Chapter 26
ASHER REYNOLDS
Things are different. That’s the only way that I can explain it.
Chase and I haven’t had another conversation about what we’re doing, but I know that he feels it. Since that night in his bedroom, over a week ago.
Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to talk more about it.
Even during our home games this past weekend, he picked Lyla up after.
I think that he’s still shaken up about what happened.
Hell, I am, too. Which means that I can’t begrudge him for even a second that he wants to keep her as close as possible.
I wouldn’t let her out of my sight either.
It’s Thanksgiving, and I’m spending the day with Kellan and his family. Wells, too, which is why I’m probably thinking so much about what’s going on in my own life. Because in a different world, I could be spending the day with Chase instead.
We have a game on Saturday, so going home to visit my parents and brothers wasn’t an option.
Not that I really wanted it to be. I’ll see them at Christmas, and I’m equal parts reluctant and nervous.
I talked to them this morning, over a video call.
It was mostly me assuring them that I wasn’t going to be sitting at home alone today.
A few days ago, while I ate dinner at Chase’s house–something that’s becoming more common–Lyla asked me what I was doing for the holiday while she excitedly showed me the turkey that she painted, using her hand as a stencil.
I could see the tell-tale eager excitement to make sure that I felt included written across her face, and it hit me that I was disappointed not to be spending the day with them.
Instead, I’m at Kellan and Wells’ apartment, and they’re cooking dinner for me, Kellan’s mom, and his brothers. It’s a small affair, but we fill the living room of the apartment where they’ve lived together since earlier this year.
I’m not surprised that Wells is wearing a soft-looking sweater and a pair of slacks, with his hair immaculately styled.
I feel like he came out of the womb and was immediately wrapped in a designer baby blanket.
It’s clear that he’s never looked back. Still, he’s a really good guy–to me, and to Kellan–even if I don’t understand his love for dressing up.
Kellan, in contrast, has traded out his Radford sweatshirt for a Nauticals one, but other than that, he still looks just like the guy who I was in college with less than a year ago. His stubble has grown into a slightly more intense beard, though, and that makes him look a little older these days.
Seeing his genuine smile when he laughs at something his little brother yells at him is a comfort when it feels like everything else in my life is so different.
He’s chopping onions, and his voice pulls me away from my thoughts. I didn’t notice him staring at me. “So, what’d you think of the game last week?” he asks, trying hard not to sound like he cares about my answer.
It’s so classically Kellan. He’s the reigning single season scorer at Radford, was drafted into the NHL and is getting a decent amount of playing time, and he’s clearly so fucking in love that I’d give him shit if I wasn’t having my own inner turmoil about how much having a good partner in your life changes things.
And still, he genuinely wants to know what I thought about the game and his part in it.
I clear my throat. I was thinking about Chase and Lyla and how much I love the routine that we’re settling into lately, but I try to bring myself back to the present. “You were great.”
At least, for the parts of the game where I was paying attention.
Between thinking about how much Olivia would have loved this and wondering what Chase was thinking, it was hard to stay focused.
Add in a five-year-old who was curious as all hell about every single thing, and staying aware of Kellan’s movements on the ice was dicey at best.
Maybe I caught the highlights the next day, just to make sure that I hadn’t missed anything.
And then that car crashed through the crosswalk on a red, and it was like everything stopped.
He points his knife at me. “I carry your ass for three years and I get a, ‘you were great,’ like I’m some idiot off the street?”
“Not to mention the extra ticket.”
“Exactly. Who did you go with, anyway?” he asks, focusing on chopping again.
Deep down, I think that some part of me wanted to bring up Chase and Lyla. They’ve become such a big part of my life, and it’s getting harder and harder not to talk about them.
Still, I run my hand along the back of my neck, worried about saying too much. “I actually brought my physical therapist and his daughter. As a thank you for him getting me ready to get back to playing.”
I hold my breath, wondering if he’s going to give me a knowing look. The last time that we talked about me coming to a game, he mentioned that I should bring whoever I was dating. I’m not sure if he’ll connect the dots.
“How’s that going?” He gestures down to my leg, which I extend away from the barstool I’m sitting on at the kitchen island to prove to him my full range of mobility.
I exhale. Another day that my secret is safe, even if I don’t want it to be. “After Thanksgiving, I’ll practice with the team until winter break. Next semester, I should be playing again.”
“Think they’ll give you your spot back?” he teases.
I scoff, even as uncertainty slithers through me.
And a little bit of relief, which takes me by surprise.
I mean, if I’m not on the team any longer, then there’s no reason that Chase and I can’t really be together.
But, if I’m not on the team, I lose my scholarship.
And, I lose the reason to see him multiple times a week in the process.
I’ve been thinking lately about how, once the new semester starts, I won’t technically be under his care anymore. That has to count for something, right? I hope it does.
Even though I’ve been doing a pretty good job not letting myself get wrapped up in all the what ifs where Chase and I are concerned, it’s a constant exercise in futility.
Kellan must notice it, too. “You okay, man? I know that first holidays can be hard.”
I nod thoughtfully. “I’m okay, but I appreciate you checking in.
It’s nice to be around people today. I think that’s what she would have wanted for me.
” Because of the hockey season, I haven’t been home for a Thanksgiving dinner in six years.
Christmas is the holiday on the horizon that I’m dreading, but I’ve been keeping that at bay.
Kellan goes back to focusing on his dinner prep, which lets me turn inward again.
Olivia died four-and-a-half months ago. Sometimes, I still feel like my chest is going to cave in when I think about it. Think about her. But not being back in Michigan has made it easier to deal with.
And having Chase, too.
He’s lit up all the dull colors of my world into a vivid bloom, but I worry that he thinks that I’m just using him as a distraction from my grief. Or is that my own projection and that’s what I’m actually worried about?
He’s a single dad with a new career that’s just taking off and I’m a senior in college with a mountain of unresolved grief and little direction for my future.
For as much as I want to keep pushing things with him–keep going deeper–is that a good idea? It feels really fucking unfair that I can’t just follow my feelings on this one, but I care about Chase too much to put his well-being at stake. Lyla’s too.
I talk myself out of telling him the truth–how strong my feelings have grown and that I want to talk about an us, a future–but then I end up right back where I started. Which is not being able to stay away from him, even if maybe I’m not the best thing for him.
And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that the next time I get the chance, I won’t stay away.
I was hoping to catch Chase before we both headed to the stadium, but his car was already gone when I came outside. For what, I’m not really sure, but we’re staying over in Maine tonight ahead of tomorrow’s game.
Maybe I wanted a few minutes for us to exist without the secrecy. It’s going to be a tortuous thirty-six hours, of that I’m sure.
I scan the arena parking lot when I pull in, looking for his SUV. He’s easy to spot, loading equipment into the bowels of the second bus.
He looks so goddamn good. He’s wearing a very specific look on his face that I love, where he’s so focused on whatever he’s doing, like it’s the most important thing in the world at that moment. I’ve had that same look leveled in my direction, and it’s even more overwhelming then.
I can’t help the smile that works its way across my face.
Besides our sessions, I haven’t seen him much.
Maybe it was overkill, but I grabbed us both coffees from this place near our neighborhood.
I’ve done it for a few other away trips too, and I try not to second-guess myself when I walk toward him.
Because even if I want them to be different, nothing between us has really changed. We’re still hooking up in secret. I don’t let myself think that holding him in my arms while he fell asleep means that we’re in a relationship or something, even if I feel more connected to him than ever before.
“Morning,” I say, pleased when he scans his eyes down my suit. We both remember what happened the last time that I wore it, and my body lights up with the memory.
He takes the coffee from my extended hand. “Thanks.”
“Do you need any help?” I ask at the same time that he says, “How was your Thanksgiving?”
I hate that I can’t pull him toward me and wipe the awkward moment away with a kiss. Because I’m that kind of guy now. Or, at least, I want to be. Instead, I lean against the bus. “It was good. How was yours?”