by Amy Aislin
“Six weeks.” Fi’s smile was stressed. “I’ll come by before I leave. Maybe the week before? To say goodbye.” Her gaze swept over his face for a second, smile turning down at the corners. “Do you know that I’ve compared every guy I’ve dated to you?”
He sat upright. “Fi—”
“I’m not saying that to get back together,” she said with a small laugh, brown eyes crinkling. “All I’m saying is that you’re a good guy, Dakota. The best. And I’ve spent the past four years regretting that I didn’t realize I wanted to be a wife, but not a mother, sooner. Maybe we’d still be together.”
Maybe. Maybe not. But her words demonstrated, again, how different their priorities were. If she had the opportunity, Fiona would wish Andy out of existence, whereas Dakota would give Andy the moon and the stars if he could. He swallowed hard, willing the lump back down his throat.
Later, much later, after Fiona left and dinner arrived, Dakota left Tay in the family room to study while he put Andy to bed. Sitting with Andy snuggled against him, one little hand clenched in Dakota’s T-shirt, Dakota opened up an ancient Atlas to a map of the country and pointed out Vancouver.
“That’s where Mommy’s moving?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are we?”
“We’re all the way over here.” Dakota trailed a finger across the page to Toronto.
Andy blinked up at him. “I don’t think we can walk that far, Daddy.”
“No,” Dakota said with a chuckle, glad he could laugh after Fiona had sunk the sun on his good day. “I don’t think so either.”
“Are you moving, Daddy?”
“No, of course not.” He buried his nose in Andy’s hair. “And even if I was, I’d take you with me. Where I go, you go.”
“Forever and ever?”
“Forever and ever.” Or, at least, until Andy was old enough to move out. Something to think about much, much later. Like in fifteen years.
“Is Tay moving?”
“No.”
But he could, which was a fact that had been plaguing his mind since Fiona left. Tay was at the whim of the NHL. With his team being so close to the end of the season and the playoffs, he wasn’t likely to get traded in the next few weeks. After? Trades happened in the off-season too.
Hugging Andy closer, he ignored the sting in his eyes. “I love you, Andy. It’s you and me against the world, huh?”
“And Tay.”
“Yeah,” he whispered past the knot in his throat, both thrilled that Andy loved Tay as much as he did and utterly terrified that he was setting them up for heartbreak. “And Tay.”
It took almost an hour for Andy to fall asleep. He kept jerking himself awake, blinking owlishly, then settling back down when he realized Dakota was still there. Pieces of Dakota’s heart chipped off every time he awoke with a gasp, piling at Andy’s feet in jagged slivers.
How had he not realized sooner that Tay could leave, just like Fiona?
The comparison wasn’t fair. Fiona had wanted to leave. Tay, for all intents and purposes, didn’t.
But he could, through no fault of his own.
Then again, that could be said of anyone he dated. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t bothered since he and Fiona split. There were no guarantees. There never were. Not in dating or anything else. Was he going to let an uncertain future get in the way of what he and Tay had?
Once Andy finally fell asleep, hand going lax on Dakota’s shirt, Dakota kissed his head once, twice, seven times, wishing he could protect him from everything and knowing he couldn’t. It was hard when Andy was so little and didn’t understand everything that was going on.
Heading downstairs, Dakota stood in the family room doorway for a minute. Tay hadn’t noticed him yet, engrossed in a textbook as thick as the last cake Dakota had decorated. He sat cross-legged right smack in the middle of the couch, textbook in his lap, highlighter in one hand. To his left was his tablet, and his backpack sat open at the foot of the couch, exposing a notebook and a second textbook.
Dakota’s heart stuttered. Sped up. The future was so close he could grasp it in one hand. It was right there, sitting not ten feet away on his couch, oblivious to how badly Dakota wanted to see him there every night.
He must’ve made a sound—Tay’s head popped up, a grin overtaking his face before it faded, to be replaced with eyes downturned in concern. “Kota.” Setting the book aside, he stood and crossed the room. “What’s wrong? Is it Andy?”
Dakota drew him close, burying his face in Tay’s neck.
Tay’s hands drifted up to his hips, hooking into the waistband of his pants. “Kota?”
“I like when you call me that,” Dakota mumbled.
“What’s going on?” Pulling back, Tay framed his neck, thumbs sweeping over Dakota’s jaw.
Nothing, he almost said, but he wouldn’t let Tay get away with that kind of bullshit evasiveness. His hands found Tay’s lower back and the warm skin underneath his T-shirt. “I’m in love with you.” The words were pulled from his throat, desperate and true.
Eyes lighting up, Tay’s lips curved upward softly, and he traced Dakota’s mouth with a thumb. “Why does that make you sad?”
“Not sad.” In fact, a gentle breeze might blow him away, that was how weightless he felt. “Just . . . aware that you could go away.”
“No. How could I?” Leaning their foreheads together, Tay whispered against his lips. “I’m in love with you too.” The words streaked against Dakota’s skin in a flurry of warmth. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“But you could.”
“No, I . . .” Tay blinked, seeming to understand where Dakota was coming from. “I . . .” He took a step back. Opened his mouth. Closed it again. His shoulders dipped, and he looked so utterly lost, Dakota wished he hadn’t said anything. “I guess . . . I guess I could. Do you . . .” His gaze trailed past Dakota to the foyer, color draining from his cheeks. “Do you want me to go?”
“No.” Dakota pulled him back in, one arm over his shoulders, the other across his back, holding him in place. “No, never.”
“Are you sure?” Tay whispered from Dakota’s neck.
“I’m sure.”
The future was unpredictable, a blank slate. He was willing to risk it to be with Tay.
He kissed Tay’s temple, his cheek, eventually finding his mouth. Tay hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and his scruff scritched against Dakota’s, the only sound in the silent house. His mouth was warm and lazy. Tay’s kisses were like a drug, and Dakota wanted much more than a simple kiss, much more than Tay’s hands in his hair, much more than his own hands splayed over Tay’s back. He wanted to spread Tay out again, undress him slowly, tease him into a frenzy, and then give him such an orgasm that he passed out afterward.
Gentling the kiss with a final peck to Tay’s wet lips, Dakota said, “Would you really have left if I asked you to?”
Tay kissed the corner of his mouth with a smile. “Yes. But I would’ve tried talking you out of it the entire walk to my car. And then tomorrow I would’ve shown up with scotch as a bribe. All of it.”
Snorting a laugh, Dakota hugged him again. “All the scotch in the world?”
“Mm-hmm. Now, come on.” A kiss landed on Dakota’s cheek. “Sit and tell me what happened.”
Right. Dinner had arrived right after Fiona left, and after that, Tay and Andy had worked on Andy’s 3D castle puzzle, after which Dakota had put Andy to bed. He hadn’t had a chance to tell Tay why Fiona had come.
“Hell no, not the couch.” He pulled Tay toward the stairs. “My back can’t take a second night on there.”
Upstairs, he left his bedroom door open. They lounged against the wooden headboard, Tay next to him, his back leaning against Dakota’s chest, Dakota’s arm around his shoulders.
“How was Andy?” Dakota asked once he’d explained everything. “When he came back outside?”
“Distracted.” Tay loosely grasped Dakota’s wrist. His hair tickled Dakota’s
chin. “A little worried. He asked if I thought she’d come to take him home with her. I said probably not since you hadn’t talked to him about it. That seemed to calm him down.” He tilted his head back to peer at Dakota upside down. “Was that okay?”
“That was perfect. I’d never send him to Fiona’s without asking him first. Not that he’d go. Last time he tried to stay the night with her, he called me just after ten to come pick him up.”
“Too young for sleepovers, you think?”
Dakota grunted. “He sleeps at Calder’s just fine.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot about that.” Tay’s thumb slid over the pulse point on his wrist, shooting goosebumps up his spine. “How are you? With Fiona’s move?”
Sighing, Dakota stared at the ceiling. “Nothing’s going to change. We don’t see her at all anyway. Having her across the country won’t make a difference. I don’t get why she doesn’t want to be a mom to Andy, but . . .” He blew out a breath. He’d never understand, but like his therapist had said, there was no use dwelling on it.
“I don’t either,” Tay said, playing with Dakota’s fingers. “He’s a pretty great kid.” There was a smile in his voice when he continued. “I saw him put a puzzle piece in my backpack today.”
A creak in the hallway where Dakota had left the lights on low, then a shadow against the wall.
“Andy?”
A tiny figure appeared in the doorway, squinting against the light, rubbing one eye with a fist. Sleep creases marred one cheek, and he held Helix under his arm.
“Hey, little man.” Tay held out a hand. “Come snuggle. Your dad makes a surprisingly comfy pillow.”
Dakota scooted down, lying flat on his back, as Andy crawled between them both and lay with his head on Dakota’s shoulder. Tay shifted onto his side and snuggled into Andy’s back, the bottom half of his face hidden by Andy’s head.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered to Dakota. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”
“Stay. Just stay.”
Tay’s eyes crinkled at the corners. Reaching over Andy, he took Dakota’s hand, and they fell asleep like that, all three of them tangled on the bed.
The next morning found them up before the sun. Tay because he had practice, Andy because he followed Tay downstairs for breakfast like a lost duckling, blinking owlishly and clutching Helix to his chest, and Dakota because he wanted to spend time with his boys.
Tay and Andy sat at the breakfast nook with a bowl of fruit between them that Tay had helped Andy slice. Andy still wore his Paw Patrol-patterned pajamas while Tay was dressed in yesterday’s T-shirt and jeans. Dakota stood at the stove and scrambled eggs, keeping half an eye on the conversation several feet away.
“I don’t like kiwi,” Andy said.
Tay hummed. “Have you tried it?”
“A long time ago.”
Dakota smiled to himself. What was a long time ago to a four-year-old? Six months ago?
“I didn’t used to like kiwi either,” Tay said. “Now I do.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know.” A shrug in Tay’s voice. “I guess my tastes changed.”
Adding salt and pepper to the eggs, Dakota chanced a glance up toward the breakfast nook. Andy speared a slice of strawberry with a fork but he was eyeing the fruit on Tay’s plate. “Maybe I’ll try it.”
“Yeah? Here.” Tay cut a small slice of kiwi and dropped it on Andy’s plate.
Andy grimaced at it for a second, then popped it in his mouth. The grimace worsened. “I don’t think I like it.”
“That’s okay. At least you tried it. It’s important to try new things. Gets us out of our comfort zones.”
“What’s a comfort zone?”
“Oh. Hm.” Tay chewed, brow furrowing. “I guess it’s when you get so stuck in a routine that you’re afraid to try other things.”
“Is that how come you don’t share your art?”
Silence from Tay. Dakota glanced up from the eggs again and found Tay looking at him, but almost through him, unseeing, thinking through Andy’s words.
“Maybe,” he finally said. “But I also didn’t think anybody would care about it. Or like it.”
And no doubt it was hard putting his art out there for everybody to see and criticize.
There were those childhood scars again. Would he have been so reluctant had his sisters expressed interest in his art—hell, in him—from a young age? Maybe. Maybe not. All Dakota could do was be there for him, support him through something that didn’t come naturally, and assure him that he’d be here, always, even if nobody liked his art.
Which, of course, they would.
“Will we see you later?” Dakota asked when he walked Tay to the front door after clean up.
“No.” Tay sat on the bench to put on his boots. “I’ve got my second practical after practice, and then I have to go straight to the arena for tonight’s game.”
Hopping up, Tay pecked his lips then opened the closet for his coat. “And uh, speaking of games. Don’t suppose you’d like my comp tickets for Saturday’s?”
Straightening in surprise, Dakota’s eyebrows jumped up. “Really?” When was the last time he went to a live game? “Hell yes, you suppose.”
“I’ve asked management for an extra ticket so you can bring Calder too.”
Grabbing him by the lapels, Dakota yanked him closer and kissed him hard. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it. So will Calder.”
Tay grinned, kissed him again, then bent to grab his backpack.
“I’m not telling Andy, though,” Dakota said. “I want it to be a surprise on Saturday.”
“He won’t hear it from me. Okay, I gotta go.” One more kiss and Tay was opening the front door. “Bye, Andy!”
Feet pattered on the hardwood floor from the kitchen, and two seconds later, Andy launched himself at Tay’s legs. “Bye, Tay!”
Tay bent to kiss his head, and then he leaned over Andy for one last kiss from Dakota. “See you later.”
“Good luck on your practical,” Dakota said.
“Ugh.” Scowl firmly in place, Tay descended the porch steps. “Stay young forever, Andy,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Getting older’s a trick!” With a wave, he jumped into his car.
Dakota shut the door against the frigid morning, goosebumps trailing up his arms, and turned to find a grinning Andy holding his cell phone. “Can we call Grandma an’ Grandpa an’ tell them we have a boyfriend?”
He checked the time. It was barely seven in Halifax. “Sure,” he said, ruffling Andy’s hair. His parents wouldn’t mind being awakened for this kind of news. “Why not?”
If Tay thought his first practical was bad, this second one was much, much worse. He’d rather be in the middle of a dumpster fire.
The first practical had been like a live pop quiz followed by a session on what they could expect once the practicals really started and what was expected of them. Nowhere was it written that the practice mannequins actually moved, simulating real-life medical emergencies. They breathed, they had sensors, and they beeped if someone did something wrong.
According to another guy in his class, the classroom Tay found himself in was often used as a model crime scene for forensics students. Today, it had been remodeled into an emergency scene, complete with cardboard bystanders and a dummy on the ground.
The first thing they were learning about in their practicals was the importance of scene safety. It was important to assess a scene so as not to succumb to the same hazard that had created a patient’s problems or the one inherent to the environment they found themselves in. Every scene had the potential for harm, whether from traffic driving by, an emotional bystander, or an uncontained hazardous material.
“It’s incredibly difficult,” said the instructor, a paramedic with over forty years of experience, “in the heat of the moment, with a patient in front of you, to remember to have good situational awareness. Do not lose track of what’s happening around you.”<
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Cold sweat gathered at his temples. Today’s exercise was a relatively easy one: scene assessment while attempting to revive the patient, who’d suffered a heart attack while getting out of his car in his driveway. There were even plastic groceries strewn about, as well as containers of what, from Tay’s location near the wall, appeared to be household cleaners.
Easy, however, was a relative term. Having someone’s life in his hands should never be easy.
Fuck. He’d never dreaded anything in his life the way he dreaded these practicals. Not just because they were intense; frankly, these were easy compared to the ones he’d be doing next year with real patients. But because the culmination of this whole program would give him a Bachelor of Science he’d be expected to do something with.
Except already he was dreading his first day on the job, whenever that would be. His clammy hands shook, a cold sweat breaking out over the back of his neck. Even knowing he was taking a break from his studies after his exams in April wasn’t enough to stem his panic.
As he walked back to his car two hours later, the early lunch he’d scarfed down after practice from a bakery nearby sat heavy in his stomach. He was due at the arena in an hour; first there’d be a light workout, then a couple of rounds of Balls In My Court, and then the pregame meeting with Coach Dabrowski. Tay needed to eat before then—he wouldn’t get another chance for a decent meal until after the game otherwise—but if he put anything in his stomach right now he’d hurl.
In his car, he sat stiffly and cranked the heat in deference to the chilly spring afternoon, a Tenor Jones song playing on the radio. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Digging his phone out of his pocket, he checked his notifications: a bunch of social media stuff, a reminder that he had lunch with his sisters tomorrow to go over details for their mom’s surprise birthday party, an email from his agent regarding the AITech app, a first draft of the fundraising letter Sandy at Dakota’s office had written for him to review and comment on or approve, and an email from his building manager informing him that the work on the hallway was done.
