Page 28 of Hockey Bois
Brady crossed his hands in front of his chest defiantly. “Yeah, I’d figured that one out.”
“And they’re playing the Devils.”
“Also aware of that.”
He waited for a moment, hoping Brady would magically understand the point Nick was trying to make without him having to spell it out. Instead, he continued to stare at Nick like he questioned his sanity.
“You can’t wear…that.” He motioned toward Brady’s jersey.
Brady looked down again. “I don’t follow. I’m going to a hockey game, and I’m wearing a hockey jersey.”
“You’re going to a hockey game, yes, but you’re not going to aPensgame. You can’t wear some rando jersey for a team that’s not even going to be there!”
“Why not?”
“Why not!?” His voice rose an octave as he struggled to find the right words to convey hownot okaythis was. “You’re just asking for someone to spill beer on you. Possibly me.”
“Why would someone spill beer on me?”
“You know that our teams are rivals, right?”
“…all right, point taken.”
“Good, so you’ll take it off?”
Brady bit his lip. He buried his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “I dunno, man. It just doesn’t feel right to go to a hockey game without a jersey on.”
“So let me get this straight: your concern here is that people might think you don’t know hockey, and it’snotgetting beer poured over your head while being publicly shamed?”
“I feel like that’s an oversimplification—” He stopped when he caught Nick’s withering glare. Although clearly amused by Nick’s reaction, he let it go with an eye roll. “Yes, I am more concerned about people thinking I just randomly walked in off the street. I’m a hockey fan like everyone else there.”
A glorious idea occurred to him.
“For real? So if I grabbed you another jersey, you’d wear it?”
“I’m not wearing a Caps jersey.” Eyes narrowed suspiciously, he added, “Or a Devils jersey.”
“Huh? Ew, no. Hang on.” He stepped back inside and motioned for Brady to follow. Brady did, though he looked out of his element.
Adorable, Nick’s brain helpfully supplied.
“Wait here,” Nick called as he took the stairs two at a time. His closet was still open, and the jersey he wanted was toward the front, a favorite despite him only getting the opportunity to wear it once every four years.
He found Brady hadn’t moved an inch out of the foyer. He stood there stiffly and was looking at the artwork hanging by the door, two pieces Terry had given him years ago.
“Here!” And then he chucked the jersey at Brady.
Brady caught it easily and held it out to inspect it.
Team USAwas emblazoned on the front, two gold circles embroidered on the right sleeve next to the years1960and1980.
“That okay?”
Brady’s face lit up. “Olympic jersey? Where’d you get this?” He was already pulling off his Pens one (and thankfully had a shirt on underneath, Nick couldnothandle anymore right now) and replacing it with the new one.
Nick just managed to stop himself from licking his lips. Brady wearinghisclothes? Yum. “I, uh…” He swallowed when he noticed how dry his mouth was. “I got it for my birthday back during Sochi. Not as pretty as some of the other jerseys, but still the good ol’ red, white, and blue.”
With more care than he spent on his game jerseys, Brady carefully pulled it into place and smoothed out the material.
