Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
MICAH
Trying to focus on hockey when it felt like someone had strung me up by the ankles and forced me to navigate the world walking on my hands was next to impossible.
I could hear the tension in Ben’s voice when I missed the fifth shot on goal, and I knew I was going to fuck tomorrow’s game if I didn’t get out of my own head.
Or if I got back in it.
Frankly, I had no idea what I needed.
Every time it was still and quiet, I was either thinking about my dad, that fuck-face Hunter, or the way it felt in Vanya’s arms to be held and kissed and fucked until I understood what it meant to see stars.
I rubbed myself raw right before leaving for the arena, but even coming as hard as I did didn’t take the edge off how much I still wanted Vanya. He was the worst temptation. He was the forbidden fruit, and I was the fool willing to sell all of humanity to sin for another bite.
But I wasn’t going to let myself destroy what little peace I’d built just to get my rocks off.
Not because I was ashamed. The fact that he thought that for even a second was killing me. It was entirely because he was too good for me. I always made a mess of things, and Vanya deserved someone better than that.
Never mind he was the first number my thumb always hovered over when I wanted something. Never mind anytime Jonah mentioned he was hanging out with Vanya, I wanted to spit acid with my jealousy.
I’d done this to myself. I had no one else to blame but me.
“You wanna tell me what the fuck is going on out there?” Ben demanded as I hit the wall and used my stick to guide me toward the door.
“No.”
“Too fucking bad.” There was a heavy silence, and then he said, “My office, twenty minutes.”
Mother fuck. I felt like a kid about to get spanked, and not in the fun way Vanya had teased me about at that chicken restaurant.
But I knew I deserved it. This was my job. I was supposed to be compartmentalizing all my bullshit so I didn’t take the team down with me, because no matter how good our offense was, if I was shitting the bed in the crease, we were cooked.
Deep fucking fried.
I hated walking down the corridor without a guide or my cane. My goalie stick was too short, and my pads were clunky as fuck, but I made it into the locker room without incident. I could hear a couple of the guys chatting, but they got quiet when they realized it was me who’d come into the room.
Most of them knew better than to bother me when I was in a mood, and unfortunately, I wasn’t any happier this season than last.
I knew at some point, I needed to stop being the team dickhead, but right now, it was creating a circle of space that I needed.
Leaning back against my stall, I unstrapped and peeled away my pads, then my sweater, then my shorts.
Piece by piece, I unwound from my gear until I was sitting on the bench in my jock with my butt cheeks cooled by the polished wood.
“Yo, Adams…”
I bristled but tried not to snap when I turned my head. It was Gavin, the rookie forward with RP, who’d just been picked up from his community league in Ottawa. He reminded me a lot of Tiago, with less of an accent and currently more vision.
“What’s up?”
“Do you think you’d be willing to run some drills with me later today? My slapshot is weak, and it’s killing me out there.”
I wanted to say yes. I would have given anything to say yes, even though the last place I wanted to be was back on the ice. But the alternative was hopping in the car Jonah had called for me and taking the drive all the way out to the whatever Meadows place my dad was staying at.
I’d been putting it off for months, but he was starting to decline pretty fast, and I knew deep down I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t go see him at least once before he passed.
And today was the day.
“Sorry, bud. I would if I could, but I have a fuck-ass appointment, and my car’s going to be here in half an hour.”
The bench squeaked as he sat down beside me and nudged my knee with his. “No worries. You okay? You seem a little…”
“Don’t say it,” I begged.
He laughed, and for some reason, that made me feel a little better. “Yeah, alright. But why don’t we grab a bite after the game tomorrow. You’re the only one I haven’t been able to bully into a beer.”
“I don’t drink. But if you buy me fried mushrooms, I’ll probably give you my undying loyalty.”
He laughed again and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll drive.”
Freezing, I turned my face toward him. “You’re joking, right? I let Tiago drive me around right before he had to give up his license, and we almost fucking died.”
“Tiago Nadeau? From the Legends?” Gavin asked.
“That’s the one.”
He snorted. “My sight’s better, but I actually never got my license. I was diagnosed when I was eight, and my parents thought it would be too cruel to let me drive for a little while, only to have it ripped away from me.”
“That’s…” I didn’t really know what to say to that. If my mom could have gotten away with it without having someone call CPS, she would have put all three of us behind the wheel and plastered the videos all over YouTube.
“Anyway,” Gavin said, saving me from another awkward moment, “the ride will still be on me. My sister and her wife are coming to the game, and they always drag me to the lesbian bar over on Fifth. It’s a great atmosphere but basically useless for me.”
I snorted. “As long as they have good food, I’m in.”
He shook me gently, then let go as I leaned back for my pile of clothes and cane, and then I made my way to the showers, doing everything I could to keep my mind on the game tomorrow and off everything else that was threatening to choke the life out of me.
I wasn’t quite asleep, but I wasn’t fully awake when the car rolled to a stop in front of the facility my dad was now living in. It was in the perfect halfway spot between Salem and Boston, so the drive wasn’t annoyingly long.
In fact, it wasn’t long enough.
As I grabbed my cane and phone, I felt an uncomfortable sensation crawling up my spine.
I needed more time to deal with this, damn it.
I wasn’t ready. It was so much more than just seeing my dad in this state.
It was knowing that there was zero point in trying to get accountability out of him anymore.
The disease had robbed him of his memories, and now it was robbing him of himself.
There was very little Peter left, and what was there was a man from the past who didn’t have a collection of sons he resented. He was a young man trying to impress a snobby woman who was playing hard to get.
I didn’t know that guy. The man who’d set his eyes on me was already disillusioned by the first child his wife had birthed him and was now confronted by having a second in the span of ten months who was exactly the same.
Except I was weaker. I was frail. Allergic to anesthesia, so I couldn’t even get the cute little implants Jonah had that would make him look more socially acceptable. I was the kid who would make everyone ask questions.
And I think he hated me a little more for that.
I couldn’t remember the last time Peter and I had talked that hadn’t involved my mom calling me over to throw a fit about something. And thank god I’d cut her off years ago.
Taking a breath, I found the curb with my cane and called Jonah to let him know I was there.
“Where are you at right now?”
“Out front,” I told him. “By some…” I stretched my cane out until it hit something solid, and when my hand drifted down, I felt soft flower petals teasing my skin. “Planters or something?”
“Hugo will be right there.”
I hung up, lost in the gut punch of relief.
I loved all of our friends and their partners, but Hugo was different.
Hugo was kind to me in a way I hadn’t expected him to be.
Everyone had been making so much noise about him being a dickhead, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, that I thought I was going to detest him.
But he turned out to be one of the few people who saw me. Actually me. He was the one who hadn’t made assumptions about who I was or what I’d done in the past.
He’d put his arms around me, and it was the first time someone had touched me without wanting something from the interaction.
“Micah.”
The sound of his voice was instantly relaxing, and I turned, holding out a hand. He yanked me into a hug, arms tight around my back as he squeezed.
“It’s been forever.” His accent was a little heavier since he’d been visiting some of his family for the last couple of months of summer, now that he was retired from coaching. “You look tired.”
“You and I both know that’s a polite way of saying I look like shit,” I said.
He laughed and let me take his arm. I tucked my cane into my side as he led the way into the building, and I shivered when the doors whooshed open, blasting me with a face full of AC.
“Did you drive Jonah here?” I asked. Off in the distance, I could hear an elevator ding, and the tip of my cane slid easily over the polished floor, catching every so often on shallow lines of grout.
“Boden did. I decided to tag along. We can give you a ride home if you like.”
“I’m in the literal opposite direction,” I reminded him as we came to a stop. I heard the tiny click when he pressed the elevator button, and it dinged right away.
“I don’t mind. Maybe we can get dinner. It really has been a long time.”
“Yeah. France had to be nicer than here.”
He snorted. “Nothing is nicer than being with the family I found.”
Sweet words, and most days, I believed them, but I was struggling today. I managed a smile in his direction though, and he turned his hand, squeezing my arm.
“Something’s wrong.”
Fuck, he was too good at that. “It’s nothing.”
“And now you’re lying to me.” The doors opened, and he stopped a few feet from where we got off. “Micah…”