Page 50 of Speed

“No, shaped. Not flavor. I am making salmon cake for Mittens. Not really cake, but salmon that I will cut into cake shape then top with candles,” Pops clarified.

“Oh cool. So uhm, I have something to tell you both.” I turned the phone. Brody smiled at my fathers. “Pops, you already met Brody, and I’m assuming you ran right home and told Dad all about us.”

“Yes, of course. I am no for keeping secrets from my beloved,” Pops stated.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, sort of, Brody,” Dad said, as he and Pops exchanged looks.

“I know this isn’t the way you’d want to meet him, and I promise to bring him to Mittens’ party for a real introduction, but for now… well, I wanted to let you know that Brody just came out on his Instagram account.”

“Oh,” they both said at once. “That’s big news. Thank you for telling us before the poop hit the fan.”

“Dad, seriously, you can say shit in front of me,” I teased.

“Force of habit,” Dad replied with a shrug. “Do you want me to pass this along to your sisters and aunt?”

“Yeah, please.” I exhaled. “I have to call Coach next.”

“Yes, you must let team know. Tell them to bring Layton in to handle the publics relations. He is old hand at making slurry into borscht. What?” Pops asked when Dad shot him an eww face. “Is old saying. Like picking sow ear and knitting it into handbag.”

Brody was confused. I gave his thigh a pat. He’d learn how to decipher Pops-speak.

“Despite the slurry into soup comment, Stan’s right. Layton is the VP of Communications now. He and the PR team have handled several players coming out over the years. The team will close ranks. This is going to be pretty big, Noah. Everyone knows who Brody is, and him announcing that he’s gay?—”

“Bi, he’s bi like me,” I slid in.

“Sorry, him announcing that he’s bi will bring down a firestorm of press and opinions, both good and bad. Are you two sure you’re ready for this?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, we’re sure. It’s out there now. His agent knows, and his family are behind us.”

I glanced over to see Brody nodding.

“Good, good. That will make things much easier for him. Also, Brody, if you need anyone to talk to about being a queer athlete in a macho sport, Stan and I are always here. We’ve been through this ourselves.”

“Yes,” Pops stuck his face in front of the phone so now all we could see was his nose. “We are old hands at being queer. Also, I know people.”

Dad tugged the phone from in front of Pops’ face. “Ignore the last comment. Just know that we’re here if you need us. You’ll get through this fine, son. We love you.”

“I love you guys, too.”

The screen went blank after Pops made the dog on his lap wave goodbye.

“They’re quite nice,” Brody said as we took a moment to catch our breath.

“Yeah, I am really lucky.” I leaned into his side, dropped my head to his shoulder, and took three cleansing exhalations. “Okay, so now, I call my agent and the team. These should be fun.”

They were not fun calls. Not fun at all. My agent was super pissy about us springing this on him, which I got, but yelling out of the window of his Manhattan office wasn’t going to do anything other than scare the pigeons. After his meltdown, Mike said he would meet me with the team whenever the Railers wished.

The call to Coach was less dramatic than the call to Mike, but no easier. Coach was cool about it all—he’d ridden in more than one player-induced rodeo in his time—and set things into motion for a meeting with the GM, my agent, me, and Layton Foxx as soon as it could be arranged. I suspected I might be asked to chill at home—which would cut into my playing time—and not to speak to the press—which was fine with me—until the powers that be could organize a united front. I thanked him for his understanding and hung up as the wheels in the Railers organization began clacking away behind the scenes.

“Okay, that was not the worst thing in the world,” I confessed as we sat on the sofa, my hand on Brody’s thigh, his arm around my shoulder. “Tomorrow morning is going to be a hellscape.”

“Do we unplug from the world for the rest of today?” Brody asked with hope in his voice, his phone in his hand.

“We do.” I held up my iPhone. “On the count of three. One, two, three.”

We turned off both of our phones, then I slid over his thighs, settling my ass on his lap, and took his face between my hands.

“Now we make love, boyfriend,” I whispered before I slanted my mouth over his.

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