Page 23 of Playing His Game

“Just that we were keeping things on the down-low until we were sure it was worth the fuss.”

“Well, probably best to keep things truthful where we can. We ran into each other at a bar, our usual banter turned flirty, then you took me home, and the rest is history.”

Adam snorted but considered the merits of the tale. It was simple enough to remember and vague and boring enough that no one try to verify it—or worse, disprove it. “That works.”

“Good. As for getting to know each other… what would you like to do? Twenty questions? Truth or Dare? Or maybe just a bit of tit for tat, alternating questions.”

“Can’t we just talk?”

“Sounds boring. Tit for tat it is. So… what was your favorite toy as a kid?”

Of all the questions he thought Mo might have asked, this wasn’t on the list. “Well, I had a stick I was?—”

“Nope! I refuse to accept hockey as an answer. Otherwise I’ll never learn anything new. Besides, I’m sure that wasn’t the first toy you got. No blankie or teddy bear?”

“Oh, well I had a stuffed pig.”

“Apig?”

“Yeah. A gift from someone—parents can’t remember who anymore—but apparently, I picked it as my favorite.” It had a white-and-blue spotted pattern, a snub nose, floppy ears, and the softest fur. Or at least it still hadsomeof those traits. It wasn’t as white or silky soft as it had once been.

That meant it was his turn to pick a question, right? He couldn’t just throw Mo’s back in his face. By the same token, he didn’t want to ask anythingtoopersonal when they were still getting to know each other and he never knew what was going to send Mo spiraling into surliness.

The obvious topic revealed itself as the Land Rover pulled slightly to the side of the road. Now that Mo had mentioned the alignment, Adam couldn’t stop noticing it. “How did you learn so much about cars?” Somehow, he couldn’t see Mo and his father bent over an engine together.

“Natural gift?” Mo offered cheekily, but before Adam could sigh that he didn’t want to play his own game, he went on. “No, um, when I was a kid, my parents worked a lot, but I insisted I was too old for a nanny, so I spent a lot of summers with my friend Sage, who lived next door. Their mom is, like, a semi-famous actress? So she was gone a lot too. Sage had a stay-at-home dad, though, and he had this amazing garage. I used to bargain with Sage.” Adam didn’t look over, but he heard the smile in Mo’s voice. “I’d play the swing cast in whatever story they wanted for however long they wanted, if we could spend an hour in the garage watching their dad first.”

Adam was smiling back before he realized it. “Cute. Their dad didn’t mind?”

Mo laughed. “Honestly? He might’ve, at first. It’s hard to remember. I wasn’t very good at reading people as a kid. But once he realized I wanted to know everything, he was great. I probably gave him several heart attacks, though. A working garage isn’t the safest place for a kid. But he showed me how to use the pneumatic lift and change the oil and check tire pressure and fill the tires, and when I mastered that, it was tire rotations—thank God I was playing hockey so much, because tires are pretty heavy.”

Adam had just been thinking that. “Is that where you get your car snobbery?”

Mo laughed again. Adam didn’t realize until he warmed at the sound that he’d been aiming for it. “No, no, it’s my turn to ask a question. You already sneaked a second one in there.”

Had he? Adam hadn’t noticed. “Shoot.”

He expected another softball question. The kids’ toy one was unique but not particularly revelatory—not the way Adam’s had unintentionally been. Even if Mo didn’t care about getting to know Adam for real, Adam wanted to put a decent face on their relationship.

So it surprised him when Mo asked, “What’s your family like?”

Something about the question seemed revealing in itself—maybe the way Adam could sense Mo leaning forward, like he was hungry for details.

No, Adam thought—hungry for closeness, or the memory of closeness, like he’d had with his friend’s dad. Not with his own family.

Or was he reading too much into it?

“Aside from adopting stray four-legged creatures that cross their path, you mean?” He signaled to take the final turn into the parking lot for the Pima Canyon Trailhead. “Actually that’s a pretty good, like, what do you call it? Metaphor?” It wasn’t quite the word he wanted, but close enough. His mom wasn’t here to correct him. “My parents were public school teachers, so I guess they pretty much got a new set of foster humans every year.” He pulled into a parking spot and shut off the engine. “Some of them still send my parents Christmas cards, like, decades later. It’s wild. And then there’s my siblings. My sister Chelsea is a teacher too. When I was really young, I always wanted to tag along with her and her friends, and she hated it. But we got really close after she moved out for university. She’s the first person I came out to, and she’d probably be the first person to throw a punch at one of my hockey games if anyone said something homophobic.”

They got out of the SUV and closed the doors. The air temperature was still moderate, but it would be hot soon. Adam walked around to open the hatch and pulled his bottle of sunscreen from his backpack.

Mo met him back there. “Like, the people on the ice?”

It took Adam a moment to realize he was asking if Chels would vault the glass to go after some troll a head taller than her without the skates. “I meant in the stands with her, but I wouldn’t put it past her if she could hear them. She was born without fear.” He squirted some sunscreen in his palm before offering the bottle to Mo, who declined.

His funeral.

“You said siblings?” Mo prompted. “Are there more?”