Page 79 of Two for Holding
Jax grinned, relief loosening the ever-present fear gripping his chest.It made way for the sadness, the impact he’d been bracing for since last night.Maybe if he mourned losing Tom now, before it happened, it wouldn’t hurt so much when it did.
“So, Mara,” he said, trying to sound upbeat, a little smug, and, in general, like Jaxon Grant.“Can I pay to get a landscaper out here?”
“You know what?”Mara linked her hand through his elbow and led him toward her office.“I would be thrilled to take more of your money.”
fifteen
[…]Fortyyearsago,when you thought hockey, you thought big, beefy guys knocking one another’s teeth out and maybe occasionally scoring goals in there somewhere.To say things have changed would be like pointing out that Istanbul is, in fact, no longer Constantinople.
These days, hockey players pride themselves on speed, agility, and the combination of intuition and practice referred to as “hockey IQ.”Summer isn’t downtime, it’s training season; penalty minutes aren’t something to be proud of, they’re something to avoid.Looking at the San Francisco Sea Lions, star left wing, Tom Crowler, plays a game based on speed and agility while his center, Jax Grant, brings the muscle and the intuition to back it up.In the defensive zone, they’ve got new, rising star Luca Mazetti, who is slight enough to be a figure skater but has a deft hand with the puck, relying on his quick feet and soft hands instead of stature.And while none of these guys are overladen with dignity (Grant in particular is known for wearing hideously colorful suits and whatever designer object is the newest trend), they’re a far cry from the toothless buffoons of yore.So where does that leave old-school players in a new league?The guys who’re still out there to rile everyone up and smack their stick in someone’s face?Well, the Mike Vanderbilts of the hockey world are still trucking, but a new kind of player is on the rise to bridge the gap.Smart and quick, yes, but also annoying as all get out, Kilian Howard is the Sea Lions’ answer to the changes in the hockey landscape.He’s our youngest player, a kid no one expected to make the team his first year after being drafted, but already he’s got the speed and the know-how.In addition, he’s such a pest the other teams can’t help but take penalties trying to shut him up.[…]
(From “So You Want to Watch Hockey: the Bay Area Native’s Guide For Sports Fans Tired of Football,” posted on http://sfhockeyftw.blogspot.com on 12/02/2024.Found in the search history of Ben Morris’s private laptop.)
Morris called in sick for the Chicago game.After his absence from morning skate with no notice, Tom’s black mood only worsened.He’d felt off since Jax left the night before, lonely in a way he hadn’t been in all the years he’d spent alone.
Jax probably knew he was getting too attached after spending the night together, sleeping with Jax curled around him.That couldn’t become a habit.Jax didn’t even like hockey players.So, while it was very kind of him to claim he found Tom attractive, to compliment him, and teach him all the things Tom had been missing out on, Tom benefited from their arrangement far more than Jax.
Jax had made the right call leaving yesterday, and it was good he hadn’t been at the optional skate this morning.This meant Tom had almost a full day to get his head on straight, and Jax wouldn’t go apoplectic after suffering through one of Trout’s practices.
Tom had nearly forgotten what a mess they were.
The good news was that Trout had decided to stop systematically overworking the D-core.The bad news was that he’d moved on to including everyone else.Tom tried to ask about it, midway through a prolonged, full-ice special teams drill, which had both power play units racing across the ice at full speed over and over till none of them could get enough air.
“Coach?”he tried, still panting.“I thought this was a light practice?”
The SoCal games were back-to-back.The team would need some breathing room.
Trout snorted derisively.“You’re not paid to think.Get going, Crowler, or do you want to be a healthy scratch tonight?”
By the time the team dressed for the game, Tom’s skin prickled, stretched tight across his body, wired from wondering if he’d messed things up with Jax by being too needy.At the same time, exhaustion from the practice drills weighed him down so heavily it would be a struggle to get through the whole game.
Jax, Breezy, and Mooney returning together, full of excitement and stories about the shelter, did not help his mood one bit.
For the first time, he was thankful for Trout’s perpetual bad mood.
“No one wants to hear about you holding hands with orphans,” he bellowed.“Get fucking dressed.”
“They’re not orphans,” Breezy said.“They’re teenagers who’ve been—”
“Do I look like I care?”
Trout ducked into the office to get something—possibly a whip, given the way things were going—and Phil chose that moment to arrive, which seemed a little too convenient for Tom’s taste.
“What’s wrong with Morris?”Tom asked.
“He’ll be better in time for the roadie.How’re you feeling, boys?”
The boys groaned.
Phil took a seat on the bench.“Okay, well, the good news is Chicago’s starting goalie’s on IR.Keep the D-line tight, let Jax do the heavy lifting offensively, you’ll be fine.”
“Easton!”Trout barked.“What the fuck is this?”
Phil smiled at him innocently.“Just giving the boys a little moral support, Coach.”
“Sounds like backseat coaching to me.”
It not only sounded like backseat coaching, it also looked like it.Whatever issues plagued the coaching staff, Phil knew about them and hadn’t told Tom.
