Pucking Around: Chapter 89

Game day. We’re playing the Toronto Maple Leafs and I’m a goddamn mess. I’m always a mess when I play Toronto. It’s psychological. What the fuck ever, I’m not in the mood to lie down on a couch and spill all my trauma. There’s a job to do, and I’m going to do it.

Harrison is leaving town. Rachel’s on the way over to the airport with him to say goodbye before he hops on their daddy’s private jet. I’m trying not to be jealous of her. Amy had to cancel her holiday plans, meaning it might be summer before I see her again. It’s too fucking long.

Unable to resist, I pull my phone from my pocket and call her. As if she was waiting for it, she answers on the first ring. “Hey, bro.”

“Hey, Am.” I don’t know what else to say. I just need to hear her voice.

“You play Toronto today,” she says into my silence.

“Yeah. On my way to the arena now.”

“How’s Cay?”

How the fuck should I know? He’s impossible to read. Meanwhile, I’m an open book that wears everything right on my sleeve. He’s already told me to relax three times this morning. “He’s fine,” I say.

Amy sighs into the phone. “Does it ever get any easier?”

I check my lane as I move over. “No.”

“Wanna talk about it? Or we could talk about your new girl—”

“Am, I think I might be bi,” I blurt, cutting her off. “Or like…I don’t even fucking know. Queer maybe. I hate labels. And I don’t like dudes.”

“Okay,” she says gently. “So, you don’t feel bi, but you think you might be? Why?”

I huff, making another turn one-handed, my left hand holding the phone. “You know why.”

“Caleb,” she replies. “It’s always been Cay. He’s your lobster.”

I shake my head. Everything with Amy is either a Friends reference or a movie quote. “I’m not gay,” I say again.

“But the news is saying you are,” she murmurs. “My phone notifications went crazy the other day.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “And there’ll be a whole lot more where that came from soon.”

“What do you mean? Jake, is everything okay? Is this about the girl? The rock star’s daughter?”

“Amy, she’s Seattle Girl.”

She gasps. “Oh my god…why didn’t you say anything?” she cries. “God, how did Caleb take it? I can’t even imagine how upset he was. Oh god—is that what you mean? Is this an Edward-Jacob-Bella situation? Am I gonna have to get on a plane and come tit punch a rocker chick for breaking my brother’s heart—”

“Amy, no,” I say over her. “No, it’s not like that. It’s…” I take a deep breath. “Okay, are you sitting down?”

“Jake, you’re scaring me…”

“We’re together,” I say. “The three of us. We—she—it’s not a love triangle, and it’s not doomed or scary. It’s fucking perfect. Amy, I’ve never been happier.”

“You’re together,” she repeats. “The three of you? Like you’re with her and you’re with him and—”

“He’s with her,” I add. “Yeah, and there’s a third guy. You know Mars Kinnunen, the goalie?”

“You’re with your goalie too?”

“No,” I say on a laugh. “I mean, he’s with her, but he’s not with us. I mean—he’s with us in the sense that we all live together but…I feel like I’m not explaining this well.”

“He’s your metamour,” she replies.

“My meta-what?”

“Metamour,” she repeats with a laugh. “It’s the polyamorous term for the platonic partner of your partner.”

“And how the hell do you know about metamours?”

“Because I’m a cultured and culturally sensitive globe-trotting scientist,” she replies. “And I’ve been known to dabble in polyam too.”

I sit up straight as an arrow, nearly dropping my phone. “What the fuck, Amy. You serious? Be so freaking for real right now.”

“Don’t pop a lung,” she laughs. “Remember you have a game to play tonight.”

“Amy…”

She huffs. “I don’t tell you everything about me, Jake. I experimented in college, and I’ve done some dating around recently. You know, filling that lonely void in my life. Nothing too crazy,” she adds. “Not like moving in with my goalie, my equipment manager, and my sports medicine doctor. How’s the sex, by the way? I bet it’s unreal,” she teases.

I fight to suppress the memories so my dick doesn’t get hard while I’m on the phone with my sister. “Amy, the scream that I could scream in this fucking car right now.”

She giggles. “That good, huh?”

I groan, fighting off the image of Rachel’s tits bouncing in my face as she rides my cock, Mars taking her from behind. “Best sex of my life. They slay me dead every time. I’m never going back. Never. They’re it for me.”

“I’m happy for you, Jake. And I can’t wait to meet your Seattle Girl.” I sense the hesitation in her voice. I’m ready for it when she says, “But…how will all this work? I can’t imagine your fans will be enlightened enough to appreciate the nuances of your sudden conversion to queer polyamory.”

“We’re working on it,” I reply.

“You’re working on it? What does that mean?”

“It means we have a plan, and we’re gonna come out, and it’s gonna be fine.”

“Wait, come out as in like…you’re coming out?”

“Well, I can’t very well let them go public without me,” I say. “We’re living in my house, Amy.”

“Do you want them to go public without you?”

“Fuck no,” I growl. “I’m in this. All the way in. Til death do us part in, you feel me?”

“Yeah…but is that just with Rachel? You’re all in with Rachel and you approve of her having other lovers and you all cohabitate…or you’re all in with Cay and your goalie too?”

“Mars is straight,” I say quickly. “And he’s not my type. I told you; I don’t like guys.”

She sighs. “So where does that leave Caleb?”

“He’s mine.” The words come out on instinct, and I find there’s nothing left to be said. It’s the truth. Caleb Sanford is mine. I want him to be mine in all ways. But I’m afraid. I’m holding back. This weight I carry, this fucking trauma that eats at me, it’ll suffocate me if I let it.

“You need to talk to him, Jake.”

“No. Not on Toronto day. I can’t.”

“Maybe today is the best day,” she counters. “At some point, you’ve gotta let this go. I’m sure if you’d just talk to Caleb, he’d say the same.”

I sit in silence, the only sound the clicking of my turn signal. “I’m afraid,” I admit.

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid I won’t be enough. Afraid they won’t need me like I need them. I can’t tell Cay how I feel. I can’t carve out another piece of my fucking heart and hand it to him to hold. Not when she’s already got a piece.”

“Why can’t you give him a piece too?”

Fuck, now tears are stinging my eyes. I fight them back, admitting my deep dark truths to my twin. “What if he doesn’t love me the way I love him? What if he just wants to be my friend—”

“He loves you, Jake.”

I shake my head. “No, he’s so damn hard to read.”

“Jake, listen to me,” she says, voice firm. “Caleb Sanford is in love with you. Ask him and he’ll tell you.”

“I don’t deserve it,” I whisper. “I don’t deserve the good things that happen to me—”

“Jake, stop—”

“He deserved it more,” I say at last, one tear falling as my deepest truth spills out. “He was better, faster, stronger—”

“Jake—”

“I don’t get to have it all, Amy. That’s not the way life fucking works. We’re not meant to have all our dreams come true. It’s too easy. Too unfair.”

“So…what?” she huffs, clearly fed up with my bullshit pity party. “You’re just going to punish yourself, and Caleb in the process? One shitty thing happens, and now you’re going to resign yourself to a lifetime of almost-happiness? That’s idiotic, Jake. And it’s wholly unfair to Caleb. Talk to him. Do it today. Put a period at the end of this awful chapter and turn the page.”

I sigh, pulling into my assigned spot in the parking garage, and cut the engine. I sit there, staring at the grey concrete pylon in front of my car. “Why are you so fucking smart?”

“Because I resorbed half your brain cells in the womb.”

I snort, shaking my head. “That’s not how science works.”

“How would you know, dummy? You whack a piece of rubber with a stick for a living.”

I laugh. “Yeah, big robot brain scientist girl can’t even heat up a Hot Pocket.”

“That happened exactly once and that microwave was on the fritz,” she counters with an indignant huff.

We sit in silence for another minute, just sharing the call waves.

“I love you, Amy,” I murmur. “I miss you.”

“Jake, you have no idea. Send me pictures more often, yeah? And I want to video chat with your new girl soon. And I want to meet the goalie properly too.”

“Come home,” I say, sitting forward, one arm folded over top of my steering wheel. “I’ll buy the tickets. Do whatever you need to do on your end, just…I need to see you. I need you to meet Rachel.”

“Jake,” she sighs, ready to tell me no.

“What we’re about to do is really fucking scary, Amy,” I say. “Mom and dad won’t get it and—fuck—” I sigh, dropping my forehead to my arm. “I’m afraid. I’m talking a big game, but I don’t want things to change with the people I care about. Please don’t shut me out.”

“Jake, never,” she says. “Are you listening to me? There is nothing you could do that would ever have me walk away from you. Not least of which is love the people you were destined to love. If they’re your family now, then they’re my family too.”

I smile, feeling a little lightness in my chest. “She’s a fraternal twin too.”

Amy laughs. “Oh god, of course, she is. Am I gonna hate her?”

I consider for a minute. “Hmm…I mean, you’re both scientists…you both like dogs and yoga.”

“All sounds good so far.”

I huff, remembering the night we met. “She’s a zodiac girl.”

“Well, shit,” Amy mutters. “It’s not a capital offense, I guess. But if she goes trying to compare our moon signs, I’m reserving the right to tit punch her.”

“I can’t let you harm the tits,” I say with a soft smile. “They’re too fucking perfect. Besides, she’s scrappy as hell. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Noted,” she replies. “Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“You deserve every good thing in life. Don’t wait for it to come to you. Go out and get it.”

Tears sting my eyes again. “I’m buying you a ticket. You’re coming home.”

“I’m too busy.”

“You’re always too busy. You’re coming anyway.”

“If I come home, I may never leave again,” she admits, her own voice catching now.

“Good,” I say on a breath. “Bye, Amy.”

“Bye, Jake. Skate well tonight. And stay safe.”

Stay safe.

Easier said than done when you play professional hockey. There’s a risk of injury with every practice, every game. As a D-man, I make the hits more than I take them, but either way involves potential harm. And with Brett Marchand on the ice tonight, no one is safe.