Him (Him #1)(65)

Killf*cker is about to explode. “But I saw... I think you two clearly…”

Pat jumps in now. “It really doesn’t matter what you think. This is your big problem? A G-rated private moment between friends?”

“Friends who—”

“Not your business!” Pat shouts him down. “Not mine, either. I’ve never seen my coaches do anything inappropriate. They are all business on that rink. And that’s what you’re paying for, sir.”

“No!” counters Killf*cker. “I’m paying for good judgment, and I will tell whoever is willing to listen that you don’t screen your employees. You’re just waiting for disaster, anyway. These two cause a stir and—”

Pat cuts him off. “The only stir Coach Canning caused was the day his girlfriend showed up at the rink. And your son made an inappropriate comment about her anatomy.”

Killf*cker’s mouth falls open. “Then it’s worse than you know, Coach, because Mr. Canning here obviously gets around. Because I know what I saw. And my son and I are out of here.”

Shit. Poor Killfeather. He’s got this ass for a dad, and he gets yanked from camp?

Pat’s face is a stone. “You’re free to do as you wish. But if you slander my coaches to anyone I will not take it lying down.”

“Not like they do, huh?”

After issuing this parting shot, Killf*cker leaves.

The office is left in a deafening silence. The only sound is Pat’s loud sigh, until Jamie tries to say something. “Coach, I…”

Pat holds up a hand. “Just give me a minute to think.”

Chastened, Jamie is silent again. He doesn’t glance at me, though, and I wish he would.

“Okay,” Coach says. “You two can head back to your room, I’ll text you when it’s clear how this jackass is going to play it. And I want to apologize, Jamie, for bringing up that bit about your female friend…”

“Not necessary,” he says quickly.

But Pat is shaking his head. “No. It shouldn’t matter! I don’t give two f*cks if you have a girlfriend or not. But I let him get me flustered. The fact that the situation took me by complete surprise only means you’ve both behaved impeccably.”

Now that’s not true. Good thing Coach Pat doesn’t follow us around when we’re skinny-dipping and f*cking in the car.

“I’ve run this camp for twenty years,” he adds, looking us each in the eye in turn. “There have been times when I’ve had to ask staff to be more discreet. But that is not the case here.”

And now Jamie is the color of a tomato. He looks like he’d happily activate any trapdoors in Pat’s office floor.

My fists finally unclench. “Pat? I apologize if I’m making your day more complicated, but I’m not going upstairs to wait for your text. We’re supposed to be scrimmaging, right? I don’t run. My private life is my business. Not many people know my secret. But if some * decides to confront me, I never duck him. That only looks weak. I have every right to be here. I have every right to coach those kids.”

Pat squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Of course you do. I was just trying to shield you from any more ignorant bullshit. Get your skates on, then. Fuck ’im.”





30





Jamie





Maybe it makes me a *, but I take Pat up on his offer to sit this scrimmage out. I’m not afraid of Killfeather’s dad. And I’m not afraid to have people whisper about me.

But what I am is sad. And I don’t want it to show.

Before today I didn’t really understand what Wes was up against. I’d never heard anyone give a homophobic rant except in movies. I didn’t know that one man in a hundred-thousand-dollar car could wreak so much havoc.

Since everyone is supposed to be at the rink, the second floor of the dormitory sounds deserted as I turn my key in our lock. Inside, I stretch out on my bed.

Sad as I am, I can at least take one heart-lifting thing from this experience. One piece of insight I’ve been reluctant to give a label to.

I’m…bisexual.

Yep, I know, not exactly a mind-blowing M. Night Shyamalan plot twist over here, but it’s the first time I’ve allowed the word to take root in my consciousness. I’m bisexual, and it’s not just a physical connection I feel with Wes.

I can also see myself in a relationship with him. I can see myself being happy with him and never feeling like things were lacking.

I’d had this idea I could find a job near Toronto. That Wes and I could keep up… whatever it is we are to each other. But that isn’t going to happen. Wes all but told me to go to Detroit. He needs me to stay four hours away.

We only have the summer, he’d said the night we argued. He was right. That’s all we’re going to get.

Some time later I hear a commotion out in the hallway. The place echoes, so even though Killfeather’s room is on the opposite end of the building it’s easy to hear him. “I don’t want to leave!” he yells after a door bangs open.

“You will get your ass in my car right now.”

“You can’t make me!” The kid is putting his best effort into the resistance. But I know very well who always wins these fights.