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CHAPTER EIGHT

LOUIE DOESN’T SLEEP at all the night before the game against Minnesota.

Two scenarios are on repeat in his head: Coach tells him he’s been doing a good job and puts him in the lineup and he’ll play against Bastien for the very first time. And their parents will be watching. And one of them will lose. Or Coach tells him that he hasn’t been working hard enough and that he’ll sit this one out and Louie will watch Bastien play an NHL game in person for the very first time. And Bastien will win, or lose, and Louie will have no part in it.

He gets up at three in the morning and gets himself a glass of water, nearly bumping into Ryan in the hallway.

“What are you doing?” Louie whispers. He’s not sure why; there’s nobody left to wake up.

Ryan tugs his fingers through his brown hair. It looks messy most of the time, but at three in the morning it’s a regular bird’s nest. He’s wearing long plaid pajama bottoms but no shirt. It looks like he’s about to lose those pants. “I heard a noise.”

“That was me. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Ryan yawns. “Everything okay?”

“Just getting some water,” Louie says. He hasn’t slept a wink ever since he went to bed four hours ago. Essentially, he’s a total mess, and he’d obviously never admit that to anyone, but for a second, in this dark hallway, at three in the morning, he considers telling Ryan that he’s barely keeping it together.

Because Ryan is still looking at him, like he knows that Louie isn’t telling him the truth, but he eventually just nods and shuffles back into his own room, leaving Louie and his glass of water to their own devices.

Louie takes a sip, puts the glass on his nightstand, and proceeds to stare at it in the darkness. The guest room definitely needs better curtains. Louie sticks a leg out from under the covers. Hmm. No. That’s not it either.

He lies flat on his back and closes his eyes. Breathes in deeply. Ryan has probably gone right back to sleep. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who overthinks hockey. He goes out there and plays his game with a confidence that Louie lets himself admire. Ryan’s not his competition, so he can admit that he’s impressed.

He probably shouldn’t be. Ryan was good in Toronto, and obviously he’s also good in Hartford. He didn’t get traded because he didn’t play well. Just some bad luck. He hasn’t asked Ryan what actually happened because chances are it’s really boring and just got blown out of proportion by the media.

Louie has met several people who were allegedly creating problems for their teams. And, like magic, suddenly those guys weren’t doing that anymore once they were on a different team. Almost like it wasn’t the player who was the problem.

With a sigh, Louie grabs his phone. Checks the time. 3:36. Louie sighs again and turns over, grabbing his second pillow to hug.

The second pillow does nothing.

He checks the time again at 4:07.

At least he took a long nap in the afternoon. Bastien asked if he wanted to meet for dinner in Hartford. Louie almost said yes. Then he made up an excuse about how he had to drive up to Springfield to grab some more of his stuff and how he didn’t have time. So sorry. He’ll see Bastien at the game.

Since Louie doesn’t like to lie, he actually did drive to Springfield to grab some stuff. Mostly dirty underwear that he threw into the washer as soon as he was back.

At 4:37 he glances at the clock again.

Then at 5:15.

The sun comes up. Louie finally falls asleep.

The Bears hit the ice for their morning skate at the arena in Hartford this morning. Knowing this helps Louie breathe on the way to the Cardinals’ practice rink in Silver Lakes.

Ryan is driving.

Not having to focus on traffic also helps Louie breathe.

Ryan talks. He’s been listening to some science podcast.

Not having to carry a conversation helps Louie breathe as well.

When they get to the rink, one of the social media admins pulls him aside to talk about the game. Because Louie is playing against his brother for the very first time and isn’t that exciting?

Louie misses being able to breathe. He nods along to whatever she’s saying because he knows there’s no way around talking to the media and acting like he’s looking forward to the game tonight. Like this isn’t the worst torture he’s had to endure in his career so far.

He can’t fucking wait for this day to be over.

First, he gets on the ice and goes through practice on autopilot. Coach gives him a pat on the back and asks if he’s excited to play against his brother tonight. So he’s in the lineup.

Suddenly, he wishes he wasn’t. Which is—Louie hates the person he becomes in Bastien’s general vicinity. He hates that he doesn’t want to play.

“Dude, you look pissed,” Ryan, ever-observant, says as he peels off his gear after morning skate. He leans closer, his eyes wide and full of sincere worry. “Is Coach benching you? ”

“No,” Louie says.

“Then what—”

They’re thankfully interrupted by the PR brigade that is coming to deliver him to the media room. Part of Louie actually appreciates that the Cardinals don’t let the media into their locker room anymore and have a dedicated space for reporters to ask their questions. It can feel almost claustrophobic when they crowd around your stall.

Up on that little stage, behind the table, Louie has the upper hand. Or so he tells himself as he stares at them while they stare back at him. He doesn’t know them well and doesn’t often talk to them. He’s on high alert while they ask their questions.

He tells them that he’s excited for tonight.

Yes, of course it’s special to play against his brother.

No, he’s not nervous, it’s just like any other game in the end.

Yes, his parents will be there.

Yes, he’s learned a lot from his dad.

Yes, it’s special for his family to watch them both play.

When Louie gets up, Ryan and Nick are waiting by the door. Their turn to spout a bunch of half-truths and rattle off meaningless phrases about getting pucks to the net and playing a full sixty minutes.

Ryan gives Louie a pat on the back on the way out, like he’s saying good job , like he knows how exhausted Louie is already. And they’re not even at the arena yet. Louie isn’t religious by any means, but he still prays to whoever is listening that he’ll be able to sleep this afternoon.

On the way home, Ryan stops to buy them smoothies. Louie doesn’t have it in him to say no, so he sits in the car and watches messages pop up in the Hathaway family group chat. The Bears are clearly done with their skate because Bastien just posted a picture of himself in the arena’s tunnel, next to a picture of this season’s Cardinals— can’t find Louie , he said.

Of freaking course he can’t find Louie.

Louie didn’t make the opening night roster .

Bastien knows that. Bastien is being a shit. And Louie would bet that everyone in the group chat thinks it’s such a neat little chirp. Louie wants to kill him. Not actually. But something is burning hot in the pit of his stomach and he’s doing everything in his power to stay in the passenger seat and not rip the door of this car open, get out and run through the streets of Silver Lakes screaming.

Ryan returns and hands over a red smoothie with a smile. It’s pleasantly cold against Louie’s fingers and that’s what he decides to focus on.

Somehow, Ryan keeps doing things that help him breathe.

When they’re back at the house, they go in through the garage door. Ryan makes some noises about having to go grocery shopping because they barely have any food. Tomorrow after practice maybe.

Louie makes some noncommittal noises back at him.

Ryan eventually trails off in the middle of a sentence that may have been about his lettuce preferences, although Louie can’t be sure. “Everything okay?” Ryan asks, an echo from last night.

Louie looks at him for a long moment. Ryan must know the answer; he wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t sensing that something’s off with Louie. No, he’s not okay. He didn’t sleep. He’s playing against Bastien tonight. Their dad will be in the crowd. He can’t breathe. “I’m fine,” Louie says. “Why?”

Ryan shrugs. Yawns. “I’m taking a nap.”

Louie nods. He will, too. Hopefully. If he can bring himself to actually get into bed. He—“Ryan?”

Ryan stops in the door. “Yeah?”

“Do you mind if I nap on the couch?”

“All yours,” Ryan says and wanders away to his room, humming a song under his breath that Louie doesn’t recognize.

Louie lies down on the couch, grabs the soft chunky knit blanket that he wants to steal for his room and is asleep within a minute. Usually, his body knows when it’s time to wake up from his pregame nap, but today his phone alarm, always set just to be safe, has him diving off the couch to turn it off.

Ryan drives them to the arena, no questions asked. He knows. Maybe he doesn’t know what exactly Louie’s problem is, maybe he just thinks he’s nervous, but he’s doing what he can. Louie wishes he could bring himself to say thank you.

He takes deep breaths in the passenger seat instead.

He’s still taking deep breaths when they walk into the arena together, the social media folks snapping pictures.

The players always arrive two hours before puck drop, at least, but Louie likes to get there even earlier and Ryan doesn’t seem to mind. He also didn’t mind when Louie told him that he wants to get to practice early. He just took that information and ran with it, simply assuming that Louie likes to be early for everything.

Louie can work with that.

His pregame routine is simple. Run-of-the-mill. None of that superstitious nonsense. He doesn’t care which skate he puts on first, which stick he plays with, where on the ice he stretches. He’s the one who plays and if things don’t go well, it’s his fault and not because he missed a step in his routine.

Warm-ups somehow arrive faster than usual and before Louie knows it, he’s on the ice and the Cardinals’ and Bears’ social media minions have banded together to get a picture of him and Bastien. Fine. Better to just get it over with. Louie holds out his fist for Bastien to bump; gives Bastien’s helmet a little tap.

“Hey,” Bastien says before he skates away again, “good luck.”

He doesn’t say You’ll need it . Louie still hears it. He doesn’t have a good reply at the ready and before he can convince himself to answer, Bastien is already out of earshot, bugging one of his teammates. He’s smiling like this is the best day of his life. Every day is the best day of his life.

Louie can already see him winning the Calder.

He’ll be happy for him when it happens. He’ll be happy .

“Hey, Lou, stop staring at those guys, they’re evil,” Ryan says, coming to a stop next to him. He gives Louie’s butt a slap with his stick. “Come on, shake it off, get your groove on.”

“My groove,” Louie repeats, deadpan.

Another slap. “Yeah, baby.” Ryan cackles and skates away. Louie follows, finds a good place to stretch, and ducks his head.

Fans are crowded around the glass, many with posters, and most of them for Josh or Nick. Today, Louie doesn’t look. His mom loves to watch warm-ups at the glass and if he doesn’t find her, it means she chose Bastien. Louie doesn’t want to know. This way he can pretend she was there and he just didn’t see her.

During the game, he occasionally wonders when the broadcast is showing his parents in the crowd. When Bastien leaves the Cards in the dust on a breakaway but ultimately fails to get that puck past Sami? When Louie accidentally assists on Nick’s first goal of the game just after a botched line change? When Bastien pulls a beautiful move and tries to pass the puck through his legs in front of the Cardinals’ goal but has the puck stolen by Nick, who goes on to score his second of the game? When Louie nearly scores on the empty net but realizes a second too late that the pass is headed his way?

In the end, Louie gets off the ice with that one assist in his pocket. Bastien assisted on a goal as well but didn’t score. Louie tries not to be smug about it and fails. He almost wants to hug Nick, who essentially brought home the win for them tonight. Louie was only on the ice with him for a few seconds, and was actually supposed to be on the bench, but something felt right that doesn’t feel right when Louie plays with his line. That’s probably just Nick being Nick. Guys like him, they click with everyone.

As he pulls off his gear, Louie briefly wonders what Nick’s dad thinks of him and his career. He must be ridiculously proud of him.

Louie hits the showers and gets back into his suit. He promised Ryan he’d introduce him to his dad and he intends to keep that promise. Ryan doesn’t know yet that he’ll be the buffer Louie so desperately needs.

“Louie, your brother is waiting outside,” he’s told in passing.

His brother. So his parents went to say hi to Bastien. Louie predicted this but somehow still hoped that they’d come see him first.

With a sigh, he grabs Ryan. “Ready to meet my dad?”