Chapter 4 #3
Charlie huffed out an annoyed breath. “You’re such a brat. That’s our leadership meeting, and what, with Max and Brock and Danny right there, you want me to be like come on, what are you waiting for, bring Ethan to New York?”
“Well, yeah.” Ethan knew it was stupid. It was very stupid. Probably why he’d managed to hold in the request until March.
“I’m not doing that,” Charlie said flatly.
“You could use some extra offense.”
“The offense isn’t the problem,” Charlie retorted self-righteously, which Ethan should’ve predicted. “The defense needs to get their shit together. Giving up too many stupid goals.”
Ethan compressed his mouth together and didn’t get defensive about the new d-man the Bandits had called up less than a month ago.
How he was making a difference, already.
But what was Hank supposed to do? One man wasn’t enough to stop a whole leaking sieve of a defense.
“That new guy’s helping, though,” Charlie said, like he could read Ethan’s mind. And God, Ethan really hoped he couldn’t. “Tuck? I’m sure you remember him, right? You guys were all tight at camp, before you went back to Portland.”
“Um. Yeah.” Ethan told himself it was a mistake, but he had to tell Charlie at some point, and if Inverness did call him up and Charlie still didn’t know, he was going to be really pissed. Probably justifiably. “About Hank, actually . . .”
“What about him?” Charlie wondered, sounding distracted and not like he had any idea that Ethan’s confession was coming. He probably didn’t.
“We’ve been talking. Actually. Since November.”
There was silence on the line. Ethan ducked under an awning to get a reprieve from the drizzling rain that had managed to find its way under the neck of his hoodie.
“You’ve been talking since November,” Charlie finally repeated blankly. “You and Tuck. Okay. Huh. You didn’t mention it.”
“No,” Ethan admitted. Hated the guilt that pressed up against his throat. Threatening to choke him. “It’s not . . . it’s not anything, really. We’re just friends.”
“Wait what, why would you even say that you’re just friends, I didn’t think you were—” Charlie broke off and Ethan hated both how confused he sounded and the horrible kind of silence that fell after.
“I don’t know,” Ethan said, even though he was pretty sure.
He liked liked Hank. But until they were in the same zip code, it seemed like getting ahead of himself to declare it with certainty.
Besides, he didn’t know still if Hank felt the same way—or would ever want to do anything about it, even if he did.
“Oh. Oh.”
“Just . . . we’re friends. But he’s a cool guy. I should’ve told you,” Ethan said hurriedly, but before he could continue, Charlie cut him off.
“Um, yeah, you should’ve, bud, but I get it, it’s a tough situation. Complicated.”
Ethan didn’t think it was that complicated. “Okay.”
“You’re gonna be on the same team, right? That makes it difficult.”
Honestly, it had been difficult with them not being on the same team. On the same coast. He was kinda counting on the fact of them being on the same team to make everything a hell of a lot easier.
Ethan almost said that, and then it occurred to him why Charlie was saying that. Max.
“Sure,” Ethan said, because that was a whole thing Ethan wasn’t going to even attempt unpacking right now.
The point had been to convince Charlie to talk to Inverness, and extra bonus, to clue his brother into the fact he and Hank were much closer friends than anyone would’ve expected.
Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t accomplished number one but he had finally manned up and done the second.
“I mean, it’s just a huge challenge. The team’s the most important thing, you know? Getting to the playoffs. Going deeper into the playoffs. Winning the Cup.” Charlie listed them all off, like they were checkmarks on a mental to-do list.
“Right,” Ethan said, even though he thought Charlie was genuinely full of shit.
Winning was really fucking great, of course. But was the Cup going to keep Charlie warm at night in his empty house, twenty years down the road? Fuck no.
Ethan couldn’t believe that he, three years younger than Charlie, knew that way better than his brother.
But then, Charlie had always been an idiot about hockey.
Charlie’s also had more pressure about hockey than either of us, Ethan could imagine Avery pointing out dryly. And Avery would have a point, but still. Charlie was supposed to be at least semi-intelligent.
“You know what I mean,” Charlie said pointedly.
Ethan honestly didn’t. But he wasn’t going to admit that either. “Sure.”
He heard Charlie let out a gust of a sigh. “See, it’s gonna be good. When you get here. But I don’t know if it’s gonna be now, bud.”
“I know.” Ethan knew. Why else did Charlie think he’d be willing to beg him to intervene? Barty had already banned him from texting or calling him about it.
Livvy had told him to enjoy college while it lasted, a little pointedly.
Avery had given him very solid advice too, all about taking the opportunities as they came, and then emailing him a detailed plan to help him put on a few extra pounds of muscle in the interim.
Suggested he cut out all processed sugar, and honestly?
Fuck that noise. Maybe Avery was that dedicated, but sugar was delicious.
He loved his family, but they could be annoying as fuck sometimes.
“I’m glad you’re gonna have a friend, already, though, when you do come up,” Charlie said. “Hank’s a good guy.”
“I know that,” Ethan said crossly. He didn’t need Charlie’s approval on how he picked out friends.
He also wasn’t going to pull a Charlie-and-Max either, because he wasn’t that willfully dumb or blind.
But just Hank’s friendship, if that was all that was on offer, would be awesome too. Even more awesome to do it in person.
“Right, you would.” Charlie laughed. “But seriously, Eth, college is cool. Maybe just take advantage of it, while it lasts.”
Ethan almost asked him how he’d know how cool college was, because Charlie had never gone. He’d gone straight from the US development program to the Bandits. First overall, no stops in the AHL or NCAA for him. He’d gone right to the starting roster, his very first season after being drafted.
“I’m trying here,” Ethan argued. Though it was probably good that Charlie didn’t know Wally to ask him.
“Then try harder,” Charlie said, but good-naturedly.
Ethan rolled his eyes. “The most Charlie Barnes advice of all time.”
“Must make it damn good, then.” Charlie chuckled. “Though seriously, Eth, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you—”
“Like you don’t,” Ethan interrupted.
Charlie sighed, and suddenly he sounded older—so much older—than his twenty-two years. “I know.”
It sucked, realizing that he’d been harassing Charlie when Charlie had the weight of a franchise on his shoulders. Shared with Max, but it was still undeniably heavy.
“You okay?”
Charlie sighed again. “Just the grind of the season and knowing we—” He broke off.
He didn’t need to finish the sentence for Ethan to know what he’d been about to say. Knowing we aren’t going to make it. Not good enough. Not this year.
“Yeah,” Ethan agreed.
“Just sucks,” Charlie muttered.
Ethan never interfered with whatever his brother had going on with his captain, but he’d already decided that he’d be texting Max after he got off the phone. Telling him to check in on Charlie.
Though knowing Max, he probably knew how Charlie was dealing—or not dealing—better than anyone else.
“Yeah, it sure does,” Ethan said softly. “If you need something, call me, okay? Or if you don’t wanna talk to me, talk to Avery.”
Charlie didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I do. And I talk to you.”
But Ethan didn’t really think he did, at least to him. Maybe to Avery.
Maybe Charlie thought he had to be the in-control, got-his-shit-together big brother for Ethan. Maybe only with Avery could he confess all the crap they all thought about, late at night.
But that was the thing, they all worried about that shit. Not just Charlie, but Ethan and Avery and Hank and Max, and probably every single guy who played.
“Well, talk to us more,” Ethan insisted.
“Eth . . .”
“I mean it,” Ethan said stubbornly.
“Fine, I’ll talk to you.”
“And if you won’t talk to me or Avery, talk to Max.”
“I do talk to Max.”
“Now that I believe,” Ethan muttered under his breath.
Charlie actually laughed at that. A short bark of laughter. And Ethan had to take that as a win.
“Go to class,” Charlie said, but at least he sounded a little lighter than he had before. “I’ll see if I can drop in a good word with Inverness.”
Ethan didn’t think he would, but the fact that he still said it, that meant the world.
“Thanks. And be nice to Hank.”
“As nice as you are to him?” Charlie asked archly.
“Charlie!” Ethan spluttered, suddenly terrified of what Charlie might do, the next time he saw Hank.
“Nah, it’s good, I’ll be chill, I promise.”
“Okay, good,” Ethan said, trying to breathe a sigh of relief. But it was hard, because he knew Charlie was so rarely chill about anything.
He did give Hank a heads-up that his brother knew about their friendship, with a short text after he’d hung up with Charlie. And he also texted Max. check in on charlie, he seems pretty down today.
Hank sent back a thumbs-up, which Ethan told himself he was not going to overthink, and then Max texted too, a saluting emoji that just felt very Max.
Ethan turned his phone off and slipped it into his pocket and then he did take his brother’s advice and went to class.
The Bandits were in Florida, heading down to play both the Panthers and the Lightning, when during practice, Charlie swung by where Hank was by the boards, grabbing a quick drink between drills.
It had been two days since Ethan had texted him, informing him that he’d told Charlie about them talking.
They’d talked just once since then, a quick FaceTime, when they’d just gotten to Florida and right after Ethan had finished practice. They hadn’t talked about it, except that Ethan had mentioned that Charlie had thought it was good. That was all.