by V. L. Locey
“Marigold just said you’re a good one to go gay with,” I whispered beside his ear. He threw back his head and laughed long and hard. I chuckled and dropped a kiss to his thick neck. “Think we can go gay together again once this group is back in Georgia?”
“Soon as they fly off we’ll go home and I’ll get all kinds of gay on you.”
My dick twitched. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“I didn’t mean you had to get gay here in the bar,” Marigold’s voice drifted over us.
“Mother!”
Town and I had a good guffaw over that one as well.
8
“Got to win some draws here, forwards! Got to win some draws!”
I stood behind March, yelling at the men on the ice, not that I thought they could hear me. I knew they couldn’t with the fan noise, the chatter of the players, and the rush of blood in their ears. We’d held our own for three periods, only giving up one goal which had us tied 1-1 now. I thumped on Sander’s shoulders then bent down low.
“I want focus from you out there. We need more puck possession time. They’re taking us to the cleaners on face-offs, and that needs to end.”
“Yes, Coach,” March replied, his attention split between me and the game.
“Good man.” I clapped and shouted as one line came off and another went out. “Let’s just play our game now,” I yelled, then nodded at the obvious hooking call we’d just drawn on the opposing team. Vic bent over a whiteboard, scribbling down ideas that he then flashed to the power play unit, which was headed out once the sinner was in the box. “Good shift! Good shift!”
I patted each man coming off the ice on the back as he sat down. The power play unit skated out, Dan and Sander conspiring, with helmets side-by-side as they tried to set up what the special teams coach had laid out for them. Sander skated in for the faceoff, Dan dropped way back, and Mario nestled in close with the left winger, his mouth going steadily as the two men jockeyed for position. Sander won the faceoff and whipped the puck back to Mario. His man jerked on McGarrity’s stick and another penalty was accessed, this time for holding the stick.
The power play unit then went to work, and it was a thing of beauty. March and Arou-Kalinski were the dynamic duo out there. Passing the puck back and forth, inching in closer as the three Cottonmouth players valiantly tried to defend their goal. From the corner, Dan got the puck to Sander, who was just shy of the blue line. His slap shot flew over the Cottonmouth goalie’s left shoulder and into the net. The men on the bench jumped up and down, all the coaches clapped, even Kalinski, who had to be stuck between a rock and a really hard place. That got one man sprung from the box, but they were still a man short.
Dewey should have made the switch to bring out fresh PP skaters, but Dan and Sander were steady, and they had the hot sticks. Dewey let the twosome stay on the ice but pulled the other three players and sent fresh ones out, including our captain, who was a force to be reckoned with on the power play. The puck ended up behind Mitch on a dump-in from the Cottonmouths. Mitch directed it to Sander, who took it out to our offensive blue line then shot it down the ice to Dan who was streaking toward the Cottonmouth net. Arou-Kalinski found the puck. Mike knocked a man off his skates with a beautiful and clean check to clear the way for Dan. His snap shot was so fast that the goalie couldn’t get his legs pads together fast enough to stop the puck from going between his legs.
Our bench went wild. Two power play goals exactly twenty-four seconds apart. Sander lifted Dan off his skates, his joy was so great, then they were swallowed up by the other three men on the ice. We cruised into a nice 3-1 win and now could breathe a little bit. Everything was all tied up and now we’d be heading back to Augusta for game five.
“This team is going to push my ass off the wagon,” Victor said, after draping his arm around my shoulder.
“Hell, I’ve been mixing gin into my sweet tea since game one,” I joked, meeting up with the men outside the dressing room, then following them inside.
The Venomous Pole and I parted company once inside. He went to his husband to give him a quick squeeze of the neck, followed by a ruffle of his long, wet hair. I made the rounds, talking to every player I could, passing along my praise for a job well done. Dewey and the other coaches filed in. The head coach gave the men a rousing speech and the Cougars Cap was shoved onto Dan Arou-Kalinski’s sweaty head. The man beamed with pride. He was going to make the pros, and soon. He’d finally hit his stride and with all the moving and shaking about to occur, it was truly just a matter of time. What that would mean for both men and the people in their lives remained to be seen, but the call was coming. I could feel it deep down in my bones. Hockey giveth and hockey taketh away.
About an hour later, I was met outside by my family and my man. We all piled into our cars and went back to my place, where we sat around until midnight, talking about the game then drifting into other topics. When they lit out for their hotel, aside from Charity, who insisted she sleep in the spare room, Town and I began cleaning up.
“So, how was it?” I asked while loading dirty wine glasses, coffee mugs, cups, and snack bowls into the dishwasher. “Sitting smack dab in the middle of the Hart mob?”
“It was fine. They’re really great. Your kids are so sweet, and your ex is not at all like I imagined she would be. She said she was going to send me recipes for all your favorite foods.”
“Make sure she includes her pecan pie recipe. Sweet Moses, but that pie is to die for. She also makes a peach pie that will curl your toes in pleasure.”
He stepped up close and took me in his arms. “I’d like to curl your toes in pleasure,” he murmured before slanting his mouth over mine. With a slick swipe of his tongue on my lower lip I opened for him, eager for his taste on my tongue. The sweet tang of berry wine lingered on his tongue.
“My toes would like that as well,” I whispered when we broke for air. And space. We needed some of that as well, as my daughter was bopping around the house.
“Your family is amazing. Thank you for introducing them to me.”
“Even Marigold?” I asked, my thumbs still resting in his belt loops, despite the fact that I knew we needed some air between us. His cock pressed against mine just felt so damn good…
“Yeah, even Marigold. Did you know that there is a right and wrong way to put mustard on a soft pretzel?” His eyebrows danced up and down. “No? Well me either but seems Miss Marigold knows and was not reluctant to educate me on the proper way to apply condiments.”
Chuckling softly, I nuzzled his neck, licking a tiny little circle under his ear.
“Mm, damn that’s nice,” Town sighed, his hands sweeping up and down my sides.
“Daddy, do you have any more of them cheddar cheese chips? Oh hell, shit! I’m sorry!” Charity swept into the kitchen, froze, and then covered her eyes with her hands.
Town and I jumped apart, his eyes wide and my pulse leaping. “Chips? Oh, sure, I think so. Let me walk Town to his car.”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,” Charity groaned into her palms. I patted her shoulder as we walked past.
“It’s fine, baby girl. I’ll be right back.” I tugged a mortified Townsend outside, his shame burning as brightly as mine.
“That was the worst,” Town moaned, dropping his brow to the roof of his car. I rubbed his back as my embarrassment flamed brightly.
“Kids. They are sure fire ways to kill romantic tendencies.”
Town sighed dramatically. “Probably scarred her for life seeing her daddy sucking face with his lover.”
“Nah, she’s not nearly as delicate a Southern flower as she looks. More than likely she’s on her phone right now telling her brother she caught us in flagrante delicto.”
“Ugh.”
I patted his fine ass then kissed the back of his neck. “It’s fine. They know we’re in love. Not like catching us kissing by the light of the dishwasher will—” He lifted his head and turned to look at me. The soft li
ght from the porch light made him appear to be moon-kissed. “What?”
“You said we were in love,” he replied. Crickets chirped nearby as my brain, which was liberally doused with wine but not that much wine, tried to fire on eight cylinders but could only get three working.
I stared at his handsome face for the longest time. A cool breeze off the lake rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. The night chorus of frogs and insects, and a barred owl way off in the distance filled the silent gap my seized brain had created.
Finally, after some internal wrestling, I just said what was in my heart.
“I stand by that.” I pushed my fingers along his skull and led his mouth to mine. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
His lips played with a smile. I kissed each corner as it lifted, numerous times, then I licked inside, sweeping his mouth with a slow sort of passion.
“Good God above,” I exhaled over his slick lips. “You had best head on home before I take you down to the lake and make love to you on the boat launch.”
“I think I’m falling in love with you, too,” he said in reply. We kissed again, and again, and then once more, our bodies pressed close, his hand on my ass, my fingers gripping his head.
“Daddy? Is everything okay?” Charity tentatively called from the front door. Once more, we moved apart, but this time there was little shame in our eyes. Love. There was lots of that in our gazes.
“Everything is just fine, sweetie. More than fine, actually,” I called back, never letting my sight waver from Town’s. “Yes, right, well…”
“I’m uh, heading home.” He grinned, grabbed a quick kiss, and then slid behind the wheel of his car. I thumped the hood and then stepped back, lifting my hand in a wave that he returned. There I stood by my driveway, hand in the air, bare feet in the lush grass, heart bursting with emotion, waving like a goof. Damnation, but falling in love was grand!
The following morning, I rolled over, and the smell of bacon teased my nose. Rising from my bed, I then pulled on some lounge pants and a ratty old T-shirt, shuffled to the bathroom, and then made my way to the kitchen to find my daughter bustling around preparing food.
“This is an unexpected surprise,” I stated.
She threw me a million-dollar smile over her shoulder. Her long dark hair was rather knotted, and her pink pajama top and shorts were wrinkled from sleep. I still thought she was the prettiest child in creation, she and her brother both, although Chaz would bristle at being called pretty, even though he was.
“Morning, Daddy! I wanted to have this all done before you got up. There’s hot water for tea, since I know you don’t do coffee like us normal people,” she teased then flipped a flapjack.
I made myself a cup of hot tea and sat down. She loaded my plate with pancakes and strips of fried bacon, then sat across from me.
“Looks great, sweetheart,” I said as I covered the pancakes with syrup. She smiled into her coffee cup. “You’re going to eat some more, aren’t you?”
“Mm, I had some yogurt and cereal earlier.” My eyes widened at the amount of food laid out before me. “I maybe got carried away with the pancake batter,” she confessed with a short little giggle.
“I’ll be lazy after eating all of this,” I replied, but dug in anyway. “So, how are you baby?” I asked, between bites of syrupy pancake.
“Good. Truly. The meds are fantastic now that I’m used to them. I haven’t had an anxiety attack in over six months.”
“That’s wonderful to hear.” God knows, the few times I had seen her swallowed up by her anxiety issues, I’d been terrified and utterly helpless. It had taken some bouncing around from doctor to doctor and playing with several different prescriptions, but she seemed to finally be on an even keel and enjoying her young life. “Town is a little anxious as well at times. He frets,” I explained, then tore off a chunk of crispy bacon with my teeth. This was much better than a health drink or some high-energy bar. “Even his boss agrees that he’s a champion fretter. He was close to being beside himself meeting your mother.”
“Mama?” Her thin brows flew up into her tangled hair. “Mama was thrilled to know you found someone.”
“I know that, but he was concerned about her reaction to the man who was now canoodling with her ex-husband.” I washed down the bite of bacon with some tea.
“Now he knows it was Grandma Marigold he needs to keep an eye on,” she said, then snickered. “I get it, though. Lots of people aren’t as open and accepting as Mama is. I don’t know if I’d be able to be as gracious as she was when you and she split up.”
“She was especially understanding, but she also knew there was something wrong with our marriage. She was relieved in a way, I think, to know that it was me and not her.”
“There is nothing wrong with being gay, Daddy. The terrible thing is that your miserable upbringing and hateful father made you feel as if there was!” Fire danced in her whiskey eyes. Ah, my brave little warrior. She was going to change the world. I just knew it.
“I know, I know. I didn’t mean it like that, so you can calm down. I meant that it was probably a relief to her to understand that my lack of attraction to her in bed was due to my being gay and not any fault of hers.”
“Sorry, I just get riled up when I hear you talk like Granddaddy might be right. He’s not right, about anything. Not one damn thing!” She glowered at her coffee.
I chuckled and shook my head. “You’re quite something. I pity the foolish young swain who crosses you wrong.”
“Swain?” She laughed lightly. “I don’t think anyone uses that word anymore.”
“I do,” I stated, then took another bite of bacon.
She rolled her eyes playfully and the talk drifted from heavy topics such as my father and his hatred of me. I’d not spoken to the man in years. I was quite sure he was happy about that, but there was this niggling need to return home one last time and slap him in the face with my happiness. Just hit him right in the kisser with the wonderful life I was now living. A life free from lies and hiding. A life filled with acceptance and friendship and love. Townsend’s face appeared before me, and my whole being warmed. “I think I have fallen in love with Town.”
“Oh Daddy, we all knew that the first time we saw you two together. The way you look at him makes me weak in the knees. How sad is your life when you’re like ‘I hope I can find a man to look at me the way my Daddy looks at his boyfriend’?”
“Your sappy-faced man is out there, baby. Don’t give up. It took me forty-one years to find mine.” I reached over to pat her small hand. She gave me a tender smile, and the whole world was right as summer rain.
If we had one fully functioning and uninjured player come the finals—if we made it that far—I’d have been shocked. The series against Augusta was chewing our men up. Several were nursing pulls, tears, and a few cracked bones. Even Mitch, our goalie, was sporting a monstrous bruise to his ribs from a collision with some damn Cottonmouth rushing the net last night. They’d beaten us in a shoot-out. Mitch had been off during that shoot-out and now we knew why. Of course, being a hockey player, he’d played through the pain in silence, but his reaction time was impaired as he was having trouble lifting his left arm fully.
So now we were heading back home later today. We’d arrive in Cayuga, rest for a night and be back out on the ice for game six, which we had to win. Having the morning off was nice. It gave me time to hit the treadmill in the hotel gym, chat with Town for a bit, shower, and find me a rental car for the morning. There was something I needed to tend to while I was in my home state. Something that had gnawed at me since last night, when I’d overheard Mitch talking with his father on the phone on the way back to the hotel. I’d only caught bits and pieces of the conversation, and it was one-sided, but I put together enough. Mitch’s dad was talking him up. Our goalie’s father was proud of him. Mitch’s dad knew his son was involved with another man and he seemed to be accepting, since they talked openly and warmly about Shaun, th
e snowboarder Mitch was dating.
I’d rolled that overheard father-son talk around my head all night, tossing and turning, until I had resolved to make the run out to Billow Ridge one last time. I slipped out into a hazy morning, taking a quick Uber from the hotel to Carruthers Car Rentals. There, I picked up the keys to a rather nice Chevy Impala. With the air low and the classic rock station turned up high, I left the city behind and began navigating the smaller and smaller roads that led me into rural Georgia. I passed cotton factories and warehouses left to rot, green pastures, silos, and large signs offering land for sale or lease crumbling to the ground. I paused for a moment at the railroad tracks that led into Billows Ridge, the memories of running up and down those tracks as a kid strong and fresh. I pulled a slow left as the radio station crackled and faded, leaving me with two choices. Country & Western or the local religious station. The latter being the only music that had been allowed in our house after Mama had died. Hymns and gospels. I knew them all, or at least a goodly number of them.
Humming along to Savior, Like a Shepherd, I cruised down what most would call the main street of Billow Ridge. It was more a paved road that led one past a feed mill that long ago had shut its doors, several mobile homes, and a bar—the Lucky Seven. The pub was closed now, but I was sure, come dinner time, the locals would be piling in for a few rounds of forgetfulness.
About a mile from the Lucky Seven sat the Son of Christ Church. My breathing hitched a bit when I saw the small hand-built building with the blood-red cross on its side. My father and I, and several members of Billows Ridge who thought like my father did, had spent one whole summer working on this dream of his. See the churches in the nearby towns, the Presbyterian and the Methodist, they weren’t keeping the faith proper as he liked to say. They’d been sullied by Satan into bending to the whims of the unholiest among us, such as those who believed in a woman’s right to choose, Jews, Blacks, and the gays. My father would preach the true gospel. The righteous word of God. In a way, I was glad my mother had passed when she had. She’d been spared the worst of his insanity. Staring at that scarlet cross I knew, deep in my soul, that he’d have ground her loving spirit into paste with his hate.
