Chapter 16 #3
“Yeah, we’re doing well. And it’s been a good hobby while I’ve been here,” Ramsey agreed.
“Just a hobby?” Brody asked, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t want to become a hospitality mogul?”
Ramsey didn’t miss that Brody hadn’t asked if he could. Only if he wanted to be. “Not really.” I want to be a hockey player.
Brody smiled, just as the volume of the music in the stadium reached a fever pitch. “Hey, guess it’s time,” he said, gesturing towards the front of the suite. “You want any tips on how to be a WAG?”
“You’re not a WAG,” Ramsey protested. “You’re a medical student, about to graduate and head to your first residency.”
“Are you sure you don’t want any tips?” Brody teased as they took their seats in the first row of the box.
“I’m sure the first rule is don’t mingle with and definitely don’t sit with WAGs from other teams,” Ramsey retorted.
“Yeah, you’d be a shitty WAG anyway.”
“Maybe I’ll make Nate my WAG,” Ramsey said. “Plenty of hockey left even if the Thunder make it deep into the playoffs.”
“You’re good, but not that good,” Brody said righteously.
“Hey, I know you’re used to having the best football-playing boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean it’s always going to be that way.”
Brody made a face. “You would make a competition.”
“At least they’re not ever on the field at the same time.”
“You figured that out?”
Ramsey elbowed Brody in the side. “Come on. I’ve never been that clueless.”
“Close, though,” Brody joked.
It was easy for Ramsey to spot Nate as the sea of white and blue trimmed jerseys swarmed onto the field to the top decibel range of AC/DC.
“He is big,” Brody said thoughtfully.
“I’m assuming you’re talking about Nate, and not your monster of a man.”
“He’s a gentle giant—except when I don’t want him to be,” Brody argued, going a little pink as he said it.
Ramsey decided there was no point in keeping the comment to himself any longer. “I miss when you were practically consigned to a nunnery.”
“No, you don’t,” Brody said, his grin and his blush both equally bright now.
“Actually, I do. Because I could give you shit before, and now I can’t.”
“Disappointing,” Brody said, not sounding disappointed at all.
“I hope that you told Dean to not like kill our quarterback or anything. We kind of like him, and I don’t want to see what happens if Wes has to actually put the clipboard down.”
“I did, but Dean just grinned at me. So maybe message not received? Besides, if Wes had to play, he’d be awesome,” Brody declared loyally. “Did you invite him tonight?”
Despite many reservations and an actual pros and cons list that Ramsey had written while he was in the office at Vault and then burned additionally just to be safe, yes, Ramsey had invited Wes to their get-together tonight.
It was only too bad that Mal and Elliott, playing with the Leafs now, were out of town. Otherwise, it would’ve been a real party.
As it was, now, it was going to be two couples and then Wes.
Because that wasn’t going to be a mess or anything.
“Yeah, I invited him, and when it goes bad, I want you to acknowledge it was your idea.”
“It would’ve been worse if we didn’t invite him. He’d be so left out, and for what? Just because he doesn’t have a boyfriend?” Brody argued.
That was the conclusion that Ramsey had come to too. He’d ended up underlining it twice on the pro side of his list.
“He’ll put a good front up while you guys are there. But it’s after I worry about.”
“Maybe it’ll motivate him to reach out. You told me you thought he should.”
Ramsey sighed. “I wish that was true, but he seems determined to be a martyr for the rest of his whole fucking life because Marcus told him he was picking football over him.”
“But he wasn’t?” Brody frowned.
“That’s debatable,” Ramsey said. It wasn’t his business—but of course he knew exactly where Wes and Marcus had gone right, and exactly where they’d gone wrong. “I don’t think either of them anticipated that he would bounce around so much in the first year.”
“Speaking of that,” Brody said, not very casually, “what are you going to do about that?”
Warmups were just finishing up. Ramsey looked away from the field for a second and gave his friend the toughest look in his arsenal. “Are you fucking joking?”
“No?” But there was a hint of guilt in Brody’s voice.
“Don’t come here and do Wes’ dirty work, okay?”
“He’s just trying to prevent you from making his mistakes. And obviously I’m not against that either.”
“Obviously,” Ramsey retorted snarkily.
“Ramsey, it is a concern. In what, three weeks, a month? You’re going to be back in Buffalo, and there’ll still be months left in the football season.”
“And?”
“And,” Brody stressed, “you’ve never had a relationship before. Nevermind a long-distance relationship. Wes and Marcus—”
“I told you, don’t come here and parrot Wes’ self-fulfilling prophecies. I’ve got it handled.”
He hadn’t talked to Nate—he hadn’t known how, especially when Nate had to know the inevitable geographical separation was coming and hadn’t said anything either, like it was truly not a big deal—and he hadn’t quite been able to stomach telling Barty about the possibility of a trade.
Not when Rossbury and the Wolves had been so supportive.
When they’d done everything that Ramsey had ever wanted.
They’d stood by him through everything, even when it might’ve been easier, simpler, more convenient, to move on.
“Do you?” Brody questioned.
“Yes,” Ramsey snapped. Painfully aware that the more vehement he grew, the more suspicious Brody was going to be. The more inevitable it was that he’d tell Wes all about this conversation.
Brody was easier to dismiss than Wes.
Wes was paranoid and haunted by his own past mistakes and saw Ramsey as a way to set history straight.
Stupid.
“Okay, we don’t have to talk about it,” Brody conceded. “But at least tell me you and Nate have talked about this. Long-distance isn’t so difficult, if you guys communicate. You know what that is, right?”
“I know how to use words, yes,” Ramsey ground out.
“Alright.” Brody didn’t sound convinced, but that made sense. He wasn’t stupid and couldn’t have missed that Ramsey hadn’t actually answered the question.
There was no way he wouldn’t be reporting back to Wes. And after tonight’s dinner, there was every chance that Wes, upset and sad and lonely, would refuse to let Ramsey brush the subject off again.
“It’s really not that far. Only what, an hour? Two, tops?” Brody continued.
“Depending on the traffic, the middle of that, depending on where we’d each be coming from,” Ramsey said guardedly.
“Right. That’s no big deal. I’m looking at a residency at hospitals over an hour out. We know it’ll be tough, but Dean and I are going to make it work.”
Ramsey said it before he could realize how stupid he was. “That’s because you two are disgustingly, incurably in love.”
Brody poked him with his elbow and shot him a brilliant smile. “And you’re not?”