Chapter 4 #2
Hayes laughs softly. The sound surprises both of us. For a brief moment, I catch a glimpse of who he might have been before everything happened. Not the ghost that wanders around the rink. Not the tragedy everyone whispers about. Just a guy. A funny one, apparently.
Before I can think about it too much, I point at the book. “Recommend me something.”
Hayes pauses. “What?”
“A book.”
His eyebrows lift. “You want a recommendation?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
“From me?” The question sounds oddly sincere. Like he genuinely can't imagine why someone would ask for his opinion.
Something about that bothers me. “I asked you, didn't I?”
For a second, he just stares, then a faint flush appears across his cheeks. Interesting. The reaction is small enough that most people would miss it. I don't.
Hayes immediately starts thinking. The transition is almost comical. One second, he's surprised. The next, he's mentally organizing a library.
“Okay.” He shifts slightly in his chair. “If you haven't read much, I'd probably start with Steinbeck.”
I nod. “Okay.”
He continues. “Maybe East of Eden.”
The enthusiasm creeping into his voice catches me off guard. For the first time since I've met him, he sounds genuinely interested in something.
“Or maybe The Great Gatsby.”
I keep watching him.
“Actually, Gatsby might be a better starting point.”
The flush is still lingering. His eyes are brighter. The whole thing is weirdly charming. And distracting. Dangerously distracting. Because somewhere in the middle of listening to him talk about books, my brain decides to focus on something else entirely.
The way he immediately responded when I told him to recommend something.
No hesitation. No argument. No teasing.
Just immediate compliance.
The thought arrives before I can stop it.
I wonder if he's always like that. If I told him to kiss me, would he? I wonder— No.
Absolutely not. We're not doing that. I force my attention back to the conversation.
Unfortunately, I've missed several seconds of it.
Hayes is still talking. “...and if you like that one, you could probably move on to—”
I have no idea what he just said.
“—and that's why I think it's a good place to start.”
Silence.
Hayes narrows his eyes. I maintain eye contact.
Confident.
Calm.
Completely lost.
“You didn't hear a word I just said.”
Damn it.
I grin. “Of course I did.”
“No.” The smile on his face grows. “You didn't.”
“Sure I did.”
“Okay.”
Hayes folds his arms.
“What was the second recommendation?”
I open my mouth. “The Great...Something”
His smile immediately widens.
“You have no idea.”
I point at him. “In my defense, you used a lot of book words.”
“Book words?”
“Very technical stuff.”
Hayes laughs. This time the sound is completely genuine. And for one brief second, he looks younger. Lighter. Like the weight he's carrying slips off his shoulders.
The moment doesn't last long, but at least I got to see it. And once I've seen it, I can't forget it.
Suddenly, I'm certain of something: The man sitting across from me isn't broken.
Not entirely. Buried under all that guilt and grief and self-hatred is somebody worth knowing.
Somebody smart. Somebody funny. Somebody who still lights up when you ask him about books.
And for reasons I don't fully understand, I find myself wanting to see that version of Hayes again.
We won our out-of-town game overtime. The game is ugly in all the ways hockey fans secretly love. There are big hits, bad calls, momentum swings, and just enough drama to guarantee the highlights will run for the next two days. By the time we get back to the hotel, the team is riding high.
Guys are loud in the elevator. Loud in the lobby. Loud everywhere.
Dante is already organizing some kind of celebration before we've even gotten off the bus. I make it upstairs, shower, change clothes, and head down to the hotel bar with everyone else.
The place is packed. Music hums from hidden speakers. Players occupy three different tables. Drinks are already appearing. The atmosphere is exactly what you'd expect after a road win.
And Hayes is nowhere to be found. I tell myself I'm only looking because he's become predictable. Everybody else celebrates with the team. Hayes disappears. Sure enough, after about fifteen minutes of scanning the room, I spot him.
Not with us. Not even close. He's tucked into a corner booth near the back of the bar where the lighting is dimmer and the noise doesn't quite reach. And he's reading. At a hotel bar. After a road win. I laugh into my drink. Then I order a second one and head over.
Kai doesn't even notice me sit down. His attention is completely absorbed by whatever book he's holding. I slide the drink toward him. Nothing. I wait.
Finally, without looking up, he reaches for the glass. “Thanks.”
He takes a sip. Turns a page. Continues reading.
I stare at him. The man genuinely forgot I exist less than ten seconds after thanking me. It's strangely endearing.
A few minutes pass, and I play around on my phone so he has time to finish his book. Eventually, he reaches the final page. His eyes move slower. Finally, he closes the book and exhales softly.
Only then does he look up. “Oh.” A faint blush appears. “Sorry.”
“You ignored me.”
“I was almost done.” He looks at the drink in his hand slightly confused.
“I gathered.”
Hayes glances down at the book. “It would've bothered me if I stopped before the ending.”
I point toward the celebration happening across the room. “You know we're celebrating, right?”
He raises the book. “I am celebrating.”
The answer is so sincere that I laugh.
Hayes smiles into his drink.
“How was it?”
His entire face changes. The exhaustion never disappears completely, yet something brightens behind his eyes. The transformation fascinates me.
“It was great.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. Then launches into an explanation that immediately goes over my head.
Something about themes.
Something about character arcs.
Something about redemption.
I'm only following about sixty percent of the conversation. The other forty percent is spent watching how animated he becomes when he's talking about something he genuinely loves. The more excited he gets, the more his hands move. It's like watching somebody emerge from hiding.
When he finally pauses for breath, I take another drink. “You're a nerd.”
Hayes grins. “I play professional hockey. I'm a big-time athlete.”
“You're an undercover nerd.”
“That's not a thing.” The smile remains.
Good. I like seeing it.
“So,” I say, settling deeper into the booth. “Where are you from?”
“Why?”
I shrug. “No reason.”
That's a lie. The reason is that I want to hear him keep talking.
Hayes thinks for a moment before answering. “Small town in Oregon.”
“You ever go back?”
“Not much.” The answer comes quickly.
I change directions. “You like scary movies?”
His expression immediately turns skeptical. “What kind of question is that?”
“A normal one.”
“No, it isn't.”
“It absolutely is.”
Hayes laughs. “No.”
“Aw, why not?”
“I don't enjoy being frightened.” Hayes sips his drink. A delighted feeling warms my chest as I see him enjoying it. “Why do you care?”
“Horror movies are my version of dead guy books.”
Hayes chuckles. “What's your favorite?”
“The Thing.”
“I've never seen it.”
I shake my head. “This is disappointing.”
“You'll survive.” He rolls his eyes.
I ask another question. Then another. The alcohol makes me nosier than usual. Fortunately, Hayes keeps answering.
Favorite food.
Favorite city.
Favorite book.
Favorite movie.
Eventually I ask, “You got a girlfriend?”
The question seems harmless enough. Hayes nearly chokes on his drink.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
I nod thoughtfully. Then ask, “Boyfriend?”
Hayes stares at me.
The look is so suspicious that I burst out laughing. “What?”
His eyes narrow. “I'm evaluating whether that's a serious question.”
“It is.”
The suspicion remains.
I lift my hands. “Relax.” The grin spreads across my face. “I'm gay, Hayes. I'm not conducting an investigation.”
To my surprise, he looks genuinely startled. “Oh.”
The response makes me laugh harder. “That's it?”
“What was I supposed to say?”
“I don't know.”
Hayes takes another sip. “I just didn't know.”
Fair enough. For some reason, that answer makes me absurdly happy.
“So?” I lean forward. “Boyfriend?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Neither?”
“No, I haven't really dated.”
Something about the answer catches my attention. I study him.
Then realization hits. “Wait.”
Hayes immediately looks uncomfortable. A dangerous sign.
“Wait.” A smile grows on my mouth.
He groans. “No.”
“Hayes.”