Page 40 of The Last Guy On Earth
But then I remember we don’t do that anymore.
And I wonder if Clay still believes it’s my fault.
NINETEEN
Fifteen Years Ago
APRIL
The Brutes are on a tear.Game five of the first round of playoffs is a blowout, which means they’ll advance to the next round. When the third period ends, the scoreboard says 4-0, and the skaters pile onto each other at center ice, like a pack of smelly puppies.
Clay scoredtwicetonight, and he’s planning on scoring again when he gets home later. Because Jethro had a shutout and will totally want to celebrate.
He can’t help it. His eyes lift to find Jethro at the other end of the scrum, laughing and spanking Laytner’s ass with his goalie glove. His expression is more playful than Clay has ever seen it before.
Smiling to himself, Clay pats a few more backs as he heads for the bench to collect his stick. He’s stopped by their coach. “Powers—my office after you shower? I need a word.”
“Sure, Coach,” he says automatically. But a familiar prickle of anxiety runs up his spine. They justspankedthis team, and they’re off to the second round of the playoffs. So why does Coach look grumpy?
He heads for the showers, trying and failing to figure out what might be wrong. Clay hasn’t broken any rules. Well, not the written rules…
Hell. This can’t have anything to do with Jethro, right? They’ve been careful. Haven’t they? A locked door is a locked door. Although the cheap hotels where they stay on the road might have flimsy walls.
Shit. If there are rumors about the two of them? Jethro will lose his mind.
He cuts his shower short and hastily dries and dresses. He waves a comb in the direction of his overgrown hair and weaves through the celebrating bodies in the dressing room toward the coach’s office.
Outside the door, he pauses for a moment. He drops his shoulders and lifts his chin before knocking. “Coach?”
“Come in.” Coach is sitting behind his shitty little desk. The team’s facilities are third rate, like everything in the bottom rung of professional hockey.
But Clay wouldn’t trade it for anything, and now he has to wonder why Coach still looks pissed off. He takes the empty visitor’s chair and waits.
Jethro is on a high after the win. Like everything is going well for a change. He follows his teammates to the Interstate, one of the few bars in Busker that stays open until midnight on weeknights.
“Yo—Jetty! Where’s your better half?” asks Laytner.
He hears the little dig about the way he and Clay are always together but ignores it. Glancing around the bar, he says, “Dunno. Clay’s gotta be here somewhere.”
Except he isn’t, which is super weird. He checks his phone, but there aren’t any calls or texts. So he shoots him a message.
Jethro
Hey! Dude. You okay? You got a flat somewhere?
No answer.
Yeah, that’s strange. Clay would never bail on a celebration with the team. He’s worked his ass off this season to shake up the dressing room and form a connection with every last guy. It’s sort of obvious that Clay will be an assistant captain next season.
If he’s not here, something must be very wrong.
“He must’a picked up a girl already,” Duckson says with a snort.
“Right?” someone agrees. “Pretty-boy face. Nice car. Two goals tonight. I’m surprised weeversee him at the bar.”
“Yeah,” Jethro says with an awkward chuckle. But he feels sour at the thought. Which is weird, right? Clay can pick up some girl if he wants to. Just because the two of them are kind of…
He can’t finish that thought without getting uncomfortable. There’s no name for what they are to each other. Well, they’re roommates. And teammates. But there’s noadditionalword.
