Page 31 of Two for Charging

“Breezy.” Tom’s voice was quiet but commanding, the same way he sounded as Captain Tom “The Crow” Crowler, questioning a referee’s shitty call or telling Hayes off for being a dick. “It’s fine.”

Panicked laughter crawled up Chris’s throat. “Of course it’s fine. Everything’s fine. Everything is totally normal and fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Silence greeted his outburst. He pulled out of the garage and onto the street.

“The restaurant’s in the other direction,” Tom said. “Here.” He held his phone out over the console with Google Maps directions open, and Luca took it. He directed Chris until they finally made a left turn into a parking lot by a strip mall. None of them spoke as they exited the car or as they were seated by a bored waitress.

They placed their orders—a stunning amount of food between the three of them—and when the server left them alone again, Luca leaned forward and steepled his fingers.

“So,” he said as if he were discussing a particularly dull documentary. Luca never put on his bored voice at home or when talking to Chris one-on-one. He might get snappish, but he never acted as if he didn’t care. This had to be an act. Chris could tell because his shoulders hunched tight, and he balled his hand to a fist. He wondered who Luca thought he was fooling. “Before, I wanted to ask whether perhaps you and Jax have a relationship I was unaware of, Tom. Now, I want to ask why Breezy is having a fit about it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chris burst out. “I promise I didn’t tell him.”

“It’s okay, Breezy,” Tom said calmly.

Why was he calm? How was he calm?

“I know you didn’t,” Tom continued. “I was right there when he figured it out.”

To Luca, he said, “Jax and I are together and have been for a little under a year. We moved in together during the off-season, so yes, the house is both of ours.”

“Congratulations.” Luca raised his water glass in a toast.

They both looked to Chris.

Sweat beaded his forehead. Was it warm in this restaurant? He gulped down water.

“Breezy,” Tom prodded.

“If we do Halloween at your place, won’t everyone know?”

“We did the season opening party at Phil’s, and no one figured out about him.”

Luca’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, he and Ben are… I thought there was something odd about that arrangement.”

“You can’t out other people!” Chris knew his voice came out too loud, but he’d asked about this kind of thing, and the kids at the shelter had only agreed on one thing: outing other people was bad. More than one of them had been outed by an interfering sibling, teacher, or friend, and look where they ended up.

“Phil is okay with the team knowing,” Tom told them. “Or he wouldn’t have hosted the barbecue in the first place. Heck, someone must have noticed something then. Ben kept touching him. And we’re okay with people finding out too.”

A world crashed down around Chris. “But…the team. Hayes. Vanderbilt.”

Tom leaned against the green vinyl booth as the waitress brought out four massive plates of food and then promised she’d return with more. “The team managed last year, and we’ll manage this year,” he said. “If Hayes and Vanderbilt want to be assholes, they will be. Us staying closeted for them means they win.”

Another year of fighting in the locker room, another year of trying to keep everyone’s spirits up enough to at least win games. Chris looked down at his steaming enchiladas. He couldn’t remember ever being less hungry. “What about the media?”

Tom made a face and took a large bite of his steak taco. “If we can avoid giving interviews and doing press, I would love it. But if we can’t, well. Jax thinks it could be good for people to see gay athletes being successful and happy.”

“He is not wrong.” Luca’s voice was quiet. He hadn’t touched his food yet. At least someone understood the seriousness of this situation. And yay, Luca wasn’t a homophobic dick. Sure, he’d been as incensed as any of them about the incident last year, but a little part of Chris had been left wondering if he cared because he’d been accused of being gay more than because he objected to homophobia. Some guys got weird about it, as if being mistaken as part of the LGBTQIA+ community wasn’t a huge compliment. What a relief that Luca could be normal about it.

Chris had no idea why it mattered so much to him. He wasn’t gay. He kept collecting gay friends and teammates on accident, but he wasn’t part of the community. He did want his friends to be treated well, which he supposed explained it. Working up hurt and anger for other people came easier to Chris than for himself. Getting bummed out about his latest breakup wasn’t as important as the team staying together and sticking up for people who needed it, like the kids at the shelter. Anyway, it made him happy that Luca had responded well to the news about Tom and Jax. He would hate to have to be angry with Luca for treating their queer friends badly.

The waitress returned and stacked the remaining three plates in the free corners of the table. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said in the tone of someone who would be appalled if they did. They all smiled at her, Tom with his mouth full, and she disappeared into the kitchen again.

“I know representation is important,” Tom continued eating, seemingly heedless to the stakes of the conversation. “I just don’t feel successful yet, you know? Last year was the closest I’ve ever gotten to winning the Cup, and we were six wins away.”

Not successful? Chris’s worries aside, he couldn’t let that stand. “Cap, you won the Hart last year. You’re—” He scrunched up his nose, counting stats in his head. “—the eighth-oldest guy to ever get it. That’s, like, super impressive. Most players get worse after they hit thirty.”

Around a mouthful of shredded lettuce, Tom smiled bashfully. “Jax says so too. I’m learning to believe him. It’s kind of slow going.”