Out for the Holidays and Out for Gold (Out in College 8.5)

Derek leaned into my side. “No one said it was fair, Gabe. But he can’t fix what he doesn’t understand. And maybe he’ll never get there. That doesn’t mean you should lose sleep over old pain or worries. Let that shit go. For your sake. For your sanity.”

I gave a humorless half laugh and nodded. “You’re right.”

“I’m pretty smart,” he boasted playfully. “And I have some experience with pushy parents.”

“Your mom is nothing like him. She loves you so much she can’t see straight sometimes. And my mom is like that too…to a less obsessive degree.” I teased.

“True.”

We chuckled, then let the silence fall like a gossamer blanket. I didn’t want to break it, but now that the cork was off my emotional bottle, I couldn’t help voicing one of my greatest fears.

“I don’t want to be like him, Der. If we ever have kids, I just…please let me know if I—”

“Stop.” Derek shook his head vehemently as he shifted to face me. “You are not your dad. You’re not going to turn into him the day you become a father. You know that. Someday, we will have kids, and they’re going to be really damn lucky to have two dads who love them unconditionally. You’ll probably be the fun dad who lets them get away with everything, and I’ll be the uptight one who keeps track of bedtimes and homework assignments.”

I caressed his jaw lovingly and bit his bottom lip. “Is it crazy that I’m not even a little freaked out that we so casually talk about having kids? Like it’s a foregone conclusion.”

He kissed me and rested his forehead against mine. “It is. You’re going to the Olympics, and then one of us will propose. We’ll close escrow on our house, get married, and talk about starting a family. Sound good?”

My heart was practically bursting at the seams, but I played it cool. “Yep. Sounds perfect. How many kids do you want?”

“Two. At least.”

“Same. And how will we know who should do the proposing?”

Derek smiled. “We’ll know.”

The opportunity to have the “talk” came sooner than expected when my father showed up unannounced at the pool deck where I was coaching my club team. This wasn’t normal behavior. He’d lived in Arizona for years, and visits to Long Beach to see me were mini events. Dad was a busy man. The kind who always had his eye on his watch at dinner or after games. He wasn’t the kind of guy who dropped everything to hop state lines and surprise his firstborn son.

I honestly hadn’t known how to respond. I’d stared like an idiot until one of the players asked how long we were going to work on the same drill. I snapped to attention and barked a new set of orders, scanning the water to make sure they weren’t egregiously goofing off. Corralling hormonal fifteen-year-old boys wasn’t easy on a good day. Add a meddlesome parent, and things could get interesting fast.

I blew my whistle, tucked my clipboard under my arm, and pulled on my invisible mental armor. My phony smile wobbled, then melted when I spotted the preteen kid who looked a lot like my dad at his side.

Holy crap.

Scratch that…this wasn’t interesting; this was a reality TV show-style disaster in the making.

“Dad. What are you doing here?” I held my hand out in greeting and rearranged my smile, glad my sunglasses hid at least part of my expression.

“I got a wild hair and decided to fly into Long Beach for an overnighter with this guy. You remember Cam, right?” He set his hand on the teenager’s shoulder. It was such a casual gesture…not worthy of a second glance. But it caught my attention.

The kid—Cam, was tall and lanky with longish sandy-blond hair, green eyes, and freckles. It was easy to tell he was James Chadwick’s son. They shared the same coloring and maybe nose. Cam still had some growing to do, but I’d bet he’d easily get to six two or six three. Like Dad.

Funny enough, height was the only thing I had in common with either my father or my half brother. I had my mom’s olive skin, hazel eyes, and dark hair. No one would guess we were related. I could be a random friend of the family…someone who might get an occasional call or invitation, but not a true insider who knew the ins and outs of everyday life. Geez, by the time I was Cam’s age, Dad was long gone. He was an every-other-weekend parent. Or less.

But that wasn’t Cam’s fault.

I pushed the rogue twinge of jealousy aside and offered Cam a fist bump. “How’s it goin’?”

“Good.”

Ah, monosyllabic teens. I had a pool full of them at the moment, so I wasn’t at a total loss here.

I tipped my chin toward the water. “Do you play?”