Page 66 of On Thin Ice

“I’m handling this,” Finn said firmly. “They draftedme, not you, though I’m sure they fucking wish I was more of a chip off the old block than I actually am.”

“Finn,” Morgan said and he sounded so reasonable and sonotannoyed it only made Finn’s temper flare hotter.

“I have this,” Finn repeated. “Ihavethis.”

Maybe for the very first fucking time he wasn’t just saying the words, hoping that his dad would accept them long enough to get off his back, but he might actually believe them.

Hedidhave this. He was growing. He was learning. He was changing. Jacob was giving him a much-needed new perspective on how to handle this work, this job.

This career.

He didn’t have to be Morgan. He could be Finn and that was absolutely fuckingokay.

“You do,” Morgan said. For once it actually sounded like he agreed. Grudgingly, maybe, but that belief was all he’d ever wanted. “I told you, you played great last night. Honestly, great the last few weeks. What’s different? You’ve changed—”

“No,” Finn said. “We’re not doing this.”

Morgan actually had the nerve to sound hurt. “I’m not asking because ofme. I’m asking because of you. Because I give a shit about you. You’re my son.”

“You’re fucking asking because you’re worried I’m going to make you look bad. Don’t worry; I’m not gonna embarrass the Reynolds name.”

“That’s not—I’m not—” Morgan broke off with a mutteredfuck. “Don’t do that, Finn.”

“Then don’t be an overbearing ass.”

Morgan took a short huffing breath, like he was desperately trying to rein in his temper, and a voice inside Finn, a voice that sounded suspiciously just like Jacob’s, told him that maybe he should do the same.

For a long moment, there was nothing, only silence. Finn half-expected his dad to just tell him he had to go and hang up, but he didn’t. He changed the subject instead.

“Tell me about this dinner,” Morgan said. “This guy you’re going to dinner with. The dinner that’s not the date that you’d like to be.”

“Yes, I know what you’re asking about.” Finn rolled his eyes and stared at the suit he’d pulled out. The options of what he could wear with it.

Was he trying to give Jacob a heart attack? Melt his defenses one breath at a time?

Ramsey would tell him to just fucking go for it.

He wanted to be brave like Ramsey. Fearless.

“What’s he like? How’d you meet him?”

Finn could hear the effort in his dad’s voice and told himself that if Morgan was trying this hard, he should at least reciprocate.

“He’s a bit older. Nice. I’m giving him some advice now, but I’m . . .yeah, I’m hoping for more.”

“Not a hockey player, then,” Morgan stated, rather than asked.

But as angry as his dad could make him, Finn didn’t want to lie. Outright or otherwise. “He runs this foundation. Or he’s starting this foundation, I guess. Wants some advice from a queer perspective.”

There, that was about as factually accurate as Finn could get without telling Morgan the whole truth.

“A do-gooder, then. Hemustbe nice.”

“He is,” Finn said.

He wanted to tell his father that Jacob was nice, but firm. That he wanted better for Finn than sometimes Finn wanted for himself. That he pushed him, but in all the right ways. Ways that made him feel brilliant and capable and strong, not weak or hopeless or forever lagging behind.

“So what’s the problem, then?”

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