13. Chapter 13 #2
“Uh, thanks?” Hank’s hand, now on Ethan’s hip, tightened. “It was mostly to see Ethan. Sorry? I’m not sure Max is going to make it to practice, but he is insisting on driving me there.”
It was so like Max. Wanting to be a good captain—the best captain—even if he had to do it with a barf bag on his lap.
“No, no, it’s fine.” Charlie waved an absent hand. “Don’t listen to him if he tells you it’s okay to go the speed limit. He’s wrong. He knows he’s wrong. He’s just mentally ninety years old.”
“You could always go with me,” Ethan said. “I’m still going to practice. Unlike some people, I didn’t drink the whole freaking bar last night.”
“Hey,” Charlie retorted.
But Hank’s expression was already going on a journey on the way to denial. “I really should let Max take me if he’s insisting on it.”
“If you want a half-dead guy to drive you in, that’s fine. I’ll just catch a ride with you guys, then. Make sure that Max gets you there in one piece.”
“Yeah, uh, that’s partially why I came down here. To see if you wanted to come with us.”
“Not wanting to be left alone with the half-dead guy who drives like he’s ninety? Smart.” Ethan gave him a thumbs-up. “I just gotta finish eating and make sure that Charlie isn’t going to die the rest of the way.”
But when he glanced back to where Charlie had been only a moment before, he was gone.
They were alone—or alone, enough—again.
“God, I missed you,” Ethan said, crowding Hank against the wall. “Now how about that fourth kiss?”
But when Hank leaned in, the kiss he gave Ethan was only a short little brush of their lips. Disappointingly tame.
“I know,” Hank murmured in a low voice when Ethan looked disappointed. “It’s just . . . we got practice to get to, and then Barney.”
“I know it seems impossible to believe, but my brother has seen kissing before. Has even done it a few times himself,” Ethan teased.
Hank flushed redder. “I know, but . . . ugh. I thought we’d have more alone time, but now that I’m staying with Max . . .”
“We’re gonna figure it out,” Ethan promised. If he had to employ all his persuasive powers to convince Hank it was perfectly okay—normal, even—to have sex in his room where his brother theoretically knew what was happening, then he was going to do it.
He’d spent too long living in his imagination and his fantasies and so had Hank; it was time to make all of them real. Finally.
“I missed you,” Hank confessed. “So much. When Inverness called me this morning, I could barely believe it was happening.”
“God, same. What else did he say?” Ethan hoped this wasn’t just a quick up-and-back to cover for an injured guy. That Hank would be staying for the rest of the season. That he wouldn’t just get little bits of him, and that he’d get the whole him.
“Willy’s going on IR,” Hank said, naming William Blomgren, one of their Swedish d-men.
“Nagging injury that I guess got worse. And Inverness hinted that even when he was better, I’d probably get to stay up.
This thing with Max probably isn’t a permanent arrangement, but I don’t want to deal with moving all my shit down here, not if I won’t be staying. ”
“You’re gonna be staying,” Ethan said with confidence.
Willy hadn’t really played well all season; he’d wondered so many times why Inverness hadn’t flip-flopped Hank and Willy, because Hank was younger and better.
But then, that also probably had something to do with it.
Willy’s age and his pride might’ve stopped Inverness, when it came down to it.
But if they could point to an injury now, then bringing Hank up to take Willy’s slot made sense.
“We’ll see,” Hank said cautiously. “But yeah, I hope so. I really fucking hope so.”
Despite Hank’s concerns about Charlie and his apparent aversion to witnessing kissing, Ethan leaned in and kissed him again, trying to deepen it a bit more than Hank had, but not going as deep as they had before. As deeply as he wanted to.
“You got this,” Ethan said, pulling back. Hank’s eyes were shining, and he looked happier than Ethan could remember. This was going to be so fucking good.
“Yeah,” Hank agreed. “About tonight—”
But that was all he got out before Charlie interrupted them again. Ethan was going to kill him with a mind beam.
“I’m gonna go in with you guys,” Charlie said. His hair was wet. The sunglasses were gone. He still looked grayish green and awful, but there was a determined set to his features now.
“Are you sure?” Ethan asked, skeptical.
Charlie made a face. “I even ate three bites of that oatmeal you made. Kept it down.”
“Bravo,” Ethan said dryly.
“I could’ve choked down more if it tasted better,” Charlie retorted.
Like he wasn’t the one deciding he needed to eat oatmeal without any sweetener whatsoever. And Ethan had given him a whole fucking spoonful of sugar.
“Fine,” Ethan said. “Give me a minute.”
“It’s not like you’re saying goodbye for another few months,” Charlie said, but he was almost smiling. “But yeah. I’ll give you two a minute.”
They both watched as Charlie turned and walked out of the entryway.
“Stop worrying about him, he’s just annoying. That’s all.”
“Just annoying sure. But also a little terrifying,” Hank admitted.
“What? Charlie? Oh my God, no. He’s just . . . well. Well. I won’t tell you, but you’ll get to see.”
“Eth, I spent months around him last season,” Hank reminded him. “Still a little terrifying.”
Ethan could not see it. Okay, not entirely true. He could see it a little. The very tiniest bit. And that was only because he was giving Hank a lot of credit here.
“What were you saying about tonight?” Ethan asked, kind of shamelessly.
Hank grinned. “I think I owe you a date.”
“You think so, huh? I more than think you owe me one.”
Giving him one last brief kiss, Hank said, “You. Me. Some decent Italian food. Okay?”
Ethan nodded, already looking forward to it.
A minute later, Hank slipped out the door, and Ethan went to go finish eating and getting ready for practice. Fifteen minutes ago, it had been just another day, another morning, but now Hank was back, and he couldn’t stop smiling.
He’d just finished his oatmeal, rinsing the bowls in the sink and putting them in the dishwasher because Charlie was only hungover—he hadn’t had a miraculous personality transplant in the last twenty-four hours—but when he headed to his room, Charlie was right there, in the hallway, ready to intercept him.
“I can’t believe you’re going to drag your ass to practice,” Ethan said, trying to cut whatever comments Charlie was going to throw at him off before he could start.
“I feel better,” Charlie argued.
Ethan wasn’t sure that was true, but if Max was going, wild horses couldn’t keep Charlie away.
After grabbing a sweatshirt from his closet and slipping his earbuds into his sweatpants pocket, Ethan decided to half-heartedly make his bed. Because an hour ago when he’d woke up, he’d been sure he’d be alone tonight. But now? There was a possibility he wouldn’t be.
“We should talk about it,” Charlie said.
And there it was.
“I really thought you’d save this talk for when you didn’t feel like death warmed over,” Ethan muttered as he tugged his comforter up over the pillows.
“That would’ve been smart of me,” Charlie agreed.
Ethan pulled a beanie over his curls and faced his brother. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah. I just need to grab my shoes.” Charlie’s arm shot out, holding on to Ethan’s before he could make it through the bedroom doorway. “Us hitching a ride with Max and Hank doesn’t change anything. We still need to talk about this.”
“Talk about what?” It was incredibly fucking unfair that Ethan was not allowed to say shit about Max, when Charlie had already apparently decided that Ethan was due a lecture.
And why exactly? Oh yeah, because Ethan had the nerve to like a boy.
To kiss a boy. To want to do a hell of a lot more than kiss the boy, if he was being honest.
“This is just a really big thing for you,” Charlie said. “You didn’t know you were—”
“Maybe I didn’t,” Ethan said a little testily, and only a little because Charlie meant well and was not one hundred percent right now. “But I’ve had a lot of time to get used to the idea. I like guys. I’m not straight. That’s cool.”
Charlie had the nerve to make a face and it wasn’t because Ethan thought he might throw up. “It’s a big deal,” he repeated, like some terrible Power Point lecture.
“Oh, it is?” Ethan questioned. “It wasn’t for you, when you told us. Avery made it a big deal, sure, and maybe it was for him—”
“Anything out of the ordinary is a big deal for Avery,” Charlie interrupted. Which was rich, really, coming from him; Charlie was the King of Big Deals.
“True,” Ethan agreed. Both his older brothers were kind of a mess. He loved them anyway, but jeez.
“Stop changing the subject,” Charlie said, as they walked down the hallway. “I don’t understand why you’re so okay with this.”
Ethan had just about had it. He turned and stopped, Charlie nearly running into him. “Why shouldn’t I be? I watched you and Avery. You two were just fine. Have been fine. Why is liking Hank any different than liking some girl?”
Charlie huffed out a sigh. “Why are you so well-adjusted? It’s actually really fucking annoying.”
“Mom says I’m the most chill and straightforward of all of you,” Ethan said, more than a little smugly.
“It’s true,” Charlie said. “I wish—but yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”
Ethan could only smile. Of course Charlie wanted to be the biggest winner of all of them. Even if it was coming in first in two completely contradictory categories. “Sure, bro. You’re good. I’m good. Can we drop it now?”
“If you need advice—”
Ethan groaned, interrupting him again. “Oh my God, I am not going to you for sex advice. Absolutely never gonna happen. Besides, there’s the internet for a reason. I’m good. Trust me. So good.”
“Okay.” Charlie cracked a smile. “I think we’d both be happier with you doing your research on the internet.”
“Yes,” Ethan said emphatically.