My throat tightened and my eyes welled up. A deep ache rose in my chest, and it wasn’t just from all the emotions that came with the unquestioning support. My parents had been such dicks to him and his family, all because they’d been supportive of their gay son, and I felt like an asshole for never shutting that down.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. “And I’m sorry I never said anything to them. For the way they treated you and Cathy over Isaiah.”

  Daryl shook his head. “That’s not your sin to atone for. You were a kid. Even when you’re as grown as you are, you’re still a kid when it comes to your parents, and they’re the ones who should be ashamed. Not you.”

  “Still.”

  He gave my arm another squeeze, then pulled me into a hug I hadn’t realized I needed.

  “Whatever happens today,” he said, “you’ll be okay. Even if it doesn’t happen today or next week or…” He drew back and looked right at me. “You’ll be okay.”

  I smiled despite the lump still firmly lodged in my throat. “Thanks.” I studied him. “How do you do it, anyway? Your church is… I mean, Mormons really don’t like, um…” I hesitated. “People like me, right?”

  Daryl sighed heavily. “It’s something we’ve been praying about a lot ever since Isaiah came out. And I’m not sure if I’ll ever find the answers. My heart tells me the LDS is the right path, but it also tells me to love my son the way he is. I just have to hope that God understands.”

  Was it asking too much for my dad’s heart to tell him the same thing?

  I guess I’d find out.

  Daryl and I rejoined Hunter and Cathy, who had moved into the kitchen and were chatting about something while Cathy made hot cocoa for everyone. I didn’t hear much of what they were saying. I was way too focused on the very near future.

  We sat down at the kitchen table with cookies and hot cocoa. There was conversation, but I didn’t contribute much.

  All the while, the cutesy clock on the wall—one of those “country” kitsch things with a goose wearing a bow around its neck—ticked unnervingly closer to two o’clock, which was when my parents were due to arrive. Mom and Dad were painfully punctual too, so there wouldn’t be a reprieve. When that goose clock said it was two, Dad’s truck would be coming down the driveway.

  He'd see my car. No one else drove a bright yellow Ferrari around here, and even if they did, I doubted they had Washington plates that spelled BREAKER.

  I took a deep breath, and then took another swallow of Cathy’s hot cocoa. It had been comfort food forever, but it wasn’t doing much today.

  I thought back to my conversation with Hunter. Where I’d wondered aloud if coming out to my parents would be as anticlimactic as it had been with my teammates. Over and over, people had told me no one would care except for me. It was a bigger deal in my head than it was to anyone else.

  But you all don’t know my family.

  Just this once, could my family shock me? Was it too much to ask for this to be anticlimactic?

  I’d find out soon, because the goose clock hit two.

  And I was pretty sure that was a diesel engine closing in outside.

  Daryl craned his neck, looking out the kitchen window. “It looks like your folks are here, Scott.” He got up and headed toward the front door.

  Instantly, the mood in the room flattened. The smiles vanished. Even Cathy shifted to quiet concern, the lines in her face deepening with worry.

  Hunter touched my knee. I looked at him, and he gave me a silent nod, probably to reassure me he was here. God knew how much difference that would make once the fur started flying, but in this moment, the reassurance was definitely welcome.

  I put a hand on the small of his back, kissed him lightly, and rose to follow Daryl.

  In the family room, I paused to pull myself together. I could do this. I could.

  Right?

  I exhaled, pushed my shoulders back, and stepped out onto the porch as my parents were getting out of the truck.

  “Scott, I thought this was your car!” Mom beamed as I came down the steps. “Well, this is so unexpected! When did you get into town?”

  I forced a smile. “This morning.” A lie, but easier than explaining why I hadn’t gotten in touch yesterday.

  “It’s so nice to see you!” She hugged me, and my God, I was tempted to hold on a second longer.

  Is this the last time my mom is ever going to hug me?

  Before I could get my head around that, though, she released me. They went through cordial greetings with the Jensens, and they were introduced to Hunter. No one elaborated who he was or why he was here, which made my stomach turn. It was a necessary evil, but I hated it. I wanted so, so fucking badly to say, “Mom, Dad, this is Hunter—my boyfriend.”

  But I didn’t want to spring this on them. I might have awkwardly fumbled with “so I’m actually gay” when I told Vasiliev, but this was Mom and Dad. I needed to handle this delicately, even if that meant pretending the Jensens had a houseguest who happened to be hanging out when my parents were invited over. They probably didn’t suspect a thing, either—the Jensens were always, as Dad put it, “taking in strays,” so a random kid or adult hanging around was about as normal as the wagon wheel by the mailbox.

  Cathy took over the pleasantries, offering drinks and food as we all settled into the living room. Her demeanor was definitely different now. She’d been her usual bubbly self, falling all over herself to welcome Hunter, but she was bland with my parents. That didn’t sound like much, but for her, that was practically a cold shoulder with a frosty side-eye.

  I don’t think my parents noticed. If anything, they were probably uncomfortable hanging out at those people’s house.

  “So, what’s going on?” Mom asked, cradling a cup of hot cocoa. “We didn’t even realize you were in town, and you’re…” She gestured around the house.

  Dad’s eyes flicked toward Hunter. Then me. “Is everything all right, son?” I wondered if anyone else heard the undercurrent of, You’d better watch your step and think carefully before you go on, Scott.

  The hot cocoa I’d drunk earlier was dangerously close to making an encore appearance. I swallowed hard, forced back the bile, and tried to ignore the telltale way my mouth watered.

  I glanced at Daryl, then Hunter. They each gave me subtle but reassuring nods. My dad noticed, if the twitch of his lip was anything to go by.

  I cleared my throat. “I just need to level with you guys. I’ve been hiding this for so long, and it’s killing me, so I—”

  “Oh Lord, son.” Dad sighed heavily. “This ain’t you coming out, is it? Is this from spending all that time in the locker room with those fairies on your team? Goddamn, I should’ve known that was—”

  “Dad. Stop.” I sounded out of breath to my own ears. “Just stop.”

  He stopped, but from the way his eyes were drilling into me, he was still very much on that train of thought.

  I shifted in my seat. “The guys on my team—they have nothing to do with it. I—”

  “Are you kidding me?” he roared, making both my mother and me jump. He flew to his feet and threw up his hands. “We raised you better, Scott. We taught you to—” He whirled on Daryl. “This is you, isn’t it? You told—”

  “Dad.” I got up and glared at him. He was taller than me, but not by much, and we locked eyes. “You can’t blame Daryl, or my teammates, or anyone else. It’s no one’s fault. It’s just who I am. The thing—”

  “That’s horseshit. You—”

  “I’m not finished,” I snarled, and I’ll be damned if Dad didn’t shut his mouth and stare at me. I barreled on while I still had the steam. “While you’re busy trying to figure out whose fault it is that I’m gay, maybe you should have a look in the mirror and ask yourself whose fault it is that it took me until this year—until I’m thirty-three, Dad—to admit it to myself. Do you have any idea how much hell I’ve been through, trying to keep this a secret from everyone, including me? Because you raised me to believe it was the worst thing ever, so I’ve spent my whole goddamned life thinking I was the worst thing ever. It doesn’t matter if it’s anyone’s fault that I’m gay, because that part? The part where I’ve been miserable and hating myself? That’s on you and Mom.”

  Dad stared at me for a few seconds, his eyes wide and his lips apart. My heart pounded. There was no telling how he was about to respond, but I held on to that possibility, however slim, that I might have gotten through. That this wouldn’t play out the way it had in my head a million times before.

  In every one of those versions, my father had hit me. Sometimes open-handed. Sometimes closed-fisted. But there was always a moment when he snapped and went hands on. I’d mentally watched him do it so many times, I couldn’t fathom this playing out any other way.

  And when it happened for real, it came out of nowhere and sent me staggering back a step.

  There was instantly noise and chaos, but I couldn’t make sense of any of it. The second his hand made contact, the whole world spun. My head swam and my vision went out of focus, and it took a second to realize that the shouting I heard was…

  It was Hunter.

  “What is the matter with you?” he was snarling. “He’s your son. How dare—”

  “Yeah, he’s my son,” my dad roared back. “Who the hell do you think you are? Get out of my way and—”

  “Like hell,” Hunter snapped.

  They kept going as I blinked a few times to force myself to focus, and though I still couldn’t quite see straight, I recognized my dad’s posture. The way he was drawing back—he wasn’t retreating. He was pulling back like a bowstring.

  Panic shot through me, and I lunged into the space between him and Hunter, grabbed Dad’s shirt and his arm, and slammed him up against the wall. A picture frame beside his head fell, glass shattering, and my father stared at me with a mix of shock and fury.

  “Don’t you touch him,” I growled. “You want to take another swing at me? Take your best shot.” Still gripping his shirt, I stabbed a finger right in his face. “But if you lay a hand on him, you’re not getting it back. Do you understand me?”

  Dad blinked a few times, obviously caught off guard. Then he gave me a shove, making me stumble a couple of steps. “We raised you better than that, Scott. You are not—”

  “Get out, Mitch,” Daryl barked. “Get out of my house right now before I call the police.”

  Everyone in the room froze. For long seconds, everything was silent except for my pounding heart. I had never heard Daryl raise his voice, not even when me and his kids were being hellions and working his last nerve.

  Calmer now, but still vibrating with rage I’d never known he was capable of, Daryl snarled, “You get out of here, Mitch.” He pointed toward the door. “Right now.”

  Dad blinked. He stared at me. At Daryl. At Hunter. This was probably the first time three separate people had stood up to him, and I doubted he had a clue how to process it. I didn’t know how to process people coming to my defense. This was all… Jesus, what was happening right now?

  It was my mom who spoke next: “Mitch.” Her voice was flat. “Let’s go. We don’t need any trouble with the police.”

  Dad’s jaw worked. Then he stormed out of the living room. The front door banged shut so hard it shook the whole house. I was legitimately surprised one of the windows didn’t break.

  Mom exchanged uneasy looks with Cathy, but she didn’t look at or speak to anyone else. She just walked out after Dad.

  Panic shot through me, and though I was still afraid I might throw up, I managed to croak, “Mom?”

  She turned around. With tears in her eyes, she glared at me coldly. “We raised you better than this, Scott.”

  And then she followed my dad out of the house.

  My knees were about to buckle, and I didn’t fight them. Shaking all over, I sank back onto the couch. I didn’t know how to process. I didn’t even know where to start.

  Hunter sat beside me. He put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple. “I’m sorry.”

  I couldn’t speak. I just put my hand over his and tried to pull my thoughts into order.

  “You boys catch your breath for a minute, okay?” Daryl said softly. “Take all the time you need.”

  I nodded numbly. Hunter said something I didn’t catch. I thought Cathy said something too. All I could hear was the echo of my parents’ footsteps leaving the Jensens’ house.

  They’re gone. They left.

  I lost my parents.

  My eyes stung, and I pressed my elbows onto my knees as I swiped at my eyes and tried to… Hell, breathing seemed like a good place to start.

  Something crunched and rattled. I looked up and realized Daryl had brought in a small trash bin and a dustpan, and he was carefully collecting the broken pieces of glass from the frame I’d knocked down. I winced. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break—”

  “No, no.” Daryl shook his head, glancing at me as he put a couple of large pieces into the trash bin. “You were protecting him.” He nodded at Hunter. “Frames are replaceable.”

  I watched him sweeping the smaller shards into a dustpan. I should’ve insisted on helping. I should’ve been scrolling my phone to find a replacement on Amazon. But I was just… numb. This reminded me of the feeling after my team was eliminated from the playoffs, except it cut even closer to the bone. This wasn’t the end of a hockey season and the disappointing loss of a trophy and title. It was the end of…

  I closed my eyes and pushed out a long breath. All the faces I’d seen at the Fourth of July and my cousin’s wedding flashed through my mind. I wasn’t going to see any of them again, was I? It should’ve been a relief, knowing I’d never listen to their homophobia again, but they weren’t only homophobes any more than I was only a gay man. Uncle Allen had taught me to ride horses. I always looked forward to trying to one-up Cousin Mark over locker room hijinks. And my parents…

  God. My parents.

  They were gone, and they weren’t coming back.

  By some miracle, I wasn’t alone, but it was like when I’d seen photos of the trails after the fire had gone through. There’d still been the old stone bridge that God Himself probably couldn’t knock down, and there was the soot-stained metal sign at the gate. They’d been all that remained, standing there in the middle of a charred wasteland. Instead of finding comfort in something surviving the destruction, I’d teared up at the sight of them because they made the whole disaster real. They’d driven home what was gone.

  Right now, that was what Daryl, Cathy, and Hunter were—all that was left of the world I’d just burned to the ground. I was beyond grateful they were still here, but holy shit, it hurt to realize how much was gone.

  “Scott?” Hunter slipped his hand into mine.

  I turned to him. He didn’t ask if I was okay. I supposed he didn’t need to.

  I exhaled, then leaned in and kissed his temple. As I did, everything that had gone down ran through my head again, and panic spiked through me. I looked him up and down. “Are you okay? Did my dad—”

  “I’m good. He didn’t touch me.” Hunter’s eyes flicked toward my cheekbone, which I realized now was throbbing. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He scowled. “That’s going to leave a bruise.”

  I resisted the urge to touch the spot where my dad’s fist had connected. “Probably. I think he might’ve rung my bell a bit too.”

  Hunter straightened.

  I squeezed his hand. “It could just be the adrenaline crash.” I wondered if he believed me. I didn’t. Not completely, anyway. I was dizzy, and some of that was definitely the drop in adrenaline, but I knew that feeling. I also knew the imbalanced feeling I had right now. That was concussion protocol time.

  “Do you think we should go to the ER?” Hunter asked. “I can drive.”

  Before I could answer, Daryl said, “He’s got a point, Scott. With your history of head injuries, it wouldn’t hurt to have them check you, just to be sure.”

  I thought about it. Maybe they were right. And if Coach Henderson found out I’d been assaulted and hadn’t been checked out, he’d probably have a stroke. So, okay, going to the ER was probably a good idea, if only for my coach’s sanity. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll go.”

  Moving carefully, I got up. So did Hunter.

  Daryl put the rest of the picture frame in the trash can and took it into the other room. When he came back, he had his car keys in hand. “Why don’t I drive? Your car only seats two, and I want to make sure you boys get back safely.”

  “What about my car?” I asked. “We’ll need to come back for it.” Though Hunter would probably have to drive, because the truth was, I didn’t trust myself. Ever since that concussion early in my career, a blow to the head threw me off more than it had in my younger days. And I didn’t think I could focus enough to keep us between the lines anyhow.

  “We’ll come back here after we’re through at the ER.” Daryl paused. “In fact, why don’t you boys stay with us tonight? We’ve got a spare room.”

  I stared at him in disbelief, and his expression was full of fatherly concern. Full of everything I should have been getting from my own dad. I wanted to be stubborn and insist I’d be fine, that I had Hunter, but I suddenly couldn’t turn down the love and concern of a father who, even if he wasn’t my father, knew what I was and wanted to make sure I was okay.

  I glanced at Hunter, who was clearly rattled and still shaking. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, I drew him in, kissed his temple again, and let him lean on me. To Daryl, I said, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now let’s get you to the ER and make sure you’re okay.”

  Chapter 26

  Hunter

  It was weird, being in the ER and not sweating bullets over how much it was going to cost. Scott was insured to hell and back, and he probably had enough in his checking account to cover it a few times over anyway. I was glad for that. He had enough on his mind today without worrying about bills.