20. Brandon
TWENTY
brANDON
Without a test to take, the end of his fall semester ended without fanfare.
Instead, he had two beautiful copies of his story that Gabe had printed and stapled together into little books.
He’d surprised Brandon with the additional illustrations he’d added of carnival rides and fair food and fireworks.
Gabe made him feel so…special. Brandon didn’t care about the money he sent Gabe. It felt like he was sending his focus to Gabe, and in return, it felt like Gabe’s focus was pointed right back at Brandon. Regardless of the Venmo transactions he continued to rack up, things felt reciprocal.
Christmas was heavy, being far from home and knowing that Gabe was even farther from him than normal. He now understood why Skylar was so against getting into a relationship in Iowa. Fall for an Iowan, and you had a long-distance future. Fall for a Minnesotan, and you had a long-distance present.
Of course, all of that assumed you could actually get into a real relationship, and not whatever one-sided longing Brandon had cultivated over the past few months .
Gabe had sent him a handful of texts over Christmas. He told his dad about Brandon—his “boyfriend”—and he was normal about it, if not overly enthusiastic. But the only thing his dad was enthusiastic about at this point in his life was the Packers. It gave Gabe hope, which gave Brandon hope.
Brandon overnighted the story he wrote to Ashley, who read it on FaceTime with him and sobbed. She recognized Gabe’s art style as she inspected the illustrations and told Brandon in no uncertain terms that she didn’t believe Gabe didn’t like him.
He wanted to believe the same, but whatever they were doing was getting harder. His heart ached for Gabe, and he knew it would only get worse as time went on. Maybe the new semester was a good moment to…move on.
It made sense in his head.
It did not make sense in his heart.
Hockey always made sense, though. The first game back after their brief Christmas break was in Iowa against the Chicago Bobcats.
They hadn’t won a single game against Chicago yet that season, and that hung over them as they stepped out on the ice at Wells Fargo Arena.
Skylar had been sent back down, and he was in a pissy mood that was catching.
Brandon focused on his breathing as he took face-off after face-off.
His heart pounded as he hustled back into the D-zone.
His breathing stopped when he saw a massive Bobcat level Skylar into the boards.
After so many years of playing hockey, bad hits were easy to spot.
Skylar crumpled, and Brandon could hear his scream from across the ice.
The Chicago players backed away from him while Brandon and Walker went to check him out, along with Skylar’s D-partner, Koji Keyes. Brent Indwell, the other winger on the ice, went to talk to the refs since he was an assistant captain.
“You okay, man?” Brandon asked, leaning over Skylar without touching him. He was on his stomach, and from the way he was holding his body, Brandon thought it might be his shoulder.
“No,” he responded, the pain cracking through his voice.
Two guys on the medical team shuffled out onto the ice in their street shoes, and Brandon gave them some space. The Bobcats were hovering around their bench, and Brandon’s teammates were hanging over the edge of their bench, trying to get a good look at what was happening.
Skylar got up with some help and skated off, disappearing down the tunnel.
It was hard to lose a guy partway through the first period for a dozen reasons.
Yeah, they were down a guy now—arguably their best defenseman—but they also had to carry the weight of that pain.
Playing most of a hockey game after seeing your teammate get injured to the point of having to leave the game took up a lot of mental space.
By the middle of the third period, they were down by two goals. Brandon had scored in the second, a top-shelf goal he’d usually be excited about, but he couldn’t muster much enthusiasm for it. Skylar hadn’t come back from medical, and Brandon didn’t feel good about it.
With two minutes left in play, and even though they would lose the game either way, he blocked a shot with his thigh.
He didn’t block many shots. That was more of a D-man thing.
As soon as the puck collided with his leg, he regretted every choice he’d ever made in his life.
He could picture the bruise he’d be rocking for a month as it ran through every color of the rainbow .
He sat on the bench and watched the last couple minutes of play wind down, thigh throbbing with the beat of his heart, forcing himself to be grateful that he was leaving the rink that night with a bruise instead of a diagnosis.
At one point just a week ago, you missed Skylar. You would have preferred to share a room with Skylar over any of your other teammates , Brandon reminded himself as he was forced to live in the dark cloud of an injured Skylar Coburn.
“Burnsie, let me get you an ice pack,” Brandon said, instead of what he wanted to say, which was I will duct-tape your mouth shut if you open it again for any reason .
“It won’t fucking help.” Skylar had a petulant little pout on his face that would have been cute if it wasn’t the harbinger of Brandon’s annoyance.
“If you won’t let me help you solve your issues, please stop complaining about them.” His patience was wearing thin, and while he’d been trying to put on a brave face for Sky, that could only last so long.
“Complaining helps,” he insisted. He was tucked into the corner of the couch, feet up on the chaise. He had his arm in a sling and a blanket over his legs, and if it wasn’t for the look of pain on his face, he would have looked cozy.
“I’m not sure I’ve heard about that one to treat a separated shoulder.”
“Doctor approved,” Skylar lied.
Brandon couldn’t pretend that he would be in a better mood if roles were reversed. Skylar was dealing with a season-ending injury and getting sent back down to Iowa. A double bruised ego .
Beck poked his head into their apartment without knocking, holding up a hand in greeting as he made his way inside. Thank god. As much as Brandon loved Skylar, Beck had best-friend powers Brandon couldn’t quite access.
“I’m dying,” Skylar complained as Beck came to sit on the couch next to him, a bag of food in his hands. Chipotle. He brought lunch for all three of them, which was real leadership.
“Shut the fuck up, you are not,” Beck said easily. He made Skylar get up and eat his burrito bowl at the kitchen table since he wasn’t super coordinated with his left hand, and Brandon sat in the glow of their bickering, letting the two of them carry the conversation for him.
He pulled out his phone and opened his text thread with Gabe.
It had snowed in Minnesota, so Gabe had a shoveling/sidewalk salting shift that morning.
He’d sent Brandon a selfie from the gas station where he’d filled up Parker’s gas tank for him and gotten him a fountain Coke.
Brandon had sent him fifty bucks “for gas,” and he was grateful that he and Gabe had started sending photos back and forth.
He was obsessed with the safe-for-work ones as much as the raunchy ones.
Gabe always looked like he was considering something.
A half-smile and just-barely squinted eyes, a dark red fringe of hair falling in his eyes.
The fluffy hood of his jacket encircled his neck, reminding Brandon that the money he’d spent on it was keeping Gabe warm.
Gabe had come clean about not buying a new coat when Brandon initially gave him money for it, but after another seam gave way and he nearly lost his cuff, he gave up and let Brandon buy him a new one for real.
He didn’t even mind that it took two tries to get Gabe the coat because the hood of this new one framed his face so nicely.
If he had enough time on his hands, Brandon was sure he’d be counting every visible freckle.
Gabe had freckles on the bow of his lip that Brandon thought about licking any time his brain wasn’t actively being used for hockey.
“I’d bet five grand right now that Rando is zoning out looking at pictures of his boyfriend,” Skylar said, a teasing fondness in his voice. It was the nicest he’d sounded since he went down on the ice the night before. As annoying as Skylar could be, he had this romantic heart he was bad at hiding.
Brandon looked up and turned his phone around to show them both the photo of Gabe he’d been making eyes at.
“The distance is a bitch,” he complained. His heart hurt about Gabe for more than one reason, but that was the one that would make the most sense to Sky and Beck.
“You’ll be back up there soon,” Beck said, then turned his focus to Skylar. “Don’t be a bitch and spoil his fun by moaning about your injury and how you should be back up.”
“If they hadn’t sent me down, I wouldn’t have gotten injured,” Skylar said.
“Injury comes for us all,” Beck said. He had a bad knee that acted up from time to time and pain in one of his hands from an awkward broken bone that surgery didn’t quite get right. “Let someone at this table be in a happy relationship, how ’bout?”
Skylar couldn’t argue with that, messily scooping up another mouthful of burrito bowl with his nondominant hand.
Three single guys sitting around a table, all distantly longing for love.
Brandon wasn’t sure if it felt better to be around a couple guys in the same situation he was in ( technically single, not the saddled-with-a-fake-boyfriend situation), or to be around Jackson and Ryan, who exemplified everything Brandon wanted—eternal love, hockey glory, a warm and beautiful house to share with his love and others.
Though he figured not having an animal would make it possible for Ashley to visit him.
Which reminded him of Otis. Ashley was so allergic to cats, specifically, and Gabe always had a cat hair or two following him around.
Every thought led him to Gabe, and every thought made things more complicated.