Chapter 33
PERRY
There was no break between the Trials and getting ready for the Olympics.
Two months might seem like a good amount of time on paper, but in life?
Especially when Evan had to stay off the ice for a couple of days, and Alan, with Darby’s help, was overcautious about easing him back into a full schedule?
Poor Ev was frustrated as shit over their hovering.
“Don’t you have lives you have to get back to?” he asked Darby and Shaw one evening almost a week after the Trials.
We were all sitting in the living room eating pizza and rewatching the video of the game, picking out all of our mistakes and discussing how we could improve.
“Eventually,” Shaw said. “You’d be surprised how flexible Home Depot can be when you explain your friends on Team Canada need you to help them practice for the Olympics.”
“Good for Home Depot,” Evan snapped.
“Precious,” Alan said, stroking fingers through his hair. “Let your friends be sure you’re okay before you send them packing.”
“And they have been helping,” Robbie pointed out.
Which was true. It was good to have other curlers on the ice with us, making shots we hadn’t set up, to give us the chance to think on the fly and solve for unpredictable outcomes.
We’d been playing against Shaw, Darby, and the Timmins boys, who were currently on their winter break so they had also stayed.
Robbie switched out with one of us each end to practice in all the positions, since he potentially had to play any of them if he had to step in again.
Though if he had to replace Alan, chances were, I would move to Skip and he would shift to Vice, but still.
It was good for him to Skip, just in case.
Neither Evan nor Carol had the experience, expertise, or desire to do it.
“Sorry, guys,” Evan said. “That was shitty of me.”
Shaw waved it off. “I’m freaking out that I used to curl with a bunch of guys who are on Team Canada now. How you all are not gibbering, I have no idea.”
“I’m too exhausted to feel much,” Robbie said.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Mikko’s brows furrowed.
“Sorry, but it’s true,” Robbie said. “We’ve been going practically non-stop for over a year and I’ve loved it. Still love it. But I’m tired. And numb.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, realizing once he’d said it that I completely understood what he meant. “I want this to be a big, exciting thing and all I can think is what if I can’t.”
Sitting on the arm of the couch next to me, Alan reached down and rubbed a hand over my back in slow circles. “We’ve said all along that no matter where this road ends, we’re on it together,” he reminded us.
“But it got real, didn’t it?” Evan said. “And one little freak accident and I nearly screwed it up for all of you.” He made eye contact with Robbie. “You freaking saved my ass.”
“I did my job, same as everyone else.”
“It was not a freak accident,” Mikko practically whispered. His cheeks turned pink as eyes focused on him. “Michael and I filed a complaint.”
Everyone turned to look at Michael, who sighed. “I was going to explain all of this tomorrow, after these guys got on the road.” He indicated Shaw, Darby, and the boys, who were scheduled to head back north the next day. “But since it came up…” He shot Mikko a look.
Mikko shrugged, still blushing, but his eyes glittered. “You are all very forgiving and gracious. But that man is a disgrace to your sport so I did something about it.”
“Probably nothing will happen,” Michael said, “as I tried to explain to Mikko. Because his uncle has so much sway.”
“And we can’t prove he had any malicious intent,” I added.
“We have pictures of your bruised face and black eye,” Mikko said. “We have a history of his game misconducts, more numerous whenever he was playing you. And we have Evan’s injury.”
“Circumstantial,” Alan pointed out.
Mikko smiled and his beautiful face took on a sharp, wolfish expression. “Curling Canada is not a criminal court. Circumstances matter.”
“Where did you get pictures?” I asked, more curious than angry, because I didn’t hate that Mikko had taken it upon himself to defend us.
Darby grunted and looked guilty.
“Huh.” I settled back to lean on Evan. “I’m not going to be mad about having a guardian angel. Thanks, Mikko.”
Mikko shrugged, then retreated back to his usual position, slipping a shoulder behind Robbie’s where they sat side by side on the love seat, thighs pressed tight together.
Straight, my gay ass.
“Alright,” Alan announced, standing up. “As much as I hate to be the heavy, I think it’s time we all got some rest.”
“I think he’s kicking us out,” Shaw stage-whispered to his team.
“I think I’m ready for bed,” one of the boys piped up. “Who knew the curling world was so full of drama.”
“Get used to it, son,” Shaw said. “It’s a veritable soap opera up in here.”
Both boys cast significant looks between Shaw and Darby.
“You don’t say,” one of them said with an eye roll that made me snicker.
“Git,” Shaw told them as he stood, ignoring his implication. “We’ll swing by in the morning to say goodbye, yeah? Here or the rink?”
“Here,” Alan said. “We all need a day off, I think.”
After we’d all retreated to our various rooms, Alan slumped against the dresser. “I am so sorry,” he told us, gaze fixed on nothing.
“Why?” Evan sounded truly confused.
“I should have realized you were all feeling so much pressure.”
“Of course we’re feeling pressure,” Evan said. “It’s the Olympics and none of us have ever done this before. I looked it up. We’re literally the only fully rookie team there. Did you know that?”
“Peripherally, yes, but I guess I didn’t think what that might mean to you. I’ve been strategically trying to get here for a decade.”
“Strategically?” Evan asked. “When did we stop being a strategy?” I saw it then.
The sudden insecurity that he’d miscalculated, read something wrong, been operating under some rule or idea he’d misunderstood.
Logic broke for him, sometimes, and I knew that, but I hadn’t expected it happen with Alan, to make him doubt the three of us or panic over Alan’s sincerity.
Alan looked to me, panic all over his face, now too. “What did I just say?”
I viscerally knew how Alan felt, that sudden panic that he’d said the wrong thing, that Evan, having been mortally insulted by some lack, was about to walk out the door.
“No one is about to bolt,” I told them. “No one is changing their mind.”
It was so weird, watching them look at me, like I was dumb, because of course they weren’t going anywhere, what the hell? And at the same time, like I was dumb, because of course, the other person was about to vanish out the door, couldn’t I see that?
“Ev, we don’t have to be curlers to be Alan’s. It’s hella convenient because if we weren’t, we’d never see him. Because you’ve been here all year and you know this is a crazy life.”
He nodded.
“He’s right,” Alan said. “I’ve said it before. This, us, is bigger than any medal.”
“I know you said it.” He slumped.
Alan surged across the room and took Evan’s face in his hands. “I don’t care about the team right now, okay? You are not replaceable. Not to me.”
“But strategically, Robbie makes more sense.” Evan stared up at him, eyes brimming. “You didn’t even need me in the end.”
“Robbie’s nice and all but he’s not you. He’s not feisty and excitable and talkative, and vibrant…” He yanked Evan into his arms. “He’s not you.”
When Evan finally relaxed into the embrace, I relaxed a bit too.
“He’s not as easy as me, either,” Evan said with a soggy chuckle.
Alan met my eyes over his head, and I knew he understood Evan’s joke was only half a joke. “I don’t think you’re easy, Evan Baily. Not at all.”
Evan pushed away from him. “I am. I’ve told you all about how easy I’ve been all my adult life.”
“Past you made choices,” Alan admitted. “Would you now make the same choices as you then made?”
Evan glanced over at me, his eyes dark and soft. “No.”
“Then what does it matter? Who you were isn’t who you are. It informs who you are, but it isn’t you.”
Evan nodded. “Okay. That makes sense.”
“Okay.” Alan hugged him again. “Okay.”
After a minute, Alan moved back so he could look at us both. “You guys understand that I don’t care about the team, the medals, the Olympics, like I did before I met you, right?”
I frowned at him.
“Okay, no. Not that I don’t care. I care. Obviously. But before you, it was all I cared about. I was willing to be shitty to the Darrens, to cut them loose so I could get you guys on the team because those things were all I wanted.”
“Well, to be fair, the Darrens were shitty first,” Evan said.
“No lies. But my point is that I see now that I did fuck them over so I could have what I wanted. I didn’t care if they found another team, as long as they weren’t dragging me down. I was never going to win anything with that strategy.”
“But we did win.”
“We won because I got my head out of my ass and realized how unbalanced my life was. Is. Look at all of you, killing yourselves to get us to some pinnacle that doesn’t matter if we’re too tired and burnt out to appreciate it. To appreciate each other.”
As was his way, Evan leered at him. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling pretty appreciated at night.”
I snorted and Alan rolled his eyes.
“Sex is your first love language,” I told Evan.
“And that’s okay. But it isn’t the only one and maybe you haven’t learned enough of another one to realize that when Alan cooks for us, all the coaching and practice and training, and making sure we’re all at top performance, so we can be the best, is how he loves. ”
“He wants us to succeed,” Evan said. “But what if I can’t? You said it too, out there. What happens if we let him down?”
“You can’t,” Alan said.
“We could lose in Milano.”
“We could. But if we’re all doing it together, if we’re all trying our best, then it doesn’t matter.”
“He loves by trying to give us more of what we love. Ever notice he makes chicken more than beef?”
“I don’t love beef,” Evan said.
“Exactly. But you do love chicken. And he makes salad with every meal because I feel like I’m getting rickets if I don’t eat vegetables every day.”
“Vegetables don’t cure rickets.”
“Point is, he tries to give us the life we love, as hard as it sometimes is, and we’re living it the best way we can. That’s all he cares about. Winning is just icing.”
Alan’s eyes got big. “Oh, I see.” He glanced from me to Evan. “You aren’t a strategy, Evan. You’re mine. That doesn’t change, win or lose.”
This time, Evan went to him and wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning into him, head against his collarbone.
I had a flashback to our first weekend together.
It was the Sunday afternoon after I’d dragged him out of that party, and we’d been getting ready to say goodbye after three days of hanging out, no sex involved, and he’d done the same thing, leaning on me, breathing into me, giving me all his weight.
I knew now, though I hadn’t at the time, it was him giving me his heart.
Maybe he hadn’t realized that at the time either. I wondered if he knew he was doing it again.
I decided to give them a moment and slipped into the bathroom, getting ready for a shower while they bonded.