Page 24 of The Long Game

Jack snorted but didn’t offer to help Barnaby, who’d slapped his hands away when he’d dared to offer assistance a few minutes earlier. In a way, he was delighted that Barnaby was legitimately terrible on skates. It was possible that some of the kids would be, too, and putting them through skating lessons alongside Barnaby might help them feel more at ease.

The radio on Jack’s hip had reported the arrival of the bus from Pathways ten minutes ago. Gabriel Santangelo, the Pathways director, and the other volunteers on the bus had taken the kids to the visitor locker room, where they were being outfitted with equipment donated by the Ice Cats. Jack hadoriginally asked his friends to donate whatever they had, but of course team management—specifically the manager, Rupert Smythe-Morrison, and his husband, Callum Smythe-Morrison, one of the team owners—hadn’t been able to leave it at that.

Rupert and Callum’s oldest child, Christian, was the first to burst out of the tunnel from the home locker room. He’d been in this program for the past few years and had played hockey all his life, but his real passion was figure skating. It showed in every graceful stride he took across the ice.

“Jack!” he called with a big smile, stopping short to spray snow all down Jack’s legs.

Jack’s dirty look only made Christian’s grin wider. Then Christian spotted Barnaby and his eyes almost bugged out of his head.

“Is he…is he trying toskate?”

“What else, pray tell, could I possibly be trying to do?” Barnaby snapped from where he clung to the dasher along the boards.

Christian honestly didn’t appear to know.

Jack bit back another laugh. He feltgood. Considering what had happened the day before, he might have been tired or cranky. Instead, all he had to do was picture his mother’s face when Grady had called her Mom and he’d start laughing again.

He had notexpected Grady to wade in like that. Hell, he would have made a point to keep Grady far, far away from his mother if he’d had any inkling it might happen. But in hindsight, he had zero regrets.

His mother had needed a little shaking up—and maybe he had, too.

Jack and Christian jumped forward when Barnaby overbalanced, but before he could go over backward he pitched himself forward and through the door to collapse on the bench.

After a moment to compose himself, he glared. “You said this was easy!”

Jack and Christian exchanged confused looks.

“I never said that,” Jack said.

“Me, either,” Christian added.

“I did,” called a deep voice from the other side of the ice.

Jack turned to find Travis stepping through the Zamboni door. He zipped across the ice like the professional—albeit retired—hockey player he was.

“Travis!” Barnaby cried, jumping to his feet. He waddled back onto the ice, his balance precarious on his skates. Travis arrived in time to catch Barnaby when he almost fell on his face.

“You lied to me,” Barnaby whined while clinging to Travis and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Also, when did you get back?”

Travis kissed him again, lingering this time, then looked over his shoulder at Jack. “I didn’t want to miss the first day, so I flew back early.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jack said. He smiled at Travis’s eye roll. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Travis said. “Though I thought I was late. Where is everyone?”

“They should be out soon.”

Garrick was in the home locker room talking with their community players about the kids from Pathways, emphasizing the importance of preserving their privacy. Rupert was in the visitor locker room helping the Pathways kids get outfitted and answering any questions that might come up.

The only person missing was Grady. He’d dashed home to shower, change, and grab his helmet and skates, but he was due back soon.

A series of hoots erupted from the visitor tunnel and Jack turned to see the Pathways kids jostling each other as theyhobbled toward the ice. Rupert stepped out first, dressed in perfectly fitted stretchy pants that, along with Rupert’s frankly astonishing ass, could stop a Pride parade in its tracks. He skimmed across the ice to Jack and Christian.

Goddamn figure skaters.

He was followed by Alexei Belov, the Ice Cats’ starting goalie, and twenty kids dressed in matching black gear, from helmets to socks, with bright blue Ice Cats emblazoned on their chests.

Jack eyed the kids’ slick getups, then eyed Rupert.

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