Page 37 of Finders Keepers
Warmth and wanting and a feeling of being seen and heard and cherished took root in his chest.Fuck.How was he going togive this up? Since his arrival, Wesley had just been that person. He had no choice but to live without it. Wesley had his own life to live.
A few minutes later, they were seated across the table from each other. Nate didn’t remember owning place mats. “Wait. Did you buy these?” He tapped the corner of the blue plaid fabric with his fork.
Wesley bit his lip, one eyebrow arching. “Maybe.”
“Why?”
“Because you deserve to have people do nice things for you. Sadly, I won’t be around much longer to do it.” He shrugged. “They’re just dollar-store place mats. Nothing fancy.”
“Thanks.” Yeah, he was making way more out of this than he needed to.
“You’re welcome.” Wesley cut up his chicken breast. “Now, what did Tommy do?”
“Just mouthing off after the scrimmage.” Nate shook his head. God, he was dumb. Should have just let it be. “I overreacted.”
Wesley’s palm hit the table, making Nate jump and his eyes meet Wesley’s.
“Vocal ally, remember? Don’t apologize for standing your ground over something as insidious as homophobia. You warned him. You followed through. Maybe he’ll think twice before opening his mouth again.”
“Only when I’m around. You think he cares or even understands?”
Wesley deflated. “Still. Maybe talk to the coaches or HR or someone? I don’t know the hierarchy of a hockey team.”
“Yeah, about that. I’ll be getting a call from someone. Shit. I should call Wade. Give him a heads up.”
“Yes, you should. You need someone in your corner.”
Nate’s phone jangled and buzzed in his back pocket. He groaned and fished it out. Time to face the music.
“Hello?
“Yes, sir.
“No, sir.
“I’ll see you at 9:30.
“Yes, sir.
“Bye.” Nate pushed his plate away. “Fuck.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Honey Almond Milk Cold Brew from Starbucks was probably the last thing Nate needed to be slurping right now. The caffeine and the honey would just add fuel to the dumpster fire of his nerves.
The team’s executive offices occupied the middle floors of a glass-and-steel mid-rise building with rounded corners. Balconies on various corners featured carefully arranged potted trees, flowering shrubs, and a lush array of greenery. One balcony ledge was adorned with cascading vines. A partial rooftop garden shared the eighth floor with the cafeteria, offering tables and chairs for al fresco dining.
The building was only fifteen minutes away from the condo which didn’t give him enough time to calm himself. On the other hand, there wasn’t a whole lot of time to freak out either. The elevator ride to the fourth floor felt longer than his drive in, and the caffeine had kicked in by the time the bell dinged and the doors swooshed open.
A Locomotives logo, similar to the one hanging from the dressing room ceiling, floated on the brown paneled wall of the corridor. White diamond shapes dotted the dark blue carpeting. Glass doors on either side of the large steam engine beckoned him to his doom.
A glance at his watch revealed that he was ten minutes early, which wasn’t a bad thing. Punctuality showed that he took the appointment seriously. Of course, now he had ten more minutes to imagine all the horrible consequences they were about to hit him with.
He took a breath and stepped into the bright reception area. The executive offices were located on one side of the building. Tall windows overlooked the practice facility and thearena beyond. Morning light flooded the space, and plants and pictures lined a long credenza behind the receptionist.
The receptionist, a plump woman with brunette curls and chunky-framed glasses, looked up and smiled. Her round face was pretty and her big brown eyes sparkled. The nameplate on the counter read Marjorie Kincaid. “How can I help you?”
“I’m Nathan Hennessey. Here to see Mr. Mason.” He hoped he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt.
