Chapter 19
ASHER REYNOLDS
I’m excited to get back on the ice, but it’s also a bummer that my sessions with Chase are no longer a private affair.
Still, I want him in my life, and I’m afraid that he really will push me away if I keep coming on so strongly.
I’ve made it clear to him what I want, which is him.
Maybe I’ve never been with a guy before, but I’m so attracted to him–now that I know that’s what this feeling is–that I’m excited more than scared at the possibility that something could happen.
Except it won’t, I remind myself. But either way, I’m not going to let us get weird again. I refuse.
It’s Tuesday, and I’m sitting on the bench, watching as the team runs drills for practice. I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last hour, and I’ve been doing my best not to stare too long at the entrance from the treatment center to the arena.
I pull at the neck of my jersey. I haven’t fully suited up since the end of last season, and I’m still getting used to being so constrained.
At the signal of a five-minute break, Coop dashes over and then stops quickly, spraying ice over the boards and onto me. “Only a matter of time until you’re back out here,” he says happily, pleased with how much ice he got on my practice jersey. “I can’t fucking wait, dude.”
“Hopefully by mid-January.” I smile, realizing that I’m excited about it, too.
Coop twirls his stick. “I remember my freshman year when Javi had a hamstring tear. He was out for the entire season.”
That situation really, really sucked. Javi was a great guy, but he couldn’t bounce back.
Even after his sophomore year was over and he was cleared, he didn’t make the team the following year.
“Injuries are a part of the game in the worst way,” I finally say, thinking about how lucky I am that I have a chance to get better.
Coop nods seriously. “I’m just glad that you’re doing so well, man. The beginning of this year sucked, but it seems like things are going better for you?” he asks tentatively.
Better is an understatement. I mean, I’ve had a few panic attacks and I’ve discovered that I’m gay which was a life-altering surprise, but I don’t wake up every morning feeling like there’s a rock pressing down on my chest.
I’m… what exactly am I?
“I’m optimistic about the future for the first time in a while,” I tell him. And more than that, it feels good to want things again. Even if maybe I won’t get them, just hoping feels like enough.
Coop says something in response, but I don’t hear him because I’m struck by the strangest thought.
If the accident hadn’t happened, I don’t know that I’d have been in the position to grow so close with Chase.
Or to discover my sexuality. The realization both shocks me and makes me feel overwhelmingly guilty in equal measures.
No. I need to stop thinking like that. I can’t change what happened, I remind myself. I’m just trying to make the best of a terrible situation.
And then I spot Chase, walking through the double doors that lead from the rest of the facility and the ice, and I can’t help but smile.
Coop follows my eyeline and then gives me a strange look. “I’ve never met a guy who’s so excited to get his ass kicked in physical therapy. Is he bribing you or something?”
If Coop only knew the half of it. Not so much as bribing me as taunting me just by existing. But still, I can’t wipe the stupid smile off of my face. “He’s been really inspiring,” I say, realizing what a dork it makes me sound like. I don’t care. Chase has that effect on me.
I notice then that Chase is on skates, and if possible, my smile gets bigger. Instead of walking around to the box where I’m sitting, he enters onto the ice and glides smoothly around the edge of the rink, toward us. It’s mesmerizing, how he moves so fluidly.
Neither Coop or I speak, both watching him while he skates toward us.
“I don’t get to do this nearly enough,” he says when he stops next to Coop. Thankfully without the extra ice show. “How’s it going guys?”
I’m not sure, but I think that Coop looks a little jealous that I’m essentially going to have a private skating lesson with Wyatt Chase. And he should be. It’s cool as hell among the many reasons that I’m pumped for today’s session.
“Hey Mr. Chase,” Coop says, and I try not to laugh. Is that really how people see Chase?
“Call me Wyatt or Chase, please. No need for the formalities.”
Coop nods seriously. “You were one of my favorite players growing up. This is sort of surreal for me.” He takes off his glove, and I honest-to-god think that he’s going to try and shake Chase’s hand.
It’s subtle, but I can see Chase’s eyes lose some of their playful shine. I know that he can’t escape from his past career as a pro player, but he’s so much more than that.
I cut in, wanting to make the moment less awkward, even if Coop doesn’t even realize what’s happening. “Well, thank god you two haven’t had to spend any quality time together yet. It means that you haven’t been injured and also haven’t had the chance to learn what a boringly normal guy he is.”
Coop scratches at his smooth chin, looking dubious. “I guess you’re right.” But still, he sounds like a little kid who’s jealous to be left on the outside.
God, if only he knew.
Chase shoots me a grateful smile, and I try hard not to preen under the weight of it. I mean, I know that he can handle himself, but it doesn’t mean that I won’t do anything that I can to help him, too. Especially after everything that he’s done for me.
“If that’s the logic, then it’s a shock that Asher hasn’t already been bored to death under my care,” Chase says, looking at me teasingly and then toward Coop.
Coop reaches across the boards and punches me gently in the shoulder with the hand still gloved. “Well, whatever you’re doing for him is working. He’s not the same guy from the beginning of the year, and I’m happy as hell to see it.”
My face gets hot. “Are you two done talking about me now?” I mumble. I know that I was in a bad way when school started, especially now that I’m coming out on the other side of it.
And I’d still probably be there if not for Chase.
I’ve always taken friendships seriously, but there’s more to it than that when he’s involved. And it’s not just because he looks hot as hell in his Renegades hoodie, wearing a pair of skates that I know he brought from home.
I’ve been trying not to stare too hard, but I haven’t seen him since Saturday, when I went trick-or-treating with his family.
Finally getting to lay eyes on him again settles something in me at the same time it excites me.
I know that my crush–or whatever it is–isn’t going away any time soon, but I feel like I have a slightly better handle on it.
Whatever else hangs between us isn’t worth losing what we already have, and he’s made it very clear that continuing to push would do just that.
The whistle sounds again, and Coop looks toward the rink where the team is congregating. “That’s my cue.”
“Oh, by the way,” I remember to tell him, “Trevor’s struggling against the boards. He’s getting out maneuvered by the defenders every time. He needs to commit to protecting the puck with his body and not just his stick. Otherwise, he’ll keep losing it.”
“Why don’t you tell him next time you see him,” Coop says. “I’m sure he’d appreciate you giving him some extra support.”
It’s not a bad idea. I’ve been less-than-involved with the team since I returned this season, even though I am technically still a part of it, even on the injured reserve. “You’re right. I’ll talk to him soon.”
“Good because I’m about done with us getting our asses kicked this season,” he says, skating away to join the remainder of practice.
Chase leans on the board, looking at home and sexy as hell on the ice. I try to shake the thoughts from my head, only allowing one longing glance at him, knowing that everyone else is busy.
“Are you excited to get back on the ice?” he asks, staring at the team.
“I really am,” I say at the same time he turns toward me. My heart speeds up at having all of his attention and focus. God, I hope I get used to this soon.
He looks down at his watch before opening the low door leading onto the ice. “We’ll get started in about fifteen minutes. Why don’t you do some light stretching before we kick off.”
I stand up and inhale a deep breath, preparing for my skates to touch ice for the first time in months.
“This is embarrassing,” I admit after we’ve been skating for thirty minutes. I have my stick, but thus far, I have been banned from using a puck. So, skating is a fair word to use, but I definitely wouldn’t call what’s happening ‘playing hockey.’
“Getting back on the ice so soon was supposed to get you pumped,” Chase argues with a loud laugh. “Most people would be weeks away from having this chance.”
Easy for him to say. He’s skating literal circles around me as I’m forced to move at a snail’s pace between two rows of cones that he’s set up.
“This is barely skating,” I say, moving forward slowly.
I already know that if I don’t, I’ll be on the receiving end of another dressing down from my physical therapist, who’s decided to take his role way too seriously right now.
“This is all part of the process,” he chides.
“Well, this process feels like you’re having way more fun than me.” He moves the puck back and forth between his stick, and I try not to be too impressed. “Show off.”
“How’s your leg feeling?” he asks, continuing to skate backwards and play with the puck without looking down at it.
I think about the hamstring in my left thigh, which had to be surgically reconnected and is now going through the slow process of growing back together as a single, long muscle. “Honestly, pretty good. No pain,” I say, continuing to skate down the line of cones.
“When I had my injury, I never actually made it to the on-ice rehab phase.”
I look up, surprised. “I didn’t know that.”
“Reconstructive surgery took months, and by that point, we knew that my vision wasn’t going to be returning.
I did out-patient rehab to get my full range of mobility back on my shoulder, but there wasn’t a point.
” Something about him having the distraction of the puck seems to make it easier for him to share all of this with me, so maybe, this practice isn’t as much of a dud as I thought it was going to be.
“With all of the experimental surgery these days, it seems sort of crazy that it was just over like that.” I reach the end of the line and he motions for me to skate back down it again.
He skates next to me, on the outside of the cones, and starts moving backwards. “I could have tried, but Lyla had just been born and I suddenly found myself as a single parent.”
Even though I’m annoyed at how much focus skating is taking me–damn Chase for being right–I still can’t help but look over to him. “So you made a choice?”
He stops, and I do the same. I think he’s not going to say whatever he’s thinking, and I let out a breath when he does.
“I don’t look at it like a choice. Lyla’s mom wasn’t interested in having a baby with a former hockey player who spent the money they’d already made on a dumb rookie year.
And I wasn’t going to do anything but make Lyla my top priority, regardless of whether she had two parents or one.
Spending the next year–or more–flying around the world, going into debt, and trying to get back to the NHL wasn’t going to be a good life for her. ”
“Not a lot of people would do that.” Which is an epic understatement.
Most guys can’t imagine a life without hockey, and they’ll do anything to claw their way back.
I’m sure that the money is good in the pros, but when you’re doing something from the time you can walk, it becomes one of the largest parts of your identity.
I’m already impressed with Chase, and this just ratchets it up to a whole other level.
And it’s totally normal to be impressed with your friends, I remind myself, pushing down the little balloon expanding in my chest when I think about how good he is with Lyla.
“I’ve never gotten anywhere by doing things the way everyone else does them,” he says, leveling a charming smile in my direction.
I wonder how serious he and Lyla’s mom were. Was it a one night stand? A casual relationship? Something more serious that hurt Chase to lose?
No, I’m not going down this path. I start skating again. “I think you’ve done all right for yourself,” I say, trying to keep the awe out of my voice.
“Everything I do is for her.” I hear the gravity in his voice, and also the words that he leaves unsaid. Which means that we cannot happen because I will never put Lyla’s comfort or security in jeopardy with an ill-advised tryst.
It’s a sobering reminder that, no matter how badly I want him, there are stakes. But realizing it means that I’m invigorated for the first time to actually make a friendship between us work. More than I’ve been while also telling myself that I can do it but not really believing it.
I finish my pass through the cones, knowing that it’s going to be our last of the day.
I never understood what I was looking for before Chase walked into my life. And now? It’s hard for me to imagine that anyone else will ever measure up.