Page 57 of Hockey Bois
Obviously, Nick felt like crap about it.
The buzzer sounded, and mercifully this travesty of a night could end. Brady was the first one through the handshake line (after Guy, of course) and off the ice before he’d even gotten his water bottle or extra stick. Nick dutifully balanced his own extra gear with Brady’s and found him in the locker room, massaging his feet like he was trying to rub life back into them.
“I could do that for you,” Nick half-joked. “In case you want options other than a pitcher of beer.”
When he’d pushed into the locker room, Brady had looked grim and serious in a way reminiscent of when they’d first met. He’d looked unapproachable, closed off from the world, like he would find any interruption bothersome. And then he’d heard Nick’s voice, and he’d visibly softened. The line of his shoulders relaxed, and his expression went from “stiff statue” to “actual living human being.”
It was a strange transformation. The end result was beautiful, but it surprised him that the grumpy Brady he’d originally met was still hiding in there. That might be the Brady that a lot of the world knew and interacted with regularly, but Nick was lucky enough to get to see the real Brady, the softer version that would trade skates with a friend even if it hurt him.
“I want the beer,” Brady said firmly, the barest hint of color to his cheeks that could have easily been from the cold or the exercise.
“Yeah, figured. I’d probably just hurt your feet more if I tried to massage them. There an NHL game coming up you wanna meet up for?”
“Can’t.” Brady tossed Nick’s skates across the room. They landed on Nick’s abandoned hockey bag, and it sounded uncannily like the wind going out of his sails. “Heading up to Pittsburgh tomorrow morning and won’t be back for a bit. Saved up my vacation time so I wouldn’t have to drive up when everyone else is traveling.”
“Oh. Smart.” This would be it for a while. Rough, considering they hung out, well… a lot. “Guess I’ll, uh… text you?”
That sounded lame. Great, his last conversation with Brady before he disappeared hundreds of miles away was dumb because Nick was a mess.
“Yeah, I figured,” Brady said. “Pens play the Caps on like the twenty-seventh. I assume you’ll be bitching to me about the loss.”
“Fuck you, we’re gonna win.”
“Big words. You going to the game?”
“I fucking will now.”
“Uh huh. Game’s in Pittsburgh.”
Nick colored a little, embarrassed he’d let Brady trick him like that. “…well then no, probably not.”
Brady laughed, the sound filling the space enough that Nick couldn’t hear the other conversations in the background. It felt like it was just the two of them, alone.
“Gimme my skates back so I can get home and sleep,” Brady said.
“Riiight. Yeah. Thanks again, man—”
“It’s fine so long as this never happens again. I don’t think my feet can handle it.”
“Well, next time I’ll have gloves that are so small that I can barely get my hands in. And then maybe it’ll be a jersey that doesn’t cover my gear. Or I’ll forget my cup—”
“Donot. I’m going to require equipment inspections before every game. I got the A; I can make it happen.”
“Then half the team won’t pass. Mags doesn’t even wear shoulder pads half the time. Lexi’s elbow pads are held together by duct tape. That’s not an exaggeration, I saw him put the tape on them.”
“That is unfortunately all true.”
“So rain check on the beer?”
“Yeah. ’Til next year.”
“Yep, next year…”
I’ll miss you while you’re gone.
When Nick handed Brady back his skates, he couldn’t quite say the words out loud. But he did have the growing hope that maybe Brady might miss him, too.
Chapter Six: January
