4
The team bus rumbled down the highway toward the away game.
Spencer sat by the window, his forehead pressed against the cold glass, watching the trees blur past. He was tired.
He hadn't slept well in weeks. Every night brought the same dreams, the same faces, the same feeling of being trapped and helpless.
He had learned to function on little sleep.
He had learned to pretend everything was fine.
Layton was sitting three rows ahead, laughing at something Drew had said. Zavier was in the back, headphones on, staring out the window. Spencer could feel the tension between them even from across the bus. It was like a physical presence, thick and suffocating.
Coach Miller stood up at the front of the bus. "Listen up. We're staying at the Holiday Inn tonight. Room assignments are on the list I'm about to pass around. You'll be sharing with your assigned roommate. No complaints. No switching."
The list made its way down the aisle. Spencer watched it pass from hand to hand. When it reached him, he scanned the names and felt his stomach drop.
Sears. McCormick. Maldonado.
They were all in the same room.
Spencer looked up and caught Layton's eye.
Layton's expression was unreadable. Zavier was still in the back, oblivious.
Spencer handed the list to the next player and leaned his head against the window.
He had survived worse. He could survive a night in a hotel room with two people who hated each other.
The hotel was standard chain fare: beige walls, scratchy carpets, a faint smell of cleaning products. Coach handed out keys and everyone scattered to their rooms. Spencer followed Layton and Zavier to room 217.
The room was small. Two queen beds, a pullout couch that looked ancient, a tiny bathroom. Layton immediately claimed one of the beds. Zavier claimed the other. They stood there, glaring at each other, like two dogs fighting over territory.
Spencer said, "I'll take the couch."
He walked to the bathroom and closed the door.
He needed a moment alone. He stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself.
His face was still bruised. His lip had healed, but there was a faint scar.
He looked tired. He looked old. He looked like someone who had been fighting for so long that he had forgotten how to stop.
He splashed water on his face and walked back out.
Layton and Zavier were still in their corners, both pretending the other didn't exist. Spencer sat on the couch and pulled out his phone. There was a text from Lacey.
Lacey: How's the new team? Are they treating you okay?
Spencer typed back: Fine. They're fine.
He locked his phone and put it away. He didn't want to lie to her, but he didn't want to tell her the truth either. The truth was that everything was a mess. The truth was that he was surrounded by people who seemed to hate him for no reason. The truth was that he was so tired.
Layton was watching him. Spencer could feel his eyes. He looked up.
"What?" Spencer's voice was flat.
"Nothing." Layton looked away. "Just wondering if you're going to survive the night."
Spencer shrugged. "I've survived worse."
Zavier snorted from his bed. "Big talk from the new guy."
"I'm not trying to talk big. I'm just stating a fact." Spencer lay back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. "You two can kill each other if you want. I'm going to sleep."
The lights went out. The room was dark and quiet. Spencer closed his eyes and tried to relax.
He dreamed about Northwood. He dreamed about the locker room, the way his teammates had looked at him after the article came out.
He dreamed about the names they had called him.
He dreamed about the things they had done to him.
He dreamed about his ex-boyfriend, Ryan, smiling while Spencer's life fell apart.
In the dream, Spencer was trapped. He was in the locker room and everyone was staring at him and he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning in their stares.
He woke up gasping. His shirt was soaked with sweat. He was shaking.
He sat up and tried to catch his breath. The room was dark. Layton and Zavier were both asleep. Spencer could hear their breathing, slow and steady. He was alone.
He got up and walked to the mini-fridge. He needed water. He needed to calm down. He opened the door and the light spilled out, illuminating the room.
He didn't realize Layton was awake until he heard his voice.
"Hey. You okay?"
Spencer froze. His back was to Layton. He was wearing nothing but his boxers. He could feel Layton's eyes on his skin.
"Fine," Spencer said. "Just thirsty."
He grabbed the water bottle and stood up. The light from the fridge was still on. He was still exposed.
There was a sharp intake of breath from Layton.
Spencer knew what he was seeing. His back was covered in scars.
Long white lines from his father's belt.
Newer ones from the locker room at Northwood, a broken bottle, a fight he hadn't started.
He had tried to hide them. He had tried to pretend they didn't exist. But they were there, a map of every wound he had ever suffered.
He closed the fridge door. The room went dark again.
He walked back to the couch and lay down. His heart was pounding. He could feel Layton's eyes on him in the darkness.
Neither of them said anything.
In the morning, everyone pretended nothing had happened. Spencer got dressed in the bathroom and walked out to find Layton and Zavier already arguing about who had used up all the hot water. He grabbed his bag and left the room without a word.
Breakfast was in the hotel lobby. Spencer sat at a table by himself and pushed his eggs around his plate. He wasn't hungry. He could still feel Layton's eyes on him.
Layton sat down across from him. "You need to eat."
Spencer looked up. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You barely slept. You look like you haven't eaten in days." Layton pushed a plate of toast toward him. "Eat."
Spencer stared at the toast. He didn't want it. He didn't want anything. But Layton was looking at him with that same unreadable expression, and for some reason, Spencer didn't have the energy to argue.
He took a piece of toast and bit into it. It tasted like cardboard.
Layton said, "I saw your back. The scars."
Spencer's jaw tightened. He didn't say anything.
"Who did that to you?"
"Does it matter?" Spencer's voice was flat. "It's over. It's in the past."
Layton was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "It matters to me."
Spencer looked at him. Layton's face was serious. There was no smirk, no arrogance. He looked almost... concerned.
Spencer said, "My father. My old teammates. Everyone who found out what I am."
Layton's eyes widened slightly. "What are you?"
Spencer stared at him. He wanted to lie. He wanted to deflect. But he was so tired of hiding. He was so tired of pretending.
"I'm gay," Spencer said. "Is that a problem?"
Layton was silent for a long moment. Then he shook his head. "No. No, it's not a problem."
Spencer didn't believe him. But he was too tired to argue.
Zavier walked over and sat down at the table. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," Layton said quickly. "Spencer was just telling me about his old team."
Zavier looked at Spencer. His expression was unreadable. "Northwood?"
Spencer nodded. "That's the one."
Zavier said, "I heard about what happened there. The article. The way they treated you."
Spencer's stomach dropped. "You heard about that?"
"Everyone heard about that." Zavier's voice was flat. "It was all over the hockey blogs. I just didn't put it together until now."
Spencer stared at his plate. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.
Zavier said, "That shouldn't have happened to you. Those guys are assholes."
Spencer laughed. It was hollow. "Yeah. They're assholes."
Layton said, "We're not like that. This team isn't like that."
Spencer looked at him. "Are you sure about that? Because you tried to take my head off on the ice. You've been treating me like garbage since the day I got here."
Layton's face went red. "That was different. That was—"
"What?" Spencer's voice was sharp. "That was what?"
Layton didn't answer. He just stared at his plate.
Spencer stood up. "I'm going back to the room. I need to get ready for the game."
He walked away before either of them could respond.
The game was a disaster. Eastern lost 4-1. Spencer played well, scoring the team's only goal, but it wasn't enough. The whole team was off. They couldn't connect. They couldn't communicate. They were a mess.
After the game, the locker room was silent. No one spoke. No one even looked at each other.
Coach Miller walked in. His face was red. "That was pathetic. You played like you didn't even know each other. You played like you didn't care."
He looked at the co-captains. "Sears. McCormick. Maldonado. My office. Now."
They followed him to the small room off the locker room. Coach closed the door and turned to face them.
"You three are supposed to be the leaders of this team. And you're leading them straight into the ground." He pointed at Layton. "You can't stop trying to be the hero. You're trying to do everything yourself, and it's destroying the team's chemistry."
He pointed at Zavier. "You're too focused on proving you're better than Sears. You're not working with him. You're working against him."
He pointed at Spencer. "You're too busy trying to stay out of the way. You're a leader now. Act like one."
Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but Coach held up his hand.
"I don't want excuses. I want results. You have one month to figure this out. One month to start playing like a team. If you can't do that, I'll bench all three of you and find new captains."
He walked out.
The three of them stood in the small room. No one spoke.
Finally, Layton said, "This is impossible. We can't do this."
Zavier said, "We don't have a choice."
Spencer looked at them both. "Yes, we do. We can keep fighting each other, or we can figure out how to work together. It's our choice."
Layton said, "And what do you suggest?"
Spencer thought about it. "We stop pretending we don't have anything in common. We're all hockey players. We're all on this team. We all want to win. That's enough to start with."
Zavier was quiet for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly. "Fine. Let's start with that."
Layton looked at them both. His face was unreadable. Then he nodded too. "Fine."
They walked out of the room and boarded the bus for the long drive home.
Spencer sat by the window again. He was exhausted. He was confused. He didn't know what was happening between the three of them, but something was shifting. Something was changing.
Layton sat down next to him. Not across from him. Next to him.
Spencer looked at him. "What are you doing?"
Layton didn't answer. He just put his headphones on and stared out the window.
They sat like that for the whole ride. Their shoulders brushed occasionally. Neither of them pulled away.
Spencer closed his eyes and felt the warmth of Layton's body next to his. It was confusing. It was terrifying. It was also the most alive he had felt in years.
He fell asleep to the sound of the bus engine and the feeling of Layton's shoulder against his.
When he woke up, they were back at campus. The bus was empty. Layton was gone.
Spencer grabbed his bag and walked off the bus. He felt something different. He felt like maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay.