Page 8 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)
“Jett seems kind of bummed out lately.”
“You two are on a first-name basis or something?”
“I’ve been hanging out with him for three days, so I eventually had to get over the awkward following me here shit. But I swear, he seems like a nice guy.”
He watched Arlo’s face scrunch in discomfort, still refusing to open his eyes. “He’s awesome, don’t get me wrong. And the fact that he’s cool enough to play games with us while he visits his friend is great, but he’s so not my type. He’s way too polite.”
“And too sad,” Harrison added.
“That too.” Arlo readjusted until he was facing Harrison.
A tilt to his lips suggested he wanted to smile, but he kept it under control as he blinked his puppy dog eyes at him.
“It’s like his heart is not in it. No one at the rink is much of a challenge for him, and he’s practically glued to that idiot, Mike. ”
“Mike, as in the Mike whose daddy paid for him to get to where he is on your team?”
Arlo’s look of discomfort turned into pure disgust. It was no secret that he didn’t like Mike, who had been made captain even though Arlo’s skills and abilities far exceeded his.
Arlo had kept his mouth shut, choosing to focus on playing hockey.
He threw everything into who he was on the ice to stand out, but Harrison had seen them play.
Mike was a joke. He made stupid calls and couldn’t skate to save his life. His contribution to the team was minimal at best, and it was obvious he wasn’t NHL material.
That was fine in his eyes because, as Mike played horribly, it made Arlo stand out.
Harrison wouldn’t be surprised if matching with Fraser for a week didn’t get Arlo a call asking him to join the CHL.
There were always agents looking for new talent, and with Fraser being the pride and joy of Canada right now, it would make sense for someone to be at the rink watching them.
“Mike talks like he and Fraser are best friends, but I don’t think that’s the case,” said Arlo. “I think Fraser came to visit his family, and Mike cornered him into playing a couple games because he’s manipulative as fuck.”
“It sounds to me like Fraser is a pushover,” said Harrison. “He needs to grow a fucking backbone.”
Something in Arlo’s expression shifted, and Harrison knew something was up. There was too much sadness in his eyes, and it made him nervous.
“Harrison, please come to the rink tomorrow. It’s the last game, and I want you to…be there.”
Fuck. Harrison rubbed his hand over his face, internally screaming in his head because he knew what Arlo was trying to say without speaking the words out loud.
He had already gotten that call—the one every hockey player looks forward to.
The kid was too talented to go unnoticed. Hell, Harrison knew deep down that if he pushed his ego and stubbornness aside, he would admit that Arlo was the better player between them.
“I want you to be there when I kick Fraser’s ass,” Arlo continued, quickly trying to avoid the subject. “And it’s been forever since you’ve seen me play. I’ve improved since the last time.”
Harrison flopped onto his back, groaning loudly at the sky as he cursed whatever gods were up there for their inability to let him stay out of the hockey world for good.
He wanted to be free of it all, but the pull was becoming too strong.
It was a daily fight not to return to his training routines, eat healthy and skate so he could feel that fire inside again.
Hockey had been what he wanted to do with his life, and his home with four empty bedrooms taunted him every day.
He had discovered no new hobbies or projects to fill those rooms. He was paralyzed because no matter what he did, all he could think about was how he should be going to training camp near the end of summer with his team, and getting hyped to do what he was born to do.
He couldn’t play anymore, but Fraser and Arlo weren’t wrong.
There were multiple ways to involve himself regardless of injury.
It didn’t take much effort to sit in the stadium and be there for Arlo, who deserved the support after the shit he’d gone through.
Harrison was all Arlo had, and he didn’t want to fumble the opportunity to be there for him like a brother should.
Arlo never made serious requests to watch him play. He knew how hard it was for Harrison to be there, so he never pressured him, but now that he was asking suggested that this game was important.
Damn it.
“I’ll try to be there, but—”
“I know,” Arlo cut in. “No worries if you can’t, but I wanted to ask and get it over with so we can go back to bickering like we always do.”
Harrison had no objections. He didn’t want to think about tomorrow, and the conversation that was bound to happen.
He didn’t want to think about Arlo going somewhere far away enough that they couldn’t hang out all the time, and he didn’t want to think about how he would be left behind to exist in his empty home.
“Fraser would play his ass off if his favourite role model showed up,” said Arlo. “And it might be fun to have some actual competition. Right now, I feel like I’m beating an abandoned dog with a hockey stick.”
The image of Arlo whacking Fraser on his pretty, blond head with a stick made him chuckle.
“Food for thought,” said Arlo as he also started chuckling. “I’ve been holding back because I don’t want Mike to get all up in Fraser’s face, but I hate losing. I want to play real hockey. ”
“Listen to you talking all humble,” said Harrison. “How nice of you to hand the NHL player the win every time because you’re so nice.”
“I’m not that fucking nice,” said Arlo, muttering under his breath.
But he was nice; that was just who Arlo was. The kid didn’t have a mean bone in his body unless his skates were on the ice and his mind was on the win. That was apparent after all the bullying he had taken silently in high school, from both his parents and peers.
His patience would have made him a saint in a different life, but Harrison had shut that abusive shit down the moment he realized what was happening.
The day he finally opened his door to Arlo and let him in was the last day anyone hurt him.
Harrison had blown up the family over it, another reason why everyone kept their distance now, because he wasn’t going to stand back and watch someone suffer no matter how fucked-up he was after the accident.
Arlo’s parents had disowned him shortly after, and no one fucking cared.
Arlo was thriving in his independence, and Harrison kept him playing hockey no matter what.
School had been put on the back burner after seeing Arlo’s skates touch the ice in that first game.
He had been coaching him ever since, supporting him like his parents should have been doing.
Who cared if Arlo was gay? He was athletically gifted, and Harrison knew the Townsends would come crawling back when Arlo got drafted in the NHL.
They could stomach his sexuality as long as he was a millionaire.
Not going to happen.
Harrison’s parents were useless while everything was happening too.
His dad and Arlo’s mom were siblings, and when Harrison called his father to ask for advice, he received no support, and then radio silence.
It was a not their kid, not their problem kind of vibe, and that had been the moment he learned how cold his mother and father could be to anyone they didn’t deem worthy.
His father commented about wanting to stay neutral, and it occurred to him later that staying neutral was, in fact, his way of choosing a side.
Harrison reached over and placed his hand on Arlo’s chair, halting the kid’s sniggering with a serious expression .
“What?” Arlo frowned, his eyes darting over Harrison’s face as he tried to spot the problem. “What’s wrong?”
Harrison shook his head. “You’re still too fucking nice.”
And then he yanked the lounger up, effectively dumping Arlo out of it and into the water.
Arlo hollered as he crashed into the lake, the splash soaking Harrison, who was too busy laughing to care. It was worth changing clothes, especially when Arlo popped his head out of the water, coughing and sputtering while scrambling back onto the dock.
“Dude! There are leeches in here!”
Harrison laughed harder and took his shirt off, wiping the water off his face. “Oh fuck, better get out of there before one suctions itself to your dick.”
“Fucking—” another splash indicated that Arlo had tried and failed to get out of the water, “—going to kill you!”
“I’m shaking in my shorts over here,” said Harrison, not offering to help as Arlo finally pulled himself to safety.
“You suck!” Arlo glared, looking pathetic as he stood there dripping wet. The sight only made Harrison laugh more.
“Occasionally,” said Harrison between chuckles, wiping the tears out of his eyes.
“Fucking dickhead.” Arlo flipped him off and walked around him, water trailing behind as he marched back to the house.
“Don’t get water on my hardwood floors!” Harrison called after him, laughing again when Arlo strung a bunch of curse words together that didn’t make sense.
There. Now they were even for the Fraser incident.
Harrison let himself sink into the pillowtop lounger, their conversation repeating in his head while he stared at the branches and the sky above.
What the fuck was he going to do?