“Oh, it was fun. And once Diego and I broke out the kid pictures, Luca, Cole, and Andre got all gooey, so that was fucking adorable.”

  Scott chuckled. “It’s kind of hard not to get like that when the kids are so cute.” He kissed my cheek again, and we kept watching the photo shoot.

  When things wrapped up and everyone started heading for the door, the other guys made sure we were still coming and that we had the address for the restaurant.

  And from the way Scott was grinning all the way across town, it was a safe bet he didn’t feel quite so alone anymore.

  Epilogue

  Scott

  * * *

  About two years later.

  * * *

  Suits were a regular part of my job. We came and went from the airport, games, and events in suits. There were also charity events, a lot of which were black tie, which meant I was well-accustomed to wearing a tuxedo. Bowties, cufflinks, spit-shined shoes—nothing new here.

  So why couldn’t I get this bowtie straight?

  I swore, then untied it and started over. Again.

  Someone knocked, startling me. “Come on in.”

  I turned as the door opened, and despite my frustration with the bowtie and a stomach full of butterflies, I had to smile when I saw my best man.

  Closing the door behind him, Matt returned the smile. “You ready?”

  “Uh…” I glanced down at the bowtie.

  He chuckled and came closer. “Let me.” He stood in front of me, and with a few quick motions, he had the damn thing tied and straight.

  After inspecting it in the mirror, I said, “Much better. Thanks. You’d think I’d never tied one before.”

  “Or maybe you’re just nervous.”

  “Yeah. Just a bit.” I exhaled. “Is it weird to be this nervous?”

  “When you’re getting married in front of like two hundred people? Nah, I think that’s pretty normal.”

  “But I play hockey in front of thousands.”

  “Uh-huh. But you’re getting married.”

  “Yeah.” I exhaled again, and I laughed. “Yeah, I am. Holy shit.”

  He chuckled, clapping my shoulder. “Doesn’t feel real yet?”

  “Probably won’t until our fiftieth anniversary.”

  Matt laughed. “Nah. It’ll sink in.”

  “We’ll see.” I cocked a brow, “You think you and Andre will ever…?”

  “Don’t know.” He shrugged. “We’re both happy just living together. Neither of us really feels like we need to.” He paused. “But last night’s rehearsal did make us both a bit sentimental, so… maybe?”

  “So should I put the bug in his ear to—”

  “Don’t you dare.” He glared at me, but then we both laughed. Gesturing over his shoulder, he added, “I should go make sure people are where they’re supposed to be.” He huffed with mock annoyance. “This best man shit is a lot of work, you know that?”

  “Well, marry Andre and maybe I’ll return the favor.”

  “Maybe?”

  I smirked. “For a small fee.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Dick.”

  I just chuckled, but as I sobered, I said, “Listen… Thanks. Not just for being my best man, but…” I had to swallow a sudden flood of emotion. “I don’t know how long it would’ve taken me to get my head out of my ass if it weren’t for you. So, um… Thanks for that.”

  He pulled me into a hug. “Don’t mention it.”

  There was a lot I could say—most of which I’d said a hundred times over the past two years—but I was having a hard enough time keeping it together today. So, I just let the moment be.

  So did Matt. In fact, he couldn’t stick around long; after he let me go, he took off to keep up on all those tasks he’d taken on as my best man. I owed him a seriously expensive bottle of scotch after this.

  And my God, it was good to be friends with him again. It had taken some long and not overly comfortable conversations, and egos and hurt feelings had threatened to derail things a few times, but we’d gotten there. By the time I’d proposed to Hunter, I’d known without a doubt I wanted Matt beside me at the wedding. When he’d accepted, I’d been more emotional than I’d expected to be. Probably because it was like I’d suddenly had proof that all the progress we’d made hadn’t just been one-sided or all in my head. I really did have my friend back.

  I was getting there with other people too… including myself. Therapy had helped. A lot of my sessions were remote because I was on the road more often than not, but that was fine. She was helping me work through the estrangement from my family, sorting out a lifetime of anti-gay indoctrination, my guilt over how I’d treated men in the past, maintaining a relationship with the few family members who were on my side, and figuring out how to navigate my relationship with Hunter.

  And the relationship with Hunter… Well, there was a reason I was putting a ring on his hand today. The longer we were together, the more of a godsend he was, and I made it my mission every day to make sure he knew how amazing he was. Even when I was on the road, we talked constantly. We had ups and downs, and there’d been some arguments that had scared me into thinking he was going to get fed up and leave.

  But he didn’t.

  “Arguments happen,” he’d murmured to me in bed after some mind-blowing makeup sex. “I meant what I said—you’ll have to work a lot harder than that to get rid of me.”

  I preferred working hard to keep him.

  Even with the ups and downs, life with him just kept getting better and better. Pain and flare-ups were a part of Hunter’s world and likely always would be, but the drop in stress has made a bigger difference than anyone had anticipated. He was no longer sweating over making ends meet or possibly winding up homeless. He wasn’t stressing about getting through a booking with a client.

  He wasn’t in quite as much pain these days, either. After today, he’d be on my League health insurance, but long before we’d even gotten engaged, I’d started paying cash for him to see some specialists. They’d all been clear from the start that there was no magic cure, especially for the fibromyalgia, and he’d probably be dealing with varying degrees of pain for the rest of his life.

  It was better now, though. A lot better. Especially after someone had figured out he had a pinched nerve in his neck that had been causing a lot of the neck and shoulder pain, not to mention some wicked bone spurs in his shoulder. A few weeks of physical therapy and one unpleasant but relatively minor surgery later, he was definitely in less pain. I’d have paid every penny a hundred times over just to see that relief on his face that still registered every time he moved his left arm without pain.

  I’d still worried about the money issue, though. I was happy to cover anything he needed, especially when it came to anything medical, but what he’d said after I’d bought the cars and paid his rent had spooked me. I’d worried he’d feel trapped.

  Fortunately, I now had people I could talk to about these things. Not just my therapist, but my teammates. Not long after Hunter had moved in with me, Ethan had explained to me how he’d made sure Luca never felt like he was financially trapped or that there was a power imbalance between them. I’d taken it to heart, and before that week was over, I’d set up an account in Hunter’s name with enough money for him to leave, get on his feet, and take care of himself and his daughter for at least a couple of years. Hopefully he’d never need it, but knowing it was there meant he was here because he wanted to be, not because he thought he was chained to me.

  His ex-wife and her husband were in better straits now too. Apparently the financial security had allowed Rachel to go back to school and finish her degree, and about eight months ago, she’d landed a job that paid significantly more than the two jobs she’d been holding down when I’d met Hunter. Leo had picked up a better-paying and more stable job, and they had moved into a smaller apartment (they didn’t need a three-bedroom anymore) in a less shitty area.

  Hunter and I had moved too. I’d bought my place in Bellevue assuming it would be just me and maybe a visiting guest now and then. Then I’d suddenly had a boyfriend living with me and his daughter living there part-time. At first, that had been enough room.

  But then it wasn’t.

  Danny had planned to hold out until he was eighteen and graduated before he showed his cards to his dad, but things came to a head sooner than he’d anticipated. I actually felt guilty about it because it was the magazine spread that had tipped the domino. My uncle had gotten his hands on the issue, and he’d been in rare form, ranting about how I’d humiliated the entire family, what a disgusting sissy I’d turned out to be, and how appalling it was that there was a photo of me standing behind Hunter, my arms around his waist as I kissed his cheek.

  For Danny, that had been one rant too many, and he’d lost his temper and instead of just showing his cards, he slammed them down on the table.

  “Every time you’re talking trash about gay people,” he’d apparently shouted across the kitchen, “you’re talking about me!”

  Long story short, I got the call an hour before warm-ups, told my coach I had a family emergency, and was in a cab to the airport in under twenty minutes. Within twenty-four hours, my lawyer was filing paperwork for me to take custody of my cousin, and no one had lifted a finger to stop me from flying him to Seattle. Now, he was living with Hunter and me. He was making friends, had a therapist (not the same one I’d started going to), and was doing well in school. I was gone a lot during the year, but Hunter went with him to PFLAG and GSA events at the high school, where Danny would be a senior in September.

  It also turned out that Danny wasn’t shy at all. He wasn’t even an introvert. He’d just clammed up around the family for obvious reasons. Once he was out of that environment, he was like a completely different kid. He and Hunter could talk for hours about anything, and Danny absolutely adored Ginny. He was even going to be a camp counselor this year at the day camp where she went each summer.

  So was his boyfriend, Logan.

  I was beyond relieved that we’d been able to take in Danny, even if it had been a touch crowded until we’d moved into the new house. His years in the closet had been rough, but he was moving forward as an out gay guy. He was happy. He hadn’t had to hide who he was from himself and those around him until he was in his thirties. As much as he still struggled with the crap we’d both been raised to believe, and with the distance from his family, he didn’t have that all-consuming self-loathing that had ruled my life for way too long. If helping him find his way out of the closet was the one good thing I ever did, then I could die a happy man.

  And as it happened, Andre had caught wind of Danny’s artistic aspirations, and the fact that my uncle had tried to shame Danny out of drawing and into sports. Andre had basically lost his shit when he heard about how Danny’s father had treated him and his art. Once he’d calmed down and caught his breath, he’d taken my cousin under his wing as a protégé, and the enthusiastic support from a real professional artist gave Danny the morale boost he'd desperately needed. He was really coming into his own, and Andre firmly believed my cousin had serious potential for an artistic future.

  Nothing had played out the way I’d imagined, and some things had been rough, but I was happy. A hell of a lot happier than I’d ever thought I would be, especially as a publicly out gay man and a former member of the once-tight-knit Deacon family.

  That last part wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on. Not today.

  Someone else knocked at the door. Probably Matt checking in about something. Or was it time already? Oh God.

  “Yeah?”

  My sister leaned into the room. She was one of the few family members who had stayed in contact with me, and I was so glad she’d come to the wedding.

  “Hey, Scott?” Meghan glanced over her shoulder, then stepped all the way in, looking a little nervous. “Do you have a minute?”

  I studied her. “Sure. Yeah. What’s up?”

  Wringing her hands in front of her, she squared her shoulders and looked in my eyes. “Mom’s here.”

  “Mom’s—” I almost choked. So much for not thinking about my estranged family. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

  My sister put up her hands. “It’s not what you think. And…” She glanced over her shoulder again before meeting my gaze. “If you don’t want to see her now, I get it, and I’ll tell her. It’s not really my place to say anything except that I think you should hear her out.”

  I watched her uncertainly. Meghan wasn’t the type who would spring something on me that would ruin my wedding. Drama was not her thing at all. If she of all people thought I should let our mother in, then maybe I should listen.

  So I exhaled. “All right. All right. I’ll, um… Yeah. I’ll talk to her.”

  Meghan smiled. “Okay. Just a second.” She went to the door and slipped out.

  I had just enough time to take a few deep, shaky breaths before the door opened again, and this time, my mom came in. She was wearing a beautiful blue dress, and her hair seemed grayer than it had last time I’d seen her. She seemed older. As if it had been more than two years since the moment she’d walked out of Daryl and Cathy’s house.

  Mom clasped her hands together under her chin as she looked me up and down. “You look so handsome, honey.”

  “I—” My voice stopped in my throat when I realized her left hand was bare. She always wore her wedding ring, even when she was working on the farm. I met her gaze with wide eyes. “Where’s your ring?”

  She looked down, then lowered her hands and started wringing them. “A lot has changed over the last two years.”

  “A lot… Are…” I blinked. “Are you and Dad divorced?”

  Without meeting my eyes, my mom nodded. “The paperwork is still going through, but…” She exhaled, then took a deep breath and lifted her gaze again. “I won’t ask you to forgive me for not standing up for you that day at Daryl and Cathy’s. I can’t. But it made me think about things. It took some time—a lot more than it should have—but I realized the whole family’s been wrong. I’ve been wrong. Your sister has been showing me the light, and then when I heard that you’d taken in Danny after Allen and Marie threw him out… My God, Scotty, I’ve never been more ashamed of myself or prouder of you.”

  “Really?” I almost choked on the word.

  “Yes. And I’m sorry. That you grew up hearing all that poison, and that I didn’t protect you from it then or when you came out to us. I’m… I’m just so, so sorry, Scott.” She swallowed. “I hope it’s not too late for me to get to know the real you, and to watch you marry the man you love.”

  Maybe it should’ve been. My mom had, after all, abandoned me for being gay. She’d turned her back on me for two years.

  On the other hand, I’d spent so much time saying I was sorry and trying to make amends with everyone I’d hurt over the years, it was surreal to be on the other side of that. To have my mother apologizing for everything she’d said, done, or not said and not done.

  It was surreal, and it made it infinitely harder to imagine rejecting that apology.

  So I didn’t.

  I stepped closer and, for the first time in two years, I hugged my mom. “It’s good to have you back.”

  She sagged against me, my shoulder muffling a quiet sob. For a long moment, we just held each other, not saying anything. It reminded me a little of that encounter with Matt at the photography studio, when there’d been miles of ground left to cover and a hell of a lot more left that needed to be said, but there’d been enough forgiveness to promise that we’d get there. Matt and I had gotten there. Today, I felt like Mom and I would too.

  As she drew back and wiped her eyes, she softly said, “I can’t wait to meet your new husband at the reception.”

  I smiled. “Well, technically you’ve already met him.”

  “I have?” Then she straightened. “The young man who was with you when you came out?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  A huge smile spread across Mom’s face. “Oh, good.”

  “What?” I cocked my head. “You don’t even know him.”

  “No, but I saw him stand up to your father and defend you.” She squeezed my arm. “You deserve someone who will go to bat for you like that. I’m sure your father scared him to death, but you wouldn’t have known it with the way he stood up for you.”

  “He’s fearless when he gets protective.”

  “I can see that.” She cringed. “He must hate me.”

  “I’ll talk to him. And I’ll reintroduce you at the reception.” I paused. “I can introduce you to my stepdaughter, too.”

  My mom’s eyes were instantly huge, and she put her hands to her lips. “Stepdaughter? You mean I have a grandbaby?”

  I laughed. “I mean, she’s eight, but—”

  “Ooh!” she squealed. “When is her birthday? And there’s still plenty of time before Christmas. I am going to spoil this child rotten.”

  “I’ll definitely introduce you, then.” It was cute, watching my mom get all excited about spoiling her new granddaughter, but it also choked me up a little. After today, Ginny would officially have seven grandparents, plus two stepdads in addition to her own parents. This was a child who would never want for anything—love, acceptance, support. She had the support network I couldn’t have even fantasized about until very recently.

  “Don’t cry, honey.” Mom dabbed my cheeks with a tissue before I even realized I’d started tearing up. “Your eyes will be red in all your wedding photos.”

  Laughing, I sniffed. “They probably will be anyway.”

  Her eyes were wet too, and she squeezed my hands. “I know showing up here doesn’t fix everything, but I want my son back if you’ll give me a chance.”

  I nodded, wrapping her in another hug. “I’ve already got a therapist. Maybe we can both go see her.”

  “Whatever you need, sweetheart.”