30. Ben
BEN
Nolan cuts toward the net before the puck reaches my stick. Without calling for it or looking at me, he leaves the boards and takes one hard stride toward the middle, pulling the defenseman with him.
We’re tied late in the third, and both lines have been trapped in this end long enough that every player on the ice is running on whatever his legs have left. If the puck gets past me, we have to change. This chance is over.
I know what he wants.
Nolan could stay on the wall and help me keep the puck in. He commits to the opening instead, trusting me to see it before it closes.
The clearing attempt comes up the wall. I stop it with my skate and kick it forward, keeping the zone while the defense shifts toward me. Bobby is planted in front of the goalie with another defenseman trying to move him.
Nolan turns back toward the corner.
I send the puck down the wall before he gets there.
He takes it on his backhand and keeps moving below the goal line. I release the boards at the same time. The defenseman stays with Nolan, expecting him to carry the puck behind the net.
Nolan knows I’m coming. His stick opens before I reach the slot.
The pass comes backward through the defenseman’s skates. I catch it and shoot in one motion.
I hear it hit the inside of the post before I see the net move.
The goal horn drowns out everything.
Nolan reaches me first. He slams into my chest hard enough to drive me into the glass, shouting with his mouth beside my ear. My arms close around him. For the first time in two weeks, I’m holding him again, and my body doesn’t care that this is only a goal celebration.
Bobby crashes into both of us before I can hear what Nolan is saying. Our defensemen skate in to join us while the bench goes fucking wild.
Somebody knocks my helmet sideways. Nolan’s glove catches the back of it and straightens it before he disappears under three more bodies.
We still have to protect the lead. On the next shift, Nolan gets the puck deep and Bobby reaches it first. I join them below the goal line, where we keep it against the boards while the home crowd counts down over the noise.
The final horn sounds with Nolan beside me and the puck nowhere near our net.
Gloves and sticks hit the ice around me as the bench empties. I grab the first guy who reaches me, then the next. The crowd is on its feet. PLAYOFFS flashes around the ribbon board in white letters while the noise keeps building.
We clinched.
I’ve played in bigger games than this and lifted the Cup. Still, Seattle brought me here because they thought I could help get them back to the playoffs, and the goal that did it started with Nolan moving before either of us had to speak.
Nolan is celebrating with Bobby near the crease. His face is red, his hair wet against his forehead, and he’s laughing hard enough that Bobby has to hold him upright.
His eyes meet mine until Sindre gets between us and grabs him. Nolan’s smile stays with me while I follow the team off the ice.
The locker room is louder than the arena was. Music pounds through the speakers while guys yell over it. Somebody gets me in a headlock as I come through the door, and by the time I fight free, Sindre is standing on his stall waving a towel over his head.
We made the playoffs after spending the start of the season fighting for clean entries and blowing leads we should have held. Now the schedule is going to keep going. That’s enough.
Caleb is in the middle of the room with two guys hanging off his shoulders. Bobby shouts something about never doubting us, and half the room throws whatever they can reach at him.
Nolan pushes through the crowd. He climbs onto the low center bench and cups his hands around his mouth.
“Shut up!”
Nobody shuts up, but enough guys turn toward him that he keeps going.
“I’m throwing a party. Details in the group chat. Everybody better be there.”
The room answers with a round of hell yeahs. Sindre nearly falls off his stall when he tries to add both arms to his. Bobby catches him by the leg and shoves him upright.
Nolan grins at the room. His eyes pass over the stalls on either side of mine without landing on me.
I can let that be my excuse. The invitation is for the team, and Nolan probably wouldn’t care if I found a reason not to go. He might prefer it.
“I’ll be there,” I say.
I can’t tell whether he hears me through the shouting. His head starts to turn in my direction, but Caleb grabs him around the waist and pulls him down from the bench.
That night, Grayson calls while most of the team is still out celebrating.
I left after the locker room while the other guys headed downtown. Nobody excluded me. I didn’t want to stand in another crowded bar watching Nolan laugh with everyone else while he pretended I wasn’t there.
“Hey,” I say.
Grayson sounds surprised. “You answered.”
“Usually how phones work.”
Korolev says something in the background. I can’t make out the words, but Grayson answers him with, “No, he’s home.”
“Where did you think I was?” I ask.
“Out with the team. You just made the playoffs. Why are you sitting at home?”
“We have treatment in the morning.” It’s true. It also has nothing to do with why I came home.
I could tell him I’m tired or say everybody went somewhere I didn’t want to go. Grayson would accept either answer because he called expecting to leave a message, not interrogate me.
I’m tired of giving people the answer that gets me out of the conversation.
“Grayson, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“You’re not retiring, are you?”
The question catches me wrong enough that I almost lose what I was going to say. “Try not to sound so excited.”
“I’m sorry that I’m trying to save what’s left of your teeth.”
Korolev laughs in the background. Grayson tells him to mind his business.
I laugh, but the words still won’t come together. “I’m…”
I still don’t have a word that feels right. I know I want Nolan, and I know Grayson won’t think less of me. My mouth still won’t work.
The sound on Grayson’s end changes. Fabric scrapes over the speaker, followed by footsteps and a door shutting. Korolev’s voice disappears.
“Seriously, Ben, is everything all right?”
The concern in his voice makes this sound even worse than it is. “I need you to promise not to freak out.”
“Oh my god, did you get injured? Are you sick? What’s going on?”
“I’m not injured.”
Grayson’s breath comes hard through the speaker. “Then tell me.”
My grip tightens around it. With Grayson, I have to say it on purpose.
“I’m seeing someone,” I say. “Or I was.”
“Why do you sound like you’re being stabbed when you say that?”
I laugh again. It comes out rougher this time. “Um…”
“You’re making this seem like a big deal.” Grayson stops. “Is it your coach’s daughter or something? A teammate’s wife?”
“It’s Nolan Fraser.”
“I didn’t know he was married.”
“No.” I close my eyes. “I was seeing Nolan Fraser.”
The call goes silent. I wait until I can’t stand it anymore. “Grayson?”
“Nolan Fraser is a guy.”
My face gets hot even though he can’t see me. “I’m very aware of that.”
“Ben.”
“Grayson.”
“Ben.”
I get up because sitting still is making this worse. “I’m still figuring this shit out. Bisexual doesn’t feel right, and I don’t know what does.”
Grayson is quiet for a second. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Do you want me to call you something?”
“No. I just wanted you to know.” I walk toward the window. “I should’ve told you when you were here. You asked if I was seeing someone, and I said no.”
“You weren’t ready.”
“I lied.”
“Ben, come on. You tell me when you’re ready to tell me. That’s how this works.”
I have to swallow before I answer. “Okay.”
“Was Nolan the guy in the locker room who told me I’d picked the wrong queer night?”
“Yeah.”
“He was pretty pleased with himself.”
Despite everything, I smile. “He usually is.”
“Are you okay?”
“Not really.”
Grayson doesn’t ask for an explanation I don’t have. “Call me tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I will.”
“Good.”
“I’m glad you told me.”
“Me too.”
Korolev’s voice reaches us again, farther away than before. Grayson answers him, then comes back to me.
“And congratulations,” he says.
“Thanks.”
We hang up. The condo goes quiet, and I open the team group chat to read the details for Nolan’s party again.
When the night of Nolan’s party comes, I park in his garage and stay in the driver’s seat after the engine shuts off.
I haven’t found better words since I talked to Grayson. All I have is an apology, the truth about wanting Nolan back, and no reason to think either will be enough.
The first time I came to a party here, I sat in the car trying to figure out how to apologize for walking out on Nolan in Arizona. I wanted him to know he hadn’t done anything wrong. Now I’ve hurt him worse, and I know exactly how he looks when he doesn’t want me near him.
He invited the whole team. I’m part of the team, and there’s no chance he’ll throw me out in front of everyone. He still might wish I’d stayed home or refuse to talk to me.
I said I’d be there, so I get out of the car and take the elevator upstairs.
The doors open on Nolan’s floor. Music reaches the hallway from inside his condo. The door is unlocked, and voices spill out when I push it open.
Nobody pays much attention to me. The party already fills the living room and kitchen, and the television is showing highlights from the clinching game with the sound off. Sindre shouts my name from somewhere near the windows. I lift one hand without stopping.
Nolan is near the kitchen talking to Bobby. He has a beer in one hand and a smile on his face that disappears when he sees me coming.
Bobby turns. I ignore him.
I stop in front of Nolan and look directly at him.
“Can we talk?”