Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
Ryan
Well, that was humiliating. And exhausting. And completely unexpected. Coming out to Brandon’s parents was supposed to be easy. Brandon was the one freaking out. I’d assured him it was going to be fine.
So why the fuck did I have a complete emotional breakdown?
That’s not how this is supposed to work. Brandon is the one who’s prone to freaking out. He’s the one who gets overly emotional. He’s the one who needs reassurance. Not me. I’m fine. I have been for quite some time.
But maybe I haven’t. Maybe all this time I’ve spent betting on myself, thinking I could go it alone, was all a lie.
And maybe, because of that, I can lie here and let myself be the little spoon for once in my life.
Brandon doesn’t seem to mind. Or at least he hasn’t tried to switch our positions yet since we got into bed after our three-one loss to Dallas tonight.
For the first time during these playoffs, we’re in the hole and it’s all my fault.
I skated like shit tonight. There was no life in my legs.
Brandon’s arm curls around me a little tighter. “I’m glad Coach gave us tomorrow off.”
“I’m not. We sucked tonight. He should bag skate us.”
“Or… we can take advantage of the gift he gave us and rest. We need it.”
I can hear what he really thinks; that I need it, but he’s too nice, or more likely too nervous to say that out loud.
He’s probably right, though. And to Coach’s credit, he didn’t even seem mad about our loss tonight.
It’s like he could sense from the start this just wasn’t our night.
Whether or not he realizes it was because I lost control and had a full-on emotional meltdown three hours before puck drop is anyone’s guess.
Brandon kisses my neck. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “I think I’ve done enough talking today.”
“So no talking.”
“None.”
“I can take your mind off it instead?” he says suggestively.
For the first time in hours, a chuckle escapes my lips. “Is that your solution?”
“No,” he says and buries his nose into my hair. “Well… sort of.”
“Not one for uncomfortable silence, are you?”
“Are you?” he asks, sounding slightly aghast.
“Nope,” I laugh. I hate silence like this. I like content silence. I like dozing-on-the-couch silence. I like having-the-ice-to-yourself silence. But this. This is terrible.
That said, I’m also not naive enough to believe a blow job will fill this empty hollowed-out feeling I have in the pit of my stomach. Honestly, it would probably make me feel worse. But it is sweet of Brandon to offer.
“I don’t need a blow job,” I say. “All I need is you.”
“You have me,” he says. “And honestly, now you’re kind of stuck with me. My mom and dad won’t have it any other way.”
I smile at the thought. “I guess they won’t.”
Brandon
The sound of someone banging their fist on our hotel room door like they’re the cops startles me awake. I look at the bedside clock. It’s not even five a.m. on Sunday morning.
“Who the fuck is that?” Ryan mumbles into the back of my neck. I guess at some point while sleeping we shifted to make me the little spoon again.
I get out of bed and pull on my UDub sweatpants, then make my way to the door. When I swing it open, I find Danton on the other side holding a bundle of hockey sticks, a bucket of pucks, and wearing a goofy-ass grin.
“What’s all that for?” I nod my chin at everything he’s holding onto. “Coach gave us the day off.”
“Get dressed and come down to the lobby,” he says. “Team building exercise starts in twenty minutes.”
He walks away and steps to the next door, apparently making his way down our line of hotel rooms.
Ryan is sitting up in bed. He looks better than he did last night but still a little run through, if I’m being honest. He’s still handsome, though. Which is kind of annoying. This whole breakdown of his has him looking very roguish. Brooding. Bad boy.
“What’s he saying?” he asks.
I toss Ryan’s Mules warmup hoodie and sweats at him, then grab my own. “Team building, apparently. We gotta meet downstairs.”
“Did he say what kind of team building?”
“Nope. But he was carrying sticks and pucks. So it’s hockey related somehow.”
“It’s a little early, isn’t it?” Ryan yawns.
He’s gonna need some help. So I pause changing my clothes, and use the little hotel room coffee maker to instantly whip him up a cup. Once that’s done, I bring it over to him then make one for myself.
“Come on,” I say. “I don’t know what he has planned but we can’t keep Cap waiting.”
Ryan
This is the last place on earth I ever expected to be this morning. I’m shocked. My jaw has dropped open, and my heart is racing, trying to escape my chest.
I stand on the sidewalk and stare in complete confusion as I watch Danton, who’s holding a hockey stick, drop a puck on my parents’ front lawn.
As soon as he’s done, I watch each of my teammates—except for Brandon, who is standing beside me equally as confused—step off the team bus carrying pucks and sticks. They follow his lead.
“I thought it was about time us Mules paid your parents a visit,” Danton says. Gone is his goofy smile from earlier. Now he’s a man on a mission. He hands me the stick he’s holding. “You want to take the first swing?”
I grin at him and nod my head. This is a terrible idea. The worst. But it’s also still dark outside, and the street is quiet, and I’m angry. Really angry. This is going to feel great.
Before I take this swing, I take a moment to look at my childhood home.
It’s still gleaming white and sprawls across the lawn.
The windows are expansive with expensive custom curtains hanging on the other side.
The landscaping is manicured with no leaf or blade of grass out of place. It’s a model of suburban perfection.
It’s also the ugliest house I’ve ever seen.
I take my stance. Line up my shot. And let it rip.
The puck soars above the lawn and collides with a satisfying thunk right in the center of the white wooden front door, leaving the perfect black skid mark across it.
Throwing the stick down, I look at my teammates, all lined up on either side of me. “Let it rip, boys,” I say. “Then let’s get back on this bus. We have a game to win tomorrow.”
One by one, they each send their puck flying towards my parents’ house, peppering the lily-white siding with black rubber marks. Even Ivanov takes a shot. Though his lands in a bush where it will probably remain lost forever.
God, if only I knew what my parents were thinking inside.
They were probably in a dead sleep when my puck hit the door.
They might have even slept through the next few thuds.
Maybe, because it’s such a strange sound, they won’t even have registered that something nefarious was going on outside.
But I guarantee that the minute they heard the puck Brandon just sent through their living room window, they were rushing down the stairs.
“Wrap it up!” Danton laughs. “Everyone on the bus before the cops get here!”