorite things about hockey was his teammates.
He’d been on a lot of teams since he was six or seven and there were several universal truths that held among all of them.
There was always a grumpy one.
There was always one who took on the dad role.
Cliques were so a thing.
Social schedules were dictated by practices, games, team building events, fundraisers, and media appearances.
Traveling made everybody cranky, whether they were heading to wintry Winnipeg or sunny LA.
Questionable choices were made—you’d bitch and moan your way through the flu but suck it up and show up for practice so you didn’t disappoint your teammates.
Tay wouldn’t give it up for anything.
No, that wasn’t strictly true. Hockey was the biggest challenge of his life, but as his parents had taught him, it wasn’t the be-all and end-all. He’d stick with it as long as it made him happy. And right now it made him very happy.
“Everyone ready?” Xappa called down the line.
A chorus of “Ready” echoed in one of the deserted back hallways of the arena. Tay stood with his knees bent and his right foot slightly forward, facing a brick wall painted beige from an invisible line roughly eight feet away, tennis ball in his left hand, racket in his right. To his left and right, a dozen of his teammates stood in a similar position, waiting for Xappa’s signal.
From his left, Stanton said, “Fifty bucks says Desie kicks our asses again.”
Tay snorted a laugh. “I’m not taking that bet.” Their goalie, Riley “Desie” Deschamps, the fifth member of the Queer Brigade, had the hand-eye coordination of a machine, and he won more often than not.
On Tay’s other side, Mitch Greyson muttered, “You’d be better off betting that pigs can fly.”
Tay side-eyed him. “Or that your hair’s going to get in your eyes again.”
Grey tossed his head and pretended to flip his hair over his shoulder. “You’re just jealous.”
Reaching out, Tay pulled on a curly strand that sprung right back into place the second he let it go. “It is pretty fun.”
“Alex likes it,” Grey said with a smirk in his husband’s direction. Tay and Stanton followed his gaze.
From the end of the line, Alex Dean caught them looking and, unfazed, quirked an eyebrow.
Grey blew him a kiss that made the guys between them groan good-naturedly, mutterings of “Why do I find them so cute?” and “Get a room” drifting up the line. It just made Grey smile wider as Dean shook his head with a smile.
“Yeah, yeah, settle down,” Xappa called. “Save the chirping for later. Ready in three, two, and go!”
Almost as one, a dozen tennis balls smacked against the wall, making a loud popping sound that rang throughout the hallway. Tay ignored every ball but his own.
The goal was to keep control of your tennis ball. First one whose