Page 85 of The Call-Up
Brandon
When I hear the knock on our hotel room door I immediately start sweating. I can feel my heart beating in my throat.
Ryan’s lips quirk up to the side as he looks at me and taunts, “Are you feeling alright?”
“I swear to God, Ryan. If you have a bet going with Danton and Coach about whether or not I throw up, I’ll never suck your dick again.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he gulps. Then smartly holds up his hands and says, “No bet.”
I don’t believe him. But my threat was empty anyway, so it doesn’t matter.
There’s two more knocks on our door.
“Do you want to get that?” Ryan asks. “Or…”
“I’ve got it,” I say and make my way to the door to let my parents in. They’re right on time. We asked them to come to our room after our pregame nap, for which I remained wide awake. Ryan, like he so loves to do, slept like a goddamn cat lying in the sunny spot.
“Brandon,” my mom says when I swing the door open. “You look terrible.”
“Has he thrown up yet?” I hear Danton ask from the hall.
I poke my head out the door and he’s leaning outside of his room beside ours.
“Not yet,” Ryan yells from where he’s sitting on the rumpled bed we slept on.
“Damn,” Danton says, then walks back into his room and closes the door.
“Still get the pregame jitters, huh, son,” my dad says as he walks past me into our room.
“No,” I deny hotly.
At the same time Ryan laughs and says, “Yes.”
“Leave him alone,” my mom says as if she wasn’t the one to point out how terrible I look. But to her credit, she does seem to pick up on something, because she pauses in her tracks and turns to face me again. She reaches for me with her hands and cups my cheeks with her palms. Her lips pull tight as she looks at me.
“Yeah, son,” my dad says. “There’s no need to be nervous. You’ve been on a hot streak. You’re going to do great tonight.”
“I don’t think this is about the game,” my mom says. Her eyes leave mine and flick between the two beds in the room, pausing on the one that has clearly gone unused. She looks back at me, brushes my cheeks with her thumbs, then lets go of me and walks to Ryan.
“Hi, sweetie,” she says, placing her hands onto both of his cheeks now. Her voice is gentle. With her eyes still on Ryan, she says to my father, “Why don’t you take a seat on that bed?”
“What’s going on?” my dad asks. He suddenly seems clued into the charged atmosphere in the room. “I thought we were grabbing a bite to eat before the game.”
“We are,” I say. “But Ryan and I need to tell you both something first.”
Dad sits down on the bed and my mom lets go of Ryan and sits beside him. She looks like she’s about to burst. Her eyes are watery, and her lips are pressed so tight suppressing a smile I know shewon’t be able to contain for much longer. I’m going to need to hurry up and get this over with.
Why was it so much easier to tell the team? Probably because Ryan did most of the work and Danton couldn’t stop himself from weeping from joy. No one even batted an eye and Ivanov gave us both hugs before getting dressed in his gear.
I rub the back of my neck with my hand. Ryan’s right. My hair is way too long, but I’m sure as hell still not cutting it. Not while we have a shot of winning the Stanley Cup.
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “So the thing is,” I start, looking between my parents on one bed and Ryan on the other. I shouldn’t be this nervous. This room is filled with three of the four most important people in my life. There is no need for me to be panicking. I look directly at Ryan and lock eyes with him.
There’s a softness in his eyes. He smiles and nods his head at me. It settles my nerves.
Staying focused on him, I say what I’ve been holding in for years. “We’re together.” I turn to look at my parents now. “And I mean that as more than linemates. Ryan and I are dating. We’re gay.”
“More than dating,” Ryan says.
