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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

LOUIE IS ON the roster for the Cardinals’ first preseason game.

Hardly surprising. He’s been on the roster for the Cardinals’ first preseason game so many times that it has lost all meaning to him. Ryan isn’t playing—Yang hung up his skates last summer, so there’s an open spot for Ryan. Ryan may end up playing with Waldo this season. Maybe Coach will try him with someone else, but he absolutely has a spot on the roster.

Unlike Louie.

His Calder-winning brother obviously doesn’t have to worry about making his team’s roster either. Dad sent a text in the family group chat, praising Bastien for his hard work this summer. He mentioned he wasn’t expecting to see Louie on NHL ice since he spent his time partying instead.

Because Ryan posted one picture of Louie’s birthday party on Instagram. He even asked Louie for permission and Louie didn’t give a shit at the time. It was a photo Ryan’s mom took, with perfect sunset lighting and Ryan wearing a party hat while Louie got a flower tucked behind his ear by one of Ryan’s nieces. It’s a cute picture. Ryan’s mom emailed it to him along with a few others from the party.

Ryan clearly got them too because he printed one out—Louie has no idea where he found a printer—and pinned it to their fridge with a Cardinals magnet. So now Louie can stare at them sitting on the steps that lead up to the back porch, both holding up their pink cocktails and smiling, every day. And every day his heart trips over itself.

Which is better than spending the morning being pissed at Dad because he had one good birthday and Dad won’t even let him have that.

It doesn’t matter. Summer’s over. Louie’s playing, and scoring, and Coach doesn’t send him to Springfield with the first round of cuts. He doesn’t mention it in the group chat. Not getting cut after one game is nothing to be proud of.

“Thank fuck, I’m finally in the lineup,” Ryan says before they play against the Ravens in New York. “I was starting to get bored.”

Nick sighs deeply because he’s not playing. Yet.

Louie actually cannot wait to hit the ice with him. Coach Beaulieu saw how they clicked last season and he took a look at them together during training camp, but that’s not the same thing. Last season, Louie filled someone else’s spot. This season, he wants that spot to be his and only his. There’s a buzz under his skin that carries him from one game to the next, and when they’re playing in Boston, he finally gets his wish.

Nick scores two, both with assists from Louie, then Louie scores one himself, and Liam gets the empty netter. This is good, this is right, and Louie can’t stop talking about it. He can’t believe the Cardinals would give them a day off during the preseason. He needs to get back on the ice. This is it. He knows that this is it.

He practically chews Ryan’s ear off all day.

“It’s like he’s always exactly where I need him to be,” Louie tells him at the grocery store.

“It’s like he knows where I’ll be,” Louie says when they have lunch together.

“It’s like he can read my mind,” Louie whispers when they sit on the couch together .

That’s when Ryan says, “That’s probably because he can. He’s just that good.”

“I want to play with him,” Louie says.

Ryan snorts.

Louie rolls his eyes. “What, are you five?”

“Sorry,” Ryan says. “I do take this very seriously and I understand your wish to play with Nick because he’s very good at the whole hockey thing.”

“He is,” Louie says with emphasis. His face has turned flaming red.

“Look…” Ryan turns away from the TV. “I can see that you and Nick work really well together. And Coach has eyes, so he can see it, too.”

Louie sighs. Right. That’s what he thought last season. Although Coach didn’t give him a chance to play with Nick a year ago.

“If Coach sends you down, Nick will probably cry,” Ryan says.

“I don’t think Nick cries. He’s too good at hockey to cry.”

Ryan laughs. “In any case, you’re staying.”

When Louie got called up in February, Ryan said something like that to him. He doesn’t remember exactly. Something about him making the lineup when he’d just gotten called up. And then he didn’t. Funny how Ryan believed in him when he didn’t even know him. He just decided he would.

It feels like less of a platitude now. Maybe because Louie also believes it. Something is different this season, although Louie can’t put his finger on what it is. Could be him. He’s different.

The day before their second-to-last preseason game, back home in Hartford, Coach wants to talk to him. This is it, then. Decision time. Louie does his best to feel as little as possible. This isn’t new to him. He made it this far last season and then Beaulieu sat him down and told him he’s not ready. He could see that Louie wanted it, could see how hard he worked, but it wasn’t enough.

“Have a seat,” Beaulieu says and nods at the exact same chair that Louie sat in last year. That chair makes Louie sweat waterfalls. That chair haunts his nightmares. He’d rather stand, but that’s not how this works.

Louie sits. He waits until Coach sits down as well. His face feels hot like it did after he drank that pink cocktail Ryan’s dad made for him. Except this is his life, his career, his future. Louie is going to throw up.

“Look, Hathaway,” Coach says, his face not betraying a single emotion.

Crap. That’s exactly how this started last year. Look, Hathaway, I think you’re almost there. But not yet.

“I don’t want to beat around the bush or anything,” he goes on and holds out his hand. “Congrats, kid.”

“I—” Louie stares at Beaulieu’s hand. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Coach smiles. Not a rarity with him, but Louie has rarely been the one that smile was directed at.

Louie manages to kick himself into gear and shake Coach’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Hathaway, I know it took a while…”

Louie only nods. It did take a while.

“But I’ve got a good feeling about this.” Coach leans back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. “You put in the work. This is your reward. You earned this.”

“Thank you,” Louie says again. He’s sitting ramrod straight in his chair. His palms are sweaty. The little voice in his head is just screaming at this point. On the outside, he politely says thank you . His entire body is shaking on the inside.

Coach lets him leave a moment later, probably about to grab someone else to reveal their fate, although there’s barely anyone left now.

Louie slowly shuffles out of Coach’s office and makes sure not to slam the door. He is calm, he is calm, he is calm. He is a professional.

His entire life just changed.

Down the hall, Ryan is leaning against the wall, looking down at his phone. He shoves it into his pocket as soon as Coach’s office door has clicked shut. Ryan stares at him.

Louie nods. Grins.

“Yeeesss!” Ryan shouts and it only takes him a few steps and then he’s right in front of Louie and sweeping him into a hug, actually lifting him off his feet. “You did it, I knew it!” He gives Louie a shake. “I fucking knew it.”

Louie just holds on.

If he doesn’t hold on, he’ll scream.

“DID LOUIE MAKE IT!”

A moment later, Waldo joins their huddle, then Liam, then someone else that Louie can’t see because his face is smushed into Ryan’s chest. It takes at least a minute for them all to let go of him. A minute that feels like an hour because he’s so close to Ryan and he wants to keep being close to Ryan, but he can’t, and it’s ruining the moment.

As soon as the guys have started making plans to celebrate and Louie isn’t attached to any other people anymore, someone gently claps him on the back. Nick.

“Rivs, our place tonight,” Ryan says. “Everyone needs to bring something, though. I can make about five grilled cheese sandwiches and that’s it.”

Louie doesn’t tell Ryan to knock it off; that he doesn’t want the party.

He does want it. And he deserves it.

“I’m never inviting the guys over again,” Ryan says as he moves around the living room, shoveling paper plates and plastic cups into a huge trash bag from the coffee table.

Louie gently pushes the piano stool back into place. Some of the guys tried to give them a little concert. Went for Vanessa Carlton, which might have been a bit ambitious for them. Ryan thankfully didn’t tell anyone that Louie took piano lessons until he was twelve.

He finds his phone, forgotten on top of the piano. One unread message from Dominic is waiting for him. When Ryan drove them home from practice, Louie sent his older brother a text and told him he made the team. That he and Cameron can have his tickets for the Cardinals’ home opener if they want them. The first reply reads HELL YEAH with way too many exclamation points, and the next one says: proud of you, of course we’re coming. hope you’re partying hard.

They didn’t party that hard because they do have a game tomorrow that most of them will be playing in, but half the team stuck around until two in the morning and Louie will definitely regret staying up this late. Most likely when his alarm goes off in the morning.

“What are you smiling about?” Ryan asks and swipes an empty cup off the windowsill.

Louie shrugs. Puts his phone down. Looks at Ryan. “I didn’t tell my family that I made the team. Just Dominic.”

“Good for you,” Ryan says.

“You think so?”

Ryan drops the trash bag and sits on the piano stool with Louie. It’s way too small for the both of them. “Do you feel guilty about not telling them?”

“Yeah,” Louie says. “I mean, I… I should want to tell them.”

“Maybe. But you don’t have to. Just like you don’t have to go home for the summer and don’t have to ignore your birthday for an event you don’t want to go to.”

“Isn’t that selfish, though?”

“I think everyone should be a little selfish every now and then. It’s a fine line, but you’re walking it pretty well.”

“Dad will find out eventually anyway.” Louie shrugs. He just didn’t want to deal with the took you long enough text today.

Ryan knocks his shoulder against Louie’s. “And then what?”

“And then I would love for him to be happy for me,” Louie says. “And maybe he will be, in his own way. But he won’t say it.”

“Well, I’m not your dad, but I can say it.” Ryan glances at him. “I’m happy for you. ”

Louie can’t glance back at him. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. He does. Ryan’s eyes are so sincere and his eyelashes are so pretty and it’s way too easy to lean in; those two inches between their mouths may as well not exist. This is nothing like the kiss in Ryan’s attic room. This is soft. A hello again . A huge mistake.

Like last time, Ryan kisses him back. He doesn’t touch Louie otherwise, but he’s once again this steady presence. Matches him. Moves with him. Whatever this is, Ryan isn’t scared of it.

Louie tries to pull away. Really. He just leans right back in. It’s only when he catches himself reaching for Ryan, his fingers bumping against Ryan’s thigh, that he finally snaps out of it.

“It’s late,” Louie says. “We have… hockey. And…” Where was this sentence going? Nowhere coherent, that’s for sure.

Ryan doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he clears his throat. “Yeah. I’ll just…” He stands up and grabs the trash bag. “I’ll just take this out.”

“Okay,” Louie whispers.

Ryan leaves, the trash bag rustling. He curses under his breath in the hallway.

Louie stays, frozen to the piano stool, his lips still tingling. What did he just do?