by Amy Aislin
Oh good, he’d just described the creature of his nightmares.
Andy loved it. He made little cooing sounds, trying to entice the animals to him.
The zoo was in High Park, only a few minutes’ walk from Dakota’s home. They’d walked leisurely, Andy running ahead, coming back every so often to urge them along. High Park was a massive municipal park covering almost four hundred acres. It was both a natural and recreational park with sporting, educational, and cultural facilities, as well as gardens, playgrounds, trails, picnic areas, and even a restaurant. The zoo too, of course, although it was tiny compared to the rest of the park, taking up only a small portion in the south near Grenadier Pond, and only had about twelve different kinds of animals.
Once Andy got tired of waiting for the capybaras to come to him—they didn’t—they continued through the zoo, which was essentially one lane lined with animal enclosures on either side. Bison, emu, wallabies, sheep. It was a good day to be out; there was a bit of a chill in the air, but the sun was hot and there wasn’t any wind.
Running back from where he’d raced ahead to look at the West Highland cattle, Andy slipped his little hand into Tay’s and kicked at a rock in his path.
Tay’s heart went to mush in his chest, and he sought out Dakota, committing the pleased smile on his face to memory.
“Tay, d’you think the yak and the cow are friends?”
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t be. Do you think they’re friends?”
“The yak’s best friend is the peacock.”
Eyebrows going up, Tay smiled down at the kid. “What makes you think so?”
“’Cause, see?” Andy towed him to the southern edge of the yak enclosure. “The yak’s looking at the peacock.”
Sure enough, one of the yaks was staring at the peacock in the neighboring enclosure.
“Huh.” He squeezed Andy’s hand. “I think you’re right, little man.”
Andy beamed up at him, then he took off again.
“Stay in sight,” Dakota called after him.
There were more people than Tay would’ve thought, at the zoo and in the park itself, for it being the middle of March and not exactly warm. Seemed like other parents and guardians had had the same thought as Dakota and taken their kids out while it wasn’t gloomy and overcast or snowing and freezing. Unconsciously, he reached for Dakota’s gloved hand, only to realize at the last second what he was doing. Fisting his hand at his side, he gritted his teeth.
God, it had been instinct to reach for him. To want to hold his hand as they strolled through the zoo.
Yager was right—he was one of the lucky ones.
Being a public figure sucked sometimes. It was the life he’d chosen; didn’t mean he didn’t sometimes wish things were different. He was mildly surprised he hadn’t been recognized yet. Likely it was due to his toque and the scarf up to his chin.
Or nobody was looking for an NHL player at the High Park Zoo on a Saturday afternoon.
Dakota’s answering smile was reassuring and understanding, and he bumped their shoulders together. Tay acknowledged the gesture with a forced smile. A shoulder bump wasn’t what he wanted, but it would have to do as he tamped back the longing for something he couldn’t have yet.
How did Dean and Grey do it? They were so affectionate at home. How did they turn that off and tuck it somewhere safe while they were out in public? True, they’d been together for years, so perhaps some of that was habit. Tay never wanted to get into the habit of hiding something he wanted—longed for—so badly.
And that meant he’d have to come out sooner rather than later, in the off-season like his agent had recommended. Having to hide longer than that would stifle him. Already the weight on his chest from having to hide, to watch his every move, stole his breath.
From up ahead, Andy waved.
“Has he always had this much energy?” Tay asked.
“Oh yeah.”
“That must’ve been hard to handle when your wife left.”
Sighing, Dakota shoved his hands in his pockets. “It was. Even with help, single parenting is hard. Calder was amazing when Fiona first left—still is. For the first couple of months afterward, my parents and a couple of my brothers took turns coming out to help for a week at a time, but . . .” He shrugged. “For the most part, I’ve been on my own, but I’ve managed.”
Tay side-stepped a wailing toddler. “You’ve more than managed from where I’m standing.”
A self-satisfied smile passed over Dakota’s lips. “I saw a therapist for about a year after Fiona moved out, and she really helped me . . . not understand why Fiona left, but come to terms with it. Accept it. For a long time after Fiona left, I kept expecting her to change her mind and come back. When she didn’t, I spent even longer being angry and sad and confused, on Andy’s behalf and mine. Therapy helped me deal with all that and learn to cope with things I can’t change.”
Heart full to bursting, Tay had never ached to hug someone more. He wanted to bundle Dakota and Andy close and love on them so hard they’d never again feel Fiona’s loss.
“That was really brave of you,” he said, brushing the back of his hand against Dakota’s hip.
Dakota just shrugged again. “I did what I had to do to make sure I could be there one hundred percent for Andy.”
Speaking of, the kid ran back to hug Dakota’s legs with a brief, “Hi, Daddy,” before he was running off again.
The smile on Dakota’s face nearly made Tay melt into a puddle.
His phone vibrated against his thigh, jolting him out of his near swoon, and he pulled it out, squinting at the screen: an email from Mason. In it was a link to a beta version of AITech’s app.
“Have you ever heard of AITech?”
They split momentarily to allow a woman with a stroller to jog past them. Why she didn’t just go around them . . .
“Yeah,” Dakota said, to Tay’s surprise. “New tech start-up on the West Coast, right?”
“How’d you hear about them? I didn’t think a lot of people had.”
“One of my brothers has his hands in a whole bunch of start-ups. He likes to invest.” Dakota picked up the pace slightly to catch up with Andy. “Why do you ask?”
“They want me to be the face of their Instagram campaign for some kind of money-manager app they’ve developed.”
“Cool.” A corner of Dakota’s lips twitched up. “Does that happen often?”
“Every once in a while, yeah. Usually it’s sporting equipment companies wanting me to advertise their equipment or clothes. Not sure about this money app, though.”
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t feel . . . on-brand? No, that’s not right. Brand’s not the right word. Just that I don’t exactly have strong thoughts for money management one way or the other, so it feels kind of . . . disingenuous. I mean, I’d love to help a start-up get off the ground, but . . .”
“The product doesn’t speak to you.”
“Exactly. Thank you.” Trust Dakota to spell out what he was thinking. “They just sent me the link to the beta version of the app for me to try. Maybe once I fiddle around with it . . . Aren’t there a whole bunch of money-managing apps out there, though? What’s different about this one?”
“Can you ask your contact there?”
“Hm.” Tay put his phone away. “It’s probably in the info my agent sent.”
Dakota led them to sit on a rocky ledge surrounding gardens not yet in bloom. It was directly across from the reindeer enclosure Andy was visiting. “Other than sports stuff, what kind of app or company could you see yourself supporting?”
“Good question.” Tay’s teammates supported a whole slew of different things: pet adoption, mental health, support for veterans, human rights, climate change. “I’ve always liked supporting organizations like the Foundation. Ones that help kids have access to sports.”
Thirty feet away, Andy did jumping jacks to entice the reindeer closer. Dakota laughed and snapped a picture wi
th his phone. “Yeah, that’s not going to work, buddy.” He turned back to Tay. “What else?”
Biting his lip, Tay people-watched for a minute, noting the families strolling by, the screaming kids, the couples walking hand-in-hand, but not really registering it. No one had ever asked what he wanted to support before. It had always been thrust on him by his well-meaning agent. “Art supplies, maybe? Drawing apps?”
He had the full focus of Dakota’s attention now. “So you do draw.”
“Uh, yes?” Had Tay mentioned it before? He couldn’t remember.
Dakota jerked his chin Andy’s way. “Andy mentioned you’re drawing a comic.”
“Oh.” Ohhhhhh. Right. He’d told Andy when they were putting the campervan together. It was easier to talk to kids—they didn’t judge you.
“What’s it about?”
“Uh.” Shifting on the cold stone, Tay played with the end of his scarf. “It’s a fantasy about three brothers who are water witches.” Three super queer brothers. He didn’t say that. He didn’t know why. “They have to protect their small town from . . . well . . . It’s loosely based on Irish mythology.” Ugh, there was no way Dakota was interested in his stupid comic.
It’s not all about you, kid.
He jerked a shoulder in a half-shrug. “It’s just a hobby. What about you?” He bumped Dakota’s shoulder. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”
Something shifted behind Dakota’s eyes, there and gone before Tay could identify it. Frustration? Disappointment? A hint of fear? Dakota’s gaze shifted to Andy and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.
A lump squirmed in Tay’s stomach, heavy and dense. Why did he suddenly feel like he’d let Dakota down?
Squinting against the sun, a combination of uncertainty and confusion hardening into a lump in his gut, Dakota said, “I don’t have a lot of spare time. What I do have is after Andy goes to bed, and if there isn’t housework that needs to be done or something that needs decorating, I tend to fall in front of the TV and watch the hockey game.”
“Mine?” Tay said with a smirk. He must’ve caught on to Dakota’s shifting mood because he was clearly trying to inject some levity back into their afternoon, but his smile didn’t meet his eyes.
“Yeah. Or my brother’s.”
Dakota’s hands went clammy and the lump in his stomach sank to his feet. He’d not shared with anyone except Calder that he’d seen a therapist, and Calder only because he’d needed a babysitter. It wasn’t something he was ashamed of—in fact, he was immensely grateful for the help it’d given him. At the time, he hadn’t wanted to worry his family more than they already were, and since then, there’d never been a point to bringing it up.
He’d given a little piece of himself to Tay by telling him, drawn Tay that much closer into his world . . . and Tay couldn’t reciprocate by telling him even just a little bit about his art? Was this Tay’s way of putting up a wall between them? Was it possible he wasn’t as serious about them as he’d claimed on their date? It hadn’t seemed so earlier when they’d been kissing in the family room or walking side by side through the zoo and exchanging secret smiles.
It was possible Tay didn’t know what he wanted. He was young and talented and so effervescent, with years ahead of him before he needed to think about getting serious with someone. Maybe Tay was having second thoughts about their relationship and beginning to pull back before they both got in too deep.
“Dad!” Andy sped across the lane, dodging other people. Swallowing back disappointment so thick he could chew on it, Dakota spread his thighs, and Andy plowed into him with an oof and a giggle. Chin on Dakota’s chest, he said, “Can I have a snack?”
“Sure.” Hugging him close, Dakota kissed his head and held on for an extra-long moment. “We’ll head back to the house and have some cheese and crackers.”
“And my Paw Patrol yogurt.”
“Of course,” Dakota said, standing. “How could I forget?”
Andy took his hand in his own little one, Tay’s in the other, and walked between them, swinging their arms as they headed out of the zoo and took the lane that led out of the park.
“You’ve got to take off now, right?” Dakota asked, looking at Tay over Andy’s head.
Tay’s smile was strained. He’d definitely picked up that something was going on. “Yeah.”
“Aw.” Andy pouted. “Stay, Tay. You can have one of my Paw Patrol yogurts.”
“Thank you, that’s very sweet. But I’ve got to be at the arena in a couple of hours for the game.”
Which meant Dakota would have to table the conversation he wanted to have with him until Tay had more than the few minutes it took to walk back home. Not to mention Dakota wasn’t comfortable bringing it up in front of Andy.
Andy kept up a running chatter on the way home, weaving a story about how the capybaras and the highland cows would join them in the campervan on the road trip to Grandma and Grandpa’s. Dakota caught Tay sneaking glances at him over the top of Andy’s head the entire time, forcing Dakota to snap himself out of it.
They’d talk, Dakota would make sure of it. But right now, Tay was distracted, and with the game tonight, it wasn’t a good headspace for him to be in.
Setting aside everything else for now, he settled Andy at the breakfast nook with a snack, then met Tay at the door, where he was waiting anxiously.
“Are we okay?” he asked before Dakota could say anything, worry and confusion written all over his face.
Dakota tried on a smile of reassurance. “Yeah.” It must’ve worked because Tay’s shoulders lowered, and a tiny smile lifted his lips as he placed the gentlest of kisses on the corner of Dakota’s mouth. Dakota closed his eyes and breathed Tay in, holding the kiss close.
“See you soon?” Tay asked, a confounding mixture of hope and anxiousness in his gaze.
“Yeah,” Dakota promised, because they were having that conversation sooner rather than later. “Have a good game.”
Tay was gone a moment later with a shouted, “Bye, Andy!” that Andy returned from the kitchen, and a final wave for Dakota.
Dakota didn’t often have anything to decorate on Mondays. His Thursdays to Saturdays were always the busiest. On this Monday, however, he had stroller-, rattle-, and onesie-shaped cookies to decorate in pink and white and yellow for an office baby shower tomorrow.
“You’re going to beat that icing to death if you keep taking your anger out on it.”
He scowled at Calder, but his cousin wasn’t even looking at him, too busy with whatever was on the laptop in front of him. Not too busy to scold Dakota, though. And Calder was right, damn it. He couldn’t overbeat the icing or he’d screw up the texture and have to start over.
Calder sat on the other side of the table, down at the other end, in the exact spot Tay had sat the night he’d come for dinner and stayed to study while Dakota decorated the golf cake. The same night Tay had sat in his lap and they’d rubbed one off on each other. Tay had been uninhibited and sexy, and Dakota still couldn’t believe that someone so vibrant and successful would want anything to do with a single dad eleven years his senior.
Unless he didn’t want anything to do with him, as Dakota had managed to convince himself since he’d let Tay walk out of the house two days ago. They hadn’t had time to talk since then, outside of a few exchanged text messages, and the stress was eating Dakota alive from the inside out, squeezing his ribs tight until it choked off his air.
Setting the icing aside, he caught a glimpse of his cell phone out of the corner of his eye, sitting innocently on a placemat a couple seats away. The same phone that had a text from Tay that Dakota hadn’t responded to yet.
Hey! I had a dream about a capybara invasion last night, Tay had written earlier this afternoon. Made me think of you. How’s your day going? Coffee date sometime this week? Maybe tomorrow? :)
Dakota had a day full of meetings tomorrow. If nothing else, he should tell Tay not to come by.
“If you grumble one more time, I’m going to throw a spatula at you,” Calder murmured.
Was he grumbling? “Why are you still here?” It was nearing 10:00 pm.
That pulled Calder’s attention from the laptop and both eyebrows went up, lips pressed in a tight line.
“Sorry.” Dropping into a chair, Dakota ran his hands over his face. “I’m just . . .”
“Angry?”
“No. I’m not angry. I’m . . .” Digging the heel of his palms into his eyes, he inhaled sharply, expanding his ribcage. “Disappointed, I guess.” Sad. Sad was a good word.
Calder closed the laptop and moved up the table to sit across from him. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened really.” Sitting back, Dakota reached for his phone and brought up Tay’s last text. “I’m just realizing that I don’t think Tay’s as into this . . . relationship, I guess, as I am.” He reread the text.
Was he reading too much into Tay’s avoidance of more serious topics?
Calder scrutinized him. “What makes you say that?”
“He’s an expert at changing the subject when a topic comes up he doesn’t want to talk about. It makes it hard to get to know him.”
“Personal topics?”
“Yeah.”
“And you think that means he doesn’t want you to truly know him,” Calder accurately surmised.
Groaning, Dakota thumped his head against the back of the chair. “I think I’m overreacting.”
“Ya think?”
Shit. Shit, shit, and shit again. Ever since Tay had left after the zoo on Saturday, Dakota had purposely taken a step back, taking his time responding to Tay’s texts as he figured out whether he wanted to invest more time in their relationship if Tay wasn’t willing to put in the effort. What if he was reading things all wrong?
“There might be a reason he’s avoiding certain topics,” Calder said. “You don’t know what’s happened in his past. Maybe something made it hard for him to talk about himself. Doesn’t mean you don’t know him. Tell me what you do know.”
