Page 78 of Hockey Bois
Nick (11:35 a.m.)
so you’ll be back monday? i got a game you free tuesday?
Jenna May (11:37 a.m.)
I don’t want you to think I didn’t notice you changed the topic, but yeah I’m good with Tuesday
Bmore?
A part of him had the sudden, crazy urge to suggest they go to Krazy Dan’s. Maybe they’d run into Brady, and he could—
He could what, exactly? Be an ass? Prove to Brady he that didn’t miss him when it was a damn lie? If Nick was going to pretend he no longer had a crush, that seemed like the worst way to go about it. And the meanest. Whatever had happened between them, it wasn’t like Nick wanted tohurtBrady.
Nick (11:45 a.m.)
sure.
Jenna May (11:48 a.m.)
Before I let you get back to a job you hate but pretend you don’t
You need to talk? About Brady?
Nick (11:52 a.m.)
yikes it looks like my lunch time is up have fun with your niece give her a hug for me
Jenna May (11:55 a.m.)
Once again you’ve changed the subject but I’m going to allow it because I wanna go snuggle the baby
*
A week back into the swing of things, and Nick had the timing for games down to a science.
If he grabbed food before he left work, he’d get back home with enough time to go for a run. Depending on how late the game was, it might be a quick one-mile run or a long five-miler. That gave him the perfect excuse to roll into the locker room with barely enough time to gear up and get out on the ice before puck drop.
He’d also be the first oneoffthe ice to change after the game had ended, then back out to his car without having more than a superficial conversation with anyone.
Especially not with cute, confusing Brady Derek Jensen.
Things had not gone well after the hotel. That Sunday, the Jagr Bombs had finished off the tournament poorly; he and Brady had both been off-kilter, missing passes, making sloppy plays, and generally sinking the team’s chances of winning. They placed a respectable third, though there were plenty of glances their way that made Nick feel terrible about damaging the team’s performance.
Since then, he and Brady hadn’t talked. Nothing more than a “what’s up?” or a “good game” or a “see you next week” and the occasional “pass my water bottle.” Everything else remained unsaid, and their usual meetings at rinks or the bar were abandoned by silent-but-mutual agreement.
There was one time that they’dalmostbeen forced to talk. Nick was used to taking whatever space in the locker room was still free, usually some spot by a pole or the bathroom that no one else wanted. It was fine, a sacrifice he was willing to make if it meant not having to interact with Brady.
One night he arrived, and the only reasonable spot left was next to Brady.
He’d stood in the doorway a moment, staring and wondering vaguely if he was having a particularly on-the-nose bad dream. But no, nothing had changed no matter how much he wished it to, and he’d been forced to squish in between Brady and Mags.
Brady looked as uncomfortable as Nick felt. There was a slight look of terror on his face when he watched Nick sit down next to him; it was the first time Nick had allowed himself to actuallylookat Brady, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about what he saw. Dark lines under his eyes echoed Nick’s own restless nights. He leaned away, almost flinched whenever Nick moved, and had a stiffness like he was conscious of every movement he made.
It was a little gratifying to know Brady feltsomethingabout what had happened. It also sucked; Brady was still running away, still avoiding him.
They were teammates and nothing more, and the loss hurt. But that night in the hotel… all that anticipation, that build up, amounting to nothing. They’d connected—he knew they had—and Brady had decided it wasn’t worth pursuing.
It’d been painful to wake up alone that morning, with Brady in the shower and his bed looking like a damn tornado had gone through the room. Nick had looked at the mess and wondered if Brady had tossed and turned half as much as he had. Maybe Bradyhadbeen as upset as Nick about the whole thing, even if he’d been the one to abruptly change gears.
