Page 53 of Game On

“But it wasn’t a bribe!”

“It was too! That’s genius. And conniving. I love it. Tell me everything. How much did you donate? Did you put that in your cover letter? Did you?—”

“Oh my god, stop,” Dorian said, but he was laughing. “How much I donated is none of your business, and no, I didn’t put the amount in my cover letter. Just said I was a fan. If they went into my donor profile to see what I’d given, that’s on them, not me.”

“But you’re not a fan, though.” Jamie continued skating around him. “You ‘don’t do hockey,’ remember?” He put it in actual air quotes. “So why did you want this job?”

Dorian shrugged and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I was bored.”

The dismissal hurt, but Jamie didn’t let it show. He had a feeling Dorian would’ve told him the truth. Before. Now, there was a wall between them, and although things had seemed to be back to normal there for a few minutes, Dorian’s brush-off was a stark reminder that Jamie had fucked up.

He’d only meant to be honest, figuring it was better to lay his cards on the table.

But Gio was right. He’d essentially told Dorian that he wasn’t worth the risk to his new life. And he didn’t know how to fix things between them.

“Okay, here’s how things are going to go,” Dorian said, effectively changing the subject. “Like I said, I don’t want this to be you just standing there talking at the camera. So feel free to toss a puck around or do some slick skating moves or... whatever.”

Jamie stared at him. “Toss the puck around?”

“Shut up. You know what I mean. You ready?”

“Sure.”

“I’m hitting record. Okay, let’s start with an easy question. What’s your name and number?”

Jamie smiled at the camera. Dorian had given him the interview questions ahead of time, so it wasn’t like the next hour would hold any surprises. “Hey. I’m Jamie Jamieson, number thirty-seven with the Vancouver Orcas. I like ham and pineapple on my pizza—a divisive topic, I know. My favourite animal is an octopus because they’re super cool. I mean, did you know that each arm has a mind of its own?” He waved his arms because he was cool too. “When I was a kid, I used to get roped into acting in my sister’s homemade movies. I played a murder victim, a giant squid monster, and an unaffected police officer, all in the same film.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Those were two truths and a lie. Guess which one’s the lie. Nah, I’m kidding, they’re all truths. Even the octopus thing.”

Dorian chuckled, and it was music to Jamie’s ears. “Is your sister still making movies?”

“Yup, but thankfully she has way more talented people in them now. Emme Jamieson. Look her up. Her latest short film has won all sorts of awards.”

“Speaking of sisters, you’ve got a few of them, right?”

“Three. And four brothers. I’m the youngest of eight kids.” He pulled a puck nearer and stickhandled it side to side. “We’ve always been a close-knit family. All of my siblings are still in Kelowna, though Emme travels a lot for work.”

“What was it like, growing up in Kelowna?”

“Well, you learn to drive the Coquihalla without panicking, for one.”

Dorian’s gaze turned flinty. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s kinda funny. But to answer your question, growing up in Kelowna was fun. Summers are beautiful. Winters are also beautiful. Kelowna’s within easy access to world-class skiing and snowboarding. Neither of which I’ve done in years, but maybe when I retire, whenever that will be, I can take up snowboarding again.”

“How’d you end up as a pro hockey player and not a pro snowboarder?”

Jamie grinned, thrust back into his childhood. “My siblings and I all played. In fact, my dad’s best friend lived next door to us our whole lives. His daughter, Nikki, was also a hockey player, and one year her dad and mine knocked down the fence between our backyards and put in a hockey rink. Nikki has been married to my oldest brother for fifteen years now, by the way. They have four kids under ten, three of whom somehow ended up in soccer.”

“And the fourth?”

“Likes team sports as much as you do.”

Dorian nodded once. “I think we’d get along just fine.”

They would. Eleanor had Dorian’s sass but none of his standoffishness. She was into books and puzzles, and rollerblading and kayaking. Activities she could do on her own. She’d started advocating for better mental health awareness in elementary schools last year too, and she made bracelets with mala beads that she sold at school craft sales and front yard lemonade stands, the proceeds of which went to mental health charities.

Jamie could picture her and Dorian putting their heads together, brainstorming ways to include her bracelets in his subscription box.

Suddenly, with a fierceness he didn’t understand, Jamie wanted that badly. But not just that. He wanted to take Dorian home. Sit him at his parents’ kitchen table and stuff him with his mom’s lasagna and one of his dad’s favourite local craft brews. Watch his eyes widen as Jamie’s siblings, in-laws, and niblings filed into the house for Sunday dinner, raising the noise to a level fifteen. Introduce him to everyone’s pets and see if Dorian took a liking to any of them too.

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