Bar Down (Grand Marquee Manticores #2)

Chapter 3

THREE

Eight Months Ago

Eli

Ash got progressively more drunk as the night went on and he’s now passed out on the couch, a bottle of whiskey dangling from his hand. Once most of the guests leave, I try to wake him up and take him home, but I don’t think that’s an option at this point.

“Just let him spend the night here,” Robbie says, joining me in the living room.

“What if he has to throw up at some point? You want him to do that on your nice carpet?”

Robbie winces and says, “No, but if you take him home he’ll probably throw up all over his bed.”

“I was planning on taking him to my place,” I say and catch the surprise on Robbie’s face. Maybe I’m revealing too much, but I trust Robbie and maybe it's time to be more open with my best friend. “What is it?” I ask.

He hesitates, but then says, “Nothing, that’s just surprising. You two didn’t seem to get along that well tonight. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, contemplating how much to tell Robbie. “It’s not that we don’t get along. I just don’t like it when he drinks so much. It’s hard to have a serious conversation with him.” I shrug but take a seat on the small patch of couch that’s not covered by Ash’s slumped body. I reach down and take the bottle from him, then move his dangling arm up and lay it over his stomach. He doesn’t stir.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Robbie asks quietly, even though no one else is around to hear. I know what he expects, for me to shut down, but I hold my breath in anticipation and nod.

“Why do you always take care of him?”

I exhale in a rush, relieved he didn’t ask the obvious question. Do you have feelings for him? I clasp my hands so hard they turn white and say, “He’s my friend. I care about all of you.”

“That’s a lie. I mean you care about us, sure, but you don’t treat us like this. You don’t cover us with blankets when you think we’re cold. You don’t bring us water when we’re hungover. You don’t rub our backs when we throw up because we drank too much. Should I keep going?”

“No.” I take a moment to gather my thoughts then say, “It’s hard to explain. When I met him I thought he was an idiot and he probably still is, but he’s my idiot, you know?”

Robbie smiles and sits down on the oversized chair next to the couch. His easygoing attitude makes me relax more so I continue. “I told myself I wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. I know I never talk about my previous relationship, but I was young and stupid and fell in love with a teammate.” I look up at him, waiting for any judgment or negative reaction, but all I get back is a nod.

“I was twenty-four when we started seeing each other. We were on the same team in Finland and we hit it off. Both of us wanted to keep it a secret because, let’s be real, gay men in hockey are not exactly respected.” There are very few openly gay players in the league, if at all. So we did our best to hide it, and we did for two years, until a couple months before my trade here. “I was ready to come out, but he didn’t think I should. He basically told me I’d ruin my career if I did. So I asked him where he saw our relationship going. You know what he said?”

Robbie shakes his head and waits for me to find my words. I swallow the bitterness of that failed relationship and the disappointment that came with it and say, “Nowhere. He said it was just a fun way to pass the time for a while, but he would never even dream about being seen with me in public, let alone date me openly.”

“So what’s keeping you from telling all this to Ash? I mean he’s not exactly closeted. Sure, he doesn’t publicly announce his orientation, but we all know he’s bi.”

My gaze strays to Ash again and I watch his chest rise and fall a few times before answering. “I just don’t think I’d be good for him. He’s got so much potential, and I’ve got a lot of baggage that he doesn’t need to deal with. I don’t want to put that pressure on him.”

“I still think you should tell him.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I sigh, my fingers itching to brush Ash’s hair off his forehead.

“You know what I think?” Robbie says, and I finally pull my eyes away from Ash. “I think he gets drunk on purpose so you take care of him. Because he’s too scared to tell you how he feels and so he hides behind pretenses to be near you,” Robbie continues, and of course he’s right on the money.

Except, Ash did tell me how he felt, or tried to at least.

He said he liked me.

When I don’t say anything else, Robbie stands up. “You should take him to the spare bedroom and stay with him so he doesn’t throw up all over my bed, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” I say quietly, looking at Ash and giving in. My fingers brush the soft hair off of his forehead and he sighs in his sleep.

I carry Ash to the spare bedroom and make sure he’s on his side in case he wakes up and needs to throw up. I leave a trash can next to the side of the bed, for good measure. Once I’m sure he’ll be okay for a few minutes, I step out again to get some water. When I get to the kitchen, I’m startled by Olivia as she closes the fridge and faces me.

I bring a hand to my heart and say, “ Helvetti! Olivia, you scared me.”

She chuckles but quietly says, “Sorry, Eli.”

“It’s okay,” I say and approach the island, tapping it with my fingers.

“What does that word mean?” she asks and opens the fridge back up.

“ Helvetti? ”

Olivia nods and turns toward me, handing me two water bottles.

“It means hell.”

“ Helvetti , I like it,” she says.

“I can teach you more, if you’d like.” Olivia raises an eyebrow, surprised. I guess I should try harder to connect with her, now that she’s officially Robbie’s girlfriend. “That way you can swear at players on ice without them knowing. Unless they’re Finnish. Then they’ll know,” I say, and Olivia bursts into laughter. I can’t help but join in.

“What’s the word for ass ?” she asks.

“ Perse. ”

She giggles again and says, “Dustin Mitchell is a perse .”

I shake my head, “No, Mitchell is a vittu. ”

“What’s a vittu? ” she asks and takes a sip of water.

“Cunt,” I say, and when she chokes on her water, I laugh.

“I like you, Eli,” she says and heads to Robbie’s room.

When I return to the spare bedroom, Ash is still in the same position as I left him. I take a moment to really look at him, unabashedly. He looks like a disheveled mess, but damn, he’s beautiful. I swallow and lie down next to him on the queen-sized bed. Sleep doesn’t come for hours, but I lie there anyway and listen to him breathe.

Ash

I wake up at some point during the night, but as soon as I open my eyes and try to stand I can feel the room spinning. I know I drank way too much and that I should have faced Eli and his rejection head on rather than soften the blow with liquor, but I also just wanted to stop feeling so much.

I can’t ever seem to be good enough . Not for my family, not for my friends, not for Eli.

The thought makes me sick to my stomach, or that could just be the alcohol in my system. I stumble through the darkness of what I assume is Robbie’s guest bedroom and make my way to where I think the bathroom is. Except I miss by a whole foot and hit the wall instead. The mattress creaks behind me but I don’t have the energy to even turn around and see who it is.

I hiccup and know without a doubt that I’m about to throw up all over Robbie’s carpet. Warm hands reach for me and grab my biceps, then lead me towards the bathroom. The light turns on the lowest dimmed setting and I spot Eli in the mirror as he guides me to the toilet. He brings me there just in time for me to purge the old year and all the bad decisions I made. A warm hand rubs constant circles on my back and I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m such a mess or the fact that he’s still so kind to me after everything, that brings me to tears.

I kneel there and heave until there’s nothing else coming out of me and Eli helps me up and leads me to the sink, where he wordlessly hands me a toothbrush and toothpaste. As I sluggishly brush my teeth, he heads out to the bedroom and comes back with a bottle of water that he has me chug down. The light is so dim that it starts to flicker, and I can’t help but take in Eli’s rumpled look.

He looks tired.

He looks beautiful .

He looks like he deserves better than taking care of me at four in the morning.

All my self hatred comes rushing in and I can’t keep the tears away, so I lean over the sink and put my head in my hands so he doesn’t see me. As much as I like him taking care of me, I don’t want him to only see me at my worst.

His hand lands on my back again, resuming the soothing movements and my shoulders start to shake with my silent crying. I bite my lip so I don’t make a noise.

“Do you need to throw up again?” he gently asks and I can’t do anything but shake my head.

“Why doesn’t anyone want me?” I whisper so quietly, hoping that he doesn’t hear it but needing to say it anyway.

Eli’s comforting movements stop, but a second later he asks, “What?”

I sniffle loudly and stand up fully, slowly looking at him in the mirror. Eli’s eyes are worried, taking in the tears on my face. He’s only an inch or two taller than me, but his broad shoulders and thick thighs make him look larger, and with the way I’m caving in on myself, I feel like a child. Both his hands come up to my shoulders as he slowly turns me towards him. I can’t help but let out a sob.

“Hey, what is going on?” Eli asks again, arms squeezing me gently.

I hang on to his arms but can’t quite put into words what it is I’m feeling. Shame, sadness, self hatred. All the things I feel on a regular basis. I want to disappear because that will make everyone’s lives easier.

So I just cry. Eli brings me into a tight hug and lets me sob into his shoulder as I repeatedly whisper, “ I’m sorry. ”

After what feels like forever in his arms, Eli leads me back to the bed. Once I assure him I won’t throw up again, he helps me take off my clothes so I’m left in my boxers and white undershirt. He does the same and joins me back in bed, covering us both with the duvet.

Almost like he senses I need affection, he moves us around so that my back is flush with his front, and his left hand comes around to grip mine. Eli interlaces our fingers and I bring our hands up to my chest, where I hold tight. This is the most intimate position we’ve ever been in together and I can’t help but feel like I forced him into it. One more thing to add to the list of things I hate about myself tonight.

Drinking myself into oblivion? Check.

Pressured my best friend into cuddling me after being an absolute shit all night? Check.

Kissed him like my life depended on it only for him to reject me? Check.

How the fuck am I going to fix this?