Page 56 of Hockey Bois
“That’s a huge no. Fuck, should I just… should I go back to the locker room? Should I tell Benns—?”
“What size skates do you wear?”
“Huh?”
Brady’s expression bore the determined resignation of someone who knew what they had to do and hated that they were the one who had to do it.
“What size skates do you wear?”
“Ten.”
A grimace, but otherwise he didn’t react. “I’m ten and a half. Come on, let’s get you to the bench.”
“Wha—?”
Strong arms guided him to the bench, pulled the door open, and forced him in. Nick, suddenly no more graceful on solid ground than he’d been on the ice, sat down like a sack of bricks. The path back to the locker room had never looked farther away.
“Jens, I can’t—”
Brady took a seat next to him, forcibly shoving him farther down the bench. He braced his right foot against the boards and started unlacing his skate. Nick watched in stunned silence until Brady pulled off his skate and shoved it into Nick’s chest.
Nick took it more out of reflex than actual understanding.
“Take off your damn skates,” Brady hissed and set to work on his other foot. “We got like two minutes.”
“You’re… trading skates with me?” he asked dumbly.
“Only if you fucking take yours off.Go.”
Nick jerked into motion, gently setting Brady’s skate aside and getting to work on his own. His hands could barely work on the knot, couldn’t loosen the laces. His heart was thudding in his ears, because this was ridiculously unnecessary of Brady. Sweet, but unnecessary. Nick was the one who’d made a mistake. He could sit out a game if he had to.
I wonder if he would do this for anyone else on the team…
“What on Earth is going on?” Benns asked. He was still on the ice warming up but stopped in front of them, eyes wide as he took in two of his players trading skates.
“There was a problem. We’re taking care of it,” Brady said. “Put on another D pair for the start of the game.”
Though Benns looked puzzled and definitely wanted to pry, the refs blew the whistle.
“We got a game or what?” one called to Benns.
“Yeeeah, okay. Lexi, Mags, you’re up.”
The game was barely a minute old when Nick clumsily finished lacing up Brady’s skates. He wiggled his feet, weighted them a bit, and knew they were without a doubt too big for him. Not much—he should be able to skate okay—but there was a noticeable amount of room in the toe. If he stretched his toes as far as they go, they grazed the edge. Which meant…
“You sure those don’t hurt?” he asked nervously.
“It’s fine,” Brady gritted out. “I do a three-quarters cut, you should be okay. Take it easy your first shift ’til you get used to them.”
“Right. Thanks, man.” Once again, his stupid brain wouldn’t cooperate. He should say more, right? This deserved more. “I owe you a beer,” he said and yeah, that was better, but still dumb.
“You owe me a fucking pitcher,” Brady said and jumped over the boards. Lexi took his place beside Nick, eyeing him curiously like he wanted to say something but keeping his mouth shut.
Thankfully, his own turn to hit the ice came a moment later, and Nick rushed out to avoid the awkwardness of any potential questions.
The skates were… okay. They didn’t feel right, and they did bother him a bit. Most of the time he was too caught up in the game, too busy trying to get into position or move the puck or otherwise successfully hockey. He didn’t put a point on the board, but he wasn’t out for any goals by the other team, either, so he was more than happy to call this whole debacle a wash.
To his credit, Brady looked as amazing as ever. His skating was flawless, his defensive work didn’t allow a goal and barely any shots, and he even assisted on Donno’s breakaway goal. On the bench, he would quietly rest his head on the boards and position his legs so that there was no weight on his feet. Gail took over the role of nudging him into action for line changes, and not once did he complain or slow down.
