Chapter Eleven
Bodie
Today’s practice was a shitshow. I thought it was just me still feeling uneasy about Bryce not trusting me, but when Mickells starts to lose the puck at every turn, half the guys on the ice follow his lead.
“What the fuck is wrong with you guys? You play like that tomorrow night, and we aren’t winning the cup this year.
” Davidson doesn’t yell often—he’s not the yelling type of captain—but when he does, we listen up.
“Get your shit together by morning, or we’re going to get our asses handed to us.
” His gear hits the ground as he grabs his shower kit.
I take the stall next to his and say, “Cap, you want to go get a beer? Seems like we could both use one.”
“Sure, whatever.”
“Lighten up, grumpy. We got this, don’t worry.”
“Fuck off, Foster, and worry about stopping the pucks.”
Yeah, he needs a few beers.
We avoid The Garden since Bryce is working by now, and I don’t want to see him at the moment. I’ve slept in my own bed for the past two nights, and he hasn’t come to join me after work. I’m not sure if he feels bad for what happened, but he should at least talk to me about it.
“What thoughts are you lost in?” Davidson sneaks up on me while I’m playing on my phone outside the front door.
“Nothing, just doom scrolling.”
“Uh huh. Let’s go.”
Everything with Bryce is weighing heavily on my mind, and I don’t know how to approach him about it—we’ve never really fought before. It’s not like I’m ready to come out to the league yet; not when I may get called up soon. Maybe Davidson is a good place to start, though.
“Beer and wings on a day before game day?”
“Shut it. I’m pissed off.”
“You need to blow off some steam tonight, dude.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” He holds up his phone and continues to text someone.
“New girlfriend?”
“Something like that.” He throws his phone on the table and stares at me in silence.
“What?”
“Don’t give me what. You going to tell me what’s up with you?”
“Was it that noticeable?”
“The Grand Canyon is less noticeable than whatever has been bothering you the past couple days, Foster. Does this have something to do with your roommate and Mickells having words the other night?”
I break the connection of his stare and down half my beer.
“What’s going on? Spit it out.” He’s using his captain voice with me.
“Bryce, my roommate, was jealous.”
“Of Mickells? Why?”
“Because he slapped my ass and kissed my head.” He looks as confused as I was the other night. “I know it’s ridiculous.”
“I’m more wondering why your male friend is jealous of another guy touching you.”
“Yes, it’s what you’re thinking. Is that a problem?”
“No, Bodie. It’s not now, nor would it ever be. You’ve just never told me before.”
“Well, it’s new. Like very new. Bryce and I have been friends since the second grade.”
“And him seeing Mickells smack your ass lit a fire in him. Got it.”
“He hasn’t even said a word to me in two days.” Just saying it aloud hurts.
“Did you try to talk to him?”
“No. I went straight to bed when we got home. I figured he’d come to my room.”
“Why didn’t you wait in the living room for him? Does he usually sleep in your room?”
“No, we sleep in his room almost every night.”
“Bodie.”
“What?”
“He thinks you’re pissed off and don’t want to talk to him, man. C’mon, you act like you’ve never been in a relationship before.”
“Well, Amber never had a problem telling me when she was mad at me.”
“Yeah, you need to stop that shit and go talk to him. Damn it, I’m always babysitting you young’uns.”
“What do you mean, young’uns? You’re like three years older than me.”
“You’re missing the point. Stop being a dumbass and talk it out before you fuck up your friendship more than you already have.”
The server brings our food and drinks just in time for me to stop getting scolded, giving me time to ponder while we eat.
“Thanks, Cap.”
“Mhmm,” he mumbles as he continues to eat and text his apparent new love interest.
My bouncing knee jingling my keys on my beltloop is the only sound in the room until I hear the click of the lock. The rich smell of his cologne hits me first as he stands above me, and the sound of his voice makes me miss him even as he stands here in front of me.
“You still mad at me?” I’ve never seen Bryce look so disheveled—and tired.
“Depends.” The couch cushion sinks as he sits tensely, next to me. “Are you going to stop being a dipshit next time one of my teammates touches me?”
His head hangs low as he begins to speak. “I’m sorry, Bode. I’m usually not the jealous type.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’ve never dated my best friend before,” he says with a wry expression. I know he’s trying to defuse the tension, but he’s just so adorable that I smile back. “The thought of losing you…”
His words linger thick in the air. The possibility of this not working out hangs over us like an ominous cloud on a cold night.
“I’m going to hurt you too.” Bryce’s whispered words feel like they weren’t meant for me.
“You won’t.” I take his hand and lead him to his room. “I’m staying with you tonight.”
“I need to shower. It was a long night.” He stops short by the bathroom, his hand dropping from mine. “I’ll be quick.”
I want to tell him no—tell him to come to bed with me—but he obviously needs a moment to himself.
I change and wait for him just inside his bedroom door.
He walks in with a towel around his waist, and I scoop him into my arms, squeezing.
As we approach twenty, his muscles loosen, and he no longer feels like a ball of stress.
Why does he look so defeated as he drags me into bed behind him, dropping his towel and wrapping himself around me as I pull the comforter over us?
“Bryce, are you okay?”
“I just missed you.”
I hold him close, thinking this is what he really needs right now, with the gravity of our first argument weighing heavily on both of us. He tucks himself into me, releasing a shaky breath before saying, “I have trouble sleeping when you’re not here.”
I think back to what Calisse said during our lunch together with Alina. “When did it start?”
He doesn’t answer, so I leave it alone until he’s ready to talk about it further.
I think about all the times over the past few months, or even years, where I’d found him awake at odd hours of the night, never once doubting his reasoning for it.
The darkened circles around his eyes that, in hindsight, have been there since we were in high school.
I never thought anything of it since he’s never mentioned sleep issues before.
Which leads me to say, why hasn’t he? And why did Calisse know before me?
Did he tell her, or is she just that much more perceptive than I am?
My brain races long after Bryce’s breathing slows down, and by the time the sun begins to rise, I still haven’t come up with answers to any of the dozens of questions plaguing me.
Morning skate is going to suck today. If I feel this terrible with one sleepless night, how has Bryce survived however long this has been going on?
I leave him to rest while I quietly exit the apartment and head to the training facility.
“Did you guys talk, or are we going to have another problem on the ice today?” Davidson says as he comes up behind me at my locker.
“We’re okay. It’s not going to be a problem today. Don’t worry.”
“Your tone still makes me worry, Foster.”
“Just a little tired. I’ll take a quick nap later.” He gives me a side-eye as he walks out.
Davidson is proven right when I don’t even get ten minutes into warm-ups before crashing into a teammate.
“Foster, go home and rest. Come back with a fresh start,” Coach tells me when Davidson skates away from him.
I try to protest but get cut off. “Now.”
Annoyed and exhausted, I listen to Coach and go home without another word. When I get there, Bryce is already gone. I curl up on his bed and set an alarm so I don’t oversleep, but stop before putting it back on the nightstand.
Bodie
I miss you
I almost asked him to come home to me.
Almost.