Page 32 of Speak in Fever
"Good. And you're getting enough sleep? You sounded tired last time we talked."
Rath glances at the coffee table where his game schedule is spread out alongside travel itineraries and equipment lists.Tomorrow they leave for a three-game road trip starting in San Jose, and he should probably be packing instead of avoiding his responsibilities by talking to his family. But talking to his mom always helps him process things, gives him perspective on whatever drama is currently consuming his thoughts.
"Just busy with the season starting up," he says, which isn't technically a lie. "Lots of practices, team stuff."
"Team stuff," his mom repeats with the knowing tone of someone who's raised a son through junior hockey and understands that 'team stuff' can cover everything from mandatory fitness testing to late-night bonding activities gone wrong. "Everything okay with your teammates? Your captain?"
The question hits uncomfortably close to home, and Rath finds himself staring at the ceiling while trying to figure out how to answer. His mom knows him well enough to pick up on evasion, has that supernatural parental ability to detect emotional turmoil through subtle changes in tone and pacing. But he can't exactly explain that he's having complicated feelings about Percy Killinger that definitely fall outside the bounds of normal captain-player dynamics.
The conversation with Percy in the alley behind O'Malley's had resolved the immediate crisis—the devastating misunderstanding about Percy wanting him off the team—but it had also left a dozen other questions unanswered. Like what that phone call actually meant, and why Percy had stepped in so protectively when Derek was bothering him, and why the solid warmth of Percy's arm around his waist had felt so right even when Rath was angry about the circumstances.
"Yeah, everything's good," he says finally. "Percy's... he's a good captain. Really supportive."
Too supportive, Rath thinks, remembering the possessive way Percy had claimed him as his boyfriend to get Derek to back off.So supportive it's making me lose my mind.
"You don't sound convinced," his mom observes.
"No, I am. He's been really encouraging about my development, talks to Coach about getting me more ice time." Rath sits up and starts organizing the papers on his coffee table, needing something to do with his hands. "He thinks I have potential."
"Of course you have potential. We've been telling you that for years."
"It's different when it comes from him, though." The admission slips out before Rath can stop it, and he immediately wishes he could take it back.
"Different how?"
Rath considers his options. His mom has always been his go-to person for processing complicated emotions, the one who helped him navigate everything from middle school friend drama to the pressure of junior hockey tryouts. But explaining that his captain's professional praise has somehow morphed into personal feelings feels like territory neither of them is equipped to navigate.
Because how do you tell your mother that you're pretty sure you're developing serious feelings for your male team captain? How do you explain that you've been attracted to men since you were twelve, but that there’s something specific about Percy Killinger that makes your brain short-circuit and your pulse race? How do you admit that you had phone sex with said captain and now you can't figure out how to look at him without remembering exactly how he sounded when he came?
"Just... different," he says lamely. "More meaningful, I guess. Coming from someone with his experience."
His mom is quiet for a moment, and Rath can practically hear her parental radar pinging. She's always been good at reading between the lines, at knowing when he's not telling hereverything. "You're sure you're doing okay? You sound a little... I don't know. Unsettled."
Unsettled. That's probably the most accurate description of how he's been feeling lately. Like every familiar thing in his life has shifted slightly off-center, leaving him constantly feeling like he's trying to find his balance on uneven ground.
"I'm fine, Mom. Just adjusting to increased responsibilities." He stands and starts pacing the length of his living room, restless energy making it impossible to sit still. "Second line, power play time, all that stuff."
"That's wonderful, honey. You've worked so hard for this." Her voice carries genuine pride, and Rath can picture her smile, the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she's happy about something. "Your father is going to be over the moon when I tell him."
The thought of his parents' excitement about his promotion makes Rath feel simultaneously proud and anxious. They've supported his hockey dreams since he was a kid, driven him to countless practices and games, celebrated every small victory along the way. The last thing he wants is to let them down by getting distracted by personal complications.
"Rath." His mom's voice carries that particular note of gentle authority that means she sees right through his deflection. "Talk to me."
For a moment, Rath considers actually telling her. His mom has always been understanding about things that matter to him, has never made him feel judged or small for struggling with something. When he was sixteen and considering quitting hockey because he was tired of being the smallest guy on every team, she'd listened to his fears without trying to fix them, had helped him work through his feelings until he found his own reasons to keep playing.
But how do you tell your mother that you're pretty sure you're falling for someone who has the power to make or break your career?
"It's complicated," he says finally, settling on honesty without details.
"Complicated how? Is someone giving you trouble? Because if there's hazing or anything inappropriate happening—"
"No, Mom, nothing like that." Rath sits back down, running a hand through his hair. "The team's great. Everyone's been really welcoming. It's just... personal stuff. Figuring out where I fit, who I am as a player."
It's not technically a lie. He is figuring out who he is, just not in the way his mom probably thinks.
"Growing pains," his mom says with understanding. "That's normal, sweetheart. You're young, you're in a new environment with new pressures. It takes time to find your footing."
"Yeah," Rath agrees, grateful that she's not pushing for details he's not ready to share. "Yeah, that's probably it."
