Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
TAI
I’ve driven Kasen home a few times over the last year when his mom and grandma had to work and training ran late. Those were always weird times. Where I had to ignore the fact that it was like having Hawke in my car and keep my nosy questions inside.
And as I pull up at the curb now and the real Hawke climbs into the passenger seat, it feels like he brings a raging storm with him. I idle there, watching him, and Hawke purposely doesn’t meet my eyes as he aggressively tugs at the seat belt until he has enough slack to clip it in.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that buying him a car didn’t make everything instantly better?”
His wide jaw flexes as he chews on his words, and then it’s like a dam bursting.
“How fucking ungrateful is he? I’ve given him everything he goddamn asked for, I’m showing up, I’m trying to be his friend.
And he turns on me every single chance he gets!
” Hawke’s breathing like a raging bull. “He blames me for everything—including Carly dying! How is any of this my fault?”
Before he can burst a blood vessel, I reach over and squeeze his forearm. “You haven’t been around kids much, huh?”
“I’ve got a roommate. He moved in when he was nineteen.”
“That’s an adult.”
“Basically a kid,” he mutters, turning to glare up at the house.
Right. It’s time that I get us out of here.
Hawke isn’t going to be able to concentrate on anything while we’re lurking out front.
“Take it from someone who has worked with kids for a lot of years—as soon as they become a teenager, they lose all communication skills. Do you really think when he asked for a car that he meant it?”
“Of course he did.”
I groan and turn onto the next street. “He was testing you. Look: I don’t want to get involved in all of this.
I’m his coach, it’s my job to look out for him, but we were friends once—” It’s hard to think of us in past tense.
“—so I’m going to say one thing, and then we’re not going to talk about Kasen anymore. Are you ready?”
For a brief second, curiosity replaces his anger.
“He’s lost his parent. He’s not going to want to go through that again, and he has absolutely no reason to believe you’ll stick around.”
“But—”
“So give him a reason. Stop letting him get to you. He’s pushing you away on purpose to see how you’ll react.”
“He called me the c-word.” Hawke’s voice catches, like he can’t believe it happened.
If Kasen’s resorting to that, their relationship is probably going to be harder than I thought. “Just … try to not take it personally.”
“Sure, because how would someone take that personally?”
I’m heading for his parents’ place when an idea sneaks into my mind. Instead of taking the road toward town, I take a left and head for somewhere I still go, even years after he left.
There’s a dirt road that leads down to the river we used to hang out at during high school. We’d leave everyone else behind, take the whole day, no thinking, no stress, just the two of us existing. We’d live there over the summers, some days barely talking at all. We didn’t need to.
Hawke stirs as soon as we reach the dirt road, and I steer the car onto it.
His gaze bores into the side of my face, but I don’t meet it. “I haven’t been here in … so long.”
“I figured. Explains why you’re so high-strung these days.”
“Yeah, it’s that and not the way I found out my once best friend ghosted me over something huge and I have a son I knew nothing abou—”
I grip the steering wheel one-handed and reach over to cover his mouth. “No more of that. What are our rules down here?”
His words are muffled by my hand, but I know what he’s saying. “Leave the worries behind.”
“Exactly.” I let him go. “Think you can do that? I don’t want you stinking up our special place with your whining.”
“I think I—”
“Have reason to be whining. Yes. We both know you do. It sucks. But for while we’re down here, you’re going to let yourself forget about it for a while. The stress will be waiting for you once you get back.”
“That simple, huh?”
I know it’s not that simple, but we used to trick ourselves into believing it is. Sometimes our brains need a break from the piles of shit we’re dealing with to get the energy to keep fighting.
It’s not an automatic thing, but by the time we pull up in the dirt clearing at the end, Hawke’s let go of some of his tension.
He sits forward in his seat. “It’s changed.”
“It’s been ten years.”
Mostly, the biggest differences are that a lot of the dense overhang has been cleared out, letting more sun through, and there have been a few picnic benches set up amongst the trees. During holidays, it can get mildly busy down here, but usually, it’s just me.
I climb out of the car and pull myself up onto the hood, metal warm under my ass. After a moment of waiting, Hawke joins me.
He’s not sitting as close as he used to, mostly hugging the side, and I try not to let it get me down. He’s here, so he’s not holding things against me—at least I hope—and I take that for what it is.
Opportunity.
A chance to get him back.
A stale silence sets in before Hawke breaks it. He points at a patch of dandelions by the bank. “Remember when your dad used to have us wish on those?”
“I never wished on those.”
I almost expect him to smile, but he stops himself in time. “I did. Same thing, every time. To make it in hockey.”
“And you did.”
“I did.”
Maybe I should have been wishing on those things after all.
“Tell me about life as a big hockey star,” I say.
“I’m not a star.”
He makes me snort. “Please don’t pretend to be humble, Hawke. The media might buy it, but I know you better.”
“Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Or maybe you’re still the same stubborn guy who uses hockey for validation.”
His eyes meet mine across the canyon of space between us, and something about it is so familiar, it warms me from the inside out.
“Being a hockey star is awful. All the media interviews, awards nights, and multimillion-dollar contracts are the worst things in the entire fucking world. Do not recommend.”
Old Tai would have been wildly jealous over all of that, and even though there’s a distant pang of longing for that life, it’s a relief to know that I’m genuinely happy for him.
It might have taken me forever to pull my head out of my ass, and maybe our friendship will never happen again, but at least I know I got here.
The place where I’m genuinely okay with the decisions I’ve made.
“I bet all the women who throw themselves at you are awful too.”
“The worst.” He’s looking at the river as he scratches his nose, a sure sign he’s hiding something. Then he says the last thing I’m expecting him to, voice tight like he’s fighting against every word. “The, uh, men are horrible too.”
Nerves fill my gut, and I wonder if he’s still joking around or if he finds it genuinely horrible. Is he being homophobic right now or … coming out to me?
His tone is making me suspect it’s the second one, but I’ve never heard so much as a rumor about him. Considering I had to force myself to watch his games, I guess that’s not surprising.
Without knowing though, it makes my response risky, but I say it anyway. I’m not ashamed of who I am, and I don’t keep it a secret either. “Damn,” I tease. “That would be the best part for me.”
His gaze clashes with mine again. Sudden and intense, like he’s trying to read my mind. Our eye contact stretches on … and on …
Then the corner of his lips twitches upward. “I always knew you had good taste.”
Relief rushes out of me. “You’re bi?”
He shrugs. “I guess. I don’t really like putting labels on myself because people try to define things, and then other people disagree, and honestly, I have no preference.
I’m attracted to pretty much everyone. Some people say that you have to be pan if you’re attracted to anyone non-binary or trans, but then it also falls under bi, and if you’re in an opposite-sex relationship, no matter who you’re attracted to, there are others who tell you to shut up and be straight.
” He takes a deep breath. “I find it easier to not justify my attraction. I like who I like in the moment, and that’s all that matters to me. ”
I nod. As someone who was eager to come out and proudly claim being gay, his way of thinking doesn’t apply to me, but it’s interesting to hear his perspective.
“And … you?” The guardedness dissipating has left his hazel eyes brighter. “Is it only men for you?”
“Yeah. I always felt like something was missing. The way you and some of the other guys talked about girlfriends and hooking up didn’t match with what I felt.
Like, kissing was fine. I never had a problem getting it up, but I wasn’t …
like, actively in the moment with them, I guess.
I figured it out in college, and after I slept with a guy, I knew it. ”
“You never said anything.”
“Neither did you,” I throw back.
He scratches his nose again. “I figured it out in high school.”
“Really?” I don’t know why that’s so shocking, but considering it was hard enough to keep it secret from him for a few years in college, I can’t believe he managed to keep it secret for longer than that.
“Yeah, we were here, actually.”
I look around at the river, remembering when we’d be here with a group of friends, just being kids. The memories fade away until it’s just me and Hawke.
He swallows roughly. “Junior year, we were hanging out, and I caught myself staring a few times in the locker room or around here and couldn’t figure out why.
” His tongue swipes over his lips. “Then you stripped off your shirt to go for a swim, and I had the strongest urge to lean in and lick your nipple.”
Whatever I was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. A short, fast laugh coughs from me. “You wanted to lick my nipple?”
It’s the most glorious sound when he laughs too.
“So badly. I freaked out, thinking I was gay, and went down a whole rabbit hole of experimental porn. I started dating Carly—obviously, I liked her a lot, don’t get me wrong—but I definitely held on to that relationship like a lifeline.
If I was with her, I could keep my eyes firmly on my things while we were all changing in the locker room.
Or turn my back when you’d strip off in front of me. ”
“So that’s why you started doing that.” I’d worried that Hawke was suddenly shy. “Makes so much sense now.”
“It didn’t help that we’d get changed in front of each other a lot.”
“We had years in the locker room together and literally no secrets between us. It wasn’t weird to me.”
“It wasn’t weird to me either.” He sighs. “Until it was.”
I’m still grinning, and it feels weird on my face. “Sorry for causing you all that inner turmoil, I guess.”
“Yeah, the least you could have let me do is suck your dick.”
It’s so ridiculous, I can barely believe we’re having this conversation. “Neither of us was ready for that back then. At all.”
He turns to face me, shrinking some of the space between us. “You mean to say you never once looked at me? You never saw me naked and thought, Mmm, Hawke is one hot guy?”
I shrug, trying for sympathetic. “I guess you’re not that good-looking.”
“I can guarantee I get laid more than you.”
“It’s the money.”
“Fuck you.”
“Because we both know it’s not your personality.”
Hawke laughs and flicks my ear, exactly how he used to.
It hits us both at once. The gesture, how close we’re sitting, how much I want to reach over and pull him into a hug.
But I don’t.
I fight against the weighted promise of connection.
And then the moment passes.