11. Drake
CHAPTER 11
DRAKE
Jon had warned me that the New Year’s Eve game was always a riot, in both good and bad ways, and he’d been exactly right. It was a high-scoring, back-and-forth affair with a shit-ton of penalties, hit, and scrums breaking out at every whistle.
I’d been paired up with Jon and Alfie again, and our line kept scoring on the other team. We’d each put a goal into the net, and I’d added another.
Unfortunately we were tied and five each. This time, when we went out, their biggest D-man, who had to be six-five, went after Alfie, and had sent him flying into the boards. I saw red in that moment, rammed into the guy, and asked him if he wanted to go.
He did, so the gloves came off and we squared up. He had height on me, and weight, but I was angrier than I’d been in a while, and I’d always been shifty in fights. He missed connecting his swings. I did not and I was able to get in close enough to tangle him up and take him down.
Of course that put both of us in the box for five. Not ideal, but our team and fans were yelling and cheering, and Alfie seemed to be okay.
Jon looked—he looked like he wanted to obliterate the other team. I’d never seen him that sharp and dangerous-looking on the ice. There was fire in him on the bench, I watched from the penalty box as he talked with Alfie and Bruda. When they hopped over the boards, along with our biggest D-men, they went to work with spectacular results. Alfie took vengeance, skating around their lumbering D, then passing to Bruda, who sent the puck up to Jon, who wound up and one-timed the puck from the hashmarks straight past the goalie. I was almost surprised the netting didn’t explode from the force when the puck hit.
I’d never seen Jon shoot a puck like that. You could barely hear our goal song over the shouts and yells of the fans. I was on my feet, too.
I got out of the box with a minute thirty-seven left on the clock, and on my shift, worked to keep the score six to five, even with their goalie pulled for the extra man. We didn’t get the insurance empty netter, but we did keep their pucks out of our net and won.
The arena was so loud. Jon got first star that night. I got second, and Alfie got third. The locker room was almost as loud as the arena had been, and we whooped it up, even as Jon and I tried to get cleaned up and shove some food into ourselves so we could get over to the bar.
We managed to make it there just after eleven, and wow, the place was packed. A cheer went up when we walked in.
“Stars!” someone yelled. “The stars are here!”
Lots of pats on the back, including from Red Dog. “You’re tough, kid. Taking on a big guy like that. ”
“That hit on Alfie.” I shook my head. “Wasn’t right. Had to send a message.”
Merrick nodded in approval. Jon looked consternated but didn’t say anything, so I filed his expression away. That was something that we needed to discuss.
Ella got us beers, and we made our way around the place, talking with the people we knew. The pool queens fussed over me a little, making sure “that nasty man” hadn’t bruised my “pretty face,” with me assuring them that he hadn’t touched me. When we moved on, I pulled Jon into a little pocket of calm in the sea of chaos. “Hey, you’re not mad at me, are you?”
That got me Jon’s confused look. “ Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?”
“For fighting tonight.”
“For fighting? No, no. I mean, I would hate seeing you get hurt in a fight, but honestly, I was about to do the same thing. You got there sooner.” Jon paused. “And probably did a better job anyway.” He shook his head. “I’m still angry at that ass targeting Alfie and the refs only calling the fighting major. That was clearly interference. Pisses me off.” His features smoothed out. “Usually, I can shake that off, you know? Bad calls. But…”
“But it’s Alfie?”
Jon scratched his head. “Yeah. He’s like a little brother, I guess.”
I could see that. “He’s our teammate. That’s why I dropped the gloves.”
That got me a smile from Jon. “You said ‘our.’”
“I did.” And I’d meant it.
That smile didn’t leave Jon’s face until close to midnight.
As the seconds counted down to midnight, he took my hand and that smile shifted to something far more serious, and I found myself staring into his dark eyes. We didn’t say anything when the count passed ten—just watched each other as the time from one year ticked to another. We moved toward each other right before everyone screamed one , then we kissed. Not as passionately as we might before sex, but intently, as if each of us was memorizing how our bodies, how our lips molded together in that moment. Cheers went up all around us, along with bells and horns. People threw confetti and, as we separated, bits of colored paper fell around us, clinging to our hair and clothes. That joyful smile was back as others jostled Jon and wished him a happy New Year. I was pulled into more hugs than I could count, including one by Red Dog.
“You be good to him, you hear?”
“I— I will be.” That was the only answer I had, because it was the truth. I’d be as good as I could be to Jon.
Red Dog nodded, and he moved on. The pool queens enveloped me next.
Eventually, Jon and I ended up together against the back wall, by the pool tables, and he slumped against me. “That was fantastic. Just look at everyone!” He gestured out at the bar where so many people were gathered. Feathers, leather, rainbows, glitter, and confetti. It was a sight to behold. Lorelei was excitedly talking to an older man while clutching his hands.
“Hey, did Lorelei get engaged?” I asked.
“I think so?” Jon pulled me off the wall. “Let’s go find out.”
We worked our way through the crowd, and indeed, Lorelei had gotten engaged to an older gentleman named Stephen, and she was just gushing. We congratulated the lucky couple .
“Maybe,” she said, “Next year, it’ll be you two.”
My heart tumbled in my chest, and Jon got that look again that stole away his smile. “Maybe,” he said. Then the joy returned and he grinned at me. “Maybe?”
I took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “We’ll see.”
There was so much time between now and then. So many seconds, as they say. I had no idea what would happen, and it might be tough, given the way hockey was, but if we could stay together, we could stay together.
Maybe.
The couple of days after the first of January had been beautiful, with pale winter skies and the brilliant snow-covered hills contrasting against the browns and grays of the leafless trees and the dark greens of the pines. On the day before Jon’s birthday, the roads were dry and the early morning sunlight shown through another clear day. No repeat of blizzard conditions in the forecast, which was good, because we had an away game.
The trip to Cincinnati was uneventful. We walked into their arena and came out with a win. A nice four to two in regulation. Coach Macintosh held us back a little was people were filing out of the arena to the bus.
“You,” he said, pointing to Jon. “If you’re going to go for those fancy passes through traffic up ice, please make sure the guy you’re passing to is actually expecting the puck.”
Jon shrugged unapologetically. “Riley needs to have better situational awareness in the game. Not everything is about hitting the guy in front of him.”
Coach rolled his eyes. “Yes. But you know what he’s like. Do a pass like that when Alfie or this kid is out, okay?”
Jon nodded. That pass and Riley’s fumbling of it had let Cincinnati tie the game at two each. It’d been my goal that had put us up in the end, and an empty-netter sealed the deal.
Coach clapped me on the back “You keep playing like you do. I swear, any of these guys could throw a pass to you near the net, and you’d put it in.”
“I still have room to improve, Coach. But I’ll keep it up.”
“Do that.” He nodded, then waved toward the exit.
We glanced at each other, then headed to the bus. Jon went first, then abruptly stopped when everyone on the bus yelled, “Happy Birthday!”
“Oh my God,” Jon said.
I peeked around him, and there were tinsel streamers everywhere, and banners that said happy 30th birthday ! along with ones that read over the hill .
Jon rotated to me, his eyes wide.
Mine were pretty damn wide, too. “I didn’t do this.” I hadn’t. The vibe I was going for was romantic. And this? It wasn’t that. This was teammates talking shit.
“I believe you,” he said. “I’m gonna kill Mac.”
Then he looked at the rest of our teammate and shook his head. “I hate you all.” He was beaming from ear to ear.
The ride home was loud. There was cake and party hats, and even noisemakers. Alfie and Bruda owned up to planning the surprise, and they confirmed I hadn’t known, because they didn’t think I’d be able to keep a secret. Mac had held us back to give them time to set up.
“I figure you have something romantic planned,” Alfie said to me.
I shrugged. “Maybe.” But I couldn’t quite keep the smile off my face. Jon bumping me and his grin didn’t help. “Not that I’m telling you yet,” I said to him .
I’d made a reservation at a local restaurant—not the fancy French place in Pittsburgh, but a nice brew pub with lots of beers on tap and a really good menu right in Greensburg. I figured we’d finally have that date, then come home, watch a movie, and spend the rest of the time in bed. Since that first night, I’d been topping him exclusively. Given the way he moaned and cried and came, I knew he liked that, but he’d also said he was vers.
And well, sometimes I liked being on the receiving end. So, I was going to see if he wanted to change things up for his birthday.
I was not about to announce that to our teammates, though.
The drive back to Jon’s was quiet and calm and he spent the scant minutes smiling as if he couldn’t stop. “I love that team,” he said, “so so much. The guys are good to me, even when they’re being absolute shits.”
I chuckled. “Best kind of team.”
“Yeah. So lucky I ended up here. The Otters. Hideaway. Everyone. It’s far from my parents, but this is home, you know? These people. This place.”
I nodded, a little lump forming in my throat. He was right. This place did feel like home. But that was because of Jon. He felt like home. “I love you,” I murmured.
“Oh,” he said, breathlessly, as if I’d spoken something profound, as if we hadn’t said it many times since Christmas. Since our kiss on New Year’s. “That’s the best gift I’ve ever received.”
He pulled into his driveway and parked, then pulled me into a kiss. “I love you too,” he said against my lips.
I grinned like a fool. “Is it after midnight, yet?” It had to be something closer to one, actually .
He checked his watch. “Yup.” Just a single word. So unusual for him.
“We should go inside.”
Same grin. “Yup.”
Oh, I see . There were two versions of Jon when horny: Talks a mile a minute and vibratingly quiet. Looks like I had the latter tonight.
In the foyer of Jon’s house, I didn’t even wait to shuck our coats before I pulled him into a long kiss that left both of us breathless and him dazed. “Happy birthday, Jon.”
“Very,” he said.
I helped him take his coat off, then hung his and mine in the closet. “I had a thought for tonight.”
He licked his lips, and I wondered if he was still tasting my kiss. “You want to try something new?”
I took his mouth in another kiss, sipping and nipping until he melted against me. He’d been wearing burgundy and black tonight, which was such a hot look on him. Then again, everything Jon wore looked great on him. Probably because he was just so beautiful, he could’ve made a plastic garbage bag look sexy. I worked his tie loose.
“I’ll do anything you want,” he murmured. “Well, within reason. No maiming or injuring or weird internet dances.”
I chuckled. “I’m not asking you to do a TikTok meme, I’m asking if you want to top me tonight.”
Those big brown eyes of his widened, and then I was the one up against the wall. His mouth was a firebrand on mine, even as his fingertips caressed my face. This was more like what I’d initially expected from Jon—in control. Strong.
He broke the kiss, then ran his thumb over my lip. “I absolutely can top you.” He nodded toward the stairs. “Bedroom? ”
Didn’t have to ask me twice. We went to his—more ours now—and he slowly stripped me of my suit, then peeled off his. It was a careful, teasing dance of touch and tastes. Kisses, licks, and bites. Insistent, but gentle.
“How do you want this to go?” he asked as he nipped his way down my neck. “What’s your fantasy?”
This. This was my fantasy. Being with him in any capacity. “It’s your birthday. Whatever you want.”
“Mmm, whatever I want? Okay. I can work with that.”
What I thought I’d get was more demanding kisses, like the one he’d given me downstairs. Instead, Jon continued to peel clothes off of me until I was naked, then slowly made out with me. It was passionate and feverishly hot, but so careful and thorough. I think he kissed, sucked, and touched every inch of my body before he laid me out on the bed. Then he worshiped me all over again.
“Jon. You’re gonna kill me.”
There was that laugh I loved. “Baby, I’m going to do worse than that—I’m going to make love to you.”
And he did. All those touches and kisses, the way he lovingly sucked my dick and balls. How he fingered me open with slick fingers, all the while cataloging how stunning I looked, how beautifully I moved, it was all love. Over and over again, he showed me with his body, his words, and the way he looked at me—as if I were the only living being left in the world.
When he finally pressed into me, I was so far gone, I could only hold on and let him love me, over and over, until I was on the edge of what felt to be the most sublime orgasm of my life. “Babe, oh God, babe.”
“That’s it, he murmured. “Just like that. Want to see you come for me, baby.”
I did. So hard that I couldn’t even shout. Everything Jon did took my breath away. By the time I came back down to Earth, he was caressing my face again, much like he had downstairs.
“I love you so much,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
“You… you…” I struggled to put my thoughts into words. “You’re perfect.”
“Hardly.” His soft chuckle was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.
My phone ringing woke me up at way-too-early in the morning. There were very few numbers I had set to break through my do not disturb setting, so I knew it was important. I just prayed it wasn’t my mom. She wouldn’t call this early after a road trip unless…
But it wasn’t my mom. My phone said JR . It took me only a second to remember who that was. I answered as Jon stirred next to me and rubbed his eyes.
“Hello, sir.”
Our GM replied, “Ah, good. You’re awake. I know you had a late night of travel. Congratulations on the win, by the way.”
“Thank you, sir.” I had no idea why JR would be calling me at—I peered at a decorative but functional wall clock—five to eight in the morning.
Who? Jon mouthed.
JR , I mouthed back, and Jon’s eyes got wide.
In my ear, JR continued. “Bear’s gone down with a high-ankle sprain. Going to be out for a while. We’re recalling you to the Lions. You’ve put in the work down there. You’re the best player the Otters have right now, and we need your talent and skill. You up for that, kid? ”
Oh my God. I was getting called up. Going back to the NAPH. I hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, “Yes, sir. Thank you for the challenge.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Morning skate’s at ten thirty at the arena. I’ll tell Robinson to expect you. Impress me tonight.” Then he hung up.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it, because I still wasn’t sure I’d heard what he’d said correctly. “I’m getting called up.”
“Yeah,” Jon said gently. “I figured.” His smile was small, and it almost hid the sadness in his eyes.
Then it hit me. “It’s your birthday.” I shook my head. “I can’t go. I have plans.” The phone shook in my hands.
As I made to call JR back, Jon snatched the phone away and shut it off. “What? No! Don’t be foolish. This is what you’ve been waiting for! You belong on the Lions.”
“I belong with you!”
The words echoed around his room, then hung between us, with all the weight of truth and love.
“I can’t leave you.” I said more quietly. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Babe.” He breathed the word out, then sat up and put my phone on the nightstand, next to his. “You need to go back to Pittsburgh and play on the Lions and be the superstar you were becoming last season. It’s the right thing. The Otters are fun, but we can’t further your career.”
“I don’t care about my career!”
He took both my shaking hands and gave them a squeeze. “You do. And you will, when you get over the shock.”
He didn’t want me here? “I thought…” I pulled my hands from his. “So it’s just—what? Goodbye?”
He looked at me as if I’d started speaking another language he didn’t understand. “No?” Then his face flitted from bewildered to understanding, to exasperation. “Oh my God, Drake.” With that, he pulled me into a hug. “We’re not breaking up. You’re going to play on the Lions, like you’re supposed to. We can still see each other, still date. All of that.” He pulled back. “Just—we won’t be living with each other. It’ll be like a more normal relationship, I guess. You know, where people have to schedule things and all that…”
My aching heart ticked down a notch. “You mean like the dinner date we still haven’t managed? The one I was finally going to take you on for your birthday?” Jon still wanted me. That was—that was good, right?
This time, Jon’s smile was its normal brightness, as was his laugh. “Hell, we might actually manage an actual dinner date if we’re not living together.” He nodded toward the bathroom. “Why don’t you take a shower? I’ll get coffee going. Guarantee you’ll feel better and things won’t look so dire once we chase away the sleep from your head. This is good news , babe. Don’t you worry about us. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“But—your birthday.”
“Shower,” he said with finality.
So I got my ass out of bed and headed to do that.
He was right, the shower helped chase away some of the cobwebs, and the confusion and worry seeped away to be replaced by exhilaration. Holy shit, I was going back up! I had to go get my gear. Pack. Shit. Cancel the dinner reservation.
As promised, there was coffee waiting for me in the kitchen, along with Jon, dressed in sweatpants and an old Otters T-shirt that had seen better days. “I have so much to do,” I said .
He shook his head. “Get your gear. I’ll pack some stuff up for you. You can come back later to get whatever else you need. You don’t have to worry about getting all of it now. Plus, you’ll be home—there’s probably still a ton of things in your apartment, right?”
There was, yeah. I took the coffee, drank, and looked around. “I really like it here, though.”
“I know. Look, we’ll figure out the logistics, okay? There’s time. I want to make this work, you want to make this work. We’re only an hour apart. I mean, there are couples in entirely different cities who make this stuff work.”
Jon’s coffee tasted perfect. It cut through the rest of the fog in my head and the weight of what Jon was saying finally kicked in. “You want to keep dating. Like—really—want?—”
Jon heaved a sigh. “Babe, come here.”
The brevity of that made me blink. I shuffled closer. He took the cup from my hands and placed it on the island, then pulled me into a kiss that had me startled, then moaning, then nearly weak in my knees. I planted a hand on the island and wrapped the other around him.
When he relented, he pulled back enough to look me in the eyes. “Yes,” he said, emphatically. “I want to keep dating you. If the Lions were in Florida, I’d be calling my agent to get me traded closer to you. This is for real for me. Pretty sure it is for you, too?”
“Oh. Um.” I swallowed. “Fuck, yes. I—if there was time…” I glanced at the clock. I really wanted him right then and there.
Jon rolled his eyes, probably feeling my desire against him. He gave me a little shove. “There’s no time. Go get your gear. Swing by on the way to Pittsburgh, and I’ll have stuff packed for you.”
I grabbed the coffee and drank it as quickly as I could while I gathered my wallet, keys, and coat. “Wait, I made reservations…”
“Where and when? I’ll handle it.”
“You can still go.”
He waved a hand. “The birthday will keep. I’ll be thirty for 364 more days. Rain check.” He paused. “Or in this case, really fucking good news-check.”
I laughed at that, feeling lighter. This would work. We would work.
A kiss goodbye, and I was out the door.
I guess the staff at the arena must’ve gotten word, too, because all of my gear was packed up and waiting for me when I got there. “Good luck, Dragon! Make us proud,” Hank said.
Back at Jon’s, there was a suitcase and a suit bag waiting for me. “I know you have suits at home, but these are clean and pressed. I also packed the book you were reading, and a couple others. All your toiletries.”
“I love you,” I said. “I hate leaving, but—I want to play.” I was going back to the big show, back to the team I thought didn’t want me.
Well, they wanted me now.
“Of course you want to play. Call your mom when you get to Pittsburgh.” He helped me load my things into the SUV.
Hell, I’d call her hands-free on the way. “Will you tell everyone at the bar?”
Another kiss, this one lingering. “Of course,” he whispered. “I love you, too.”
“Happy birthday. ”
God that smile. The way his dark eyes sparkled in the winter’s morning light. “Score me a goal tonight, eh?”
“Absolutely.” Hell, I’d score him a hat trick, if I had the chance.
Another peck, and he was shooing me into the SUV, and I was on the road. An hour and ten minutes later, I was pulling into my spot at my apartment.
Surreal. Wonderful. Maddening. Jon wasn’t here.
But I was, and I was absolutely determined to prove to the Lions that they hadn’t made a mistake calling me back up. I ran my bags up to the apartment, then headed to the arena for morning skate.
Walking into the Lions arena this morning had been a surreal experience. My badge worked, like always. The staff was familiar, and of course my teammates, but my stall in the locker room had been shifted slightly. In my old stall was Gavin Lacey, the kid they’d called up when I’d been sent down, and my new stall was next to his.
Gavin had done okay so far. Handful of goals. Some nice assists. He was fast on the forecheck, as Jon had said, but was a little hesitant when finishing.
I’d been greeted warmly and loudly by the other guys, including Bearsy, who was still around, rehabbing his ankle. “Glad to be back?” he asked.
“Excited,” I said. “Glad for the opportunity.” I paused and added. “The Otters are fun though. Really helped me here.” I tapped my head.
Bearsy nodded. “Good group of guys down there.”
I settled into my new stall and started pulling equipment out of my bag, then turned to my neighbor. “You’re Gavin, right?”
He nodded and eyed me. “You’re Drake.”
“Duck,” Bearsy added.
I laughed, because I hadn’t heard that in a while. “God, I forgot about that. They were calling me Dragon down there.”
“Dragon?” Bearsy said. “Why Dragon?”
“Because it’s better than Duck,” I replied. “At least, that’s what Jonny said.”
At the mention of Jon, Gavin cracked a smile. “God, he’s the best. How’s everyone doing down there, anyway?”
Over the course of the morning, I filled in Gavin (who’d been given the nickname Silky) on how the Otters were doing, and in turn, learned about all I’d missed the past month and a half. Mostly about different line combinations and changes to the power play and penalty kill.
Morning skate wasn’t a full one, but I had a feeling I’d be slotting in with the bottom two lines, and maybe on the kill. I still wasn’t much of a PKer, but I’d taken some shifts with the Otters PK unit, since Coach Macintosh liked everyone being able to kill penalties. Robinson had me on the PK unit during the morning skate.
“You’ve been mostly on the top line and on the power play in Greensburg, yeah?” Coach asked.
“Lately, yeah. But I’ll play wherever you need me, Coach” I said. “I can do the work.”
He nodded. “That’s what I like to hear.”
After practice, he pulled me aside. “You look good out there, but is there anything new, health-wise we need to know about?”
I started to shake my head, then hesitated. Because sperm-doner was still out there. Coach must’ve seen because he raised an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly health-related,” I said. “I had some issues earlier in the season with someone on social media…and my family.” I quickly filled him in on what had happened.
He sat back in his chair. “Well shit, Drake. That’s pretty heavy stuff. You should’ve told us.”
“I know.” I scratched my neck. “I’d thought I’d handled it, but he contacted me again around my birthday.”
“You give us the details, and we’ll make sure security is up-to-date.”
Muscles in my back unlocked. “Thank you, sir.”
I caught a nap in my apartment to make up for the lack of sleep. There was a lot adrenaline could do, but nothing really beat having enough rest and recovery under your belt.
When I woke, there was a text from Jon.
Took care of everything. Have a good game. ??
Man. I still felt a little bad about missing out on dinner with him on his birthday. I was so damn lucky he understood. I shot off a quick text back:
Love you too. Everything’s good here.
Then I was into my suit and heading back to the area for tonight’s game. Turned out I wasn’t on the third or fourth line tonight, but the second—as I had been last year. And on the second unit for the power play. “Can you handle that, kid?”
“You bet, Coach.”
My teammates slapped me on the back, and we got situated in the hall to head out onto the ice for warmups. I never really cared where I was in the line, but I loved all the yelling, chest thumping and crazy rituals that went on before we skated out. It was loud and felt like…home. Like I belonged here.
When I burst out onto the ice for warmups, there was a smattering of cheers from the crowd. I took a lap and was shocked to see several signs welcoming me back, either with my name, number, or a picture of a duck.
It wasn’t those signs that had me nearly falling over my skates. As it was, I transitioned backward and rammed into the boards close to the goal in shock.
It was a simple sign. Black capital letters written in Sharpie on white cardstock:
DRAGON: PUCK FOR A DINNER DATE?
Holding the sign against the glass was the person I least expected to see here, and he was grinning his thousand-watt smile, eyes twinkling like stars in the bright arena lights.
Jon. Jonny fucking Eriksson.
Gavin skated up next to me in the corner and stick handled a puck. “Dragon, huh?” He was smiling.
“I’m going to kill him,” I muttered, then grabbed an errant puck and tossed it over the glass to Jon, who deftly caught it. Somehow, his toothy grin widened, which I didn’t think was possible. I gave the glass a fist bump, then got back to warming up, my face more than a little warm under my helmet.
I hoped my visor didn’t fog up.
The looks my teammates gave me varied from confused to amused. Luckily, there was no anger. Then again, Brodie and a couple others wouldn’t have stood for it.
When we got back to the locker room after warmups, it was Brodie (who was wearing an A tonight) who put his hands on his hips and gave me a look. “Got something you want to tell us, Dragon ?” He was smiling almost as brightly as Jon had been.
Well, there was no sense in beating around the bush. “Uh, I’m dating Jon Eriksson?”
That got me a bunch of cheers and pats on the back.
“Damn,” Brodie said. “He’s a looker.”
Gavin laughed. “I’ve never actually seen him that happy before.”
I whirled around. “What? He’s always happy! It’s his natural state of being!”
That had Dimitri Vasileiou, our backup goalie, snorting. “No, no, Silky’s right. Jonny’s happy, sure, but that?” He shook his head. “What did you do to him?”
“Whoa, whoa,” Cutts said. “Don’t need the details.”
I covered my face with my hands. “I’m really gonna kill him.”
Coach Robinson shook his head. “Gotta fucking send Mac a bottle of scotch.” He cleared his throat to get our attention. “If you boys are done? You’ve got a game to play against a pretty tough opponent…”
I was grateful for the shift in the spotlight, though I did get a few “Hey, congrats” comments before we headed back out onto the ice. After that, everything was a focused whirl of action.
Coach wasn’t kidding about this being a hard match. The other team, the Buffalo Jets, were feisty tonight. Hard hitting. But they were also playing very tight, and our forecheck wasn’t getting much behind their D, even if we were the slightly faster team. They scored first during the first period. Early in the second, while defending our zone, the puck bounced off Chester’s goalie pads straight to me. One of their D was out of position, so I saw the breakout so clearly. Evidently, my linemates did, too. I went flying up the ice, on what turned out to be a two on zip. I looked to Z, one of our big wingers, the entire time we skated up, faked a pass, then sent the puck zipping past the overcommitted goalie, into the back of the net.
Goal lights. Horn. Cheering crowd, and then my teammates crushed me. “Atta boy, Dragon!” Z said.
Felt so good. Like last year—or this year on the Otters. No more heavy weight. No more thinking I was as useless as my sperm-donor had said.
I’d gotten a goal for my team. Just like I’d promised Jon.
After fist-bumps, when I took my seat on the bench, Brodie slapped me on the back. “Got the magic back.”
Was it magic? I didn’t know. Hockey was luck and skill and mood, seemed like. I was glad to be riding the top of the wave again. I was sure I’d have my slumps. As long as I remembered why I was here, it’d be fine. I had the love of the game to pull me through.
We ended up winning in overtime on a goal from Gavin, who Coach had put out with me and Z. He’s seen a hole, and we’d rushed into the zone and completed a little tic-tac-toe play that had the goalie and the other team’s players all scrambled up.
The crowd screamed, our teammates piled onto us in the corner, and the horn blared an extra-long time. We were loud and rambunctious as we headed back into the locker room. Bearsy was there in a suit, giving fist-bumps, and next to him, ginning like the devil, was Jon, all dark hair and mischief, wrapped up in an Otters hoodie, an all-access badge around his neck.
I planted my hand on his chest and gave him a playful shove as I passed. His laughter was joyous.
“You deserved that, Jonny,” someone said .
Then we were stripping off gear and Coach was congratulating us on a game well-played. The VIP object—an old helmet with a lion’s mane and ears—went to Gavin for his OT goal.
Then they let the press in to talk to us.
I wasn’t surprised when a scrum formed around my locker. I answered a bunch of questions about what it was like to be back (great), and how playing with the Otters impacted my game.
I paused and thought about that. “I’m not sure it changed the mechanics of my play,” I said. “I was in a bad space when I went down, and the guys there—they helped me find what I’d been missing. The passion for being on the ice. The joy. I play this game because I love it. I needed to remember that.”
After everyone cleared out, they let the partners, spouses, and kids in as we filtered out to the lounge to eat our post-game snack, or to do a short workout in the gym. It was then that Jon reappeared, and we headed into the lounge together.
“Jonnieeee!” Bearsy said. “Taking up with the Dragon.”
Jon scratched the back of his head. “Dragon is so much better than Duck. What the hell were you thinking with that nickname, man?”
Gavin laughed. “They’re calling me Silky.”
“It’s because you’re so smooooth.” Bearsy said.
Jon rolled his eyes. “Silky? As in Lacey and Silky? My God, I thought I taught you better than that, Kev.”
“Better than my juniors nickname,” Gavin said.
I bumped Gavin’s shoulder. “What was that?”
He made a face. “Panties.”
Bearsy gestured at Gavin. “See? Silky’s fine. You guys probably called him something like Quilt. ”
“It was Gabe,” Gavin said. “Short for Gabriel.”
“He came as an angel for Halloween,” Jon supplied.
I just laughed.
Jon plopped himself down on the other side of me. “Hey. Thanks for the puck.”
“No problem. I expect a dinner date.” I paused. “Finally.”
“Eh, we keep having issues with those, but I’ll see what I can do.”
Gavin butted in. “Wait, you two haven’t been on a date yet? But you’re dating?” He raised an eyebrow at Jon. “I heard about your rules.”
“Not an ‘official’ date,” Jon said, with air-quotes. “But we got to know each other pretty well before we—” He waved his hand.
I put an arm around Jon. “He broke his rules for me.”
“The universe conspired against dinner dates,” Jon countered. “Case in point, tonight. My birthday dinner.”
“Shit, Jonny, it’s your birthday?” Bearsy said. “Happy birthday!”
That had a bunch of the players, spouses, partners, employees—basically anyone in the lounge—singing happy birthday to Jon while Gavin went on a mission to find something that would count as cake.
That ended up being an orange cranberry muffin from this morning. Gavin even found a candle to stick into it, and that prompted another round of singing so Jon could blow it out.
Everything was perfect. Being here with the Lions. Jon rolling his eyes but smiling so brightly as he tucked into the muffin. The kids running around the lounge.
Yeah. I belonged here—but so did Jon.
Coach pulled me away to fill me in on the upcoming schedule, and when I got back, Jon was talking to a couple of the partners and spouses.
I curled an arm around his waist. “Can I steal the birthday boy away?”
That got me some laughs, but no objections. When we were free from other people, I bumped my hip against Jon’s. “Come home with me?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Please.”
“Make your birthday even happier?”
“I don’t think you can,” he said. “It’s been pretty fantastic, actually. Got to see my boyfriend score a goal in his first game back in the big league.
If that wasn’t ever a challenge to make it better. “Come on, let’s go.”
We headed to the parking garage, arms around each other’s waists.