Page 20 of Full Body Hit, Part 2 (Alpha Omega Hockey #6)

Auston had to shut his eyes against a burst of honest-to-God vertigo as his blood left his brain. “Jesus Christ. Just…go to fucking sleep.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Chase said innocently, but Auston could hear the evil grin in his voice.

Goddamn menace . Auston deserved a fucking award.

***

Auston squirted water on his face, trying to cool down. It was the second period, and already his legs were protesting with lactic acid, the scent of alpha-saturated ice putting him on edge.

There were too many goddamn Alphas in this league.

There was no fucking way the Salem Cats were going to shut them out.

That was just fucking embarrassing—the Cats were at the bottom of the standings.

The two goals they’d scored had been stupid, bouncing puck-luck, made worse because the Spirits were playing a good game—had spent most of the two periods in the Cats’ zone, almost doubling them in shots on goal.

He sat on the bench as the commercial break went on, watching Chase skate idly.

The Omega’s cheeks were flushed, eyes hard and set, frown pulling his eyebrows harshly.

It was something he would have completely missed a few months ago.

It was pathetic how much he’d missed, like he’d been somnambulating since the start of the season, living inside his head.

Now, having pulled said head out of his goddamn ass, he could see how miserable everybody looked. They had more than a period to go, but the team was acting as if their defeat were a forgone conclusion. Everybody except Chase was surrounded by a miasma of frustrated scents.

And Chase, well, nobody should need a nose to figure him out—his lips were chewed to shit, bleeding a little in the cold air, mouthguard in his hand as if that wasn’t enough to bite on—as if he had to do some damage to his body for it to count.

“Hey,” Auston called. Chase flinched, head snapping up, eyes wide. Auston paused, startled by the extreme reaction, but then the referees were calling the lines on the ice to one of the face-off circles, and Chase was skating away.

That scared, caught expression rattled in Auston’s empty chest as the second intermission hit.

Noah clapped as they got into the room. “They didn’t score that period, and we got our shots in,” he said, voice artificially pumped up, trying to revive the enthusiasm that had been squeezed out of them during the first period.

No one seemed particularly moved. Chase had sat on the bench in his stall, knee bouncing, stick still held in gloved hands, which was unusual for him.

Auston had been a captain for fifteen years, and he’d done fuck all to display any of that this season. Every other time the Spirits had been down and depressed, Auston had sat there quietly, concentrating on himself, letting his teammates try to rally each other.

He walked over to Chase, trying to figure out what to say that would land correctly, when Sammy was suddenly in his way.

“Yo,” Auston complained as he had to stumble back a step.

“Not now, dude,” Sammy murmured.

Auston frowned at him. “What?”

“Just…he doesn’t need that shit right now? Okay? Just. Chill.”

Someone clapped Auston on the shoulder, and he glanced back to see Noah smiling at him, although his lips were tense at the edges. “Maybe it isn’t the best time for tough love right now, yeah?”

Auston looked behind Sammy only to catch Chase looking away quickly, cheeks red.

Chase thought Auston was about to go off on him, too.

Auston wished he could say it had been a long time since he’d felt shame.

Not embarrassment. Not guilt, But shame— the thing that metastasised to every bit of him, shaping what he was made of, turning him into something ugly and tumorous.

He stepped away and into the centre of the room.

“Hey, remember the last game Salem played? With that own goal? Yeah, those are the guys we’re playing right now—and we’re playing them the right way.

Their goalie is hot right now and he’s shutting us out, but we’re pressing hard and getting shots to the net and that’s all we can do.

There ain’t shit we need to change this period, and there is no fucking reason we shouldn’t win this game.

I want every single one of you to go out there knowing we’re gonna fucking pummel those losers into the ground, you hear me? ”

There were a lot of wide, stunned eyes blinking back at him.

He pointed at Koa, their goalie. “Keeping it fucking tight this period for us, that was great. Obi, good fucking passing.” He turned to Chase. “Nice shot after our penalty kill—their goalie fucking robbed you. Doing good, kid.”

It was like touching metal while crackling with static, a spark of electricity and pain going through him at how the air of the locker room shifted—the thrill of knowing he’d done well with the hurt of realising this was something he should have been doing all along.

He’d been so fucking caught up in the whole Chase-Charlie drama these past few weeks that he hadn’t put enough energy into his actual fucking job.

“Hell yeah,” Jimmy shouted, and Noah grinned at him.

Chase was staring, too, but there was a little knot between his brows weighing him down.

Auston didn’t have the space or the privacy to check in on him, but at least the kid took his goddamn gloves off.

They ended up winning in overtime. Kao shut the door for the rest of the game, Grigory slipping a dirty one in five minutes into the third period off Chase’s brilliant assist, Noah slamming another in during a power play.

It was Auston who scored the goal in overtime, a neat wrister from the right point, taking advantage of one of the Spirits blocking his own goalie’s view.

His teammates jumped on him, cheering into his face. All Auston could do was grin in return.

They were on the road, so no one had partners and kids to go home to—every single one of them was free to go out.

Auston spruced up in his hotel room and then met the first group of guys in the lobby, engrossed in his phone until he practically bumped into them.

Noah jostled him. “Hey. Thanks for helping me out in there.”

Auston shrugged, slipping his phone into his pocket. It was fucking embarrassing that this was something he had to be thanked for instead of an obvious part of being a veteran in the room. “Don’t mention it,” he said.

Noah gave him a thumbs-up, and Auston took the opportunity to see who else was in the lobby. “Chase late?”

“Oh, uh…he’s not coming. Said he was tired or something.”

“The fuck?” Auston muttered. “I’m gonna go get him. Text me the name of the place we’re going to, and I’ll get him in an Uber,” Auston said.

“Wait, what?” Sammy asked, but Auston waved him away.

“I’ll catch up with you later. Go.”

Sammy was gaping stupidly as he turned away—Auston knew he was lucky to have caught the Omega by surprise.

Auston raced up the stairs instead of taking the elevator, not wanting to wait for the damn thing to make it to the ground floor. He made it to Chase’s door only slightly out of breath, knocking a little too loudly.

There were a few long beats of silence and then there was Chase, blinking slowly. “Uh…hi?”

“Can I come in?” Auston asked instead of just pushing inside.

He was trying to do shit right instead of being a caveman about everything.

Chase hesitated but stepped away eventually, Auston trailing behind him as they walked deeper into the room.

The space was surprisingly neat, everything still in the suitcase, no clothes strewn in odd places. There were a few blankets piled onto the bed in a half nest, and Chase blushed brightly when he saw Auston notice.

It twisted Auston up that nesting was something Chase still felt ashamed of, as if it weren’t the most natural thing in the goddamn world.

Auston sat on the desk chair to not loom so tall. “Heard you’re not coming out. You hurt or something?”

Chase shrugged, perching on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the cuff of the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. “No. Just…tired or whatever.”

Auston inspected him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Seriously, I’m fine.”

Auston licked his lips. Chewed on what he wanted to say. “Baby. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

It wasn’t that he changed his voice—not intentionally. It just…softened naturally the way it had during all those conversations they’d had on the phone.

He could see Chase noticed, too, spine straightening, eyes sharpening.

“I…look. You don’t have to do this. Or what you did in the locker room. I don’t want you to lie just to make me feel better, okay? I can’t deal with that, with you saying that stuff even if I’m not playing well.”

Auston took a few beats to let that settle. “What did I say that was a lie?”

Chase made a vague gesture as if to say, everything . “I wasn’t playing well, so you don’t have to compliment one thing I did that was decent to make me feel better, like saying I got a good shot in during the second. I should be getting multiple tries every game, not one good one.”

“That’s…first of all, I pointed that one out because it was more than good—you deked the fuck out of the two guys next to the net, and the goalie had to pull a fucking muscle to stop you. That’s not me pumping your tires, Chase, that’s me as a player telling you that was a great move.”

Chase twisted his mouth, but there was a blush rising on his cheeks, too.

Auston went on. “You did get multiple good shots in. You were playing the way you were supposed to play, and I could see you beating yourself up, so I singled you out because you needed to get your head outta your ass and see you were doing good.”

Auston stood up, walking the few steps to Chase’s sitting form. He threaded his fingers through Chase’s hair, tilting his head back, catching his chin in his fingers.

“I’m not gonna tell you you’re doing something well when you’re not, okay? That I can absolutely promise you.”

Chase visibly swallowed. “Yeah?”