by Amy Aislin
“Thanks.” Dakota rapped his knuckles on the top of the desk. “If anything comes up, give me a call? Otherwise, I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
Tay held the door for him. On their way down the hallway to the elevator, Tay said, “I thought you only had fifteen minutes?”
“My boss is late.” Dakota pressed the button for the elevator. “So I’ve got an extra few minutes.”
They headed for a nearby coffee shop where Tay treated them to coffee and a treat—a just-out-of-the-oven warm chocolate chip cookie for Tay and a warmed mini meat pie for Dakota.
“Why don’t you grab us a seat?” Tay said. “I’ll wait for the tray.”
He sat across from Dakota a few minutes later, setting the tray in the middle of the table and passing Dakota his food. Sitting back with his own coffee, Tay took a sip of the too hot liquid and examined Dakota’s face in the light streaming in from the window to his left. His shoulders were more relaxed, the stress lines around his mouth less pronounced, and his eyes less pinched.
“Long day?”
Dakota made an Mm sound around a sip of his own coffee.
“Are they usually?”
Dakota shook his head and exchanged his coffee mug for a fork. “Not usually. It’s been a heavy meeting day today, though. Almost back to back until four.”
“How do you get any actual work done if you’re in meetings all day?”
“I don’t,” Dakota said with an unamused chuckle, digging his fork into his pie. “Not until after Andy goes to bed.”
Tay broke off a piece of his cookie. “That sucks.”
“It does, but it’s not often. I’m pretty lucky that, for the most part, I leave the job at the office when I leave at the end of the day.” Dakota slid his pie in Tay’s direction. “Want some?”
“I’m good, thanks. I had lunch after practice.” The cookie was warm and gooey in Tay’s mouth, and he chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Is that why you work in non-profit? Because of the work-life balance?”
“Depending on which non-profit you work for, the work-life balance isn’t always better than one you might have at a for-profit. I got really lucky with the Foundation, but I also established boundaries early on. Unless I’ve got an urgent, last-minute project or am waiting on time-sensitive information, I don’t check emails outside of work hours. Andy’s my first priority, not some board member who’s got their underwear in a bunch over the wording in an email we sent our donors.”
The grouchiness in his voice had Tay covering up a smile with his coffee mug.
“I only put in a couple of hours of work after Andy’s gone to bed after days like today, where I don’t get anything done and need to catch up on a few things.”
“Speaking of work, why don’t you tell me more about this direct mail appeal I supposedly agreed to help with. Also, what’s direct mail?”
Dakota laughed softly, infectious and sweet. “In the non-profit world, direct mail is a request for a donation. It’s a story-based letter with a couple of asks buried in the copy. I’m sure you’ve seen them from hospital foundations and social justice charities. ‘This is Jordan, he’s five and for only fifty cents a day you can make sure he has clean water to drink.’”
Tay nodded. “Okay. So in the Foundation’s case, it’d be something like, donate today and help us renovate this athletic facility so kids of all ages can have access to sports.”
“Exactly.” Dakota pointed his fork at him.
“Who does the letter get mailed to?”
“Our donors and volunteers.”
“Okay. How can I help, though?” Tay finished off his cookie and set the empty plate back on the tray. “I don’t know how to write that kind of thing.”
“Sorry, I should’ve been clearer.” Dakota moved his own empty plate to the tray, then cupped his hands around his mug. “You don’t need to write anything. I have a writer on staff. Being our signatory means the letter is told from your point of view, in your own voice, and with your signature at the bottom, but my writer will draft it after she interviews you for your story.”
“What story?”
“You tell me,” Dakota said, a glint in his eye Tay didn’t understand until Dakota’s feet trapped one of his own underneath the table. “Have you ever taken advantage of a program run by a non-profit so you could keep playing?”
Oh, so he was going to pretend they weren’t playing footsies under the table, was he? Fine. Tay could play this game too. Good thing they were tucked into a quiet corner of the café. “Actually, yeah.” He ran the top of one foot up Dakota’s leg.
Dakota choked on his coffee.
Tay grinned.
“One of the first March Break camps I went to as a kid. I’m pretty sure it was supported by a non-profit.”
Dakota wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Ours?”
“No idea. I’d have to ask my parents.”
They chatted business for a few more minutes. Tay purposefully kept his feet planted on the floor and his concentration on Dakota’s words, not the heat that arrowed into his chest when Dakota smiled at him. This was important to Dakota and to the Foundation, and Tay really did want to help.
On their way out of the coffee shop, Tay dropped their tray of dishes on the counter. Outside, the fresh air was cold against his face, but he was warmed from the coffee and the company, and it felt nice against his skin as they walked back to the arena.
“Listen.” Dakota shoved his hands in his pockets. “I know this sort of thing would normally go through your agent, so if you want me to—”
Tay waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Just get in touch with me directly. You’ve got my number anyway.” At the end of the sidewalk, Tay hung a left in the direction of the subway. “And if you want to use it for something else,” he said, walking backward to speak to Dakota, “that’d be okay too.”
Tilting his head back, Dakota’s laugh was loud and genuine. “You’re incorrigible.”
“It’s my middle name.”
Dakota was shaking his head as he headed in the opposite direction. “See you later, Tay.”
“I’m sorry your mom couldn’t make it for dinner, Andy.” She was, apparently, “too wiped” after her most recent business trip.
Andy didn’t reply, just kept rolling dough into balls for their homemade biscuits. Stew bubbled in a Crock-Pot on the counter. Dakota had set it to cook before dropping Andy off at preschool this morning. Too bad Fiona wouldn’t get to try it.
“How was school today?”
“Good.” Andy placed a ball of dough onto the baking tray. “We had chicken and rice for lunch an’ went outside to play.”
“Yeah? It was a nice day to be outside. I went outside too.”
“Where?”
“Just down the street.” Dakota wiped his hands on a towel and let Andy finish the biscuits since he seemed to be enjoying it. “Tay came to visit, and we went out for coffee and a snack.”
“I like Tay, Daddy.”
“So do I, buddy.” Boy, did he. More than was probably wise given they barely knew each other. “Speaking of Tay,” he said, getting his mind off Tay’s smile. “He brought something for you.” Digging into the laptop bag he’d left on the bench of the breakfast nook, he removed the jersey and unfolded it to show Andy the back. “He got Chernyshevsky’s autograph for you.”
Andy’s eyes lit up and he reached for the jersey.
Dakota pulled it away. “Wash your hands first, please.”
Taking the two steps down from his stool, Andy moved it to the sink to wash his hands before running back and crashing into Dakota’s legs. “Wanna wear it.”
“’Kay. Arms up.”
Dakota went back to the biscuits when Andy ran off to check himself out in the mirror in the foyer.
“Daddy!” Andy yelled from the front of the house. It was followed by the pat-pat-pat of little feet running back to the kitchen. He ran full-tilt and barely stopped himself against the cupboards. “Dad, can Tay come for dinner?�
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Placing the last biscuit on the tray, Dakota pursed his lips and washed his hands. “Tonight?”
“Yeah. Tay likes stew.”
“Oh, really?” Dakota chuckled. “And how do you know that?”
Andy hugged his leg and batted his eyes.
“It’s kind of last minute.” Dakota tussled Andy’s hair. “He might have other plans.”
“But he said he’d come next time,” Andy insisted. “It’s next time. Call him, Daddy.”
Unable to think of a reason not to, Dakota did. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he warned his son.
“Oh, it’s much too late for that,” said a teasing voice in his ear.
Warmth uncurled in Dakota’s belly. “Hi, Tay.”
“Hi. Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“Andy and I have a request.”
Andy pulled on his arm. “Wanna see.”
“Hang on, Tay. Let me put you on speaker.” He did just that and placed the phone face up on the counter. “There you go,” he said to Andy. “Now you can talk to Tay.”
“Hi, Tay!”
“Hi, little man.”
Andy grasped the edge of the countertop with both hands and pulled himself up onto his toes. Dakota nudged the stool over in his direction. Climbing up, Andy brought the phone closer, leaning his elbows on the counter. “D’you wanna come for dinner?”
A pause, then, “Right now?”
“We’re making stew an’ biscuits an’ Uncle Calder made lemon tarts.”
“Lemon tarts, huh?” The amusement in Tay’s voice had Dakota biting back a smile. “What time’s dinner?”
The stew was ready. It was just the biscuits that needed to go in the oven, and they didn’t need long. “Whenever you get here.”
“Text me your address and I’ll grab an Uber.”
Twenty minutes after he hung up with Tay, Andy bit his lip and rolled a puzzle piece between his little fingers.
“What’s wrong, bud?”
Andy crawled over to him and sat on his lap. “Where’s Tay?”
“He’s on his way.” Wrapping his arms around him, Dakota rested his chin on the top of his head. “Remember a couple of weeks ago, when we went to visit Uncle Calder? And there was so much traffic, we were at the same stoplight for twenty minutes?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Tay’s having the same problem. He’s just stuck.” At the height of rush hour, who knew how much longer he’d be stuck for.
Andy scrambled up. “He’s stuck? We have to go get him. Come on, Dad.” He pulled on Dakota’s arm.
Heart full to bursting over his tiny, thoughtful kid, Dakota reeled him in and kissed his head. “It’s easier if we wait here for him. He’ll be here soon.”
Soon was another forty minutes, during which Tay kept him updated on his ETA via text, and in which Andy asked the same two questions over and over: Does Tay like puzzles? and Can I introduce him to Helix?
When the doorbell finally rang, Andy abandoned their campervan without a second thought. Dakota followed after him, about to remind him the rules for answering the door—namely, don’t do it unless an adult is with you—and found Andy dancing from foot to foot next to the door like he had to pee.
“Impatient much?” Dakota joked, yanking the door open.
Tay’s thick winter coat was open, revealing a wide chest covered in the same gray-and-white patterned, long-sleeved T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier. A backpack was slung over one shoulder. On the street, a car with an Uber sticker in the windshield pulled away from the curb.
“Come in, Tay.” Andy tugged on his hand.
Tay shot Dakota an eye-crinkling smile as he stepped into the house. To Andy, he said, “Nice jersey.”
“Andy, what do we say to Tay?” Dakota said, hanging Tay’s coat in the closet.
“Thank you!” Andy bounced in place. “Imma wear it every day.”
“He probably will too,” Dakota muttered to Tay.
As he shut the closet door, Tay squeezed his arm and Dakota felt the touch all the way into his toes.
“I’m sorry I’m so late. I didn’t expect traffic to be so bad.”
“It’s okay.” Dakota rubbed Tay’s lower back, the move reminiscent of something he’d do for a loved one to reassure them. Tay leaned into him, warm and strong, and it was a struggle for Dakota not to pull him closer. “You’re right on time, actually,” he said, redirecting his thoughts to the task at hand. “The biscuits are just about to come out of the oven.”
Andy led the way into the kitchen, chattering about his day, oblivious to the secret smiles Dakota and Tay shot each other over his head. And if they played footsies again under the table while they ate, that was their little secret.
Dakota still didn’t know what had come over him today at the coffee shop. Footsies in public? He’d been sitting across from Tay, who so earnestly wanted to help and whose eyes had latched on to Dakota and didn’t let go, and he’d been desperate for a touch, even just a little one. It was a stupid move—anyone could’ve seen. He’d half expected Tay to pull away as he glanced furtively around for witnesses.
Instead, he’d taken one further and teased Dakota back. Dakota had walked back to the office with a semi, thanking his own foresight at wearing a long coat to work this morning.
Resting his elbows on the table around his empty bowl, he watched Tay and Andy play round after round of rock-paper-scissors. Tay was a natural with Andy. Why that surprised Dakota, he couldn’t say. When he’d been twenty-three years old, kids had scared the crap out of him. What was he supposed to do with them that wouldn’t break them?
Plus, he’d been just out of university, hadn’t met Fiona yet, and when he wasn’t working, he was spending time with his closest friends, getting drunk off cheap beer, and playing video games.
From the little time he’d spent with Tay the past few days, he could already tell Tay handled responsibility better than he ever had at that age. Mixing what was no doubt a grueling hockey schedule with an intensive degree program? It was a minor miracle he’d been able to come to dinner so last minute.
“Tay, come see my puzzle,” Andy said, practically climbing over Tay on the bench of the breakfast nook in an effort to get out.
“Hang on.” Tay grunted when Andy’s elbow landed somewhere it shouldn’t have. “Here.” Grabbing Andy around the waist, he set him down next to the table. “Let me help your dad clean up first.”
“Go.” Dakota waved a hand. “I’ve got this. There isn’t much to clean up anyway.”
Andy kept up a running monologue on his way to the family room.
“Ooh, a 3D puzzle,” came Tay’s voice from the other room. “I’ve never done one of these.”
“You gotta make sure the pieces are in right so it doesn’t fall over.”
“Ah. Good tip. Thank you. You do many of these?”
“Me an’ Daddy did an airplane once.”
The airplane had been a bitch and a half, and Dakota never wanted to see it again. Unless it was in the recycling bin.
Once the dishes were done and the leftovers put away, including a to-go container for Tay, he went into the family room and sat on the arm of the couch. Flat on their stomachs on the floor, Andy and Tay had their heads bent close together, muttering to each other too softly for Dakota to hear, and appeared to be sorting through their puzzle pieces for a particular one.
How was it possible for his heart to flip in his chest and his stomach to clench with anxiety all at the same time?
There was a whole host of reasons not to get involved with Tay. They were both busy, and neither really had time to explore this thing between them, to start. Introducing someone into Andy’s life who might not stick around for the long-haul had never been part of his plan. Not to mention that Tay was a sports celebrity and Dakota . . . was not. How would that work? How would they go out together without seeming like they were out?
This would be so much easier if it was only sexual attractio
n; then they could keep this about sex. But that would never work—they didn’t know each other that well yet, but Dakota already knew he could fall for Tay faster than he’d ever fallen for anyone.
And he wanted to fall. That was the kicker. He wanted someone to call when he was having a bad day. Someone to snuggle with on the couch while watching a movie. Someone to share meals with. Someone to take out to dinner. Someone to do mundane, everyday chores with like grocery shopping or cleaning the bathroom. Someone to take Andy to the park with. It was too soon to want all of that with Tay, but he could easily get there.
Dakota had followed hockey for as long as he could remember, had even played recreationally until he’d graduated high school, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be bummed that he’d only hung out with Tay at family skate when there’d been a whole arena full of players. He’d only had eyes for Tay, and it had nothing to do with him being a hockey player, and everything to do with how Tay made his heart race and his belly swoop just by smiling at him.
What did Tay want, though?
Setting it aside for now, he joined Andy and Tay on the floor.
“Dad, when it’s finished, we’re gonna go on a road trip to visit Grandma an’ Grandpa.”
“Oh yeah?” Leaning on his elbows, Dakota winked at Tay. “What are we going to see along the way?”
“A koala and a giraffe and a mountain lion.”
Tay coughed to cover a laugh.
“And what are the koala and the giraffe and the mountain lion doing?” Dakota asked.
“Going on a safari.”
Nodding, Tay slotted a piece into place. “Seems reasonable.”
“And then they’ll come to Grandma an’ Grandpa’s with us.”
“I don’t think the campervan’s big enough,” Dakota said.
“It’s a ginormous campervan.”
“Ah. Of course it is.” Making note of the time, Dakota said, “Five more minutes and then it’s bedtime, okay?”
“Nooo,” Andy wailed, scrambling onto his knees and latching on to Tay’s head. “I wanna play with Tay.”
“I’ve got to head out anyway,” Tay said, head squished between Andy’s arms. Whether or not that was true, Dakota appreciated the backup.
