Page 20 of The Price of Ice

“Done!” He flashed Levy a smile. “Be back in a minute.”

IT WAS MORE THAN Aminute, but he’d left the door open in case Levy needed him and he wanted to give his friend enough privacy to sort himself out on his own if he could manage it. If anyone knew how much it sucked to be helpless, it was Kallen.

Levy must have been on the same page, because when he did get back, he had accomplished the great feat of putting on shorts and dropping his wet towel on a puddle on the floor. He grumbled when Kallen encouraged him to get under the covers, but with a little tugging, they managed to get him there, warm and safe.

It wasn’t until he was folding the clothes on the armchair so he could sit down that it even crossed Kallen’s mind that he should tell someone about Levy’s state. He opened the team group chat and discovered several mentions of both their names.

[Home and safe. Pollack sleeping it off.]

He added a funny gif to make it a little softer, but he didn’t reply when someone asked him how he was. He was fine, obviously, and the captain and Lombardi could attest to it.

Chapter 10

By the time he’d woken Levy up for dinner—another delivery, because all Kallen had done all day was doze and read a novel he’d found on Levy’s bookshelf—his friend was well enough to ask how long he’d be off the ice for.

“Didn’t ask,” he had to admit. “Andrews probably has to check with the Maslow anyway.”

“Fuck.” Levy gave up on trying to spear his final cherry tomato—Kallen had offered assistance and been refused, and there was nothing stopping him from using his fingers anyway. He rubbed at his face. “I’m gonna be out for ages, aren’t I?”

Kallen kicked his foot under the table. “Don’t go there! You know how it is; the more you rest, the faster you’ll heal.”

“Yeah, but—” Levy looked utterly dejected. Kallen got it, even though injuries were part of their life, they all lived in the eternal hope of being unbreakable. Hockey was a rough sport by nature, humans hadn’t been designed to slide on ice at top speeds while swinging sticks. It was what made it exhilarating.

“Hey.” Kallen tried a softer kick this time. “I’ll keep you company, and maybe you can catch up on your movie list. It’s longer every time you go in there.”

Levy’s smile was weak, but it was there. “Yeah, I guess.”

IT COULDN’T HAVE BEENsaid that he’dmeantto move in. Or at least not right away, it’d just made sense to go back to check on Levy when he’d got back from practice the next day. They’dalready been eating dinner together after work pretty much every night, and it wasn’t like Kallen was going to drop him when he was injured, was it?

He was a little surprised when Levy glanced up from what looked like a game of solitaire and said, “Good, you are here, go wash your hands.”

Kallen was pretty sure his friend hadn’t said that with any will behind it, but he still found himself in the kitchen chopping onions. “Why am I doing this again?” he asked after ten minutes of being ordered about the place.

“You have ordered takeaway for every single meal,” Levy said it like it was an accusation instead of a practical decision in the circumstances. “I can’t take it anymore, and it’s not healthy, even if they pretend they don’t put shit in it, there is still no love in the food.”

“Love?” he repeated, lifting his forearm to drag it over his wet cheeks. “It’s that what’s in my tears?”

Levy snorted a laugh, and maybe it wasn’t quite up to his usual standards, but Kallen was pretty sure it was real. “Hold your nose closed. It’s only two onions; I can do five without crying by now.”

“My hands are kinda busy, if you haven’t noticed.”

“What? No, just... you know, like you do for swimming? Hold your breath but just with your nose.”

Kallen tried and he could do it, even if it wasn’t exactly comfortable. “My breath is going to smell like onions,” he complained, even though he was done with them and dropping them into the waiting pan Levy had set on the burner for him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t kiss you,” his friend shot back, and it was very lucky for the team that Kallen had already set down the knife and grabbed the carrot peeler. He was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the lengthy pause before Levy added, “Peel those andchop them tiny, they are harder than onions so if you don’t, they won’t cook enough.”

The Bolognese sauce had been a success, and even if the first gnocchi he’d put in water had just dissolved into mush, the second set had been edible.

“Next time we’ll do garlic bread,” Levy had declared, leaning back on his chair and putting his good hand on his stomach.

Kallen had raised an eyebrow at him. “Next month maybe, this is a carb fest already.”

“Homemade is different,” his friend argued, waving with his good hand.

“It’s nicer, for sure,” Kallen agreed, smiling a little despite himself. It felt quite good to have accomplished a whole meal from scratch, even if he’d basically been filling in for Levy’s hands, he’d still done it, and he thought he could do it again. Despite all the stereotypes about omegas, no one had ever offered to teach him how to cook before. “Butloveisn’t going to help your muscles grow.”

Levy let out a dramatic gasp. “How dare you! Love can do anything. In fact, love can heal.” He glanced down pointedly at his left elbow.

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