Chapter 12 #2
Yeah, hockey is a team sport, but I’m the last line of defense, and I failed big-time tonight. I always take losses hard, and while I know it’s impossible for me to win every game I play, some nights it hits me harder than others. Sometimes the shroud of disappointment is more than I can handle.
“We’re gonna grab some grub in the bar. Are you joining us?” Zach asks when we enter the hotel foyer.
I shake my head. I don’t want to be social right now. “No, I think I’m just gonna go to my room.”
He frowns. “You need to eat.”
“I’ll order some room service or something. I just…” My voice cracks, shame washing over me again. I’m grateful Zach seems to pick up on what I’m unable to say. His big hand clasps my shoulder.
“You know where I am, okay? Just text me. This isn’t on you, so don’t you go beating yourself up over it.”
Nodding, I force a smile.
Blaine comes over and wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. I return his embrace, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Love you, El,” he whispers. “I’m sorry we let you down tonight.”
The back of my eyes burns with unshed tears.
I know it’s dumb to be upset. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t care so much.
That I could let it go. Put it down as a bad night, and move onto the next.
Instead, I’ll be thinking about this constantly for the next few weeks.
Losing sleep over it and thinking about how I could have done things differently.
“Love you too,” I murmur.
“Want me to send up some food that I think you’ll like?”
“Yes, please.”
He gives me another squeeze, then waits in the lobby until I’m inside the elevator.
Once I’m in my room, I kick off my shoes and strip out of my suit, making sure to hang it in the closet instead of leaving it on the chair, seeing as I’ll need to wear it again in Calgary.
Turning on the TV, I slip under the duvet and scroll through the channels until I find the shopping channel.
It’s mindless and not interesting enough for me to pay attention, but it provides enough background noise that I don’t feel alone.
Blaine sends up some food like he promised. A chicken parm sub with a side of fries I manage to eat without spilling it on the bed or myself.
I’m hiding my face in the duvet cover when my phone vibrates next to me, and something shimmies in my chest at the sight of Hunter’s name lighting up the screen.
Hunter
That was a tough game. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you’d hoped. I’m still proud of you.
My lips twist in a sad smile. I’m glad I made at least one person proud tonight.
Can I call you?
Hunter
Of course. Let me head into my office.
A few minutes later, my phone flashes with an incoming video call. I quickly swipe to answer. His handsome face appears on my screen, and tears prick at my eyes instantly because I don’t want him to see me like this.
Fuck, why am I like this? Why do I have to be so sensitive? All of the other goalies I’ve played with have never been this lame.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
“Hey, you.” His voice is like a soothing caress over my skin. His brows pinch in a frown, then my name leaves his lips on a sad sigh. “Elliot. Please don’t be hard on yourself. Tonight wasn’t your fault.”
I huff out a breath. “How’d you know I was being hard on myself?”
“’Cause I see you, El. I see that big heart of yours and know how deeply you care. It’s normal to feel these big emotions. They’re just amplified by being neurodivergent.”
The room becomes silent at his words. I stare at him through the screen. The concerned gaze on his handsome face.
I’ve heard the word before. Neurodivergent. There was a kid in my class in second grade who was always getting into trouble. “He’s not misbehaving, he’s neurodivergent,” I remember hearing his parents say in the playground one day.
Is that me?
“W-what do you mean? Being neurodivergent?” I ask, idly rubbing over the hollow feeling spreading in my chest.
“With having ADHD, for example. Your brain is wired differently to someone who’s neurotypical, and in turn, your emotions are heightened. It’s normal to feel it more.”
I sit up slightly, feeling the cloud of confusion getting bigger. “You think I have ADHD?”
His lips part slightly, and his dark brows crease further over his nose. There’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice has the slightest tremble to it. It wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone else, but I’m so in tune with every single detail about Hunter I pick up on the slightest change.
“You… haven’t been diagnosed?” he asks cautiously.
I shake my head. “No.”
He lets out a heavy sigh and runs an agitated hand through his hair. “Fuck, El, I’m sorry. I… Fuck.” When he drops his hand, his expression looks pained. Sympathy swims in those brown eyes.
I swallow roughly and use my finger to draw random shapes on the duvet, trying to ignore the flurry of emotions in my chest. I don’t know what any of this means. Am I broken? Defective? And why has nobody else noticed in the almost three decades I’ve been alive?
My voice sounds distant to my own ears as I ask, “Do you think that’s why I’ve always felt different to everyone else?”
“Maybe? I mean, I’m not a professional. I’ve only had experience with Duncan. He was diagnosed when he was eight years old, but there were times when he would go unmedicated, and you show a lot of the same traits as him.”
“Oh.”
He runs an agitated hand through his hair and curses under his breath. “I’m fucking this up, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
My gaze shifts to a spot on the duvet, and I fall into a trance, blocking everything else out. Everything feels too much. With the loss of the game, not being at home, the fear of disappointing everyone, and now this…
My eyes and throat burn. The hollowness in my chest stealing my breath.
“El, I’m sorry. Fuck… I thought you knew, and you were unmedicated by choice. I don’t know the impact it has on the body in terms of being an athlete, so I thought it was something to do with that. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”
I shake my head, dismissing his apology because it isn’t needed. I know he didn’t mean to make me sad on purpose.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I just… I’ve always felt different, I just didn’t know why.
Nobody has ever mentioned it to me before.
” I suck in a choked breath. Usually I would try to keep my emotions hidden and locked in tight, but I don’t want to hide from Hunter.
“I’m just feeling a lot of big feelings right now. I’m struggling to handle it.”
His face pinches with worry, chewing on the inside of his lips.
“I’m okay,” I quickly reassure him. “I promise. I might look it up, though… Would there be someone I could talk to? Like maybe I could speak with the team psychologist about it?”
“That’s a good idea. They would be a good place to start. They should have resources to be able to help you understand it more.” He looks distraught as he scrubs his face with his hand. “Fuck, El, I am sorry.”
I smile softly. “Hunter, stop saying you’re sorry.”
“But I am,” he argues.
“Do I need to sit on you?” I smile weakly.
His laugh is sad. “Maybe.”
“Will you tell me about your day?” I ask, sinking back under the covers.
“Are you not tired?”
“Yeah, but I want to speak to you more.”
And I need you to help distract me from the thoughts running like a pack of rabid wolves in my mind, I silently add.
“How about you close your eyes while I talk?”
“But what if I fall asleep?”
“Then I’ll wait ’til I know you’re fully sleeping before I hang up,” he says, making me smile.
“M’kay,” I murmur, snuggling further under the covers. Grateful to have someone so understanding, but also scared of the unknown that will come with this new discovery.
We arrived in Calgary this morning, and as expected, we headed straight to the rink. Coach Harris put the guys through their paces, and I worked closely with Terry before joining in on drills.
Now we’re at the hotel. Some of the guys have gone out, while others have opted to stay in. We’re planning to have dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant in a few hours, but I’m feeling restless.
I spent the flight reading up on ADHD, and there were so many things I found relatable.
Before we landed, I had a wave of impulsiveness and decided to send an email to the team’s psychologist to ask if we could have a meeting when I get back to Chicago.
I don’t know what they can do for me, but maybe it’ll bring me some closure, or better understanding, at least. Jackson went through a process getting his daughter diagnosed with autism not long ago, and Isabela’s thriving now she’s getting the right support.
There’s a part of me that wonders, if I am neurodivergent, what would things have been like if I had the support she’s getting at her age?
Would I still have the struggles I have now?
Would I have felt less like an outsider?
But it’s not something I can think of right now. I don’t want to risk spiraling into a pit of worry.
As promised, Hunter stayed on the phone until I fell asleep.
Something I’m thankful for because I think my brain would have kept me awake otherwise.
It didn’t stop me from waking up feeling both mentally and emotionally exhausted, but there’s also a part of me that feels validated because I feel seen by Hunter.
It’s like he picks things up without me having to say a word.
He can read me like a book, my thoughts and emotions clear on the page.
I can’t ignore the fact I’m smitten with Hunter. It’s like my feelings for him quadruple every single time we speak.
How could I not be smitten with someone who pays attention to the smallest of details? Who knows me so well in such a short period of time.
The only thing worrying me now is sex, because I’m no good at it.
I’ve tried looking online. I’ve spent hours reading through hundreds of threads, but there’s so much advice out there.
Some of it is contradictory to one another too, so how am I supposed to know what I should be doing? It’s overwhelming.
I guess I could ask someone, like Zach or Jackson. I don’t want to ask Blaine because that would be kinda weird.
Before I can change my mind, I get up off the bed and walk up to the conjoining door between my room and Zach’s and knock. Footsteps sound on the other side of the door, and then the lock clicks. He looks sleepy when he opens the door, a pillow crease down one side of his face.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asks.
“Did I wake you up?”
“Kinda, but it’s okay. I needed to get up now anyway.”
I shove my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels. “So, I was… um… hoping I could get your advice about something.”
His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, then without a word, he steps aside so I can come in. He goes to sit on the desk chair, and I throw myself onto the bed, shifting around until my head hangs over the edge and I’m staring at the plain white wall.
“What are you doing?” he chuckles.
“I can’t look at you while I ask what I’m about to ask.”
“Okay…” he says in amusement. “What’s up? Is something bothering you?”
“How do you have sex?” I blurt out.
I guess we’re going right into the deep end.
He makes a choked sound. “Like in general or…”
“I mean, like… I’ve tried to look it up online, and it sounds confusing. So I jerked off with Hunter the other night, and now I’m like, if he wants to have sex, I don’t know how to have the sex. And I don’t want to ask Blaine because ew, gross.”
He snorts. “So you thought you’d come to me?”
“Well, you are my bestie.” I leave off the duh.
He’s silent for a moment, and I start to feel my head getting hot and heavy from all the blood rushing to it.
“If you’re not ready to have sex with him, you know you don’t have to.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s the fact I don’t know how.
I’ve had sex twice, right? And both times, it was like…
” I wave my hands around in the air, trying to find the right words.
“I didn’t know what I was doing. I felt uncomfortable, and I wasn’t enjoying it, then I got all embarrassed because I didn’t… you know…” I motion to my crotch.
He sighs. “I’m sorry you had a shit experience. I don’t know him, but from what you’ve said, Hunter seems like a nice guy who will take care and take his time with you.”
I tip my head up to look at him. “He called me a good boy.”
Zach’s icy blue eyes widen.
“And I really liked it,” I add before flopping back to hang over the edge.
“Well… okay, there’s nothing wrong with having a praise kink. I think that’s quite common. What else are you worried about?”
“Will it hurt?”
“Not if you’re prepped right,” he says, then quickly adds, “I’m assuming he’s the top in this hypothetical scenario?”
“Mhm,” I agree, lifting my head up because I’m starting to go lightheaded. But as I still can’t look him in the eye, I pull my hood up over my head and tug on the drawstrings until it’s covering my face. I shift down the bed until my feet touch the carpet. “What are you? Can I ask that?”
“I’m vers. Me and Carter both are.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’re versatile. We like it both ways.”
I groan. “Fuck, I’m so dumb.”
“No, you’re not,” he insists.
“I am. Here’s me, brother to a retired slut, and I don’t even know what vers means.”
Zach lets out a bark of laughter. “But he’s your brother. Some things are weird to talk about with your siblings.”
“Do you talk about sex with Brody?”
“Fuck no.”
Tapping my fingers in a nervous rhythm on my chest, I ask, “So, what do I need to do?”