Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“They’re not doing badly, I agree. But they’re not at their best. Most of their wins have been in overtime. I just think that these cracks forming right now might spell disaster further down the line, is all.”
“Jesus, you’re dramatic! It’s not cracks forming, it’s things settling. They’ve got four rookies on the roster this year—these kids are new to the whole damn league. And while I’ve already had a lot to say about that managerial choice on this podcast—”
“That’s an understatement!”
“—Obviously it’s going to take time for those kids to find their feet. But they’re getting there. Trix will pull it together, man. Have a little faith.”
—The Hoard Podcast, October 24th, 2022
It takes barely forty-eight hours for Nick to crack.
The day of their last home game before the roadie, Nick drives to his best friend’s house an hour before they’re supposed to go to the rink, Dolly in her carrier on the back seat.
His cat has some kind of polyamory situation going on with the Perezes’ two cats, so Lindsay is happy to look after his princess during long away stretches.
She looks surprised to see him so early, still dressed in her pajamas, hair up in a bun. “I have to tell you guys something,” Nick says by way of greeting, and Lindsay sighs.
“Is it something that’s going to make me want to drink before noon?”
“… Probably not?”
“Gabe, honey!” Lindsay calls through the house, letting Nick in. “Our son needs us!”
Nick’s cheeks heat. He’s only five years younger than Marco, but back when the draft had happened and he’d been the young star on a brand-new team, the older player had taken one look at his pathetic ass and somehow intuited how utterly out of depth he was.
An invite to lunch soon became Nick moving in to the Perez household for his rookie year, and Marco became Nick’s mentor, best friend, shoulder to cry on, voice of reason—his hockey dad, in a nutshell.
Marco sticks his head through the living room doorway. “Is it boy trouble, sweetie?” he coos. Nick flips him off.
“Go fuck yourself.” He sets down Dolly’s carrier, letting her free to find her soulmates. “But yes.”
“Oh, baby,” Lindsay sighs fondly, squeezing his shoulder as he stands. “I’ll get cookies.”
Nick catches her hand briefly in thanks, then toes off his shoes and heads to join Marco in the living room. The TV is paused on some show Nick doesn’t recognize, but Marco turns it off without hesitation.
“What’s up, buttercup?” He pats the couch cushion next to him, and Nick slumps against his best friend’s side.
“So, like, Matt Hudson,” he begins, and Marco curses.
“I fucking knew it! I knew you had a crush on him!”
“It’s not a crush! What are we, fifteen?” It doesn’t matter that this whole thing feels uncomfortably similar to when he was fifteen and crushing on Connor.
“Bullshit it’s not a crush.” Marco points accusingly. “You totally made out with him after the show, didn’t you? I told Lindsay you looked way too happy after you came back from the bathroom.”
“He did,” Lindsay confirms, returning with a plate of homemade oatmeal cookies. “He worried if he said anything to you he’d scare you off.” Nick narrows his eyes—he’s reluctantly impressed with Marco’s restraint.
“Okay, maybe we kissed a little,” Nick admits. “But, uh … that wasn’t the end of it.”
Marco goes wide-eyed, cheeks bulging with cookie. “Tell me everything.”
Slowly, he tells them about getting Matt’s number, and the texting that followed. He resolutely does not look his friend in the eye as he relays the events of their little drinks meeting, and everything that happened after.
When he finishes, cheeks burning with embarrassment at having to repeat the fuckbuddies conversation out loud to another person, he ploughs right through the awkward silence that follows.
“So, like, this is fine, right?” His voice twists in a hopeful lilt, and he finally glances aside.
Lindsay has her lips pursed and a blank face, while Marco looks like he’s trying to find some way of politely telling Nick he’s the biggest fucking idiot he’s ever met in his life.
“You are the biggest fucking idiot I’ve ever met in my life.”
Or not-so-politely, then.
“Hey!” Nick protests, frowning. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“Then don’t be an idiot!” Marco retorts without missing a beat.
“You seriously think this is a good idea? You, the guy who has only had a real crush on one person in your entire life and that ended up with you being obsessed with him for seven years? And yet you think you can somehow have casual sex with this dude who has made you light up more than I’ve seen in the entire time I’ve known you, and not get your heart broken? Again?”
Nick squirms, his cheeks burning.
That’s just…
He isn’t like that…
“Gabe, be nice,” Lindsay scolds, because she’s his favorite. She reaches across her husband, taking Nick’s hand in hers. “Nick, baby, you have to admit that this is probably not going to go well for you.”
Wow. Okay, he takes that back, they’re both terrible friends. “Why not?” he retorts hotly. “It’s not like I haven’t ever done casual sex before.”
“Screwing strangers in club bathrooms is not the same thing,” Marco counters.
Rude.
“Look, it doesn’t matter. My terrible life choices are my own to make, I don’t need your judgement.
And for the last time, I don’t have a crush on Matt,” he lies.
“It’s just … this is convenient. Safer than screwing strangers in club bathrooms,” he adds with a pointed look.
“It’s casual, for both of us. For all I know Matt has a fuckbuddy in every city the band plays in. ”
He says this with a straight face, refusing to give away how queasy the idea makes him feel.
“I just hated lying to you guys.” It felt like lying, anyway, to keep them in the dark. “And I might need your help for cover.”
“Yeah, man, we’re always in your corner,” Marco agrees without hesitation. “Even if we think it’s going to end badly.”
“Thanks,” says Nick with a wry twist to his lips. “Look, whatever, it’s happened, and this is where I’m at. Now you can stop looking at me with those goddamn laser-eyes.”
“Laser-eyes?” Marco repeats, incredulous. Nick nods.
“Like you’re staring into my fucking soul, man.”
Marco snorts, shoving him away affectionately. “You’re ridiculous.”
That’s how they finish getting ready for the morning—bickering like children while they cook quick omelets, Lindsay watches in exasperation. She catches Nick by the elbow when Marco disappears to change his shirt.
“Are you sure about this, with Matt?” she asks plainly. “Because this isn’t like you. And I gotta say, after seeing the way he looked at you at the concert … it doesn’t seem like his kinda deal, either.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Nick denies immediately, though his heart stutters. How was Matt looking at him at the concert? “It was his idea.”
“Hmm.” It’s a doubtful noise, but Lindsay doesn’t follow it up with anything.
Instead, she squeezes his arm. “I just don’t want you getting yourself hurt, okay?
I’m glad that you’re starting to move on from Connor, but …
I worry you’re getting in over your head.
Deny it all you want, I know how much you like this guy. ”
“Linds,” Nick groans, wrapping his arms around her and propping his chin on her shoulder. “I’m fine. Let me get laid by a hot guy in peace, okay? It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal and you know it.” Marco appears out of nowhere, glomming onto Nick from behind. “I’ve never seen you get like this over a guy. Even LaPorte, and you were in love with him up until like a month ago.”
“I don’t think I was,” Nick retorts. He feels both Marco and Lindsay tense.
“Nick…”
“No, hear me out,” he insists, pulling out of the group hug so he can face them both. It’s been in the back of his mind for weeks now, and Nick thinks he’s finally ready to voice those thoughts.
“I think maybe I actually haven’t been in love with him for years.
” It makes him wince, to say it out loud.
“I just … I wanted to be. Because it was easier, y’know?
If I was in love with him then I didn’t have to deal with …
with being gay, in the NHL. Trying to date.
” His voice still shakes when he says the word.
“I wasn’t allowed to be happy, because I ruined his life. ”
“Okay that’s just not true—”
“But I think I was just, like, using that as an excuse?” Nick continues, ignoring Marco. “Like, if I said that I wasn’t happy because I didn’t have Conn then I could pretend it wasn’t because I just … wasn’t happy?”
Loving Connor was the only thing he knew how to do for a long time.
It kept him safe—as a teenager, so terrified of his own desires and what it meant for his future as an athlete that Connor loving him back felt like absolution.
Then later, when he was young and alone with the weight of an entire franchise resting on his shoulders, keeping that spark alive in the hollow of his heart was the only thing that made all the lies feel remotely worth it.
“I think … I think I couldn’t really process it until I saw Conn again. Like, now that I know he’s okay, I’m allowed to be okay, y’know? Because I couldn’t do it without him. And it got all mixed up in my head till I thought I needed to be with him to be okay. But I don’t.”
He sucks in a deep breath, eyes open and glassy as they bore right into Marco’s. “I don’t need Connor LaPorte to be in love with me to be okay,” he declares like a revelation. Then he grins. “Shit, if I had a therapist they’d be so proud of me right now.”
Lindsay laughs, her arms slipping around his waist. “We’re proud of you,” she assures him. Nick squeezes her back. “But we’re still allowed to worry about you.”