15. Chapter 15 #3
“I do, and I mean it,” Max said. The glance he shot Charlie was so tender and intimate Hank had to look away.
He’d kind of been hoping to drag Ethan away—tomorrow they were finally leaving on a road trip and they might finally have some decent alone time—and sneak in a few moments, just the two of them, especially if Charlie went out with Max to celebrate, but now, they were all going to be expected to show up at Max’s.
“Damn my overachieving brother,” Ethan muttered as they headed out of the locker room, Charlie and Max ahead of them. Hank hadn’t realized how often Ethan and Charlie had been carpooling with Max, but now it was just assumed that he’d join them.
“Room in the car, isn’t there?” Max would say in that quiet, gentle way of his. Reassuring, even. Like whatever he and Ethan were up to, he approved of it, even if nobody was saying it out loud.
“I know,” Hank agreed with Ethan. “I was hoping for—”
“Me too,” Ethan said, nudging his hip with his own. “But maybe we can sneak away.”
“Should we do that?” Hank was just up from Syracuse. He should probably make an effort to befriend these guys—some of whom he’d played with last year, but some of the guys were new, too. Still, enforced team building was not his favorite thing to do. He’d be the first to admit that.
“I think we shouldn’t do anything else,” Ethan said with the breezy confidence of the youngest child and someone with the last name of Barnes, who’d be welcome in every room he peeked into.
Hank didn’t really resent that—not for a long time, now—more that it was just a fact. Ethan had never worried about belonging; he just had.
“We’ll see,” Hank said.
Charlie drove Max’s car as he was on the phone, arranging for a food delivery from a restaurant he liked. Putting in an order to get some additional beverages sent over.
Every so often Charlie would interject an opinion, and pretty much every time Max took Charlie’s suggestions as law.
“Now you see what I’ve had to deal with without you,” Ethan said. He tilted his head and let it rest on Hank’s shoulder. “Unbearable, really.”
“You thought any more about that line change?” Hank asked under his breath.
Ethan glanced up to the front of the car, but it was clear that Charlie and Max were lost in their own world, debating what kinds of beer everyone on the team liked best.
“You’re going to get Heineken, because it’s Charlie’s favorite,” Ethan muttered.
And on cue, Max looked over at Charlie, the fondness in his expression evident even though they could only see his side profile, “How about Heineken?”
“Always a good choice,” Charlie agreed.
“Okay, fair,” Ethan told Hank. “Always lost in their own fucking world, those two. And no. I don’t even want to think about that. What would you do if someone said, hey, go play on the right?”
“I’d say, okay, because I want to fucking play,” Hank said matter-of-factly.
“Okay, maybe that’s not a good comparison,” Ethan argued. “What about if someone told you to play goalie?”
Hank just huffed out a frustrated breath. “Nobody’s gonna do that. I’m not weird enough.”
“But you could, if you had to. Doesn’t mean you’d want to,” Ethan continued like he hadn’t said a word.
“Badly, sure. But you wouldn’t be a bad winger, Eth. You know that. You’ve got the brain, you can see the play unfolding, but you’re not just a playmaker, you’re a goal scorer.”
“You know,” Ethan said casually, “when I was little, and my brothers would skate around on the pond behind our house, that’s all I wanted to do. Go to the NHL and score goals.”
“Well, you did that—and you’d do that more, on Max’s line. You’d score more goals than Nathan is. He’s not got the shot you have.”
Ethan made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat, but he looked pleased, too, and that was the whole point.
To get him to at least think about it. Because if Hank had to skate through another game with the opposing team beating Ethan and his line up, and the refs turning their heads because Ethan was a rookie and hadn’t earned the right to be protected, yet, apparently, he was going to lose his shit.
Maybe even do the unthinkable and actually fucking fight someone.
What good was having a hockey-famous last name if it didn’t mean shit in this way?
“He’s just going through a little bit of a rough patch. He’s gonna find his way,” Ethan said.
“And you could give him that space, move up onto Max’s line, score some goals, get some good protection,” Hank said. “You and Gabby would be good together.”
“You’re really worried about me,” Ethan said, having the nerve to sound surprised.
“Well, duh,” Hank said. He wasn’t the greatest at talking about his feelings—he could admit that—but he thought he’d been at least pretty damn obvious about how he felt about Ethan.
“It’s just cute,” Ethan said, grinning suddenly, leaning into him more solidly. “I like it.”
Hank didn’t try to hold back his answering smile. “I like it too.”
What he didn’t like was getting cornered only ten minutes into the “get-together” at Max’s place by Danny.
“So, how’s it going?” Danny asked.
“Good?” Hank raised an eyebrow. Wondering if it would be too obvious if he said he had to go help Max with something—or that he needed to go find Ethan.
Danny was a cool guy but had a knowing way of looking at everyone and everything like he could see right through them, and it made Hank vaguely uncomfortable. Like he was revealing something, just by standing here.
Plus, one of his best friends was Morgan Reynolds, and that was more than a little intimidating. Barney was bad enough; the thought of Danny saying anything to Morgan freaking Reynolds about him made Hank nauseous.
“You don’t have to look so freaked out,” Danny said, grinning. “I’m gonna be nice, I promise. If I wasn’t, Max would give me the sad eyes, and everyone tries to avoid that.”
“For good reason.” Max’s sad eyes were lethal.
“Exactly. And you’re under his wing now, staying at his place. And . . .” Danny waggled his eyebrows and took a long drink out of his beer. “And you’ve apparently landed right in the heart of the Barneses. Not a bad spot to be in.”