Chapter 4
February
“I thought it was bad enough when he wasn’t texting you back,” Wally complained as he leaned over, untying his skates after practice.
Ethan hadn’t even tried to pretend he was going to do anything else but head right to his stall and check his phone. See if Hank had messaged him.
“You’re just jealous,” Ethan retorted. Even though technically, Wally had nothing to be jealous of, other than a whole ream of text messages. Months and months of texts. Not even sexy texts. Just regular, PG-rated texts.
If anyone had asked Ethan three months ago if he’d be tired of just texting, if he’d have gotten bored and moved on, he’d have said, almost probably. Certainly, maybe.
But he wasn’t even close to bored. And he wasn’t moving on, either.
“What would I even be jealous of?” Wally wondered, annoyingly. “All you do is text. You’re not even sexting. All you’re doing is mid-level flirting, like you’re both playing gay chicken and afraid of crossing the point of no return.”
“That’s not true,” Ethan argued, though it was a little true.
He was being smart about this whole thing with Hank.
Maybe he’d been too pointed in September and too obvious in November, and once he’d figured that out, things had been fine.
Better than fine. He and Hank were texting nearly every day now, and once in a while, Hank actually flirted with him first. And if Ethan flirted to begin with, Hank almost always reciprocated now.
Besides, what were they gonna do? Have FaceTime sex?
Of course, at this point, just regular, non-sexy FaceTime might actually be nice. Ethan had hinted around it a few times, but it hadn’t happened yet.
“You’re both stuck in this weird friend zone, and I’d blame him, but you put you guys there, too. You’re both doing it, even though you both want more. It’s dumb as fuck,” Wally declared, tossing his jersey into the big laundry bin.
“Some things aren’t about sex,” Ethan declared primly, though this was definitely not one of them.
It was about a lot of things. He genuinely liked Hank so much.
He was funny and wry and sharp with his observations.
He was a damn good hockey player, and Ethan didn’t think he’d ever get tired of watching him play.
“That’s what people say when they’re not having it,” Wally said. “I know that guy at Koffee Klatch gave you his number last week. Did you text him?”
Ethan flushed guiltily. “No,” he admitted. “I should’ve.”
“Yeah, it’s literally fucking Valentine’s Day, and what are you doing?”
Ethan opened his mouth to explain. He wasn’t doing anything. He was still single, still open to possibilities, but was he, really?
Wally got there before he could. “Waiting around for some guy that might or might not be interested. That won’t even FaceTime you.”
“I haven’t asked him to,” Ethan argued.
“And he hasn’t asked you, either.”
“He’s got a roommate on the road, who’s like, always there,” Ethan pointed out.
At this point, they were both following along with Bo’s attempt at celibacy.
Last week, Hank had guestimated that it had been at least since November since Bo had hooked up with anyone.
Can’t say anything about him jerking off, thank God, Hank had pointed out, but it’s impressive, for sure.
Ethan had wanted to ask Hank how long it had been for him since he hooked up with anyone. Because it had been since last summer for him. He kept waiting to meet someone he wanted to kiss as much as he wanted to talk to Hank and not finding it and not finding it.
Even the guy at Koffee Klatch, who’d been cute, had a nervous tic of a laugh that annoyed him.
Hank’s laugh was deep and rumbly. A little rough. Not that he’d heard it in a long time. Too long, actually.
“You’re pathetic, officially,” Wally declared.
Maybe Ethan was. It was telling that declaration didn’t even particularly bother him anymore.
“Okay,” Ethan agreed, easier than he probably should. “I’m pathetic.”
Wally frowned. “Gonna spend the most romantic day of the year haunting your phone, hoping that this guy’s gonna text you. And not even a sexy or flirty text. Just a text.”
“Some of them are flirty and sexy,” Ethan argued.
“Not sexy enough,” Wally claimed.
He was wrong, but then Ethan’s definition of sexy had spent the last six months evolving.
Hank just existing and wanting to talk to Ethan, was sexy, no question.
“And you’ve not even told your brothers. Not even Charlie,” Wally continued.
“This is why we don’t talk about this,” Ethan grumbled.
“They don’t even know you like this guy. That you’re talking to him all the time.”
“Yeah, because they’d interfere. Especially Charlie.
” Which was why he hadn’t told them. Though God knew Ethan had been tempted once or twice or a hundred times to tell Charlie how close he and Hank had gotten.
Maybe ask Charlie to put a bug in the ear of Inverness, the Bandits’ GM, to bring Hank up to the NHL roster, again.
Not that Charlie would, or that Inverness would listen.
But God, Ethan wanted it for Hank almost as bad as Hank probably wanted it for himself—and Hank wanted it really fucking bad.
Ethan wanted them both on the roster, starting next fall. He wanted to play an NHL season, and he wanted to do it with Hank right next to him. As his friend, absolutely. On the ice as an invaluable teammate that Ethan could depend on. But in his bed, too.
Wally just rolled his eyes and headed off to the showers.
Ethan opened his phone. Nothing from Hank yet today. But they were on an off day back in Syracuse, and it was totally possible that Hank was taking the chance to catch up on some much-needed sleep.
There wasn’t anything from Hank, but the bro-chat had a few notifications.
happy v-day, Avery had sent earlier. make sure you text mom.
why????? Charlie had responded.
Avery had only sent back the shrugging emoji.
anyone doing anything fun tonight, Ethan texted.
playing a game in montreal, Avery responded only a minute later.
Charlie chimed in next. max and I are having a horror movie marathon.
Ethan really wanted to tell his brother that he was 1) not subtle and 2) maybe even more pathetic than he was, because at least he was doing something about the way he felt.
Sure, he hadn’t done a lot, but he was giving Hank a chance to adjust to the idea, and on top of that, they weren’t even in the same state. In the same freaking time zone.
Charlie and Max were literally in the same fucking building, only five floors apart, and spent most of their evenings together.
Even if they were spending Valentine’s Day watching horror movies, they were still spending Valentine’s Day together, cuddled up on the same couch, thigh to thigh probably, sharing the same bowl of popcorn.
Maybe Ethan was a little delusional, but Charlie was cornering the fucking market.
Ethan switched out of the bro-chat and back to his convo with Hank. After a second, he typed out, facetime tonight? But before he could send it, he chickened out.
As much as he wanted to, the risk was there that Hank would just shut him right down, and that would suck so bad.
Maybe Wally was right, and he was pathetic.
Maybe even Charlie wasn’t that far off, either. Possibly, it was better to enjoy what you had instead of reaching for something that you might never get.
Ethan locked his phone and headed towards the showers himself.
Three hours later, Ethan was lounging in bed, trying not to either sulk or freak out that he’d not heard from Hank today. There had to be a reasonable explanation that wasn’t that he was suddenly, unexpectedly, out with someone for Valentine’s Day.
They’d never talked about it, but Ethan thought there’d have been more gaps if Hank had been interested in someone and not told him.
Way less intrigued, flirty texting for sure, because Hank didn’t strike Ethan as the kind of guy who’d keep a bunch of options hanging around for when something actually materialized.
Sure he was a hockey player, and a good-looking hockey player, and it wasn’t hard to find a hookup if you wanted one, in that situation, but Hank had never seemed like the notches-on-the-headboard type.
Thus, there had to be another explanation.
Ethan had put Avery’s game on his laptop and was vaguely following along as the Mavericks went up 2–0 to the Habs.
He pulled up the bro-chat and sent a text. looking solid bro. I think this new guy they’ve got you paired with is gonna be good.
Avery had spent the whole fall and winter whining about the ever-rotating group of d-men they kept slotting in next to him.
Nobody seemed to be able to keep up with him, and nobody ever seemed to stick.
Everyone on the Mavericks—and a lot of other teams, too—seemed to understand that Avery could be an elite defenseman, but it was like they couldn’t find the magical formula to get him there.
Charlie chimed in a minute later. uh, he said, and Ethan, who’d been haunting his thread with Hank, hoping for something even though it was late there, looked up at his screen and winced.
The Mavericks had just given up a goal on a mistake of Avery’s partner. A bad giveaway that any rookie would’ve known better not to commit.
“Shit,” Ethan mumbled.
He almost texted Charlie specifically to tell him not to say anything else.
That Avery was frustrated enough. That he should go back to his horror movie marathon with Max—though the Mavs–Habs game was beginning to look a little nightmare-ish.
But Charlie knew that better than anyone, because he went quiet too.
Ethan had almost decided to turn it off and go to bed early, even though it was not even nine, when suddenly his phone started buzzing.
He looked down and nearly vibrated out of his skin.
There was a call coming in from Hank. A FaceTime call.
Ethan breathed in and breathed out. Considered finding a shirt before he answered, but decided that if Hank was calling, Hank could take him however he was. Bare chest and all.
“Hey,” Ethan answered, only a tiny bit embarrassed at how husky his voice suddenly was.