Chapter 2
DES
Last year, our old captain Bill had a crazy idea: we should come back together and join an adult recreational hockey league in town.
Even though we're all in our mid-forties and not moving like we used to, I couldn’t resist the pull of getting back on the ice with my best friends.
We call ourselves The Comebacks. I guess The Old Fucks was taken.
And hey, we still got it. We won the championship last season against a much younger and faster team led by Jack, a former NHL player who is now dating my teammate Griffin. With the fall session starting up, maybe we can clinch a back-to-back victory.
But whatever happens, there's always a post-game beer. Or a post-game martini in my case.
I get to practice a few minutes late. I had to catch up on emails I’d missed during my midday rendezvous with Maya.
I skate onto the rink and immediately glide up to center ice, where the guys crowd around Tanner.
I push past them and throw an arm around my friend’s shoulder, giving him a supporting squeeze.
With his dirty-blond hair and beaming dark blue eyes surrounded by the beginning creases of rugged wrinkles, Tanner is aging like a fine wine.
He’s a daddy, but he’s also totally a capital-D Daddy.
"I fucking hate layoffs. We had a round of them last year, and I fought like hell to keep my team safe.
But I still had to let a few go. I felt terrible.
" Bill narrows his no-nonsense eyes that match his no-nonsense beard. You know how hockey players can look scary in their official roster photo? Well, that’s how Bill looks all the time.
If I worked for him, I'd be shaking in my boots.
Although, his old assistant fell in love with him, and they're still together.
So I guess he does have a soft side at times—but definitely not on the ice.
Bill gives Tanner a fist bump. “If I hear of any openings at my company that need to be filled, I’ll let you know.”
“You mean, besides your former assistant?” I can’t help myself. Bill’s face turns bright crimson.
“Des, I’m two seconds away from ripping off your one functioning ball.”
I blow him a kiss. It’s still just as easy to rile Bill up now as it was back in high school.
"Thanks," Tanner says to Bill, getting between us before any blood gets spilled.
“Don’t worry. You’re going to land on your feet,” says Mitch, who plays defense. He has a thick beard like Bill, but kind eyes. He was out last season with a bad back for the daredevil behavior of sneezing too hard. The perils of turning forty!
"Oh, don't give him that bullshit line," I chime in. "Don't say 'land on his feet,' or 'you'll find something better,' blah blah blah. I mean, all those things are true, but let’s not make his day worse with clichés."
I return my arm around Tanner, where it fits so naturally, and pull him close.
I catch a faint whiff of his citrus shampoo in his thick hair dotted with gray.
He turns to me with bright eyes and the sweetest smile you will ever see in your entire life.
It truly is astounding that someone with this good of a heart can play a sport this nasty and violent.
Tanner’s strength, though, doesn't lie in pushing around guys and getting into fights.
He's all about speed and agility. So am I.
That's how we make a great offensive line.
"I will help you find something," I say.
"If you ever want to be a fireman, you know you can start training,” says Derek, another defenseman who also rocks a thick beard, big chest, and big gut.
Hank, our goalie, with his sloppy smile and red cheeks, skates around us. "And hey, you know, you can always be my apprentice with plumbing. You make good money. I mean, it'll take a few years..."
"But he doesn't have a few years, Hank," I say.
Unfortunately, Derek and Hank's line of work won't work for him.
"I can see if they're hiring at the airport," Griffin says, his eyebrow lifting over his eye patch. He lost his left eye in a brutal hockey game our senior year. So we’re both missing a ball.
“Tanner has a fear of flying. His last flight was a decade ago,” I say.
I convinced him to take a quick getaway to Miami years ago.
The guy dug his nails into my arm and drew blood during takeoff.
I got him situated with those little bottles of alcohol, and he was fine the rest of the flight.
My arm hurt like a bitch all weekend, though.
“They have front office positions. Sometimes, there are openings.” Griffin scratches at his beard as he thinks. Derek and Bill do the same.
Tanner and I are the only ones bold enough to use a razor, it seems. Hank has scruff, but I can’t tell if that’s because he’s trying to grow a beard or he’s just lazy. With him, it’s fifty-fifty.
Tanner’s been rocking stubble as of late, and I have to say, it really adds to his sex appeal. Objectively speaking. "Thanks, guys," Tanner says. "I’m still in shock a little. But it'll be okay.”
“We got your back,” Bill says, with the others chiming in their hardy agreement.
“We've all survived a lot of hard times on this team.” I pound my hockey stick against the ice. “I survived cancer.” I then point to each of the guys. “Griffin survived getting an eye gouged out. Hank survived being married to Cruella de Vil.”
“Hell yeah!” Hank raises a fist.
“Derek survived losing his wife. Mitch almost lost his bar, but he survived. And Bill, somehow, survives having a stick permanently lodged up his ass everyday. So we all struggle.”
Bill smacks me in the stomach. He cracks the tiniest glint of a smile. I get one of those a year.
“I don't want to talk about it anymore. I just want to play hockey." Tanner skates past us, making big glides on the ice.
"Let's get to it," Bill says.
In high school, Tanner and I were a brilliant offensive duo. Our passing was innate and crisp. It was like we could read each other's minds. We knew when to pass, when to skate around…and despite not playing hockey for a good twenty years, it's like we picked up where we left off.
We play a scrimmage and skate around our teammates with ease. Griffin and Derek on defense definitely give us a fight, but I nail a pass to Tanner, and he slips it into goal.
It's like we're dancing.
Tanner and I have just always understood each other. You know, I love all my teammates, but he and I have a special bond, forged through tough times and inside jokes and all the little stuff in between that builds a friendship.
"Damn, you guys still got it," Hank says.
After a good hour-long practice, we get showered and dressed.
"All right, who's up for a beer?" Griffin says. He points to me. "Or a martini."
"Excuse me for wanting something a little bit nicer," I say.
Tanner takes his time getting dressed. I glimpse his chest and some of the golden hairs on there.
I don't mean to—it happens so fast. I'm proudly bisexual. I think women and men are both beautiful in their own ways, and finding your friend beautiful is something that’s bound to happen. I dismiss the thought, though, and avert my gaze. He’s the safe harbor away from the stormy seas of my sex life.
"I'm gonna pass on drinks tonight," Tanner says. "I gotta get home to the kids and break the news to them."
I grab his arm before he goes. "Hey, if you need help with anything, we're here. We got you."
I peer into his eyes, letting him know that I mean that more than anyone here.
"We're not gonna let you starve."
He gives me a nod, and I watch him go, absentmindedly checking out his ass in the process.