Page 37 of Two Guys One Puck (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #2)

THIRTY-SEVEN

KTYTOR

W e slog into March and the ECAC conference playoffs. Both the Monsters and the Gods made the tournament with good seeds. Seaborn missed the first weekend. I thought about calling him, but what could I even say?

We both won our games in the first round; since we were both seeded so high, they had an easy first game and didn’t need him. We both progress into the second round, which is the best of three games, so we get to spend the weekend in Hartford, at the same hotel, avoiding each other.

We both win the first game, which leaves both of our teams to sit around until our second game tomorrow afternoon. We’re not even playing each other, and the tension is high. We both have different conference rooms for team meetings and films but end up passing each other in the halls all damn day.

Seaborn won’t even glance my way. I’m a fucking ghost haunting these halls. And while this is my fault, I’m annoyed. He hasn’t messaged me at all. I should have expected that, but I hate it. Going from texting all day to nothing is quite the void I wasn’t expecting.

“Who the fuck actually booked us into the same hotel with these Дурень?” I ask as we settle in our rooms. Coach told us he’s taping our doors and will have hotel security making sure we don’t leave.

“Speak Ukrainian to me like one of your French girls.” Happy lays out on the bed, rubbing a hand down his chest.

“Please never do that again.”

“What, you think guys are sexy, but I’m not?!” Happy scoffs.

“Honestly, no. I’m not into it. You’re so happy. Is strange. You smile at people all the time. In my country, they would think you’re unwell in your head.” I tap my temple.

“Rude.” He is fighting a smile, so I know he’s not actually mad.

“You must scowl for people to take you seriously. This is hockey.”

“I just can’t. I am happy all the time. I can’t just hide it.”

“All the time.” I wrinkle my nose off put. “No one is happy all the time.”

“I am.” He nods seriously. “I wake up happy, and I’m just happy.”

“Is this the side effect of some medication, you just smiling? Is involuntary, yes?” I poke his cheek.

“No! I’ve never taken even an Advil.”

I make a face. “Seems fake. I do not like.”

“You should try it.”

“Try what?” I ask carefully because this feels like a trap.

“Being happy.” He acts like it’s a switch.

“How would you recommend I do that?” I ask, even more sure I do not want to know.

“Just decide to be happy. That’s all you have to do. Just tell your brain and then click it off.” Happy’s eyes are big, and he’s nodding.

“Are you a… What’s the word you use? Cyborg? No… NPC? Yes. I think is like not player character.”

He flips me off. “I’m more likely to be the main character than you are. I’m enjoying this game.”

“What if we are in a horror game? Then you die first.”

“I don’t like that idea at all.” His brow creases, and I’m a little afraid I gave him a midlife crisis.

I pat his cheek. “Don’t think so hard.”

“You’re right. I’ll just turn my brain off for a while.”

I stare for a second but make myself stop because it’s unsettling.

“Do you think I let hockey come before my happiness?” I flop back on my bed. I need to walk or move, but I don’t want to deal with Coach. I’m keyed up for no reason.

Happy blinks like he’s coming out of stasis. “Not everything is meant to last, but you are meant to play hockey. If it’s important, it will be there after this.”

“When? After the draft? When all I will do is travel and play hockey?” I feel myself parroting Ronan’s points, but I’m careful not to let Happy know I’m seeing another hockey player.

“They have to have job, too. No one has time to follow me around. How can a relationship last with those conditions?”

“Is that so bad?”

“Traveling ten months a year? Yeah, I think it is.”

“You have the rest of your life to do that. Maybe you should try turning your brain off.”

“I’m not going to do this.”

“Why not? It’s really refreshing.” He nods and it’s unsettling.

How have I never noticed this before?

“Isn’t that what sleep is for?” I can’t believe we are still having this conversation.

“Sure, but also any time you need a little break.”

“I don’t think that is a good idea, mate.”

“Maybe that’s your problem. You don’t ever try anything.” Happy shrugs.

“I think if I turn my brain off, is not going to come back on.”

Happy’s face contorts to a shape I’ve never witnessed. “I’ve never thought of that.” And I’ve possibly given him a complex.

“Turn it off. Shut it down before you short circuit!”

“Good idea!”

“You good?” Happy asks about an hour later, like nothing happened.

I shiver because if that is not the most uncanny valley shit, I don’t know what is. “Is good. I will play and feel better.”

“I’m going to bed before you body snatch me or something.”

“Shouldn’t I be worried about you? I am the main character.”

“If I could have ended this by taking your body. I would have.”

Something pulls me from a deep sleep. I’m foggy but realize my phone is ringing.

I reach for it, opening one eye and hoping it’s Seaborn.

But it’s my brother. I shove my feet into my boots and leave the room, not giving a single fuck if Coach gets mad at me.

I answer the call.

I snap to full awakeness and answer it, “Andriy?”

“They’re bombing the city.” Air raid sirens echo behind his voice.

“How close to you?” I clutch the phone harder, switching to tactile calm. “Are you going to the bomb shelter?”

“We’re here.”

“Is Mother with you?” I take the stairs and walk outside to find somewhere private to speak to him.

“Yes. She wasn’t happy about it because she was already at the bakery, but she came.”

I exhale slowly and breathe for the first time since I saw his name calling on Telegram. I still have nightmares of those sirens, and I’m sure it’s worse for him. I don’t think Andriy remembers a time when we weren’t at war. This has been his whole life.

“Have things been getting worse there?” I read the news, but no one reports on it anymore. It’s like the rest of the world left Ukraine behind.

“Yes. There’ve been a lot more drone strikes.”

I go to the stairway and sit.

We talk, and he calms down. He tells me about school and hockey.

“Can you go to the village with Grandma?” I ask. Our grandparents live a few hours outside of the city. It’s so much safer there.

“There are no jobs there.”

“I know. She won’t need to work soon.”

We finish the call, and I hit the wall over and over and over until my fists are bloody. But even then, I don’t stop. Not until my hands and arms are numb. I barely realize a hand is grabbing me to pull me back.

I turn to hit whoever it is that fucking interrupted me, only stopping a millimeter from Seaborn’s face. “What are you doing here?”

“I was walking. I didn’t mean to…” Seaborn shrugs.

“Is nothing. Go to bed.” I drop my fists, closing my eyes.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” He grabs my wrist, and I try to pull it back, but my arms barely work.

I grind my teeth, hating myself for wanting to sink into his comfort. “I’m fine.”

“You’re going to be lucky if you don’t have broken fucking knuckles.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve played worse.”

He searches my face, but I don’t look at him. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I snap.

“You don’t have to tell me, but if you don’t, I’m getting Happy, or your coach. I’m not leaving you alone.” He releases my hand, and I miss the touch.

“No.”

“Then spill.”

I sink to a seat on the top step. “They are bombing my city.”

“Is your family okay?” He puts his hand on my shoulder, and I wince. He frowns and pulls back.

“They are in a bomb shelter. Fine for now.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing. There is nothing to be done until I can make more money, and maybe my mother will leave the city and go somewhere safer.”

“Will she?”

“Who knows.”

“Come back to my room with me.” Seaborn doesn’t really give me a choice. He half drags me there.

“Where’s your roommate?” I ask, sitting on the perfectly made bed, avoiding the one that’s clearly his.

“I don’t know. With Wolfe, I think.” He goes to the bathroom and brings out a wet cloth. “Let me see your hands.”

“Why are you up so late, Seaborn?” I hold them out. I still can’t feel them, but they look like shit.

“I can’t sleep.” He drops to one knee in front of me, taking one of my hands to clean off.

“Why not?” I watch him work. He’s gentle, taking his time. I almost wish I could feel it. Feel anything but the weight of time and my inability to do a damn thing.

“I’m sure you know I didn’t play last weekend.” He puts down my left hand and picks up my right.

“Is it bad?”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. He focuses on cleaning the dried blood and then stands, and I don’t think he’s going to answer. But he does as he walks over to the ice bucket. “Yes.”

“Then why are you here?” I get up and walk over to him. “What you doing?”

He splits the ice between two bags. “Getting ice so you have some hope of fucking closing your hand tomorrow.”

I roll my eyes but let him lead me back to the bed to sit with the ice.

“Twenty minutes on. Then ten minutes off.”

“Fine. But if I’m icing, you sit.”

He meets my eyes and then sits on the edge of the bed. “Fine.”

“Why did you have ice?” I ask.

He lifts his shirt, showing me a nasty purple bruise near his kidney. He looks like he’s lost weight.

“Have you been eating?”

“Some.” He lets his shirt fall back into place.

“Is he in the hospital?”

“Yeah, he has been since last week.” He scoots back a little and lays across the bottom of the bed.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

Seaborn picks his head up and he has dark circles under his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not going to get drafted if I keep leaving. I’ve been there as much as possible, and Coach understands this, but how do I make that choice? It’s, of course, going to be my dad, but if I don’t get drafted, how am I going to support my family when he’s gone?” His words break my heart.

“If they don’t draft you because your father is dying, they don’t deserve you.”I’m mad for him.

“And yet, I can’t fucking say that.”

“Come here, Ronan.”

He turns his head to look at me again. “Don’t use my name against me.”

“Is all I have left.”

“We shouldn’t do this.”

“What are we not doing?” I ask.

“Fucking.”

“Calm down, baby. I’m not trying to fuck you. We both need comfort tonight. Let me hold you.”

Seaborn hesitates but then climbs up next to me. “Turn around. I’m the big spoon.”

“Why do you get to be large spoon?”

“So you can keep icing.” His logic is sound, so I flip over, and he scoots in behind me, wrapping his arms around my body.

I’m hard because I’m always hard when he’s this close, but I settle into the embrace, breathing easier. He skims his lips over the back of my neck.

We both fall asleep at some point, and I put the ice on the floor, rolling over to cuddle him while he sleeps.

We wake to a pounding on our door.

I blink my eyes open. “Shit. What time is it?”

“Fuck.” Ronan rubs his face and picks up his phone. “It’s dead.”

I grab mine. Also dead.

“Are you in there?” someone calls. “You’re late for breakfast. Coach wanted me to make sure you’re okay.” It’s one of his teammates.

“I forgot to plug my phone in and missed my alarm. I’ll get dressed and come down.”

I check the clock and then plug my phone in, holding back a laugh. I’m late, but no one knows where to find me, so I have more time.

Seaborn laughs too, sitting up while rubbing his eyes. “I think that’s the first time I slept in a week.”

I glance over, and he does look better. The circles under his eyes are less dark. “Me too.”

“Not sleeping?”

“I’ve never slept well. Is difficult with this stress.”

“I’m sorry, Leontiy.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” Seaborn asks, and I feel his eyes on me.

“You know. If you keep looking at me with sexy eyes, we will fuck, and it will be the same.” As much as my dick wants to. More than ever, I can’t let go of the goal.

“I’m not looking at you like that. I was trying to be here for you.” His words turn cold. “I know you don’t want me.”

“It’s never been that.” I know it’s my fault he thinks that, but I hate it.

“Then what the fuck is it? You freak out because you think I’m going to sleep with someone else, then you push me away and say we won’t work, and then you try to sleep with me. You are all over the place, Ktytor.” Nothing he says is wrong.

“Yes, Seaborn. I know.” I have no response.

“To what end? I know what your focus is and what mine should be.” He gets up and pulls his shirt off, revealing in full how much muscle he’s lost in the last couple of months.

I stop myself from going to him. “We’ve both been under a lot of stress. I’m a Дурень. We all are sometimes.”

“What does that mean?”

“Loosely.” I pause, trying to come up with the English word. “Fool.”

He shoves his hands into his hair. “This is my last shot at winning the Frozen Four and making myself stand out for the NHL, and with everything going on with my family, I have to make this count. I’m here instead of at my father’s bedside, and if I know anything, I know you’re in the same place.

I feel guilty for wanting to win and preventing you from it.

What will happen if we get more involved? ”

“I think is already too late for that.”

“I know.” He grabs his dead phone and his shirt and walks out of the room.