by Amy Aislin
“Have you tried asking? Or—and I know you have a life here and everything—but you could always move there. To be together. If that’s what you want.”
He wanted to be together so much his entire being yearned for Christian. Even though they weren’t currently in the same room, Riley knew without looking that Christian was lying in bed in Riley’s room down the hall, half awake, just waiting for Riley to come back.
Had Christian waited in bed that morning six years ago, too? Waiting for Riley to come back? Only to realize, hours later, that he wasn’t? That Riley was already on his way back to Denver?
His chest felt like someone was using it as a hockey net, catching the hundreds of hard pucks being shot at him until he couldn’t breathe. Riley was really no good with feelings. Having them, talking about them. Christian knew that. In fact, it had been Christian who started any discussion about feelings for…well, pretty much their whole lives.
Yet Christian had also started the last one. When he’d insinuated that he was ready to give up everything, his whole life in Vancouver, to move to Denver to be with Riley. Subtly insinuated, as if feeling Riley out. And Riley had ran.
Now, all of a sudden, Riley had an amazing coaching opportunity fall in his lap. With a team that, quite frankly, could use his expertise if the videos he’d watched online were anything to go by. How the fuck had he been put in this situation again where he had to choose between Christian and hockey? He couldn’t have both; he’d already learned that lesson the hard way. Been there, done that. Lost my guy to prove it.
What was obvious now hadn’t been so obvious in his youth: Sometimes people needed to—hell, sometimes people wanted to—make sacrifices to be with the person they loved. And Christian had been willing to make that sacrifice—he’d said so on Christmas Eve. What was also plain-as-day now was that Christian wasn’t going to offer himself up again. Not after he’d been so burned the last time. He was so clearly waiting for Riley to make the first move for once and Riley had done nothing the past two weeks except sit on his ass and act like everything was golden.
But it wasn’t. The last two weeks might’ve been fun, might’ve been like old times, might’ve helped them reconnect…but they hadn’t talked about the important stuff. Of course, Christian wouldn’t open up, not after what happened last time. And since Christian was keeping mum, it meant Riley was too because he’d always followed Christian’s lead when it came to talking about relationship stuff.
Their talk on Christmas Eve was muddled in confusing emotions in his head. Riley remembered asking Christian if the reason he hadn’t moved back home was because he thought Riley didn’t want him to. And he remembered Christian looking away as if he didn’t want Riley to know that his opinion still meant that much to him. For the life of him Riley couldn’t remember what he’d said or done after that. Had he talked his way around the topic? Was that when he’d burst into tears? Had he specifically told Christian that he’d never wanted this for them? That he missed him every day and was dying for him to come home?
Riley didn’t think so. Not that it mattered anymore. Because things were going to change. Starting today.
* * *
Riley’s second coaching opportunity in as many days came via email from Coach Davenport. Sitting on a barstool in Warm Glow’s kitchen after the kind of day Riley would like to relegate to the sixth circle of hell, he gave it a quick read and silently thanked his lucky stars the coach had been at Mitch and Alex’s party on New Year’s Eve. The phone beeped in his hand. Low battery 15%. He closed out of his open apps, slipped the phone back into his pocket, then let his forehead fall to the countertop.
“I still don’t understand how I didn’t have enough bread,” Sam said. Her voice sounded dazed and when Riley rolled his head to the side to look at her, pressing his cheek into the counter, he saw that she looked dazed, too.
Henry sat on a barstool next to Riley. “That was the busiest day we’ve had yet.” How was it that the seventy-year-old looked fresh as a fucking daisy yet he and Sam looked like they’d just completed a bag skate, the dreaded of all hockey drills? “Did you put an ad out?”
“No,” Riley muttered. How did one go about placing ads anyway? And where would he place them?
“Are you sure?” Sam asked.
Of course he was sure but he understood where they were coming from. The only advertising he’d done was to place a sign in the window. January 2, all bread loaves buy 1 get 1 50% off! Yet they’d been slammed all day. A small window sign shouldn’t have drawn in that many people.
The bakery’s front door opened and closed. Both Sam and Henry looked at him.
“Did you forget to lock the door again?” Sam asked, a heavy dose of exasperation in her voice.
Heaving a great sigh, Riley took his tired feet and aching knee toward the front. “You two go home,” he said. “You’ve been here longer than me.”
He’d be left to finish cleaning the kitchen on his own since he’d sent his two part-timers home after they’d finished cleaning the front. But it was no less than he deserved since he’d slept in longer than he should’ve after being awakened in the middle of the night and had shown up late at the shop.
It was not Christian standing in his shop like he’d secretly hoped. A woman in her late seventies or early eighties with gray and white hair sticking out of a pink and purple knitted toque stood with a large tote over her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing around at the upended chairs stacked on the tables. “You’re closed, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, sorry. We reopen at seven tomorrow morning.”
“Darn. I was hoping to get the fresh bread from the advertisement on my way home.”
She turned to leave but—
“Wait.” Riley rounded the counter. “What advertisement?”
“The one in the Beaver.” She took a folded newspaper out of her giant purse. “The ad’s been running for the past three days.”
Right there, taking up a whole half page, was an advertisement for today’s sale.
January 2, 7am to 5pm!
Buy 1 get 1 50% off any loaf of fresh bread.
Baguettes, sourdough, rye, pumpernickel, gluten-free, and many more.
And try one of our award-winning pastries while you’re here or enjoy a hot lunch.
Now serving alcohol.
That last sentence looked like it had been added as an afterthought. Warm Glow’s name, logo, and address appeared, as well as a full-color photo of the inside of the shop, showing the bread and pastry displays.
Christian. Who else would know that Sam’s pastries had won awards? Although how he’d found that out Riley couldn’t guess.
His chest filled with warmth and he bit his lip to try and stop the silly grin that wanted to escape. “Can I keep this?” he asked the lady. It was so going in his memory scrapbook.
“Sure?” She sounded like she was questioning his sanity. How does he not know about this ad if he works here? was probably what was going through her head right now. She turned to leave.
“Hey, wait. If you’d like to come by tomorrow for some bread, I’ll honor today’s sale.”
“Oh!” Her eyes lit up. “That’s very sweet, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to come by until after five again.”
“That’s fine,” Riley said. “Somebody’s usually here until about five thirty anyway, cleaning up. I’ll set a couple aside for you. What kind would you like?”
She waved a hand in the air. “Whatever you recommend, I’m not picky. You can put it aside for Martha.”
“Martha. I’m Riley.”
“Well, Riley, thank you. See you tomorrow.”
“You will.” Though he hoped not. But if things didn’t go as planned with Christian then he’d need the distraction from his broken heart.
“Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year,” he said to her retreating back. The door shut behind her and he remembered to lock it this time.
Happy New Year indeed. He was clutching the newspaper to his chest as he walked through the empty kitchen to the small office he shared with Sam, pausing to lock the back door on his way. This ad… It was just additional proof that Christian was still taking care of him. Waking the laptop, he brought up his email program to respond to Coach Davenport. Christian was leaving tomorrow, which meant he didn’t have a lot of time to put things in place. Man, putting this together was like orchestrating the most complicated of hockey plays. But this one was much more important. This was a play for Christian. For their future.
This was the play of his life.
Mitch Greyson’s author friend who needed a new website? Was Alex Dean.
Mind. Blown.
Sitting on the couch in his mom’s family room, Christian still couldn’t believe it. He had a copy of Alex Dean’s as-of-yet unpublished gay romance on his e-reader to read on the flight to Vancouver tomorrow. Because he needed to know his client’s brand before he could start designing a website for him, right?
Sure. But really, he just wanted to read Alex Dean’s book. His gay romance book anyway, that he was publishing under a pen name. Christian had already read No Guts, No Glory, Alex’s non-fiction bestseller about the dark side of sports that he’d published a few years ago.
“I want to read it, too,” his mom said when he finished telling her about his morning meeting with Mitch and Alex. She sat in the armchair perpendicular to the couch with Trevor on her lap, watching the end of Slumdog Millionaire.
“I’m not allowed to share it.”
The look she shot him was dry. “Not even with your mother?”
“I promised.”
Shaking her head in mock disappointment, she went back to her movie. Christian opened up his laptop to get some work done. It had been the one stipulation when he’d asked his boss for an extra week off: that he keep an eye on his emails and get a couple hours of work done every day. He hadn’t minded; it kept him busy when he wasn’t with his mom or with Riley. Plus, a digital marketer never really took time off.
Eventually he switched gears to work on Riley’s website user guide. Slumdog Millionaire ended and his mom traded out the DVD for La La Land. Christian waited for the opening scene to be over before he addressed her.
“Hey, Mom?”
“Hmm?” She barely took her eyes off Emma Stone dancing in the street with her friends.
“Sorry we haven’t spent much time together the past couple of weeks.” He was leaving tomorrow and he felt like he’d barely seen his mom he’d been so focused on Riley.
His mom snorted. “I didn’t want to see you anyway.”
What? “Hey!” Ouch.
“Oh, I don’t mean it that way.” She turned to look at him. “Do you remember the day you got here? And I sent you to Warm Glow to get bread?” She paused, waiting for him to figure out the rest.
“You knew Riley would be there,” he said. It was as he’d suspected: she hadn’t needed bread. She’d just wanted him to find Riley.
“You’ve missed your friend for so long, Christian. And every time you would come home to visit me, you would pretend like he doesn’t live right around the corner.” Damn. Had he tried too hard to avoid even looking in the direction of Riley’s house? Was that how she’d figured it out? Moms. They saw through everything. “You need each other. It was time for you both to stop being stupid.”
He snorted a laugh and quietly admitted to himself she was right. They did need each other. And they were both so, so stupid. Neither one of them had brought up the fact that Christian was leaving tomorrow, as if not mentioning it would prevent it from happening. Christian kept waiting and waiting for Riley to ask him to stay. After the past two weeks, it seemed like Riley wanted him to.
But what if he didn’t? When you go back to BC… What if the past two weeks had been an extended one-night stand for Riley and tomorrow morning he’d once again disappear from Christian’s life? His gut cramped at the thought and he swallowed hard. Forcing his mind back to his work didn’t help keep him distracted from things he didn’t want to think about. His mind kept drifting to Alex and Mitch. They’d been married for six years he’d found out this morning, which was about how long Alex had been playing for Toronto. But six years ago, Mitch had been fresh out of college and drafted by Boston. Then he’d been traded to a team on the West Coast. It was only a couple years ago that he’d coincidentally landed on the same team as his husband. So not only had they weathered the distance between them for those four years Mitch had played for a different team, but for however many years before that while Mitch attended college and Alex played for Florida.
Yet they’d made it work. And here he and Riley were, in the same town, and they couldn’t manage to pull it together long enough to have an honest discussion about where they wanted to go from here.
It wasn’t until over an hour later, butt numb from sitting in the same position, thighs warm from the laptop on his legs, that his mom interrupted his work to say, “This is going to be your life one day.” Christian looked up to find her nodding at the TV.
It was the end of the movie, where Emma Stone’s character, Mia, walks into Seb’s to find her ex has finally made his dream come true and a little fantasy plays out. A what-if fantasy.
Christian got what his mom was saying. What if he got on that plane tomorrow? Would they randomly bump into each other one day, both of them living their own lives with new partners? Wondering how they’d fucked things up so much and how different their lives would be if they’d made different decisions?
He didn’t want that for them. He’d extended his vacation time for Riley. So that they could…well, maybe not get back what they once had. There were too many empty years between them for that. But they could have something better, something stronger.
A long-distance relationship hadn’t worked last time, so he had no reason to believe it would this time. He was older now. Wiser. More mature. More experienced. And they both had more money, so they could fly back and forth to see each other more often.
But not waking up next to Riley every day? Not being here for the good stuff and the bad? Having most of their conversations via text or phone or FaceTime? It felt like a fabrication of a relationship, one where they’d both get tired of the unoccupied space in bed where the other should be. Tired of constantly saying “I miss you,” of scheduling calls around both their schedules. Tired of not being able to see or touch or hear the other half of your soul whenever you wanted.
And Riley was the other half of Christian’s soul. They just fit. Always had. Like they saw each other better than anyone else. Better than they saw themselves even.
How did Barry Allen explain it on that episode of Supergirl? There are multiple Earths in the universe and they all occupy the same place in space. But they all vibrate at different frequencies, so they can’t see each other. Theoretically, if you could run fast enough, you could create a breach and travel between the worlds.
So theoretically, if two of those worlds started vibrating at the same frequency, would they be able to see each other? Christian didn’t know; the theory of the multiverse was just too damn confusing. But either way… That was him and Riley. They vibrated at the same frequency. They saw each other. If they didn’t they never would’ve made fast friends that first day of second grade.
Mind made up, Christian shut down his laptop and headed to his room to pack.
* * *
The knock on his bedroom window scared the piss out of him a couple hours later. Clad in only a towel, hair still wet from his shower, he pulled the curtain aside. It was fully dark outside and the light was on in his room so he couldn’t see who it was, but he only needed one guess to figure it out. Who else would knock on his window instead of his front door?
Riley must’ve enjoyed his view from out there because Christian heard a wolf whistle. Christian snorted and opened the window.
“You’re hilarious,” he said, deadpan.
Riley grinne
d at him. “I’m just appreciative.”
He sat on the windowsill to take his boots off outside and Christian left him to it to get dressed. Christian’s dick took too much notice of how good Riley smelled and he needed some distance. Otherwise he’d jump Riley before they had the conversation they really needed to have.
“I met with Mitch Greyson this morning,” he told Riley from the bathroom. He didn’t bother styling his hair. Just combed it back before looking around for the T-shirt he’d left in here earlier.
“Uh-huh,” Riley said, distracted.
“Riles, Mitch’s author friend? Is Alex Dean.” He’d been dying to text Riley the news all day but he’d known the bakery would be busy and he didn’t want to be a distraction.
“I know.”
Of course the fucker knew. Just like he’d known that Mitch and Alex had been looking to hire a competent and affordable web designer who knew his shit but wouldn’t charge them their firstborn just because they were rich. He probably also already knew that Christian had said yes when he’d been offered the job today, so he didn’t bother telling him.
“Alex emailed me his book to read. The one that got accepted for publishing?” He shrugged into his T-shirt and left the bathroom in search of sweats. “It’ll be published in—what are you doing?”
A naked Riley stood next to the bed, hands on his hips. Christian’s dick went from lazing around to full attention almost instantly, tenting the front of his towel. Riley’s golden skin shone in the overhead light, muscles on full display, cock jutting forward, pointing straight at Christian.
Christian’s mouth went dry.
Riley looked at Christian’s T-shirt and frowned. “What are you doing? I’m getting naked and you’re putting clothes on? Strip!”
“Dude!” he whispered loudly, scandalized. “My mom’s down the hall!”
“No, she’s not. I passed her on my way here. It’s book club night at Kathy’s. Strip!”
