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He was just thinking it when his father and stepmother approached. “Lovely wedding,” Miriama said, practically glowing, petite and pretty and gracious as always, reaching out to give Luke a cuddle.
Luke gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Yeh, it was good. They’re well suited, I think.”
“Huh,” Grant said. He glanced at the water glass in Luke’s hand. “And you don’t have a beer.”
“No.” Luke felt himself going stolid, going inside himself, the way he always had. “Seemed best. I’m all good.”
Grant frowned, or maybe you’d say that his bushy gray eyebrows drew even closer together than they normally were. They slanted down his face in a perpetual V-shape, putting the exclamation point on his habitual expression. “You’re staying here tonight, surely. No need to cut off the drink for that. I got the tents sorted around the back. Enough for everybody. Who are you bunking in with?”
Luke wished he did have a beer, and was glad he didn’t. This was a test, he guessed. Another first to get through without alcohol. He said, “Hayden Allen. The celebrant.”
Kane had materialized from somewhere to stand beside him, and so had Rhys, though he was keeping back. Drago had always looked like he was watching from the coaching box even when he was playing. Judging, you could call it, or measuring, bringing his calm and his focus with him. He looked that way now.
Had the two of them been keeping an eye on him all along, waiting for this? Luke hoped not. This day was meant to be Nyree’s.
He caught sight of Hayden, then, talking to Marko and Nyree, saying something that made Nyree laugh out loud. He glanced up, caught Luke’s eye, and stood hesitating. Questioning. Luke jerked his chin at him. Come on.
Just in case this was it.
He’d been an All Black. Briefly. He’d stood on the field and done the haka, laying down the challenge to his opponents, affirming his bond to his brothers. For nearly a decade more, he’d played for England and had faced that challenge. Everybody had a different approach to the most fearsome intro in rugby. Some smiled, a dickhead move that tended to backfire. Some glared. Luke, though, had stood with his arms over the shoulders of his teammates and let the challenge sink into him. Outwardly impassive, but absorbing his opponent’s energy, letting it fuel his own rush of adrenaline, ready to turn it back on him once the whistle blew.
Hayden headed over, approaching from behind Grant even as Luke’s dad said, “Not a good idea. Fella’s a …” He glanced at Miriama. “He’s queer as a three-dollar note.”
“True,” Hayden said with his disarming smile, slipping around Grant’s back, plucking Luke’s water glass from his hand, and taking a long drink. “Probably why I’m such a good dresser.” He handed the glass back to Luke. “Thanks. I was parched. Good job on the ceremony, didn’t you think?”
Bravado, you could call it. Luke called it what it was. Courage, or something more than that. Mana. He said, “Yeh. It was. I was proud.” And told his dad, “I’m bunking in with him because I’m queer as a three-dollar note myself. Although not as good a dresser.”
He couldn’t help it. It just came out.
The whistle had blown.
A few seconds passed. Miriama stood there, looking shocked and probably horrified, her eyes darting to Grant. Grant just stood there, and Kane had edged that much closer.
Grant said, finally, when Luke didn’t—what? Laugh and say he was only joking?— “Pardon?”
“I’m gay, Dad,” Luke said.
“But you’re so … tall,” his stepmother said. “And so …”
“Ugly,” Luke said. “Yeh, I’ve heard that one.”
“You’re not ugly,” she said. “Of course not. You’re just …”
“Strong,” Hayden said quietly. “Yeh, he is. That’s why I love him.” Luke looked at him, startled, and Hayden shrugged and said, “Seems I can be brave, too. Too soon? Oh, well.”
“No,” Luke said. “Not too soon. Me too.” He cleared his throat, took a breath, and said it again. “Me too.” Feeling like that fella who’d been pushing the boulder uphill forever, but had finally been allowed to let it go. Feeling like he could fly.
“Yes,” Miriama said, ignoring that. “Strong. That’s what I meant.” Grant, on the other hand, looked like he had heard it, and like he still couldn’t believe it.
“Well, my goodness,” Miriama said next, and gave a little laugh. “I need some time to let that sink in. Maybe, darling, we should go sit a minute and do that,” she suggested to Grant, which was about as likely as that Grant would let the skipper give the pre-match talk in the sheds.
“If you are—that,” Grant said as if he hadn’t even heard his wife, “why tell everybody about it? Why spoil Nyree’s wedding with it?”
“He’s not spoiling it.” That was Kane. “That would be you. Still time to back off, though.” His big frame was nearly shaking with tension, but he had a hand on Luke’s shoulder, his fingers gripping hard, and Luke felt him the way you felt your mate’s solid body beside you in the scrum and knew he was right there with you. That he’d front up today, and next game, and every game after that. That he’d never quit.
“You knew.” Grant’s hard gaze landed on Kane. “And you did nothing.”
“No,” Kane said. “I did something. I told him I loved him. He’s my brother. He’s a good one. Why wouldn’t I want him to be happy? Why wouldn’t I want the same thing for him that I’ve got? To be able to bring the person he’s fallen in love with to Nyree’s wedding?”
