Page 83 of Icing the Play

“Need any help?” Mr. Cummings stepped toward us, frowning.

“No, I’ve got it.” If nothing else, I’d show his father how much I loved and cared about his son.

Myles balanced on his good leg, and I handed him the crutches.

I looked him over and then grabbed his backpack from behind the seat. Seeing Myles like this was sad, but with athletes, injuries and crutches were a part of life. “Come on, babe.” I slung his pack over my shoulder and strolled with him and his dad to the front door.

Opening the door, I let them go inside first. Would Zoma or Ace be home yet? Shit, we had some phone calls to make.

With a rough exhale, Myles dropped into a corner of the sectional and spread his braced knee across the cushions. His gaze tracked his father, who sat on my couch.

“Can I get anyone a drink? Gatorade, water…beer?” Lifting my brows, I watched them eye each other. “I think there’s a bottle of whiskey.” I mean, why the fuck not at this point?

“I’d love a glass of whiskey. Neat, please.” Mr. Cummings stretched an arm across the back of the couch.

I poured three shots of whiskey into low-ball glasses and handed them out. As I sunk into the end of the sectional, I said, “I love your son, sir.” Might as well start there.

Sipping his drink, Mr. Cummings grimaced. “Allen, my name is Allen.” He focused on me. “You knew Myles in high school, right? You were friends?”

“Yes, we were.” I pinched my lips. I wasn’t sure what he was leading to.

“Have you been in a relationship this whole time?” Allen’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his glass.

“No, Dad. We were just friends in high school, eh. He was at Northwestern and came here for his senior year. ASU’s football team won the championship last year, so he wanted…” Myles scowled. “Does it really matter? I’m gay. I’ve always been gay. Go ahead. Give me hell for it.”

“Jesus, Myles.” With a scoff, Allen rose and paced the room, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

“Did you call Mom already?” Myles took a long sip of his drink and hissed, his gaze sweeping to me. “We might need another bottle.”

“You can’t drink your way out of this, Myles.” His father stepped toward him. “Yes, I called your mother. She was shocked. Both of us are, areshocked.” He rubbed his forehead. “Why did you hide this from us?”

With a wince, Myles hefted backward on the couch. “Ow, fuck.”

“Can I get you something, babe?” I placed my hand on his ankle. “Let’s put a pillow under your knee and I’ll grab an ice pack.” I hopped from the couch, scrambled to the freezer, and pulled out one of our ice packs.

“Answer me.” Allen stepped closer, hovering over Myles.

“Because I thought you’d think less of me. Because I thought it might cause problems for Ethan to have a gay hockey-playing brother. Because I already wasn’t good enough.” He glared at his father.

Holy fuck. I stopped at the kitchen island, staring at them.

Clicking his tongue, Allen twisted and paced toward the sliding glass doors leading to our patio. Looking outside, he sipped his drink. “Your mother suspected you might be queer because you always hung around with Tyler Hodge.”

I crept to Myles, stuffed a pillow under his leg while he lifted it and set the ice pack over his knee. “That good?”

“Yes, thank you.” He wrinkled his forehead. “And thank you for not running away from this.” He brushed his hand down my arm.

“Always.” With my heart aching, I sat beside him and squeezed his hand. “You know I’m not going anywhere.” But I should probably let them hash it out and keep my mouth shut. For now.

As his attention shifted to his father, Myles said, “Dad, do you have a problem with my sexuality or not?” His gaze grew hard. The hockey player was coming out inside him. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.

I studied his father, who was still looking out the window.

The muscle in Allen’s jaw bulged. “I do have a problem with it.” Tipping his head back, he sucked in a deep inhale. “I have a problem with you not having the balls to tell your family.” He strode toward us. “We deserved to know. You shut us out of a big part of your life. Even if it’s difficult for me to understand, what the hell did you think I’d do? Do you think I’m the type of man who would throw my son on the street because he’s gay?” He glared at Myles.

Myles opened and closed his mouth. “I uh…um…”

Should I speak for him? My gaze flicked from Myles to his father, my pulse drumming in my ears. If this was hard for me to watch, how hard was it for Myles?

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