David shakes Jake’s father’s hand, endures a hug from his mother. He mumbles his name to four different people, wouldn’t be able to remember theirs if Jake hadn’t already told him. Jake’s sisters don’t try to hug him or shake his hand, and he doesn’t know if that’s a bad sign or not, but he’s grateful for it regardless.

“Jake, why don’t you take David’s bag up?” Jake’s father asks, and when Jake disappears up the stairs, it’s all David can do not to beg him not to leave him. He lets Jake’s mother steer him toward the living room in the meantime, sitting stiffly on the edge of the couch. Jake comes back quickly at least, takes the spot beside David, and David resists the urge to lean into him when he does. He would, if they were alone — when they watched TV or movies at Jake’s condo they’d overlap in more places than they didn’t — but it’s not appropriate in front of his parents.

He’s offered a drink, which reminds him he forgot to pick up the bottle of wine. He demurs, and when Jake and his father both trip over each other insisting, he asks for a glass of water, one Jake disappears to retrieve for him.

Jake’s parents ask him about his own parents, how he likes his team, how he liked the camp in Toronto. David knows they’re just being polite, that the questions aren’t meant to corner him, but none of the questions he’s asked have easy, palatable answers. He does his best to answer them in a way that doesn’t seem awkward. He doesn’t think his best is very good.

“It’s really nice to finally meet Jake’s boyfriend,” Jake’s father says, and David can feel his face go red. It’s not a word they’ve used. It’s not even a word David uses in his head. They’re — they’re something, he knows that, but they’re not that.

Except he’s here, travelled hundreds of miles to meet Jake’s family, and David’s pretty sure that’s a boyfriend thing to do.

He’s given them the wrong impression. NHL players don’t have boyfriends. They can’t. Marc Lapointe is the exception that proved the rule; David tried not to listen to the guys in the Islanders room before they played the Leafs, but he still heard things. It’s never kind. But then, no one’s ever kind to their opponents, so perhaps that’s not the right word. The things they say make him feel sick. He feels sick every single time, because he knows they’d say the exact same things about him if they knew, if not worse.