Page 95 of Drop the Gloves
Which was maybe presumptuous on Riley’s part.He’d known Evan for all of five months.Some of these guys had known Evan for years, and no one seemed to think he was acting off.Though Riley liked to think he had moreintimateknowledge of what made Evan tick, and to his eye, Evan wasn’t acting very Evan lately.
Or...was he?He’d been quieter than usual on the bench and during practices, and the more Riley thought about it, the more it reminded him of the Evan he’d first met in Pittsburgh.Shy, never speaking up, restrained.And then after their game against the Turkeys, he’d been nearly catatonic in the locker room.He’d been so out of it, he hadn’t noticed a few reporters trying to get his attention.Riley had flagged them down when it was obvious Evan wasn’t up for interviews.
It’d really worried Riley when Evan had blown him off at the hotel.
Now, Riley knew he could be A Lot.Whatever was bothering Evan, it made sense he’d want to minimize distractions so he could screw his head back on properly.And Riley was a big boy.He could handle a night on his own, thank you very much.
It’d just hurt a little, seeing Evan jog off to spend time with Dalty.
He hadn’t much minded being woken up at 2 a.m.with a slightly drunk Evan.That had taken away a lot of the sting, both of the rejection earlier and having to crawl out of bed at two in the fucking morning.He’d thought maybe Evan was feeling better.He just needed some time with his best bro.Perfectly reasonable.
Except the fucker wasn’t in Riley’s room in the morning.At first, Riley thought he’d dreamed Evan’s appearance—a good dream, honestly—but no, there was definitely an Evan-sized imprint in the bed.He thought they were past Evan disappearing in the middle of the night.He thought they had something a teensy bit more solid than late-night hook-ups.
And so, with 36 hours until game time, Riley started a downward spiral.
* * *
It was his fault.Not Evan’s.It was Riley’s fault he’d been neglecting his therapy appointments for the last few months.Granted, he was avoiding them because he didn’t want to talkaboutEvan, but again, he could only blame himself for it.Riley’s issues were all anger-related anyway, so a relationship with anyone shouldn’t matter.Hell, sex usually mellowed him out.Hard to be angry when you’re getting off regularly, y’know?
Except the next evening as he got ready to play the Scorpions, he realized he was a little angry at Evan.
Frustrated, he corrected.I’m frustrated with him.
As he jumped onto the ice and did a lap around their zone more quickly than was advisable, he thought about why.Things were going well, weren’t they?The sex was good.They had fun.They’d gotten better chemistry on the ice.It was greedy of him to want more from Evan.Greedy and unnecessary.This was better than he’d hoped his move to Pittsburgh would be.
And yet...
He did three laps before it was too dangerous and he had to stop.Too many people, too little space, too many pucks flying.Fuck, he was keyed up.Not a good sign.Maybe he’d do some breathing exercises before the actual game, because he felt about ready to explode.If he didn’t get a handle on this, he was going to be a disaster.
Hope the penalty box is comfy…
“Barzy.”
Riley snapped back to attention and had to look straight up to meet Evan’s eye.“Sup?”he asked.
“What’s the point of a mouthguard if it’s never in your mouth?”
It was a great opportunity for a dirty joke, but Riley couldn’t think of one.
He rolled his eyes—the only sass he could muster—and sucked it back into his mouth.So preferred to chew it than wear it.Sue him.“What’s up, Sasquatch?”he asked around the stupid piece of plastic.
“I’m feeling like we need some whacks to get us going,” Evan said with that adorably small smile that was mostly in his amber eyes.Riley would do a lot for that smile, including continuing this fake warm-up superstition.Whose bright idea was this, anyway?
“We ever pull the statistics on this?”Riley was nearly incomprehensible with the stupid mouthguard in properly, so he pushed it off with his tongue and settled it at the corner of his mouth.“How many wins to losses?”
Now it was Evan’s turn to look fondly exasperated.Evan Abernathy, fond of him?That’d be nice.
“Not enough data.Gotta go for a full season before we know for sure.”He started to turn around, but Riley tapped him with his stick.
“You go,” Riley said.It wasn’t a good idea for him to whack Evan right now.If he went too hard, he didn’t want to wonder if it’d been on purpose.So he turned around and let Evan hit him a few times with his stick.The routine did help him calm down.Maybe that was why people had their superstitions.
It was going pretty well.There was more hockey than anger going through his head, which was always a good sign.That meant that when he ran his mouth, he was in control of what came out.
And then Travis motherfucking Walker decided to be an asshole.
Maybe Walker was bored.Or trying to make a name for himself on a new team.Hey, maybe the guy didn’t like having all his teeth and thought Riley could help him out.There was no way of knowing what went through Walker’s mind when he first crosschecked Riley, or even when he slashed him, but it didn’t matter.Riley knew what kind of trajectory Walker was on, knew he had a short rein on his own temper, and so he’d looked the other way when Walker was being a classless dick.
Up until he blatantly tripped Evan.
