Page 46 of Save the Game

“I’ll head out, Coach. Thank you, again, for letting me…talk to you.”

The pair of them look over at me, twin expressions of confusion on their faces. Coach Mackenzie recovers first, frowning at me. “I thought you walked here.”

“I did.”

“You’re not walking home, it’s nearly ten,” he says resolutely.

“I’m going to give you a ride,” Lawson puts in, smiling at me. I flush, tugging the sleeves of the borrowed hoodie down to cover my hands.

“Really, it’s okay, I don’t want to cause any more trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. Do you want to go now? You don’t have to—you can hang out for as long as you’d like,” he says, but I shake my head. I’m so tired—so unbearably tired. I want to go home and sleep off this awful day.

“If…if you don’t mind, I think I’m ready to go.”

Lawson sets down the towel he was using to clean up, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I’ll go grab my keys, and be right back down,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder as he passes. I look over at Coach Mackenzie, leaned against the counter watching me.

“I’m still not exactly sure I know how I feel,” I admit, thinking about Luke and grimacing.

“Take some time to think about it,” he suggests, and I nod. “And you’ll come by my office this week, right?”

“Yeah,” I nod, stomach tightening with a fresh set of nerves as I think about having to talk to a therapist about all of this. Christ, how embarrassing.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Max,” Coach says, because apparently, he’s a fucking mind reader. “Everyone needs a little extra help at some point, and whether you believe it or not, you are somebody who is worthy of care.”

Lawson steps back into the kitchen, and I clear my throat, nodding another silent thank you to Coach Mackenzie. He walks with us to the front door, where Lawson presses a kiss to the top of his shoulder as he passes; I watch them unashamedly, drinking in the familiarity and relaxed affection between them. Way to go Coach Mackenzie, I think, as I watch Lawson’s muscular back disappearing down the sidewalk toward his car.

I’ve barely clicked the seatbelt into place before I worry that I should have asked if Coach would ride with us. I know of Anthony Lawson, but I certainly don’t know him as well as I do Coach—what do you say when you’re alone with an NHL All-Star and one of your heroes?

“I watched the game last weekend, against Penn,” he says, putting the car into reverse and using the back of my seat to turn around. “That snipe was impressive. Not sure even I could have caught it, and that’s saying something.”

I laugh, and he grins over at me. There is something of Luke in that grin—crinkled dark eyes and runaway hair falling over his forehead; someone who might cause a little mischief, but he’ll get away with it because he’s cute and knows it. I try to shut this down, though, because thinking about Luke hurts.

“Thanks. I wish Carter was still around to practice with—he never let me get away with anything.”

Lawson chuckles, softly. “No, he wouldn’t. Hey, do you have your phone with you?”

“Oh,” I pause, feeling at my pockets. “Shit, no, I don’t. I don’t have anything. I think…I think I must have walked out without it, sorry.”

“Okay, no worries. I want to give you our new address, just in case.” He pulls up to a stop sign and I wordlessly point to the left; he clicks the blinker on. “Nico and I found a house not too far from here, but we’ll be on campus for a few more weeks.”

“Oh, well, congratulations. You don’t…I mean, you don’t have to give it to me. Isn’t that against the rules? Rule #1 of being famous: never give out your home address? The only reason we all know it now is because he’s in the faculty housing.”

“Well, yeah, but Nico’s hockey kids are probably going to be the exception to that rule. He’s a big softie.”

“Mm. Exactly the way I’d describe Coach,” I deadpan, and watch Lawson’s smile grow. “Take the next right and then stay on that road for a bit. I’m over in those apartments by the park.”

“Cool. Do you live alone?”

“No, I have a roommate, Marcos. He plays baseball.”

“Boring,” he grunts, making me laugh. Oh yeah, he definitely shares a few personality traits with Luke. “Is he home?”

“No, I had plans with…no, he’s not home.”

Lawson nods, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. His voice is casual as asks: “Do you want to be alone? Because if not, we can work something else out.”

“I’m just going to go to sleep,” I tell him, which doesn’t answer the question but hopefully saves me from having to do so. The truth is that no, I don’t want to be alone. I want Luke’s chest pressed against my back and his face smushed against my neck, the way he was the last time he slept over at my place. I want to hear him say ridiculous things and look pleased with himself when I laugh. Mostly, I just want Luke. But you can’t have Luke, because you yelled at him and told him to leave.

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