Page 115 of Over the Line

I couldn’t fucking wait.

“This is quite the upgrade from those buses when you were in youth hockey.” I whistled as I looked up at the charter jet. “Wow.”

Chris laughed. “Yeah, they’re nice. The first time I got called up from the minors, I was like, ‘holy shit I never want to go back.’”

I chuckled and followed him up the steps and onto the aircraft. Once we’d boarded and stowed our carry-on, I was introduced to some of the other dads who’d come along.

And by some miracle, during the introduction that had given me a ton of anxiety leading up to today, I didn’t lose my shit.

“This is Chris Kane’s dad, Garrett.” Liam gestured at the sixty-something man standing beside him. “Garrett, my dad, Ben.”

We shook hands, and I kept my smile firmly in place despite this being super fucking weird. “Great to meet you.”

“Likewise.” His smile seemed genuine and not at all like he suspected I was his son’s secret boyfriend. Which… why would he suspect it? Liam was like a steel trap about his personal life, and it wasn’t like we’d stolen a kiss or anything.

I was probably just nervous. I vividly remembered being a nervous wreck when I’d met my now-ex-father-in-law. And being scared extra shitless of the man a few short months later when we’d broken the news that he was going to be a grandfather.

Now, fully two decades later, I was older than my ex-father-in-law had been back then. Firmly an adult. Dating Ben’s adult son.

So why the fuck was I just as terrified as I’d been back then?

Could’ve been because my own adult son was here, too, and neither Chris nor Ben knew Liam and I were dating.

Yeah, this wasn’t going to be weird at all.

Luckily, Chris and I didn’t sit with Ben and Liam on the flight. Instead, we were a few rows back, sharing a club table with Craws and his dad, Tom. We spent the brief flight to Nashville playing cards and telling stories about youth hockey days.

“He called me a few months ago to complain about his baby keeping him up at night.” Tom clapped Craws hard on the shoulder. “I told him it was karma for all those times I had to be up at 3:30 to take him to a tournament.”

Craws groaned. “Yeah, but that wasn’t every single night.”

“No, just the weekends when I would’ve liked to sleep in once in a while.”

His son eyed him. “And whose idea was it to get me ice skating when I was two and playing hockey when I was four?” He shrugged unrepentantly. “You kinda brought this on yourself, Dad.”

Tom huffed. “I had to do something with you before you drove your mother and me insane.” To us, he said, “I was one of those people who thought ADHD was made up until this one came along.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, I think half of Chris’s U10 team was kids with ADHD whose parents thought they’d burn off excess energy.”

Chris snorted. “Uh-huh. And that worked out, didn’t it?”

“You’re not wrong,” Tom muttered. “Instead of a hyperactive child, I ended up with a hyperactive hockey player.” He shot his son a playful glare and pointed at his bald head. “This is your fault, you know.”

Craws grinned so big, he showed off the gap where one of his molars used to be. His dad, Chris, and I all laughed.

He wasn’t the first parent to tell me he’d put his kid in hockey to burn off excess energy. And even now as adults, most of the guys were restless and hated sitting still. Just glancing up and down the aisle on this plane, I could see bouncing knees, drumming fingers, shifting in seats. It wasn’t solely players, either—some of them had definitely inherited their fidgetiness from their dads.

Chris had been a high-energy kid, but that wasn’t why we’d put him into ice skates. He’d watched a game at his uncle’s house, then begged us to let him learn to play. And now, almost twenty years later, here he was—playing in the big leagues. Playing alongside a generational talent.

My heart sank the same way it always did when my mind brushed up against the fact that I was dating my son’s teammate.

From a few rows behind me, Liam’s laughter cut through the noise. I didn’t hear what he said, just caught the distinctive timbre of his voice.

I glanced at Chris as my nerve endings tingled with Liam’s proximity.

Soon. We need to tell you soon.

Just… not yet.