Page 48

Olli

Avery Bennett joins the Day River Dingoes eight weeks later, once he’s had enough time to recover from his injuries and get back on his feet. Almost immediately, it’s clear Nat and I were right about him.

The kid is phenomenal .

There really is something about a broken-down Day River kid living out his dream that just makes some kinda magic happen out on that ice. Coach shuffles the lines around, so Dev’s anchoring the second line at center, and Everton the third. Avery skates with me, and you know what?

It works. Just like in drop-in.

We bring it. We bring it and bring it and bring it until it’s not just one fluky game. Until it’s not even a handful of them, so it’s not just home games or games when the stars and moon are in alignment, or the weather’s good or the other team’s had to travel too far in the snow.

It’s every game.

When the Day River Dingoes get out on that ice, we own it. We weave through the defense like we control their actions as much as our own—which is kind of true, when you think about it. Our shots slam the back of the net, over and over and over.

We rack up points on the scoreboard, game after game after game. We win. And win and win and win. The crowd starts calling Avery and me Vay and Jay . It’s darn cute .

The rankings show the downtrodden Dingoes slowly moving up and up and up in the standings. The crowd continues to pile into the stands to root for us—for Avery, their hometown hero. For me, the out-of-towner who decided to stay.

The announcers, social media, news . . . everybody’s speculating whether the Dingoes are gonna take it all the way this year.

And for the first time, I think we just might.

Avery’s actually staying out of trouble—on and off the ice. He’s eighteen, but one of the conditions of his recruitment to the team was finishing high school and continuing on with classes at the community college.

Nat's around a lot more, without the repo job sending him on long drives. So he makes sure Avery doesn’t skip. Gets his homework done. Passes his classes. I think Syd probably has a hand in that too. The fact that she nabbed herself an internship with the Dingoes’ marketing team, handling all their social media, definitely helps.

And me? I’m skating good, feeling good—on and off the ice. So good, in fact, that I’m almost not surprised when my agent calls with the first NHL offer.

“How would you like to play for the Carolina Hurricanes?” Alfred asks, and I swear my heart stops beating.

Sitting next to me on his couch, Nat goes utterly still, every muscle in his body taut as a drawn bowstring. I wonder if he’s even breathing, as he awaits my response.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words,” I murmur. My head’s buzzing with some weird static that’s making me wonder if I actually heard him right. This can’t be real, can it?

Nat reaches over, squeezes my knee. His eyes lift to mine, questioning my silence, my hesitation. And in his gaze, I read the truth.

This is real.

This is my dream. The one thing I’ve ever truly wanted. Finally mine .

I stare into those questioning green eyes. Let my gaze slip past, to the black-haired girl and the blond-haired boy at the kitchen counter behind. Both bowed over their homework.

And I ask myself the question that’s been brewing in the back of my mind since I arrived in Day River: What do I really want?

Sometimes, the things we think we want and the things we need , truly and deeply and fully, are not the same. And as much as we might want something, might dream of it and crave it and tell ourselves it’ll bring us happiness, sometimes the truth is much different than desire.

Sometimes, we need to look inside ourselves to find that answer.

And sometimes, we need to look around us, at the people who love us and support us, the places that mold us, the situations that challenge and strengthen us.

My gaze slides back to Nat, like a magnet’s pulling me in.

“Sorry Alfred,” I say, and the words are a weight lifted off my chest. “I think I’m right where I need to be. At least for now.”

And that is the truth.

It’s not just the games, the Dingoes on that ice. It’s those brief spaces between games when we gather at Holls’s place to definitely not smoke or Ever’s place to endure another wild party—and this time people want me there. Know me. Cheer when I walk in.

And of course, it’s Nat.

Catching my eye across the room. Sliding up next to me so I feel the heat and warmth of his body. Brushing his fingers against mine. Tilting his head and leading me back out into the cold so we can enjoy some private time outside the party.

It’s frosty mornings out in the woods, our boots tromping through snow. It’s the first time I take him snowshoeing—my God, that was way easier—or when he cooks breakfast, not as payment for a morning BJ, or we snuggle onto my couch in front of the TV. It’s dinners with Brenda, it’s looking over my shoulder while we’re watching TV to make sure Syd and Avery are actually doing homework.

It’s us .

Me and him.

Boyfriends.

And for once, I’m happy with things just the way they are. Not pushing to make things more or different or better. For once, I'm completely content with what I already have.

You never know how long good things will last, so you gotta hold them and cherish them while you’ve got them.

We make the playoffs.

The Day River Dingoes make the goddamn playoffs for the first time in sixteen years. Of course, I find out in possibly the strangest way possible.

I’m just pulling the Tacoma into the parking lot of the rink when three bodies hurtle towards me from the direction of the building. I slam the brakes, tires squealing, barely avoiding hitting Everton, who instead throws himself onto the hood of the car.

“Playoffs, motherfucker!” he roars, lifting his hands as he slides off the other side with admittedly impressive grace.

“What?” I wrench open the door to find Charlie and Dev grinning at me from a much more appropriate distance, as Everton streaks across the parking lot towards Skyler’s car. I climb out onto ice-slicked pavement. “We made the playoffs?”

Charlie throws an arm around my shoulders, plants a concerningly moist kiss on my cheek. “You know it, dude. They just announced the wild card pick like an hour ago. All thanks to Jay and Vay! And Tay!”

My stomach throws itself against my ribcage as Everton throws himself at the sky, arms outstretched. “Playoffs, playoffs, playoffs!”

“Sweet tie,” Avery ambles over, looking like the very picture of cool in his backwards hat and leather jacket. Looking like Nat , honestly, except for the blond hair.

My brain’s still trying to make sense of what I’m hearing, and seeing—Everton’s grinning from ear to ear and definitely wearing a tie over his T-shirt. And no jacket, despite the bite to the Day River winter air .

“Pink hearts and hockey sticks.” Holls trots up next to Everton to pluck the tie off his chest. “Where’d you get that?”

“This tie,” says Ever proudly, “is one of a kind.”

“Hot damn.” I join the crowd, Avery at my heels. “How much did that cost?”

“A small fortune. We’re not gonna talk about it.”

“Where’d you get it?” Avery asks. “You gonna get me one?”

“Damn straight.” Ever’s face sobers, and he lifts a hand to Avery’s shoulder. The other he places on mine. And slowly turns his head to regale each of us with a somber stare. “We’re going all the way, boys. All the fucking way.”

“What is this, team bonding?” Nat joins our group, so quiet I didn’t hear him approach. He’s on the other side of Charlie, and his presence is warm, soft, like a balm to all the excitement building up inside me, around me.

“We made the playoffs.” Charlie’s arm is around him now, a smacking-wet kiss against his cheek. “Thanks to our wonder boys, Jay and Vay.”

And Number Forty-Seven , nobody says.

“What!” Nat’s gaze finds mine. The light of the soft winter sun sparkles in the depths of his eyes, turning them to vibrant jade. Not that I’m waxing poetic. “Holy shit.”

“Hop in.” Ever’s hand drops from my shoulder to tug Nat in close instead. “We’re manifesting, you know? Good vibes, boys. I feel a championship title in the very near future. And I’m sensing a win . . . soon.”

“Is that so?” I ask, a smile twitching my mouth. I fight it, though, ’cause I know Ever’s trying to be all Mr. Cool Hippie Flow right now.

But when I catch Nat looking at me, I know he saw my smile. I know he’s smiling too. I feel it in the soft radiance about him.

“Tigers are knocking at the knees.”

I almost shudder at the thought. We’re the lowest seed of the playoff bracket, which means we’ll be facing the best of the division, and we’ll have to bring our best game four times if we want to make it to the next round.

“For sure,” Charlie grins, and now he’s got an arm around me, and one around Avery. “Those bastards are scared of JayVay.”

I groan. “We’re not making that a thing.”

“We’re definitely making it a thing.”

“I support the thing,” Nat says, that little traitor. “JayVay.”

“JayVay and Forty-Seven!"

Coach floats on cloud nine during practice. Doesn’t, of course, stop him from running us through hours of conditioning drills, but I’ve always welcomed the burn of exertion, of simple hard work.

You don’t need your head to be in the right place to skate hard in a straight line, to hold a squat at the blue line while waiting for the rest of your line to finish, to whip laps around the face-off circles over and over until every muscle screams in protest.

With the air tearing at my lungs, legs burning, hands shaking, sweat leaking out of every pore into every molecule of fabric touching my body, with all that physical pain and discomfort occupying my mind, there’s no room left to feel anything else.

And that’s how I prefer it.

It’s only after practice ends that the worry starts to creep back into the darkened corners, that the fear slips through the cracks of resistance into my waking mind. Like a nightmare, creeping up where you can’t resist it, but worse, worse, because you can’t help but keep tripping over it.

Because there’s no waking up.

But that’s when Nat appears at my side. Weaves his fingers through mine, presses his cheek to my hair, and whispers against my skin, “Want to go for a hike?”

So I find myself out tramping through the woods, through snow-crusted meadows beneath pines glistening with the diamond gems of icicles and fresh fallen powder .

One thing I’ve learned in my life is that when the good days come, you seize them, and you seize them hard, cause you never know how long they’re gonna last. You breathe, and you drink in the beauty of nature and you let time slip from your grasp beneath the wonder of the world.