Chapter 15
Milo
We’re back at McFolley’s Pub to commiserate over an embarrassing loss against Columbus. The Mammoths skated circles around us tonight.
I let in seven—seven—goals.
Embarrassment creeps up my neck as red-hot heat overtakes my face. As I look around at my teammates, the ones who decided to come out tonight, I can’t help but commiserate.
At the end of the game, everyone came to give me head pats and hugs, and I felt so dejected that I didn’t even get to enjoy it like I usually do.
I’ve never really felt the need to drink, and tonight is no exception, really, but I kind of get it. I get why the other guys are drowning their sorrows. I long for something, anything, to numb my embarrassment.
I feel like a failure. Number two draft pick? I’m sure Minnesota is regretting their decision tonight.
“Tough night?”
Jamie’s voice is a cool balm on my frayed nerves.
I don’t know what it is about him, but this guy is seriously soothing.
Something in his presence? It was the same after the game against Chicago.
He just walked over and soothed me with his sweet words.
I wasn’t quite on edge like I am now, but it feels nice all the same.
“You have no idea.” I groan, dropping my head against the bar with a thud.
“Shit.” He chuckles, the sound low and honey-sweet. “That bad, huh?”
“Was bad night for us all.” Oskar comes up behind me, patting my shoulder solemnly. “We all have off nights, yes? Is not your fault.”
I look up at him and smile. He’s a good teammate. It’s nice of him to try and make me feel better, but his kind words aren’t really the ones I am needing tonight. They aren’t the ones I long for.
But when I look at him, Oskar isn’t looking at me. He’s watching Jamie, who is, in turn, refusing to make eye contact with the giant Swede. My eyes skate between the two for a minute, trying to sus out whether this is animosity, indifference, or something more.
“You want another club soda?” Jamie catches my eye, and for a second, I worry I’m caught being nosy. But he just winks, and I sigh in relief before nodding.
Since when do I care about my teammates’ business? Especially something as private as whatever is happening between these two. It’s literally none of my business.
But something is definitely happening between them. Oskar is practically mooning over Jamie, hearts in his eyes. I guess I can’t really blame him. Jamie is incredibly handsome. His dark curls and bright eyes, and that smile. Not my type, really, but handsome all the same.
Speaking of smiling, I search the bar for my favorite smile. My favorite smile on my favorite face.
I could use any kind of pick-me-up.
But I don’t find it. What I find in its place is an ugly scowl.
He throws back a shot, and the scowl takes over his whole face. Eyes pinched and lips downturned in almost a snarl. My lips curl downward, incredibly displeased with his reaction. The loss was ugly, for sure, but does he blame me?
But he’s not really frowning at me. Our eyes aren’t meeting. Where is he looking?
“You hungry, handsome?” Jamie has a tray in his hand, looking at me over his shoulder. His brow is raised, and I’m acutely aware of Oskar’s eyes on me. They’re boring a hole in the side of my head that I’m trying to ignore.
“A basket of fries for me and my friend.” Oskar smiles at Jamie again and winks, but Jamie ignores him, looking at me for confirmation.
I nod, and he flashes me his pretty smile.
It’s all teeth and almost too wide, like he’s trying to prove a point.
Like he’s trying to say his smile is for me and not for anyone else.
Oskar sighs as Jamie walks away, watching him wistfully.
I want to tell him he’s being obvious, to warn him, but a small part of me wants him to step out into the spotlight.
For him to be super obvious so that maybe I can hold Beau’s hand in public.
So maybe I can kiss his cheek and have it not be the end of the world.
I want everything that comes with coming out. I’m just so scared to be the first. So, yeah, selfishly I want Oskar to be thrust into the light so that I can stand in the sun and enjoy the rays on my face.
But do I really want him to be burned so I’m safe? That doesn’t feel fair.
Jamie brings the basket of fries and plops it down between me and Oskar, who immediately tucks in. I pick at them gingerly, suddenly not very hungry. I feel distracted by a scowl and angry eyes.
I still haven’t seen Beau smile tonight.
What is he mad at?
I steal another glance back at him, but he’s still not looking at me. He still is not looking at me, and he still has a nasty scowl on his face.
I may not have seen him smile, but I have seen him throw back drink after drink. I know he’s a grown man who can make his own decisions, but I’m starting to worry.
He does a line of shots with the rookies, all of them laughing. But he’s swaying, as if the wind outside is carrying him to and fro.
He stumbles a bit, running into a booth, where a couple looks up at him warily. Everything in me itches to go save him from the embarrassment. Because, fuck, he is embarrassing himself. Someone needs to get him out of here, and I want it to be me.
I push myself to standing, and Oskar turns to look where I am facing. When I go to move, he puts a hand on my shoulder. He’s shaking his head.
“I think that would just make things worse, my friend,” he says to me, voice low, not wanting to bring attention to the spectacle.
I cringe a little. He’s right. If I tried to walk over there, it would just draw attention, but I hate seeing him like this.
Seeing him fall apart and lose himself to drinking.
I wanted to numb myself tonight.
Beau apparently wanted to forget tonight entirely.
It seems like, win or lose, he wants to lose himself to the drinks and the night. I think back to that game we played a while back when he absolutely destroyed the other team. We were on fire. Still, he drank himself to oblivion.
Is this something we’re close enough for me to concern myself with?
I peek over my shoulder and watch him. He’s talking with Paxton, who’s not quite as trashed, but still drunk.
The two are laughing together, each holding a drink—some kind of beer, maybe? I can’t believe they’re really still being served. They’re absolutely sloshed.
When I turn back around, Oskar is watching me. I raise a brow, and he shakes his head.
“You are judging him,” he says. He doesn’t ask because he doesn’t need to. He just knows. “That will not help him.”
Fuck.
He’s right. Of course he’s right. I stare down at the half-eaten basket of fries in front of me.
I’m being a bad friend to him. If I can’t even be a good friend, how the hell can I expect him to want me to be a boyfriend?
The thought lands like a slap. I want to be more than his friend, and being more starts with being better.
I pick up a fry and pop it into my mouth, letting the salty flavor distract me. Instead of focusing on the negatives of him drinking, I can just work to make him feel better. I can work to show him how well I’d take care of him.
Because I’d take such good care of him. I’d treat him so right.
I decide once and for all that I’m going to take this man home and take care of him.
“Oskar.” I turn and look at the Swede. He smiles at my use of his actual first name.
He’s told me in passing he hates his nickname; he thinks it’s stupid.
“I’m going to gather Beau up and get him home before he accidentally does something he regrets.
” Oskar lifts a brow. “I’m not judging him, but I know he’s going to judge himself. ”
And he will. I know he’d hate to know how he was behaving.
I push myself up from the bar and turn toward my man. He’s still laughing with Paxton, but when he catches my gaze, his eyes turn to molten heat. I feel my body react to the absolute blazing stare we are under, but he’s not getting any action tonight, not from anyone but my own hand at least.
When I’m finally standing in front of him, he kind of just collapses into me, as if he finally feels safe enough to let himself fully fall apart. Paxton, drunk off his ass but not so much that I can’t wrangle him to help me, gets one of Beau’s arms over his shoulder. We’re hoisting him out of here.
As I’m walking out, I make eye contact with Jamie, who winks at me and stifles a little smile at the giant hooligan I’m helping out of here.
I drove tonight, so Paxton helps me get him into my car. I started it ahead of time, so the BMW is blasting cool air, and the water bottles in the front seat are waiting. Once I have Beau buckled in, I gently coax the water into his hands and then into his mouth.
Fuck, he’s going to be hurting tomorrow.
The drive home is quiet, Beau not having as much to say this time around. He’s just looking down at his hands in his lap.
After a few minutes of complete silence, he finally speaks up.
“Are you upset with me?” he asks, his voice kind of quiet, a little scared.
I shake my head vehemently.
“No, no, of course not,” I try to reassure him, but I can’t really look at him.
I can’t see if my words are hitting their mark, if I’m making him feel better at all.
I drive a little fast, pushing the speed limit so we can hurry up and get home, so I can take him in my arms and make him feel like everything is okay.
“Jamie likes you.” He says this matter-of-factly, and I don’t care for it because I don’t care for Jamie the way I care for him.
Jamie is cute, but he doesn’t set off butterflies in my stomach the way Beau does. He doesn’t light up my day with his smile. He has a nice voice, but his laugh doesn’t make my heart skip a beat.
He’s not Beau.
He’ll never be Beau.
I wish there were a way for me to say that without scaring him off, without potentially ruining everything.
“Maybe he does, but I don’t really care for him.” I hope that gets my point across without going into the deeper bits.
“Oh,” he says, a secret little smile upturning his lips. “But you talk to him all night.”
I chuckle a little.
“He’s the only one who knows how to make my mocktails.” I throw a smile Beau’s way. “I may not drink, but I still want to fit in on nights of such epic fucking losses.” I groan and pat the steering wheel in my frustration. “Seven. Fucking. Goals.”
I let in seven goals. Seven. The number circles my head like a vulture.
His hand skates down my back, running in soothing circles. Even when he’s blasted out of his mind, he’s so kind and caring.
I wanted to show him how I could take care of him, but it turns out he’s the one taking care of me.