Page 41 of Full Body Hit, Part 1 (Alpha Omega Hockey #5)

He put the coffee pot on and made his way to the guest room, knocking on the door.

A barely audible “Come in,” filtered through the wood.

Auston opened it up, making sure not a lot of light entered. “Hey. How’re you feeling?” He’d been expecting a hit of Omega scent, but there was barely anything there. Not even hurt.

Auston frowned. He’d been surprised with it the day before, but now he had time to process it.

How the fuck was Chase hiding his scent during a goddamn concussion?

“Better, actually,” Chase answered, knocking Auston out of his thoughts.

He peered into the darkness. The kid had sat up slightly, face creased into a light grimace. “Dizziness? Nausea? Pain?”

“Um. No nausea. A little dizzy if I move. And, yeah, headache is pretty bad.”

“You’ve taken your meds?”

“Oh. Uh, not yet. Sorry. I’m a little fuzzy,” Chase replied, voice tight.

“No worries. You should probably rest as much as you can. I’ll bring you some toast…I think I’ve got tea here somewhere, too. Sound good?”

“Oh. You really don’t have to.”

“I kinda do, kid. It’s my job to take care of you.”

“I mean…I can probably do it.”

Annoyance crawled up his throat. “Just stay there. I’ll bring you the food. Don’t take the pills until you’ve got something in you. If you wanna come out later, I’ll have all the curtains drawn, okay?”

“ Uhm . Okay.”

Auston nodded sharply and shuffled off.

He took care of the curtains first before setting out to make breakfast, piling some mushed avocado on toasted whole-wheat bread and making some tea. He got a fresh cup of water, too, and took that tray to Chase’s room.

The kid sat up again as Auston entered, squinting at him but less pale and drawn than the previous day.

That was the thing with concussions. You really didn’t know what you were gonna get, no matter how you felt right after the hit.

“Wow. Thanks,” the kid said, staring at the tray in his lap.

Did you expect me to just let you starve, or…? Instead, Auston said, “Curtains are drawn, so if you get tired of being holed up here, just come out. I’ll try not to make noise.”

Chase stared up at him with wide eyes. “You don’t have to—”

“Kid. I’m taking care of you until you get better. Or Sammy gets back from the road trip and kidnaps you. So, deal with it.”

“Oh, no, I can go home today. For real.”

Auston rolled his eyes heavenward. Universe, give me patience. “Sal will be coming over to check up on you later, and I guarantee he’ll tell you to stay here a few more days, so try to assimilate that into your thick head.”

Fuck . Wasn’t he trying to be nicer?

Auston didn’t wait for a reply, limping out and leaving the door cracked open in case Chase needed anything. By the looks of it, though, Chase would have to be actively dying to ask for help.

Auston tried doing some chores, but his hip was acting up too much, so he settled in the living room, TV on but volume low.

He kept glancing at his phone, expecting to see a text from Charlie and then remembering his phone was broken.

He eventually got up to take the plates from Chase’s room and wordlessly handed him a cold press for his head.

Sal arrived at noon, checking on both of them and agreeing with Auston—the kid should stay supervised until further notice.

“Concussions are unpredictable and can be incredibly debilitating very suddenly. It’s a myth that you have to be checked in on during sleep, but someone should be nearby in case something happens.”

“Fine.” The kid sighed.

Chase stayed in his room most of the day, creeping out in the early evening, dressed in loose sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

Auston had turned off the TV the moment he heard the kid step out of his room, not wanting to get into an argument about leaving it on—the screen wouldn’t be good for Chase’s head.

“Sit,” Auston ordered as Chase hovered. “I’ll get you some water and put a podcast on or something. And I swear to God, if you tell me I don’t have to, I will punt you out of this window.”

Chase let out a surprised laugh. “Okay. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise. We’re teammates. Relax.”

If Auston were a better person, he’d acknowledge that it was normal Chase wasn’t relaxed, what with Auston’s usual attitude towards him, but he wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart.

Auston got Chase to lie on the couch, throwing a blanket on him and ignoring his shocked, “Oh. Thanks.” He put a hockey podcast on and settled on the other end of the couch, which was luckily massive enough to allow space to remain between them.

He fit cushions around himself, supporting his aching hip.

Auston closed his eyes. The constant pain was exhausting, and the lack of texting with Charlie had left him in a sour mood. He listened to the podcast with a frown on his face, disagreeing with most of what the two knuckleheads were saying.

“Bullshit,” he mumbled at a particularly egregious part.

Chase stirred. “ Hm? ”

“Nothing. These idiots. Sure, the Rockets’ goalie tandem are top of the charts in letting goals in above expected, and obviously the defence plays a role in that, but you’ve got Hanson on the first line and Panev on the second, and those two are tough to play.

I don’t think I’ve won a single board battle against Panev in years, and even when I was a Beast, we had to chip and chase most of the time because he’s so good on the blue line.

The two main goalie pairs have the same fucking weakness above their blocker and their five-hole—sometimes it really is the goalie that sucks. ”

Chase had shifted so their eyes could meet. “Wow. Yeah. That makes a lot of sense.”

Auston snorted. “Don’t gotta sound so surprised. I’m old enough to have learnt a thing or two.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re absolutely decrepit,” Chase chirped.

“Oi,” Auston said, but a smile tugged at his lips. “I was young once, you know.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Chase replied, and Auston immediately sobered, taken back to the comments from the previous night.

You were my favourite player.

He wondered if Chase remembered saying any of that. Knowing concussions and how out of it the kid had seemed, probably not.

Auston let the conversation settle, the podcast a distant rumble as he stared at the kid.

That same strange thing from the night before rumbled in his belly at seeing Chase so small and tucked in on the couch, buried like a shell in the sand.

Auston wanted to dig him out, brush off the grains and keep him in the palm of his hand instead, where he’d be safe.

He didn’t know where the fuck that particular impulse was coming from. There was just something suddenly familiar about the kid’s shape, as if Auston had seen him in a recurring dream, visited by the vision when he was at his calmest and most vulnerable.

The day turned out less annoying than Auston had expected. Barring Chase’s pathological need to keep apologising and offering to do things he simply didn’t currently have the capacity to do, Auston found it wasn’t the worst thing to take care of someone.

Despite the pain in his hip, Auston went to bed with most of his pieces aligned and settled in place. He’d fed Chase, kept him hydrated and entertained, and made sure he was warm and rested.

The only thing missing was hearing his baby’s voice on the other end of the line, but that could wait until the next day.

***

At this point, Auston had probably seen hundreds of pictures and videos of Charlie, both clothed and unclothed.

He’d developed an absolute certainty that if he ever spotted Charlie in the wild, he’d recognise him instantly.

There would be something about the slant of his shoulders or the way he stood that would call to Auston.

He was sure of it. Auston had accidentally slept in, waking fuzzy and cotton-mouthed. He checked his phone first thing, disappointed to see there were no messages from Charlie even though he had been expecting it.

He forced himself out of bed, going to the bathroom before shuffling to the kitchen, still bleary-eyed and tired.

And there, sitting on a kitchen stool, was Charlie.

Charlie.

Auston felt the air rush into his lungs, his head, a gasp filling his mouth. His heart jump-started, an electric shock making it pound so hard it was cracking through his ribs.

What…what the—

The person in the kitchen turned, and the illusions cracked.

It wasn’t Charlie. It was Chase, wearing the exact sweater Auston had sent Charlie a little less than a month ago.

It was a soft, lilac thing with a drooping neck and sleeves that clinched at the wrists. Charlie would always pull the sleeves down, though, covering his hands, only the tips of his fingers peeking through.

Just like Chase was doing.

Obviously, there was more than one version of that sweater. Chase, now that Auston was thinking about it, would be about the same size. Or exactly the same size, really.

The same shape, too. The same colouring to his skin.

But that was a coincidence. It didn’t mean…

“ Uhm …are you okay?”

Auston’s whole body flinched, hip twinging as he took a step back. His eyes focused, taking in Chase’s slanted eyebrows, his pinched mouth. “Yeah. Sorry. Spaced out.”

He unstuck himself enough to move forward even though his muscles were straining to run away as though he were stepping closer to a spectre, a ghost that had come to haunt him.

Chase’s eyes followed him. Auston tried to turn his gaze, but he couldn’t.

The sweater gaped slightly at the neck, a sliver of collarbone showing.

God, it was so familiar. Hadn’t he seen that neck thrown back as Charlie begged to come?

Auston walked right to the sink and stood there, pretending to wash his hands.

This was…this was just a coincidence. Chase and Charlie were different people. They looked alike, had gotten their hands on the same sweater—that didn’t mean anything.

Auston breathed. Of course this wasn’t Charlie. The universe couldn’t be that cruel.