CHAPTER FORTY #2
Guys he’d played with years ago in Philly and Dallas and Calgary.
People in the Harriers organization talking about small things he’d forgotten, like a tire he’d changed for one of the women in the marketing department, and the team chef, who mentioned how Luke always shook his hand and thanked him for his work when he picked up the prepared meals he liked.
And, to his surprise, a message from Gabriel Theriault. “It’s no secret that we have had our differences over the years.”
Luke let out a laugh at the sight of them taking swings at each other, Gabriel significantly smaller physically but filled with fury as he whaled on Luke, getting in a solid uppercut to the jaw that had rattled Luke’s skull.
“I didn’t like you even when we played together in Calgary.”
Luke laughed harder at the shot of him and Gabriel shouting at each other on the bench, some disagreement about a play that he’d long forgotten.
“But there’s truly no one else like you in the league and watching you over the years, seeing the way you’ve transitioned your game recently, it gives me hope for the future of our sport. It makes me appreciate the times we did have together.”
There was footage of their playing days in Calgary, an on-ice celly with Gabriel and his father, Alain. That was the thing about the sport of hockey. Even when you didn’t like a guy, you were still connected. Still a part of something bigger.
There were messages from all the O’Shea family—Catherine, Declan, Finn, Pat reminiscing about his career.
And finally, Connor, talking about the milestones and achievements they’d reached together. “When I found out you were coming to Boston, I was excited to play with you. And even more excited to not play against you.”
The crowd laughed.
“You’ve been part of our locker room for so long that I can’t imagine it without you.
Your energy and your drive are always inspiring.
I look forward to more games, more laughter”—there was a shot of the guys toasting at O’Neill’s, then a video of Luke lifting the Stanley Cup at the parade through Boston, Connor’s arm slung around him, both of them clearly drunk off their asses—“and, hopefully, more Cups together.”
The video reached its conclusion and the roar from the crowd rose to a fever pitch, shaking the entire arena, and Luke acknowledged the chanting of “Craw-ford, Craw-ford” with a lift of his hand and a small wave.
His teammates tapped their sticks on the ice and even the New York players standing in front of the bench tapped their sticks against the boards in acknowledgment.
Luke couldn’t swallow past the tightness in his throat as Connor, Graham, and Mickey skated over to him.
The announcer continued. “Earlier today, Luke’s teammates, coaches, and the hockey operations staff—along with team owner Ned Merritt—had the pleasure of presenting Luke with personal gifts, commemorating his one thousandth game.
At this time, Connor O’Shea, Graham Pennington, and Mickey Krause have joined Luke and have a few additional gifts to give him. ”
In the past, Luke had seen them give red roses to the WAGs, but last week when someone in the head office had asked him what Sebastian’s favorite flowers were, Luke had laughed and sheepishly admitted that he had no idea, but that they had a running joke about cactus.
Now, Graham handed a floral arrangement to Sebastian, who smiled as he looked down at them. “Cactus blossoms and succulents,” he said. “Perfect.”
Luke smiled too.
Connor handed over an engraved silver hockey stick and Mickey carried a framed piece of art of him in his uniform, made up of a thousand smaller photos from his career, one from every game.
After, Luke posed for a few pictures with Sebastian, Connor, Mickey, and Graham.
Luke bent down and brushed his lips to Sebastian’s cheek, thinking about how it would have felt if Sebastian hadn’t been here. If he’d stood by himself on the ice.
And while it wasn’t a horrible thing, while he hadn’t been lonely before, he was glad he had someone to share this with.
He was glad he had Sebastian to share it with.
Stubborn and frustrating as Sebastian could be, he was the only person Luke could imagine being by his side now.
The only person he could imagine a future with.
After hockey was over, he’d still be there.
The announcer finished the ceremony with, “So please join the league and the entire Boston Harriers organization in congratulating number fifty-four, Luuuuke Crawfordddd!”
Luke took a lap around the ice with the silver stick lifted in the air in acknowledgment of the crowd’s cheers.
He didn’t feel so different from the young man he’d been when he skated out for his NHL rookie lap, scared and nervous and sure that he’d be sent down again soon.
But here he was, over a thousand games in. His career was winding down, but for a guy—one of the last few enforcers still playing and often called the most hated man in the league—he felt pretty damn lucky.
After the ceremony, the gifts were handed off to Harriers staff members who would keep them safe during the game and Sebastian hugged Luke one last time in the hallway.
When he went to pull back, Luke held him in place, looming over Sebastian in his skates. He cupped Sebastian’s cheek in his hand, hair hanging in his eyes.
“What?” Sebastian reached up and tucked the hair behind Luke’s ear so he could see his expression better.
“I love you, you know that, right?” Luke’s voice was too quiet for anyone else to hear but his voice didn’t waver at all.
Sebastian’s breath caught. He hadn’t known.
He’d guessed, maybe. He’d known that Luke was serious about him. Every moment of the ceremony tonight had proven that.
Luke was too private for all this to not to be deliberate. Intentional.
This was a huge gesture for him.
And while Sebastian hadn’t needed the public declaration of his place in Luke’s life, it had meant a great deal to him. But this … the quiet words meant only for his ears, well, they were every bit as meaningful.
Maybe more so.
Because Luke wasn’t a talker either. He wasn’t great at discussing his feelings.
But he was trying so damn hard to show Sebastian how much he mattered. It made Sebastian’s eyes prickle, and he had to blink a few times.
“I’m gonna need you to say something here, Flower Boy,” Luke said, his brow furrowing. “Even if you don’t feel that way right now, I need to know that you think you could get there or—”
“I’m here,” Sebastian said, reaching up to grab a fistful of Luke’s jersey to pull him closer. “I’m already here. I love you too.”
The sheer relief that washed over Luke’s face made Sebastian’s heart trip madly and he pulled Luke in long enough to brush their lips together.
But there was no time for anything more. Luke had a game to play, and Sebastian needed to get to his seat.
With one last brief kiss, Sebastian tore himself away, changed into a vintage New York Rockets jersey, then hurried to his usual seat near the penalty box. The organization had offered him a spot next to Brie and Harper, but it felt right to sit where he always had.
To do what he always had.
When he arrived, people around him shook their heads and laughed, teasing him about how they’d had no idea he was dating Crawford.
“Damn, I thought you really hated him,” one guy said, sounding almost disappointed.
“Oh, I did at first,” Sebastian said with a laugh. “But he grows on you.”
The woman in front of him who wore a Rockets jersey made a scoffing noise, but it was true.
Tonight was the final game of the regular season. The Harriers were in the top spot in the Atlantic division and New York was desperately hoping to snag the final wild card spot in the Metro division.
If Washington lost their game against New Jersey today and/or if New York beat the Harriers, the Rockets would be guaranteed that shot at the playoffs.
What Sebastian really hoped was that New York would indeed make it to the postseason so the Harriers and Rockets would go up against each other in the second round.
Sebastian couldn’t think of a more exciting scenario, and from the moment the puck dropped, it was clear that New York was fired up and desperate to win tonight.
Boston had nothing on the line except their pride, but that had been wounded by New York beating them every time they’d met up this season so far and there was plenty of desperation on their end too.
Both teams were going hard in the first few minutes of the game and Sebastian rested his forearms on his knees, leaning forward intently to watch as Leif Rasmussen streaked up the ice toward Boston’s net, the puck pinging off the crossbar.
It was immediately scooped up by Boston and taken down to the other end and both teams raced up and down the ice before a turnover from New York allowed Mickey to capture the puck behind New York’s goal and fire it to Erik Wyatt.
The rookie immediately shot it toward the goal where it tumbled into the back of the net before Roman Poole could stop it.
Sebastian cursed as the goal horn sounded.
Damn it, getting the first goal would only fire up the Harriers more.
New York immediately applied pressure, driving the play toward Boston’s end. Nicky was along the far boards, and he fired from a distance, Jesse batting the puck away.
Poole blocked a shot from Graham, the play sweeping around behind New York’s goal before it got turned over to Boston.
There was a battle along the boards, Luke pinning one of New York’s defenseman against them while Tanner whacked at the puck, trying to get it free.
Once Tanner succeeded, he fired the disc toward the net, but it was gobbled up by Poole and the play was whistled dead.
Just a few minutes later, Tom got an opportunity from one of the circles, bending a knee to fire the puck in. It zipped past Poole’s shoulder and into the back of the goal, giving Boston a 2–0 lead.
Sebastian cursed again. Damn, they were really fired up tonight …