Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Grey
A little groggy from my nap, I walk into the living room and find Felix sitting back with his legs under him, leaning against the arm of the couch.
The dim table lamp is on, illuminating whatever he’s reading.
When I get closer, I see he’s writing. I’m curious about it.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen him writing in this thing.
I come closer, and he jumps a little before an embarrassed smile spreads on his face. “You scared me.”
“I scare most people nowadays.”
Felix smirks, going back to his notebook. “How are you feeling?” He took me to PT earlier, and I’m not sure why, but this time it took a toll on me. I’ve slept on and off with the heavier painkillers I was given, but I’m still not one hundred percent there yet.
“Shitty.” He looks at me. “Not as much pain right now. Just not great.”
He closes the book, looking at me. “I know it’s hard, but you need to take your time. It’s only been about five months, right? You have a lot of healing to do.” He offers me a smile. “You’ll get there.”
He’s the sweetest man I’ve ever met. It pisses me off all over again thinking about his ex.
How could anyone treat someone so kind so horribly?
“Can I ask what that notebook is?” A blush rises on his cheeks.
“I’m assuming that’s the one you had when you came here. ” If so, then it has to be important.
“I did.” He taps the black cover. “It’s like a journal, I guess.
I write down just random things in it. Ideas.
What I eat in a day. Movies I want to see.
Dreams I have. Just random things like that.
” He smiles. “Since I’ve moved here, I can write so many different things.
Shows I’ve been watching, music I can listen to .
. . I’m also learning more about hockey, and I’ve been writing the rules and stuff down. It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“I don’t think so.”
“For as long as I can remember I’ve had no one to talk to. I’ve put stuff in this notebook to make me feel like I’m talking to someone. Even if it’s just me.”
“Can I look at it?” His hands tighten on it. “Never mind.” I laugh softly.
“It not that. It’s also, just . . . there’s other stuff in it.
” He swallows. “Things we’ve done. Things I want to do.
” Felix’s expression darkens. “There’s also the bad stuff.
I was tracking his moods to see if there was a pattern.
Things I could’ve done to avoid it. I felt like I was in control of it somehow if I wrote about it. ”
“That’s a lot of things in that notebook.” I try and change the subject.
“It’s almost full. This is like, the eighth one I’ve been through.
I used to throw them away when I was done.
I didn’t want them left in the house. I’d order them with groceries so he wouldn’t know.
” He shows me the nearly full pages. Note to self: get him a new bullet journal.
One he can fill with his joy and love instead of fear and pain.
I’ll get him some different kinds of pens. I’ll ask Alyssa. She’s the crafty one.
“Are you up for the game tonight?” Felix smiles with a nod then opens his book. “Can I ask what you’re writing now?” He looks up beyond his glasses before turning the page to me. “What’s this?” I see my name at the top, and it says, “Pain Days.”
“I’ve been tracking how you feel. Days you have less pain, more pain. On the days where you have more, what you did that could have caused it. How to adjust going forward. I log how much you rest, ice it. All that.”
“W-why?”
He shrugs. “I mean, this way I can see if you have a few days where you’re in a lot of pain.
Then I can suggest going to the doctor. I thought you might also want to see your progress as you heal.
” He flips to the page before it. It’s a calendar he drew.
This was back at the end of February when he first moved in.
All the squares are red. “You were really bad.” He moves the page to March and most of them are a mix of red, dark orange, light orange, and yellow.
There’s a lot more dark orange than anything else.
“You were improving and even had some light pain days. Those were the days I made you rest with the ice pack.” He preens.
Then he turns it to April and May. Pain, but more light pain days. I can’t believe he’s tracked all this. Seeing the proof of my progress like this, I . . . I’ve come a long way in the six months since my accident.
“That’s . . .” I don’t even know. My chest feels tight. Seeing my progress like this makes it feel more real. When I’m in the thick of all the pain it’s hard to believe I’ve made any progress. Seeing it like this, though . . . Damn.
Today I’m having a bad day, but the progress is clear, and Felix has kept track of it for me. “Sometimes I feel like I’m not getting anywhere,” I admit.
“I know.” He reaches for my hand, lacing his fingers in mine.
“You’re very hard on yourself. It’s okay to slow down.
It’s okay to have bad days. It’s okay to feel like you aren’t progressing.
” He opens the book. “Just know that it’s not true.
You’re getting better. Now you just need to get better up here.
” He taps his head. “I just wanted to remind you how far you’ve come. I’m very proud of you.”
I’m at a loss for words. Some days it feels like I’ll always feel like this. Sometimes I feel like I’m getting nowhere. “Thank you.” I clear my throat. “This means a lot to me.”
Felix smiles, all bright eyes on me. I may have healed in the last five months, but so has he.
Everything about him is more relaxed, more confident.
His skin looks clearer, eyes definitely brighter.
He’s gained weight. It’s almost like we’re healing together.
He squeezes my hand before letting go. “Come on. We have a game to watch.”
“Go, go, go! Come on, Colton, come on! Fuck.” Gloves are thrown, Knox and Colton pummeling the shit out of each other for the third time tonight.
“They’ve been fighting nonstop,” Felix comments. Earlier, Layton Darci from the Vipers ran into Andre and I thought my best friend was going to get ejected. It took four people and a ref to peel Oli off him. My friend served a five-minute major. Fans love it, but it’s brutal.
“Playoff hockey is like this. These two have some personal history I don’t know about.
” Knox and Colton’s feud has always been as infamous as Oli and Andre’s.
I have no clue what it’s about. “I’m going to lose my mind.
Is this how it feels to be a fan?” I sit down.
“This is terrible.” The Otters are down by two. “They only have nine minutes left.”
“Which I now know is plenty of hockey but also no time left in hockey.”
“Good boy.” I beam. “I just know Coach is ripping into them right now. I can picture the veins popping in his neck.” Fuck, I even miss that part of it.
“Is he mean?”
“Yes,” I laugh. “He’s also the kindest guy you’ll ever meet. A hell of a coach.” I’m on edge. I need a drink, but with all the medicine I’ve pumped inside my body today, I don’t trust it. This shit is stressful.
As they set up for a power play again, I look at Felix. He’s put the journal away. He was taking notes as I explained the plays and rules. I may also have texted Alyssa about bullet journals and asked her to pick up anything she thinks he might need for it.
“Can I ask something?” I nod, moving closer to him.
“When’s the last time you hooked up with someone?” The question catches me off guard.
“Um.” I think back to the night with those two women who met Oli, Atlas, and me at a bar.
I didn’t want to go out as it was, and once they joined us, I was ready to go home.
Then I realized one of them was like me.
We went to a queer club after I told her I was gay, and I hooked up with a man in the bathroom.
It’d been fine, but it was missing the heat I love that comes with real intimacy.
I crave it almost as much as the sex itself. “Back in November.”
Felix nods, looking down. “And you’re not seeing anyone now?”
I run my tongue along the bottom of my lip, picturing the other morning. Him in my arms. My eyes flick to the clock. Yes! “Holy shit, they scored. One more, boys!” I sit up, but Felix’s hand presses to my chest, pushing me back. Then he lifts up onto my lap. My breath quickens. “Felix?”
“Did you like it? When I touched you?” Where is this coming from? Honestly, I don’t even care. I want more of it. I like him bossy. Assertive.
My brow arches. “What do you think?”
“I didn’t really touch you.”
“A testament to your skill.”
He laughs. “I have no skills.
“You’ve had me coming in my boxers twice now. I feel like a virgin. Come here.” He leans down and I take his lips. Mint tingles on my tongue. It fucks with my head. “There’s only one problem.”
“What’s that?” he whispers against my lips.
“I don’t know what you taste like.”
He pulls back, uncertainty in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
My fingers dip along the edge of his boxers. “What I mean is, I’d like you to get on your knees and let me suck you off.” My eyes lift to his. “I want to taste you.”
I see the war behind his eyes, and I give him time to think. He doesn’t need to if he doesn’t want to. My greedy fingers play with the sensitive skin under the band of his boxers.
“You sure? I can do it instead.”
“Oh, I’m sure. I’m very sure.”
His fingers dive into his hair. “I mean, you don’t have to.
I don’t mind. The other morning—” With my fingers bunched into his boxers, I gently tug them down, his pubes peeking out from the fabric.
Slowly I press kisses across his stomach, and his tongue pokes the seam of his lips.
His fingers tighten on my biceps as he melts into me.