Page 26 of Out in the Surf

“Nah, the coach got away. I asked his assistant. At least, I think Colby’s his assistant. I’m not sure.”

“You’ve got big balls, Luca.” He barked a laugh when I cupped said balls. “I didn’t know you wanted to coach.”

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what I want. And I’d be volunteering. Not coaching.” I set my plate on the coffee table, hiking my knee on the sofa as I shifted to face him. “I technically graduate in January. This last semester is a gift to me from the universe. A few extra months to get over a career-ending injury and sort out what comes next.”

“A torn Achilles isn’t usually career-ending at your age. Why can’t you play again?”

“I was good, but I wasn’t AHL good. I was a leading scorer and one of the best forwards on my team. But there are better, more consistent forwards. And yeah…just saying that out loud hurts. I think I’m a cautionary tale in what happens to guys who believe their own press. I assumed with a little extra hustle and grit, I could make miracles happen. I didn’t count on being sidelined with multiple concussions, and I sure as fuck didn’t count on tearing my Achilles in the middle of what was supposed to be my final season.”

“That sucks.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but that wasn’t the worst part.”

Cal massaged my calf sweetly. “What was?”

“I got dropped by the agent who’d supposedly been about to score a contract for me with the AHL. My parents thought he was full of shit. I didn’t know what to think. It’s like getting run over by a car, and thinking at least you remembered to write the license plate down…just as a Mack truck comes from the opposite direction to finish the job.”

Cal smiled wanly. “Gory.”

“That’s how it felt. I couldn’t catch a break. Injury after injury, watching games from the sideline while these dreams I’d had forever”—I snapped my fingers—“evaporated.”

“I’m sorry, babe.”

My pulse revved at the casual term of endearment. I liked it better than dear. I thought about mentioning it, but let it go, and continued my tale of woe.

“Me too. I didn’t graduate with my class, I didn’t get recruited, I didn’t…matter anymore. But my coach insisted that I come to the games. That gave me hope. Until I found out that having the out gay dude on the bench was somehow a PR boost. How ironic is that? The one thing I assumed I’d have to hide was the only reason they wanted me in the end.”

“So you were out in college?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yes and no. A couple of teammates knew, but no one talked about it. Until I got injured and became an overnight on-campus queer celebrity. I’m not sure how it happened. It was…weird. Jarring, ya know? On one hand, I wasn’t trying to keep a big-ass secret, but I thought I’d be the one to do the coming out.”

Cal went still. “You mean you were sitting on the bench with a cast on at a game when they started flying Pride flags in your honor?”

“Yep. They weren’t chanting my name or anything, but yeah…that was for me. I wasn’t sure what to think about it. My friends and family have known I’m gay for years. This wasn’t a coming-out moment for me. It felt more like I’d been used by the program. They couldn’t use my hockey prowess anymore, but they could use the press. A diversity shoutout made them look like stars for supporting a queer athlete as he retired from the game. Fuckers,” I huffed. “After that, I couldn’t wait to get out. My parents suggested that a change of scenery would do me good.”

“Long Beach?”

“Exactly. I moved here in June and spent the majority of my summer screwing my brains out while high, drunk, or both. I thought I was having fun, but I was self-medicating…trying to forget what I’d lost.” I sucked in a deep breath and rested my hand over his. “Then I tried surfing, and almost met my demise.”

Cal snorted. “Thankfully, your instructor knows what he’s doing.”

“That dude is hot as fuck too. Don’t tell him, but…I’ve actually learned a few things.”

He nudged my knee. “Like what?”

“Waves and wind don’t adjust to my timeline.”

“True,” he agreed.

“I’ve also learned that I can’t rush the process or will myself to be more than I am.” I released a beleaguered sigh. “Surfing might be the most humbling sport I’ve ever tried.”

“Yeah, but that’s ’cause you went from being an expert to being a novice. It’s brave to try something new.”

“Brave? I think of it more like going into therapy with nature.” I snorted dismissively. “Nah, that sounds dramatic—”

“No, it doesn’t. Surfing is good for the soul,” he said with a smile.

“I used to feel that way about being on the ice too, but I’m kind of mad at hockey.”