Chapter 37
ASHER REYNOLDS
Idon’t know that I love hockey the way people like Chase and Kellan and Coop do, but I sure love this.
We’re standing outside, and I’m inhaling the cold, clean air around me.
We drove about an hour into New Hampshire to a small, public pond that’s already been safe to skate on for at least a few days.
It would have been fine to stay closer to Boston, but I wasn’t going to take the chance with Lyla’s safety.
We left almost as soon as Chase got back, which means that he and I haven’t talked about his impromptu visit to a guy that he used to date. Just thinking about it makes me feel queasy.
And yeah, I’m confident in what he and I have, but it’s hard not to think about how much less complicated his life would be if it wasn’t me who he was dating. It comes with a lot of guilt, too.
Chase is standing a few feet away from me, looking out over the frozen pond.
“And you’re sure it’s fully frozen?” he asks, not for the first time.
Even though Chase grew up here, he’s mostly only skated in indoor rinks.
Perks of going to a high school with a great hockey program and parents who were able to pay for him to be on travel teams year-round.
“I promise it’s safe.” Plus, and I’ve already explained this to Chase, I specifically picked this pond because it’s been drill-tested for the last five days in a row by the locals and already has more than enough ice depth to sustain the whole town deciding to throw a party on it.
I also don’t point out that there are already dozens of people out there now, along with a small Zamboni resurfacing the ice.
I’m not sure if he agrees, but damn if it doesn’t make the cold snap that we’ve been under a whole hell of a lot more bearable, knowing that at least it means we can do this.
Growing up, I was able to become the player I am because we were lucky enough to have a pond on our property. Hockey was already expensive enough, and having my own ice meant that I could practice. It also provided a quiet space for me to get outside, away from the chaos of too many brothers.
Olivia was the only one who I deigned to let come out with me unless my parents forced me to watch all the kids.
I want to share this part of my life with Lyla and Chase.
I want them to understand the things that made me the man I am today.
Maybe I fantasized a few times about what it would be like for them to be in Michigan with me, Lyla skating around on my family’s frozen pond the way that I used to do with my sister.
But that’s a far-off conversation considering what we have looming between now and the possibility of then.
I sit down on the bench next to Lyla and start lacing up my skates. “I like your hockey skates,” I tell her, looking at Chase who’s on bended knee helping her put them on.
“She had her choice between these and figure skates, and this is what she wanted,” he says, adorably exasperated.
It’s not a surprise to me. She thinks her dad is the coolest guy in the world, and she wants to be just like him. Why wouldn’t she want the same skates, too?
“They look good,” I say, tapping my identical-looking blade against her smaller one.
“Daddy sharpened them at his school,” she says before putting her finger over her lips. “But don’t tell. He said it’s a secret.”
I laugh and ruffle her beanie, which is barely hiding her tangle of dark hair that Chase wrestled into a low ponytail before we left. “I won’t. I promise.”
As soon as her laces are secured, Lyla stands up and starts walking toward the pond. She’s fitted in snow pants and a bulky jacket which should lessen any hard falls. Still, I look over to Chase, asking, “Do you want me to go with her?”
He shakes his head. “She’ll be okay. She’s surprisingly coordinated for how young she is.”
“Didn’t get that from her dad?” I tease. Wyatt Chase has some of the best coordination and dexterity of anyone that I’ve ever met. It’s what made him such a beast on the ice. Quick, nimble, and ridiculously accurate.
But I’m not thinking about his impressive hockey skills right now. I’m thinking about how good it feels to just exist in this moment, like we’re a normal couple without all the baggage and fear and secrets.
And it feels even better when Chase stands next to me and threads our fingers together. He inhales, long and leisurely, before exhaling a puff of air. “This is really nice.”
I close my eyes, savoring the moment for long, precious seconds.
It’s going to be rare for us to have any time over the next few days when Lyla isn’t within earshot, so I don’t want to miss my chance for us to have an honest discussion. It feels like a lifetime ago when Zane caught us, but the reality is that it only happened three days ago.
But if this is what I feel like after three days, I don’t imagine that we’ll end up anywhere healthy if much more time passes. And now, we have the added threat from Zane with a clear request as to what his silence will cost. Fifty grand. By Friday. The dude’s out of his fucking mind.
I could probably be more tactful, but now that we’re on a deadline, I don’t mince words.
“Nice enough to give up your career? Or actually, your second career, if we’re getting technical.
How many chances do former pro-hockey players get to reinvent themselves?
Especially with a scandal hanging over them. ”
Even though saying the words makes me feel sick, we have to talk about it.
I’m dead set on not letting him throw away his future, and he’s dead set on doing it because of some misguided notion that he’s done something wrong.
Whatever Zane has going on and what Chase and I are doing couldn’t be more different.
I hate that it can’t see that.
He shoots me a look. “Asher.”
“It’s not going away,” I push. “Did Damian have anything useful to say?” I try to keep the snarl out of my voice, but I don’t think that I do a very good job.
He makes sure that Lyla’s safely skating her little heart out before he turns toward me. “Are you jealous? We went on two dates a long time ago. One-and-a-half dates considering he abandoned me on the last one.”
And yeah, he’d already told me the story.
It doesn’t change the acidic feeling percolating in my stomach at just the mention of the guy.
Because even if he’s closeted, he and Chase are both staff members.
They’re relationship isn’t illegal by a university’s standards.
“I just don’t like him. Who willingly hangs out with Zane?
” I say, but from the look that he’s giving me, I can tell that he knows that it’s jealousy driving me.
I think that maybe a part of him likes it, too, when he leans in closer and snuggles against my shoulder. I’m not going to turn down the chance to hold him–that would be idiotic considering that I’m worried that every second will be our last.
Breaking up hasn’t been a topic of discussion yet, but it’s the one way that we solve the Zane problem before it blows up in our faces.
But like hell I’ll ever be the one to bring it up first. If Chase decides that he doesn’t want to figure this out, then he’s going to have to do the heavy lifting. I refuse to make it easy for him.
As far as I’m concerned, we’re going to find a solution that keeps him employed at Radford. It would be great if I could finish out the season, but it seems crazy that we’re not considering me leaving the team when it’s the option that makes the most sense.
I throw my arm around his bulky coat and pull him closer, inhaling his clean scent. “You’re not playing fair.”
“I don’t remember saying that I would,” he says, leveling a smile at me that could melt the ice around us. “As for Damian, he told me that he doesn’t hang out with Zane anymore because he got into some intense sports betting.”
I nod, my lips twitching while I absorb this new information. “It makes a lot of sense–a debt that high.”
“And, he’s been using insider information to do it.”
I give Lyla an enthusiastic thumbs up. She just did a perfect spin and is looking toward us to make sure that we saw it. I’m glad that she’s far enough away that she can’t hear me say, “What the fuck is wrong with him?”
Chase laughs while he’s giving his own thumbs up to Lyla.
“Who knows.” Then, he looks at me, as serious as I’ve ever seen him.
There are only two things that Chase would ever have that look about: Lyla and the safety of the team.
So his next words don’t surprise me, even if they cause a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“But this changes things, Asher. I cannot let him get away with this. He’s intentionally not treating injuries to help pad his betting odds. ”
Betting as an athlete or staff member is illegal. And so is what Chase is accusing Zane of doing, but it’s also somehow so much worse considering the risks that Zane is taking with players’ futures. “Are you sure?” I ask, even though it feels almost irrefutable at this point.
Chase nods, even though it’s clear that he’s not happy about this information.
“Damian told me as much, though all I have concretely is that he didn’t uplevel West’s injury to me.
And that could be passed off as a lapse in judgment instead of something intentional.
It’s not like I have the time to launch a full-scale investigation. ”
I scratch at my beard, trying to think through our options. “What is your work relationship with Zane?”
So far, we’ve done a decent job keeping our personal and professional lives separate–except for the whole falling in love thing–but day-to-day, Chase never shares player information with me or tells me about treatment plans.
“I’m not his boss, if that’s what you’re asking.”