Page 1 of Full Body Hit, Part 2 (Alpha Omega Hockey #6)

AUSTON

A uston was collapsing, a slow implosion that cut through the fabric of disbelief, leaving holes everywhere.

Charlie was Chase. Chase was Charlie.

It didn’t make sense. Logically, he could see it, the pieces of a puzzle fitting together. Emotionally? It was difficult to accept that the universe could be so fucking cruel.

For months, Auston had treated Chase, his teammate, like shit. Had barked at him and told him off and sneered at everything he’d done.

Meanwhile, Charlie had become the most important fucking thing in his life. It had been a while since Auston had put so much heart and effort into something—since someone had made him feel so alive.

So good.

But he wasn’t, was he? He was just selfish, and broken, and fucked up by a relationship that had ended years ago, because when faced with the mess in front of him now, it was difficult to deny the damage Hunter had caused.

He could feel Chase’s presence in his apartment, a heart beating underneath split floorboards.

He had to tell Chase. Had to go over and confess right now, had to—

He gripped his hip, the ache radiating everywhere.

Reality wavered again, a mirage in the desert. It can’t be true . The thought rubbed at the edges of what he’d found out, trying to blur it, but the truth snapped into place once more.

He took his phone out, thumb swiping across the screen but not unlocking it.

There, in that little device, was a hidden folder filled with videos and pictures of Chase .

Of the man in the other room. Of his teammate.

The rookie he’d thought was so detached and manipulative, he’d learned how to mask his scent completely.

Jesus Christ, what was wrong with Auston? To be so fucking judgmental when Chase had been dealing with a condition born out of being abused as a kid.

Auston wasn’t sure what lesson he was supposed to take from this; there was so much he’d done wrong.

That he was way too immature? That he’d led a hockey team for more than a decade and was still a fucking idiot with hang-ups he’d never tried to work on? That his sister was right, and he needed to go to a psychologist to sort his shit out?

That he wasn’t good enough for Charlie, for Chase, and never would be?

Auston rocked where he sat, phone clutched in his hand.

He had to confess. Had to apologise and try to explain himself. To step out of the situation as best he could. The kid had his whole life ahead of him—the last thing he needed was Auston dragging him under.

He stood up, a groan of pain leaving him.

Fuck. God, was this really over? Everything he’d built with Charlie just…gone? The year would end, Auston would leave the team, and Chase would forget him, a blip in his rookie season.

He swallowed the bile that threatened to rise.

The kitchen was lonely and silent. Auston sat on a stool, ignoring the way it made his hip flare with fire.

He waited.

Chase was groggy as he finally left his room. Auston stared at the pillow crease indent on his cheek, at his mussed hair, his half-lidded eyes.

God . That was Charlie . His Charlie. The man he’d fallen madly in love with, whom he’d had so many conversations with, whom he’d opened his heart to like he hadn’t in so fucking long.

Auston’s throat closed up, stinging. The dream of meeting Charlie one day, of holding him in his arms, kissing him, nesting with him—it was all gone. Just like that.

“Um…are you okay?”

Auston flinched, blinking at Chase’s face, now marred with a frown. “Oh. Yeah, sorry. Spaced out.” He got up, making his way to the other side of the kitchen island. “I’ll make you lunch.”

“Oh, thanks. You don’t—”

“It’s fine. Really.” The annoyance at Chase’s constant refusal to be helped had melted away. Auston now knew exactly what he’d put Chase through—it was no wonder he didn’t want to be taken care of by him.

Chase acquiesced, retreating to the couch as Auston put something together.

Auston’s hands were clumsy as he made a simple chicken dish with rice and vegetables. He took the loaded plates to the living room, and they both ate on the couch though the TV wasn’t on.

Even sitting there, everything felt slow and distant. Auston couldn’t help but watch Chase chew, soaking in the little hum of pleasure at the first bite. He wanted to purr, or scream, or cry, or beg.

This was Charlie. Chase. Char—

Auston cleaned up after they finished and returned to the living room with his throat in a knot. Chase was full and calm, expression clear of pain.

Auston had to do it now. It was the right thing to do.

He sat in the middle of the couch, too close to Chase for it to be normal, but Chase didn’t seem to notice, eyes shut and face placid.

Auston took a deep breath. Chase. I don’t know how it happened, but…

The words were right there, covered in phlegm at the back of his throat.

I have something to tell you…

I’m so sorry…

Auston opened his mouth. There was silence.

Slowly, Chase’s lips parted. His cheeks relaxed. His eyelids fluttered before stilling. He listed to the side until he was pressed against Auston, the contact radiating pain in his whole body.

Fuck. God. Auston closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

It was okay. It wasn’t as if Auston were taking advantage of Charlie—Chase. The kid had just fallen asleep. It wasn’t Auston’s fault. It was okay to enjoy it. To breathe in the peace of the moment.

It was impossible that this was the person he had fallen in love with. Phantoms of his conversations with Charlie floated past him—the late nights, the stilted confessions, the long talks.

How was he supposed to give this up? To carve out this piece of his heart that had grown bright and bloody and right at the centre of where his blood pumped strongest?

These past months, it had been as if someone had found him after years of being lost.

He had to let that go?

He sat there, resting in the warmth as if it were the last time he’d be able to step out of the cold.

It was a while until he had to accept that if they didn’t move, Chase would wake up with a crick in his neck, and that was the last thing he needed to feed his concussion.

“Hey,” Auston whispered, jostling Chase’s shoulder slightly.

Chase barely stirred, mumbling something incomprehensible and burrowing into Auston.

Fuck, that hurt.

Auston’s heart ached.

Auston tried again, needing this to be over, skin scraped raw. Chase twitched, eyes blinking open blearily, slowly, and then he bolted upright.

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Auston assured. “You needed the sleep. I just didn’t want you to get a headache from the uncomfortable position.”

“Oh.” Chase rubbed cheeks. “I should probably go take a nap in bed.”

“Sounds good.”

Auston watched him leave the room, yearning down to his core.

***

Morning dawned sickly, thin light oozing from the windows, sky overcast outside.

Auston wasn’t sure what part of him was hurting. His hip, yes, but it went deeper, a fatigue that made even blinking difficult.

He forced himself up anyway. Managed to wash and dress and limp to the kitchen, ears straining for signs of Chase.

There was nothing. It was only when he was finishing making breakfast that Chase appeared, shuffling closer, hair a mess, lips red as if he’d been chewing on them during the night.

Auston’s stomach swooped.

Fuck. God . He could just reach out, stroke Chase’s pale cheek. Kiss him despite morning breath. Draw him near, feel his warmth, the hard and soft planes of his body.

The want almost took over for a moment, body straining with it, muscles tense and pleading.

“Morning,” Chase greeted.

“Morning.” Auston’s voice was all gravel, scraping his throat. He coughed, trying to clear it. “You feeling better?”

Chase gave a little shrug. “Yeah.”

Auston forced a smile. “Good. There’s some food here for you if you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Auston turned to the stove. There was a pause.

“Are you okay?”

Auston twitched, glancing at Chase questioningly.

“You look kind of…not good? As in, obviously you look good. I mean—you look a little sick,” Chase stuttered, turning red.

Auston snorted at the kid’s awkwardness. “I’m fine.”

If it were just Chase, he would leave it there. Close the conversation off. He didn’t need to share his problems, especially not with acquaintances.

But. This was Charlie. Here, right now, asking him if he was okay. It was difficult to face the truth of that, but if Auston wanted a chance at this, he had to bridge who he was with Charlie, and who he was with Chase.

“I…didn’t sleep well,” Auston added. “And that fucks my hip up.”

Chase straightened, sleep fading from his face. “Oh. You—you really shouldn’t be standing, then.”

Before Auston could react to that, Chase was on his side of the kitchen island, fumbling the spatula from his grip.

Auston got out of the way out of pure surprise and self-preservation, and he couldn’t help but protest.

Chase shushed him, suddenly transformed from a quiet, mousy boy to the man Auston had gotten to know over the phone.

“Sit down,” Chase ordered.

Auston couldn’t think beyond simply following orders.

“On the couch!” Chase interjected as Auston tried to grab a stool.

“But—”

“This is done anyway. I’ll plate it up. Sit. ”

“Okay, okay.”

Auston went to the living room, head spinning at the sudden switch in Chase’s demeanour.

It didn’t get any more normal. Chase gave him his food, barely pausing to eat his own before going off to grab blankets and pillows to stuff around Auston.

“For support,” Chase explained, and Auston wondered if he was lying or if he genuinely didn’t realise he was building Auston a nest.

It hurt to watch him do it with such care, knowing what nesting meant to the kid.

Chase settled eventually, the frenzy gone, although the concern remained on his face. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Auston said truthfully. Chase had brought him his pills, water, had him in a cloud of pillows and soft things.

Yeah, he was more than okay.

Chase fidgeted with the edge of a blanket. “Do you want me to turn the TV on? I can leave—”

“ No ,” Auston blurted loudly, reining himself in a moment later. “I mean…no, that’s okay. Unless you want to.”

Chase sat back, frowning slightly—probably because Auston was acting insane compared to his usual self.

“Sorry. I just…don’t want to watch the TV right now.”

“That’s fine.”

Silence fell, awkwardly shaped, digging into Auston’s side.

Jesus Christ, why was this so difficult?

“You, uhm…you mentioned you didn’t have much family?” Auston asked, a selfish question.

Chase didn’t owe him anything he’d confessed as Charlie.

And yet, part of him wanted to scratch at the scab, to see it peel away and bleed again. Wanted to feel out the differences between Auston and Aunix, press into all the mistakes he’d made in the real world.

Chase nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah. Just me and my mom, really.”

“Right. That must have been lonely?”

“I mean…we’re, you know. We spent a lot of time together, I guess.”

The truth behind that statement—that Chase’s mom pestered him with critique and never balanced it with affection, made Auston’s guts sour.

“Um. What about you? I know you have a sister, but…”

Auston stared at him. “How do you know that?” Auston was sure he’d never shared that with Chase.

Did Chase already know who he was? It had never crossed Auston’s mind that maybe Chase had figured it out before him. That there was no real secret. That—

“Oh. I read it in an article?”

Right . Reality coalesced. Chase had been a fan of his way back when—he probably knew all there was to publicly know about Auston.

And wasn’t that a weird fucking thought?

“Right. Yeah, I have a big sister.”

Chase smiled. “That’s cool. I’ve always wanted a sibling.”

“Imagine someone you love, but that will also beat the living shit out of you.”

Chase laughed, a loud, sudden sound. “I mean, I guess Sammy fits that description.”

Auston snorted. “True. He’s skinny but wily.”

“I’d pay some serious money to watch him fight,” Chase mused.

“Oh yeah, and watch Noah combust.”

“Oh, my God.” Chase cackled. “That would be amazing.”

Auston couldn’t look away, mesmerised by the open lines of Chase’s body.

It hit him suddenly—this was the perfect moment to tell the truth.

Fear bubbled up, drowning out the words, leaving him with another type of confession.

“Hey…I wanted to say…I’m sorry. For the way I’ve been acting this season. Giving you such a hard time.”

It clearly caught Chase off guard, his eyes going wide. “No. I mean, thanks, but I know I could be doing better.”

“It’s not about that. I…” Fuck, this was hard. “I have some issues with subtle scents. Shit to do with my past—stuff I shouldn’t have put on you.”

“Oh.” Chase shrunk, shoulders collapsing into each other.

“There’s nothing wrong with your scent! Obviously. It’s me, yeah? I fucked up.”

Chase nodded, but Auston could tell his words weren’t getting to him.

“Chase—”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, you’re also allowed not to like me, you know?”

“That’s not it,” Auston argued.

Chase smiled. Shrugged. “It’s fine. Hey, you wanna put on that podcast we were listening to the other day?”

Auston let the subject drift away, helpless.

Chase wasn’t going to believe him. Why should he, when the words were countered by months and months of Auston behaving like an idiot?

And there was the problem. Auston couldn’t bridge the gap between him and Aunix by talking . He had to do it with actions.

But he needed time for that.

He had to undo the damage he’d dealt. Revealing that he was Aunix right now would be too much of a shock to end well. Would hurt Chase too much.

But what if Chase realised Auston could be good, too? That Auston didn’t hate him, didn’t think he was worthless?

Maybe then, they would have a chance.

It wasn’t like it would be manipulation. Auston wouldn’t be lying . He would just be himself. Show Chase the truth instead of telling him.

It would be better for Chase in the long run. Even if he rejected Auston at the end of it all, it wouldn’t be with the belief that Auston had never loved him.

He had to make it up to Chase.

And, maybe, give them an opportunity to survive.