Page 70 of Playing His Game

Katie gently thwapped his arm. “Hush. What productions did you do?”

“Katie’s done her fair share of high-school productions.”

“The curse of the English teacher. Now let the boy answer the question.”

These two were the most wholesome double act Mo had ever seen. “Um, well, it started withAnnie—Sage was the lead, of course, but I was Orphan Number Five.” He gave a small, self-deprecating smile. He hadn’t minded being a nameless orphan—he couldn’t really sing. “Next year wasStreetcar.”

“Streetcar Named Desire? Why on earth would anyone want to put that old thing on in the past decade?” Katie snorted.

“The drama teacher was kind of a relic. Sage hated him. Fortunately, he retired and the new teacher was better. So then it wasPirates of PenzanceandThe Importance of Being Earnest. In senior year, Sage talked her into their vision forMidsummer Night’s Dream. Sage played Helena and talked me into Hermia.” He fiddled with a coffee cup. “My Lysander was another boy, but Demetrius was the star of the girls’ field hockey team.” The student body had loved it. Some of the parents, not so much.

“That sounds delightful!” Katie laughed. “Did you continue acting in university?”

“Oh, no, didn’t have the time.”

Liar. He’d had time enough to go clubbing and get drunk every weekend. Of course, his parents had been willing to bankroll college and nights out, but not Mo continuing with a ridiculous hobby that was no longer cute. Being Orphan Number Five at thirteen was one thing. Playing a traditionally female role at seventeen was quite another. They’d have been apoplectic if news of that had ever hit the Internet.

Fortunately, any chance of Katie asking follow-up questions was cut short by Adam’s arrival.

He shuffled into the kitchen with a yawn and a sheepish look. “Sorry, guess the time change got to me.” Ever the perfect gentleman, he dropped into the chair next to Mo, pressed a kiss to his hair, and murmured softly, “You sleep okay?”

“Yup.” Like Mo was going to say otherwise in front of Adam’s parents, who were watching them with such fond expressions, Mo almost felt sick.

“Good.” He pulled back enough to catch gazes with his parents, and Mo tensed, waiting for… something. Commentary on their relationship? He didn’t know.

“What would you like for breakfast, dear?” Katie motioned to the food on the table, the muffins and fruit, and the margarine, jam, and peanut butter left over from their own breakfasts, and then rattled off several other options.

Adam grunted. “I should have eggs.” He yawned. “And also a shake.”

He gave another buss to Mo’s head, like they kissed each other in non-sexy ways all the time, before he stood and wandered over to the fridge with Katie.

Which left Mo alone with the enigmatic Duncan.

“Did our boy happen to warn you about the annual hockey game?” Duncan took a sip of coffee, eyes sparkling over the mug.

“Like… watching?” Mo asked hopefully.

“Nope. Playing.”

“Adam, didn’t you tell him?” Katie chastised.

Pulling his head from the fridge, Adam caught Mo’s gaze and winced. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“You forgot one of our biggest and most important Christmas traditions?” Duncan raised an eyebrow.

“No, more like I forgot that it was weird?” He shrugged, sheepish.

“We play a game every Christmas, dear. We’ll have to find you some skates and a stick.”

“That’s if you’re playing, of course. Some folk don’t.” Duncan winked.

“It really is optional,” Adam said earnestly. He stood in front of the fridge with eggs and cheese in one hand, and oat milk in the other. “You don’t have to play if you don’t want to.” Maybe he figured Mo would rehash the excuses he’d given at the Canyons’ Christmas party: too hungry, too rusty, too sore from last night’s strenuous activity.

“But people will expect me to.” Mo could read between the lines. Unless he had good reason to avoid lacing up, the family would wonder why a kid raised in the sport didn’t want to play with them.

Anyway, it could be nice to get on the ice with Adam, especially if they were playing against each other. Mo wouldn’t mind having an excuse to have Adam all over him—if they could find time away from the family afterward to have sex about it.

Besides, Adam’s family was nothing like Mo’s. And Mo had loved the sport once upon a time. What could it hurt? “I don’t suppose you have an extra pair of skates in my size?” he said at last.