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“But what about—”
His gentle kiss cut me off. “This will be fine. The falls will still be there when the snow melts.”
I wanted to protest, but his sweet expression made my frustration die away. “So… low-key staycation?”
“Sounds perfect to me.” He kissed my forehead. “Why don’t I throw something in for dinner, and we can see if there’s a game on?”
It would be something frozen and quick; we’d made sure we weren’t stocked up on the usual fresh produce and whatnot since we’d planned to be out of town. Delivery was out because neither of us would make someone drive in this weather. But hey, frozen pizzas were fine and good, and I was pretty sure there were still some games going tonight; it was the last night of hockey before the whole League paused for the All-Star break. And we’d planned to watch the All-Star game in our hotel room, but curled up on our own couch—well, that didn’t sound so bad.
Isaiah went into the kitchen and started rifling through the freezer. I sat on the couch and pulled up the listings for the various sports networks tonight. There were only three games—Philly at New York, Vancouver at Detroit, and at like ten-thirty, Seattle at Los Angeles. Thanks to the time difference, we might even be able to squeeze in two games. Cool.
Admittedly, I was still a little disappointed. Our schedules had miraculously lined up, with his school’s midwinter break coinciding with the League’s All-Star break. He’d worked yesterday and I’d played last night, and this morning was the start of our vacation. With a few days off both of our jobs, we’d jumped at the opportunity for a short getaway.
The more I thought about it, though, the more I warmed up to this version. Yeah, I was bummed about canceling the trip, but a week at home with Isaiah? Without any periods of dealing with airports and all that nonsense? There was literally no downside.
Well, except it kind of threw a monkey wrench into some plans I’d made, but those could be adapted, too. I just wasn’t quite sure what plan B was.
I had the next few days to figure it out.
And hey, at least the roads being too treacherous to drive didn’t keep us from getting to each other—Isaiah had moved in with me about halfway through last season. We’d made some noise about buying a bigger place at some point, but for now, the condo was enough for both of us. I didn’t really use my home office much, so he’d taken it over. Isaiah had already pretty much moved into my kitchen when we’d started dating, and now he’d well and truly claimed that space.
I was absolutely in love with coming home from a road trip to a condo that smelled like homecooked food, not to mention a place that wasn’t empty and quiet. Even when the trip had been hard, or I was sore or exhausted or demoralized, shuffling inside only to be greeted by a smile and a warm embrace made my whole world a million times better.
Isaiah was happier and more relaxed these days, too. He’d started seeing a therapist after we’d come back from Hawaii that first summer, including through televisits while we were in Colorado. The guy was queer-friendly and specialized in helping people with body image issues and who’d been through abusive relationships. Talk about right up Isaiah’s alley.
The therapist had done wonders for him, that was for sure. He’d helped Isaiah separate his ex’s toxicity from his own desire to make changes for his health or his comfort. Isaiah had realized through his therapy that the reason he’d always put off any attempt to lose weight or join a gym had been because it felt like giving in to his ex. It felt like admitting Keith was right. Eventually, Isaiah had joined a gym just to stay active when he wasn’t coaching sports at school, but he’d ultimately decided he didn’t care if he lost weight. He gained and lost a few pounds here and there just like any normal person did, but he didn’t lose sleep over it, and I sure didn’t. He’d been attractive to me from day one, he was still attractive to me now, and all I cared about was that he was happy.
Between his therapy and how often he realized just how much he rocked my world in bed… I was pretty sure he was learning to love his body as much as I did.
His family had steadily warmed up to our relationship, too. After some therapy sessions, Isaiah had laid down the law with his parents—he wasn’t going to put up with people telling him he wasn’t worthy, or even hinting that someone else might think he wasn’t. That had caught Brandi and Laura off-guard, but I think they realized how they’d been making him feel. How they’d been—with good intentions or otherwise—dogpiling him along with his ex. We’d visited a few times since, and I think they finally figured out I really did love him. He wasn’t just some placeholder until I got bored and found some model who was my age. Last time we were there, Laura even pulled me aside and apologized for implying otherwise.
“I should’ve seen it back then,” she’d told me. “You obviously love him the way any parent hopes their child will be loved.”
The process with Brandi was slower since her relationship with Isaiah was already less than great, but to her credit, she was trying. She’d warmed up to me, and she seemed to accept that we were the real deal. It was a start.
So things were good with his family these days.
Living together had its ups and downs, but we were both pretty laidback. I was thrilled to come home to him. He seemed happy to be in a bigger place with fewer people. Life with him around was amazing. I’d take the occasional squabble and annoying each other once in a while. That just came with living together.
I’d re-signed with Pittsburgh, so unless I was traded—which my agent didn’t think would happen any time soon—we were staying here. That was fine by me. I loved this city, and I loved where my career was.
That said, getting knocked out of the playoffs this past season had been a lot harder than the previous year. We’d made it all the way to the finals this time. We’d beenso close, we could all taste the champagne we’d be drinking out of the Cup.
Then Adamo had been injured in game five. Our backup goalie had already gone down during the conference finals, leaving everything on the shoulders of our third—a rookie who’d only played two games at the major league level when both goalies had gone down with the flu the previous December. He’d held his own in game six. Kept us alive, honestly; he stood on his head, and we’d collectively forced a game seven.
And in triple overtime, there’d been nothing he could do to stop that slapshot over his shoulder.
He blamed himself for us losing, but it wasn’t his fault. It was just devastating for all of us to fight so hard and get that far—to getthat close—only to lose it in a split second. That was how hockey went sometimes. We all knew it. But man, it fucking hurt.
Unlike when we’d lost the previous season, I hadn’t had texts with Isaiah to brighten my spirits on the flight home this time.
No, he’d been there in the arena. Like the other partners and spouses, he’d come down to the locker room afterward. He hadn’t cared that I was sweaty and disgusting—he’d just pulled me into a hug, kissed my temple, and then made me laugh with a comment under his breath about the refs being on another planet.
After we were back in Pittsburgh, he booked me the most incredible massage I’d ever had, and then he’d asked me to come to his classroom and meet some of my young fans. They’d been bummed about the playoff loss, but ecstatic to meet me and ask questions about hockey and talk about some of their favorite players and their favorite moments. I’d been licking my wounds over getting knocked out of the finals, and they were collectively giddy with delight that their team had made it that far. Their enthusiasm had been infectious, and by the time the bell rang and they’d all cleared out to catch their buses, I was actually smiling again.
Alone in his classroom, Isaiah had wrapped an arm around my shoulders and kissed my cheek. “I know the other night felt like the worst night ever. But you just gave these kids an amazing experience they’ll be talking about for years to come.”
My God, I was so in love with this man.
