Chapter 1 #4
“I think it’s only, like, three miles from Gaylord,” Noah said dryly.
He ruffled a hand through his hair, which had mostly dried and was now adorably fluffy and even more Muppetlike.
Christ. Devon would have to see if he could subtly leave the guy some hair product before Amber came in tomorrow morning and decided to use that fluff as ammunition to ruin Devon’s life.
“Quit stalling,” he managed. Look at him, holding up his end of the conversation.
“Right. Well, like I said, it started with a shitty breakup. Or I guess it started when my now-ex started embezzling money, but I didn’t know about that at the time.”
Oh shit. Devon should’ve made popcorn. “Should I have made popcorn?” he asked.
Noah ignored him. “So yeah, one day in, like, June, the cops come knocking on my door, and they’ve got a warrant to look through our stuff, and I’m sitting there going, ‘What?’ Like, do I need a lawyer? And—” He paused with a furrowed brow. “Actually, I think we need to go back farther.”
He really should’ve made popcorn. “How much farther?”
“Like seven or eight more years?” Noah said ruefully. “Because honestly, this story starts where the first one ends.”
The same as Devon’s, then. “Early retirement.”
Noah snorted and pulled his feet up onto the armchair with him. “Okay, one of us did not make enough money in the show to retire. I never even got to sign my first standard contract.”
So three years making probably league minimum, with maybe a signing bonus. “Fair.”
“Anyway. The first obstacle was the concussion. You ever?”
They weren’t exactly uncommon in hockey, but Devon shook his head. “Head’s about the only thing I never broke. At least not like that.”
“Yeah, well, I spent three weeks getting real acquainted with the inside of my toilet bowl. I mean, I could find my way to the bathroom in the dark on my hands and knees.”
Devon’s stomach churned in sympathy. “Jesus. Never heard of anyone having it that bad.”
“I was just lucky.” He quirked a wry smile and lifted a shoulder.
“I guess I mean that both ironically and sincerely. Because yeah, it sucked. I mean one minute I’m living the dream I’d worked for my whole life, and the next the doctors are telling me it’s a miracle I can still talk and feed myself. ”
And here he was walking around and driving and living a normal life. Devon suppressed a shiver at the might-have-beens. “Well, you look”—Hot. Edible. Available. —“good.” But not like a hockey player, anymore. Not really. He was too reedy for that.
Noah tilted his head in acknowledgment, or maybe he was trying to decide if Devon was flirting with him.
“Took some getting used to. I can’t work out like I used to—that kind of physical exertion will trigger a monster migraine and I’ll be in bed for two days.
But I felt awful if I didn’t get any exercise, so I spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself until I found a routine that worked.
And then, once I didn’t feel like cold deep-fried dog turd, I figured I needed to do something with my life, and I was already in Colorado, so I applied to school. Begin chapter two.”
“What’d you go for?”
“Oh, I was an undeclared major for two years. Going back to school was hard. Ended up with a degree in education with a focus on human kinetics. Probably kind of predictable.”
Devon couldn’t have done it. “Wasn’t that hard? I mean… spending all day with the people who still might get to live out your dream.”
Noah flushed pink in the firelight. “I didn’t think of it that way. It was nice to have hockey back, even if it was in a different way than I wanted at first. I missed the closeness of being on a team, you know?”
Fuck, Devon shouldn’t have asked. Now Noah’s story was bringing up all his own shit. “Yeah.” He knew. But he’d had to leave it behind.
Maybe Noah realized they were treading too close to dangerous waters, because he cleared his throat. “So school was chapter two. Then chapter three. Work. Self-explanatory. And then chapter four.” He paused. “How do we feel about Sean Avery?”
What? Oh. Oh? Was he hinting at what Devon thought he was hinting at? “I mean, he’s a dick, but not because he’s bi.” He waved his hand. “Get to the embezzling part. I’m dying of suspense. Did you get arrested?”
Noah laughed with little humor. “No. Thank God. It took them a couple weeks to figure that out, though, and to realize Tommy’d been stealing from me too. Not enough to bankrupt me, just casually siphoning off funds here and there.”
“Wow. Nice guy.”
A considering hum, and Noah shot him that sly smile again. “I’d say he sucked, but he wasn’t even good at that.”
Devon laughed, startled. Okay, yeah, Noah was flirting with him. “So ends chapter—shit, what is that, chapter four? Five?”
He shook his head. “I was never any good at math. Anyway, I went back to work at the school, but it wasn’t the same after. People looked at me with pity, or like they thought I might be guilty after all and had just pulled the—” He stopped, lips quirked.
“Pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes?” Devon suggested with a gesture at the sheep-themed décor on the mantel.
“Something like that.” He shook his head.
“So I started keeping an eye out for other openings, an opportunity came up in Traverse City, and….” Another shrug.
“I skipped the chapter where Tommy convinced me he needed me around while he worked on some big-deal lawyer shit so I missed my brother’s wedding, but I did.
And I thought, this way at least I won’t miss anything else.
So I gave my notice, and as soon as winter break started… .”
“Couldn’t wait to get here.” Devon got it. “Well, you’ll get there tomorrow, anyway.”
“Thanks to you.” Noah toasted him with the last of his hot chocolate. “Anyway, then I was dumb and almost froze to death and was rescued by a knight in a dirty pickup truck, and that brings us up to speed.”
Chapter seven? Eight?
Devon pushed the thought down. The universe wasn’t that nice to recovering drug addicts.
Besides, the story he was about to tell was the opposite of romantic.
He set his mug down and nudged Nelson with a foot until he looked up hopefully and scuttled closer.
“My turn?” he asked, leaning down to run his fingers through Nelson’s ruff.
He felt Noah’s eyes on the back of his neck as Nelson rolled over for belly rubs. After a slightly too-long pause, Noah said quietly, “You don’t have to.”
No, of course not. But something made him want to, even if his palms were uncomfortably damp.
He rubbed them on his jeans. “Confession’s supposed to be good for you or whatever, right?”
“That’s what the internet therapists say.”
“Right, well. Chapter one: Devon Hughes breaks his arm.” He was pretty sure the arm came first. “Or was it the collarbone? Or my foot.”
Noah winced. “Sounds painful.”
“Sure, yeah.” It had been. “But all that would’ve been fine if it weren’t for the spinal injury.”
“Jesus. I don’t remember that one being announced.”
Devon gave a tight smile. “Upper body, week-to-week. That’s how they phrased it.
Botched surgery in the off-season, came back too soon, everything hurt.
” His whole life had felt like it was slipping through his fingers—probably the same way Noah’s had.
“Until one of the trainers offered me something that made it stop.”
He’d been, what, thirty, not even? It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Anyway. Eventually they fixed my back, but by then my brain was too into hard drugs for that to stop me from taking them. The addiction spiraled and so did I, but I kept playing until I finally got ‘randomly’ drug tested, and the rest is kind of public knowledge until I ended up here.”
Nelson grumbled and batted Devon’s hand away, done with pets.
Half holding his breath, Devon looked up.
Noah was watching him without judgment, his Muppet eyebrows slightly raised. “Yeah, I have to admit that’s the part of the story that’s got my attention. How did you go from hockey to demon sheep?”
Just like that, he relaxed. Devon could talk about the sheep all day. However, he did have to defend their honor first. “Demon sheep?” He feigned offense. “Excuse me. They’re all perfect little angels.” Then, in the interest of honesty: “Well, except Gritty, but that’s probably my fault.”
Noah’s sudden peal of laughter was so loud Nelson huffed about it, as though it had woken him up. Not likely; Devon’d heard the dog’s snores. “You never played for the Flyers, but you have a sheep named Gritty?”
“Specifically a stud ram.” Where to begin explaining this insanity?
“It’s not—he’s got the horns, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not aggressive.
He’s just a dick. He’ll sneak up behind you and bleat and scare the daylights out of you.
You can’t leave your keys where he can see them because he’ll take them and run off.
One summer I found him on the roof of the utility shed.
And he managed to shit in my boots once. While I was wearing them.”
Noah blinked at him. “And this is the sheep you chose to breed?”
Devon sighed long-sufferingly. “Unfortunately he’s beautiful. Prize-winning ram.”
“Of course he is.” Noah gestured. “Sorry, I interrupted. You were saying…?”
“Yeah, we detoured. How did I get here. Well. I grew up here, so it seemed like a good place to come back to. I still have family here. Somehow I didn’t alienate everyone by becoming an addict, which, wonders never fucking cease.”
Noah tugged the blanket up a little higher. “I don’t know. I mean, you did trudge through knee-deep snow to see if a random motorist needed assistance. Pretty easy to forgive a guy like that.”