Chapter 21
OLIVER
I’ve scrubbed the countertop seventeen times, and it still doesn’t feel clean enough. Nothing does, yet I bet if you asked any of my teammates, they’d say the Hockey House kitchen has never looked this good.
“Dude.” Drew’s voice floats in from the doorway. “You’re aware the lunar eclipse is happening outside, right?”
I don’t stop scrubbing. “Jackson is bringing Ryan here, and then we’re going to head out.”
“And what? You think he’s going to stop and inspect the grout?”
“He might.”
“He won’t.”
I finally pause, cloth in hand, and turn to face Drew. He’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing an expression I can only describe as incredibly amused. Behind him, Gerard appears, munching on his third protein bar of the hour.
“Is Ol-wie still cweaning?” Gerard asks through a mouthful of oats and chocolate before swallowing. “He’s been at it since noon. I tried to help earlier, but he yelled at me for putting the dishes in the wrong cabinet.”
“They go in the left cabinet, Gerard. The left.”
“Both cabinets hold dishes! What’s the difference?”
Drew snorts. “Listen to yourself, Cap. You sound like Elliot.”
That comparison stings more than it should. I toss the cloth into the sink and brace my hands against the counter, taking a deep breath. “I just want everything to be nice. Is that so wrong?”
“It’s not.” Drew pushes off the doorframe and saunters toward the refrigerator, pulling it open to survey the contents. “It’s just suspicious. You’ve never cared about the state of this kitchen before. Remember when Nathan left that protein shake festering under the sink for three weeks?”
“I’m still trying to forget.”
“So why the Martha Stewart with a cleaning compulsion act?”
Gerard stuffs the last bit of protein bar into his mouth, his jaw working as he crumples the foil wrapper between his massive fingers. With a flick of his wrist, he launches it toward the trash can. It catches the metal rim and tumbles to the pristine tile I polished while on my hands and knees.
“Sorry,” Gerard says, not sounding sorry at all. He picks it up and deposits it properly. “Oliver. Bestie’s best friend. Captain, my captain. Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead, G.”
“Why are you nervous about tonight?”
I scoff. “I’m not nervous.”
Drew scoffs too. “You reorganized the spice rack alphabetically. We don’t even use spices. Kyle bought oregano once for a recipe and then never touched it again.”
I grab the cloth again just to have something to do with my hands. The fabric is damp and cool against my palms, grounding me.
“Oliver.” Drew’s voice softens, losing some of its teasing edge. He closes the refrigerator and leans against it, studying me astutely. “What exactly do you think is happening tonight?”
“We’re watching the lunar eclipse. I told you. Ryan’s been excited about it for weeks, and I said I wanted to learn more about the things he cares about, so…”
“So you’re spending the night alone with him under the stars.” Drew’s eyebrow arches. “Sounds romantic.”
“It’s educational.”
“Educational.” He draws out the word as though it’s been coated in honey. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
Gerard gasps suddenly, his whole face lighting up. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Oliver. Do you like Ryan? Like, like-him like him?”
“Gerard, we’re not in middle school.”
“That’s not a no!”
It’s not a no. That’s the problem. I’ve spent weeks denying what’s lodged between my ribs like a puck that never quite made it to the goal.
I’m into Ryan. My pulse races when he smiles.
I dream about wrapping him in blankets and listening to him talk about the Milky Way.
I jerk off to thoughts of him and me making love.
I pore over eclipse infographics, so I can ask the right questions and watch his face go supernova as he explains the answers.
And it all terrifies me because it’s not casual or simple.
It’s not something I can compartmentalize into a neat little box labeled “hookup” or “friend.” This is some other animal—something that’s never lived in me before, wild and demanding and a little bit monstrous.
It’s so far outside my playbook I don’t even have words for it.
I want Ryan in ways I’ve never wanted anyone else.
In my daily routines, my future plans, my embarrassing family photos.
I want to trace the constellation of freckles across his nose while other people are watching.
I want his astronomy books cluttering my shelves and his voice filling silences I didn’t even know were there.
I want the big, dumb, embarrassing stuff people write poems about and deny until the day they die.
I know I’m not supposed to want any of those things. Ryan is still healing. The last thing he needs is some hockey Neanderthal pressing in on him with a crush the size of the Andromeda galaxy.
I’m being selfish. Reckless. I’m also spiraling, and Drew and Gerard can sense it.
They’re both staring at me in the way you look at a dog who’s chewed through a power cable and lived to tell about it. I know what they’re about to say next, because they’re not just my teammates—they’re my brothers, and brothers always close in for the kill.
“Oliver, you know we love you, right? You’re like our mom.” Gerard steps closer, his massive frame somehow managing to come off as gentle.
“I’m not anyone’s mom.”
“You made a dentist appointment for Nathan last month because he kept complaining about his tooth.”
“I was being a responsible friend! I—”
Drew holds up a hand, cutting off further argument. “The point is, you take care of everyone. It’s what you do. It’s who you are.” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “But sometimes, when you’re busy taking care of everyone else, you forget to do the same for yourself.”
I busy myself with straightening the dish towels hanging from the oven handle. “I’m fine.”
“You went nine months without hooking up because you were too focused on the team.”
“That was a choice.”
“Was it? Or was it easier than dealing with who you actually wanted?”
The kitchen goes quiet. Outside, the late afternoon sun descends, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. In a few hours, that sky will darken, and the moon will turn red, and Ryan will be here, ready to stare up at the sky while I stare at him.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” I admit. “Ryan’s been through so much. Losing his mom, his dad being absent, moving constantly, and never having a place where he belonged. He’s finally starting to open up and let people in. If I push for something more and it goes south…”
“Who says it’ll go south?” Gerard interrupts.
“History. Statistics. The fact that I’ve never successfully maintained a relationship longer than three months.”
“Those weren’t relationships,” Drew points out.
“Those were extended hookups with varying degrees of emotional involvement.” He pushes off the refrigerator and crosses to stand in front of me, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Oliver, listen to me. I spent months convinced that what I felt for Jackson was impossible. That I’d ruin our friendship if I admitted it.
That I didn’t deserve something real because I’d spent so long being casual about everything. ”
“This is different.”
“How?” Drew’s gaze is steady, unwavering. “You have feelings for someone. Real feelings. The kind that makes you clean kitchens obsessively and plan romantic stargazing sessions disguised as educational opportunities.”
The dish towel in my hands twists itself into a rope without my realizing it. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”
Gerard makes a sound that’s half laugh, half disbelief. “Oliver. Dude. Have you seen the way Ryan watches you? He looks at you like you hung the moon. Which, given his astronomy obsession, is probably the highest compliment he can give.”
Drew nods. “At the Grotto, when you two were dancing? The rest of us could have been on fire, and Ryan wouldn’t have noticed. His entire world narrowed down to you.”
It hits me all at once—Ryan at the Grotto, his shoulders finally dropping their tension, swaying with surprising grace once he stopped overthinking.
The way his fingers had tensed briefly against my palm before relaxing into my grip.
How his eyes had caught the dim lights when he’d admitted, voice soft but steady, that he was actually enjoying himself.
“Tonight isn’t about me,” I say, but the conviction in my voice is wavering. “It’s about being there for Ryan. Being the friend he needs. I want to give him something solid, someone he can depend on.”
“And you can,” Gerard says gently. “You can be the most supportive, reliable, amazing friend he’s ever had. But you can also be honest with yourself about wanting more. Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Gerard’s right.” Drew claps a hand on my shoulder. “Being there for Ryan doesn’t mean burying your feelings. It means being present, being genuine, and letting things develop naturally. If something’s meant to happen, it will. And if it doesn’t, at least you’ll know you were authentic.”
My neck cracks softly as I roll it from side to side. “When did you two get so wise?”
“I’ve always been wise,” Gerard announces. “People just get distracted by my butt and don’t notice.”
Drew rolls his eyes. “I learned from experience. Painful, drawn-out, unnecessarily complicated experience. Trust me—the honest path is easier, even when it doesn’t feel like it. Now, hop in the shower—you reek of cleaning chemicals.”
As soon as they walk out of the kitchen, I thunder down the hallway, my feet heavy on the worn hardwood. I kick the bathroom door shut behind me with enough force to rattle the mirror on the opposite wall.