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Paul

W e get to the locker room with barely enough time to get our gear on and most of the team already filing out onto the ice. Brendon and I race to get out on the ice before Coach rips us a new asshole and just barely make it.

“Oiler, Johnson, nice of you to join us,” he barks across the ice, and I just nod. I know better than to fuck with Coach.

I can see Brendon open his mouth from the corner of my eye, and I quickly say, “Don’t do it,” under my breath. He snaps his mouth closed and lifts his stick in acknowledgement.

We start with warmup skates, going around and around the rink until we’re breathing hard and starting to sweat. Coach yells out drills, and we get into position for them. It’s standard practice, and since Carmichael is back on the ice, his voice is a lot closer when he yells insults at us. I really thought getting laid regularly would make him nicer, but I was wrong.

“Johnson!” I grind my teeth together at Carmichael’s voice. “Albrooke’s baby niece has better puck control than you!”

I flip him off and keep going while Oiler chuckles.

“For once, it’s not me,” Oiler yells with his arms in the air.

“Riggs! Have you ever been on a pair of skates before?” Carmichael yells, and our baby player fumes but doesn’t say anything. Smart kid.

We run some passing drills with insults as a soundtrack, though most of us just ignore him these days.

“Oiler!”

“Fuck.” Brendon groans. “I know! Slower than your one-legged, dead grandma running through peanut butter in the snow. Got it.”

Everyone laughs, and Coach calls the end of practice. We grab water bottles and trudge back to the locker room. I’m going to get changed, then head back to the dorm to crash. I should eat, but I just don’t care. Maybe I’ll order pizza or something.

I pull my practice jersey off and hang my pads in my cubby to dry out. As I’m pulling my base layer over my head, someone grabs my arm while my head is covered in the fabric and turns me.

“Johnson!” Willis yells, and I fight to get the damn shirt off. “You find yourself a hoover?”

I get the shirt off and lift an eyebrow at him. Jeremy snorts behind me, and Brendon comes up next to me, dropping an arm over my shoulders. This is either going to be hilarious or awful.

“You jealous? I can give you a matching one if you want.” Brendon shrugs. “You guys can be twins like me and Jeremy.”

I sigh and shake my head while Willis looks between us, clearly trying to decide if Brendon is full of shit or not.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Brendon not to touch him, but my gut tightens, and I hold it back. Logically, I don’t think anyone on the team will care if they find out Brendon and I are together, but the only people that I’ve come out to are Brendon and Jeremy. It’s terrifying to put myself out there like that. Will I be judged? Will people start making fucked-up comments about me or what I like? Will the team think less of me?

“Knock it off,” I tell Brendon and smack his bare stomach with the back of my hand before heading to the showers. Brendon is not far behind me and smacks my ass on his way past me. “They’re going to start thinking you’re serious, you know.”

Brendon turns to the room and cups his hands around his mouth and fear courses through me. What the fuck is he going to say?

“Hey!” he yells. “I’m bi or whatever. I like holes and poles. Anyone got a problem with that?”

I turn and watch everyone react to his words. Everyone looks around confused for a few minutes before Riggs calls from the back, “Are we supposed to be surprised?”

Everyone starts laughing, and I can’t help but join in too. I love that Brendon doesn’t hide who he is, isn’t afraid to show affection to other guys, isn’t intimidated by toxic masculinity mentality. Being around him has helped me accept myself too.

Once we’re dressed, we head out of the arena, and I run smack-dab into the back of Brendon who has stopped dead in his tracks.

“What the fuck?” I look over his shoulder and grit my teeth when I see Nikki standing there with a grocery bag.

“Hey.” Brendon sighs. “I brought you a snack, figured you would be hungry after practice. And a Gatorade so you can hydrate.”

I manage not to make any noise, but I roll my eyes behind him where she can’t see me. I’m so tired of this girl.

“Uh, thanks.” Brendon takes the bag awkwardly.

“Dude, get outta the way! I’m starving!” Riggs yells from the back of the line. Brendon flushes but moves to the side, his neck and ears turning pink. It’s clear he doesn’t know how to get out of the situation, so I clench my teeth and handle it for him.

“Come on, we gotta get going.” I reach for his hand and pull him along behind me, not giving him time to respond to her.

“Uh, sorry!” he calls but hustles along with me. “Thanks. I never know what to say to her.”

His hand is so warm in mine, so right, that I don’t want to let it go. I should, but I’m so fucking tired of hiding.

“What’s in there?” I nod to the bag as we walk toward the dining hall, most of the team behind us. “Anything good?”

Brendon takes his hand back to open the bag and starts naming things off. “Zero sugar beef jerky, peanut butter protein bar, low sugar cherry Gatorade, and cheddar Sun Chips.”

“She’s really concerned about your sugar intake, huh?” I open the door for him, and he walks through, but I don’t hold it for Jeremy, so it smacks him in the shoulder, and I laugh when he glares at me.

“Dick,” he mutters as he gets in line behind me.

Brendon starts eating the snacks while loading his tray with dinner. Preston lifts an eyebrow at him but doesn’t comment. I’m glad we could finally break him of that particularly annoying habit.

We find a table and sit with Carp, Willis, and Nick. Nick is Carp’s friend that’s on the football team, and Brendon likes him because he showed us where to go get good cinnamon rolls. Brendon is very food motivated. Like a puppy.

“You guys going to be ready for finals?” Carp asks, and everyone groans.

“Shhh, we don’t use those types of words.” Brendon throws a cherry tomato at him.

“What words?” Nick smirks.

“Finals, tests, midterms, lima beans, burpees, Brussels sprouts, surprise anal.” Brendon ticks them off on his fingers.

Caught off guard by his last one, I inhale my water instead of swallowing it and have a rough coughing fit. Fuck. My throat is sore by the time I’m done, and Brendon has gone back to his food while everyone at the table either laughs or is staring at him.

“The fuck, dude? What kind of list is that?” I wheeze.

“It’s the naughty word list,” he says like it’s obvious.

“I swear, your brain is a weird place sometimes.” I shake my head and take another drink of water.

I can’t help but watch Carp and Nick. There’s something going on with them. They keep looking at each other and smiling, like they’re having a telekinetic conversation. It’s giving me a couple vibe.

“Surprise anal is never a good time,” Nick agrees, shoving a fry in his mouth. “But I like Brussels sprouts and burpees.

“Excuse me?” Brendon sputters. “You can’t sit with us if you like burpees. I can almost excuse the Brussels sprouts, but not burpees. Get out.” He points away from the table, and Nick laughs but stands up.

“That’s fine, I was done anyway. Gotta go study. ” Nick leans over Carp, hand on his throat, and kisses him. Everyone at the table freezes before Willis shouts, “I fucking knew it!”

Carp flushes bright red, all the way down his neck and into his shirt, and ducks his head. Nick grins like the cat that caught the canary and kisses Carp’s head before winking at us and walking away to dump his tray.

“Dude, this team has more than its fair share of queers.” Brendon shoves another bite into his mouth. “We should start a queer league in the off season.”

“Do you have to be queer to join, or can we just be supportive?” Willis asks.

“I guess that would depend on how many people sign up.” Brendon shrugs.

“If you need players, I’m in,” Jeremy adds. “And Preston will play too.”

Preston sighs. “Good, you’ll keep in shape during off season.”

I roll my eyes. Of course that’s his thought.

“Paul, make notes. You’re going to have to organize this.” Carp points at me.

That pisses me off. Brendon is fully capable of handling his own shit. He’s not stupid.

“I will help if he asks for it, but he can do it himself if he wants to.”

Brendon smiles shyly, hiding his face from the table, and hooking his foot around my ankle.

It drives me nuts when people think he can’t handle things or take anything seriously. Is he a goofball? Yes. But that doesn’t mean he can’t focus when he needs to. I love how his brain works. He’s quick-witted and makes me laugh, thinks outside the box, and finds solutions to problems other people can’t figure out.

Carp raises his hands, palms up, and dips his head. “I’m sorry, you’re right.”

The conversation flows again as we finish eating, then clean up.

Brendon and I are the last to leave and walk slower than the group, just enjoying the cold night. I miss the clear nights full of stars from back home. I need to go back and visit my grandparents before summer camp starts.

When we make it back to the room, Brendon strips down to just his underwear, which has dancing cheeseburgers on them, and climbs onto my bed before I do. He lies on his back, one arm behind his head, making his torso stretch in a long, lean line.

I kick off my jeans and strip my T-shirt off before crawling on the bed to collapse on his chest. He chuckles and wraps his free arm around my shoulders while I lay my cheek over his heart. I slide one knee between his and pull him closer with my arm around his waist. Brendon tosses my crocheted blanket across us, and I breathe a sigh of relief and contentment.

“I love you,” I mumble into his chest.

“I love you too.”

“This is really comfy. Now I see why you like sleeping like this.” I turn my face enough to nip at his skin, and he hisses.

“Right?” Brendon agrees and settles more into the pillows. “It quiets my brain.”

I close my eyes, breathing in the smoky pine scent of his deodorant, and absorb the comfort he freely offers.

“I’m afraid of what will happen to me if I lose you.” The words are quiet in the dark of our room, a place where secrets can be told. “When my mom died, my dad lost it. He mentally checked out. Couldn’t handle life without her.”

Brendon’s arm tightens around me, but the dam has burst, and I can’t keep the words in anymore.

“He came to the hospital, found out she was dead, and left me there. I was fourteen. I needed my dad. I needed him to tell me he didn’t blame me, that we were going to be okay, but he just . . . left.” Tears fall from my eyes onto Brendon’s chest, but I don’t try to wipe them away. “My grandparents basically raised me after that. Dad couldn’t be bothered to care where I was or what I was doing. When I was at home, I had to fend for myself. He spent more time out on the lake than with me, so I moved in with my grandparents. It was obvious they were trying to make up for him not caring, but it hurt so fucking bad.”

A sob escapes, and my grip on Brendon tightens as I let the pain from the last few years out.

“Why wasn’t I enough?”

Brendon wraps his body around me, arms and legs, to hold me as tight as he can.

“You are enough,” he says into my hair. My chest heaves with the emotions that I’ve kept locked up in a cardboard box in my heart. But it's been ripped open, and no amount of tape will put it back together. For the first time since my dad left me in the ER on my fourteenth birthday, I mourn the loss of my father. I let myself purge the fear of being in love, the fear of turning into my dad, the fear of never being enough.

“Don’t leave me, okay?” I lift my face into the crook of Brendon’s neck while my chest heaves and my skin feels too tight. “I don’t know if you want to do the kid thing or have twelve dogs, but if you die, I promise I won’t abandon them. You have to promise too.”

“I promise not to abandon our hypothetical children if you die before me.”

I know it’s stupid, but his words make me feel better. They ease the pressure cinching around my ribs so I can suck in a full breath.

Easing back from his neck, I look up at him with tears drying on my skin. He doesn’t hesitate, just drops his mouth to mine in a deep but soft and slow kiss. It’s not meant to get the blood stirring, only to bring comfort. And it does.

Brendon may have been the one to need touch first, but he’s made me crave his nearness. Nothing calms me like he does, like his skin against mine, his heart beating with mine. The raging, turbulent emotions ease into a calm, flat sea.

“Get some sleep, love,” he says against my lips, and I smile, lying down on his chest once again. I know it will take time to process the scars left on my heart that day, but I’m on my way.