Page 18 of Delay of Game

It was weird, how many memories of Nate Zach had collected in such a relatively short period of time. How much Zach thought about him, collected all of the little crumbs of information no one on the team knew like they were gold and hoarded in a dragon’s lair.

He was in his usual seat in the plane, in the back, next to Nate. Nate, who had promptly put on his headphones—whether he was listening to some weird Norwegian black metal band or a boring hockey stats podcast was anyone’s best guess—and fell asleep. His head rested on Zach’s shoulder, and Zach, as always, had to resist the urge to smooth his hair down, brush it away from his eyes.

Today Zach couldn’t sleep for some reason, even though it was early and a lot of the guys were passed out already. His brain kept churning over stuff, about Nate and the promise Zach had made that Nate didn’t even know about. He didn’t have any reason to be, like, anxious. They were doing pretty well to start the season and the rookies had slotted in without too much trouble, Tarasov especially picking up right where he’d left off at CSKA. Tarasov, who was snoring gently, body slumped against Mike’s despite the armrest between them. The two of them didn’t always play on a pair together because they had similar skill sets, and it made more sense to spread them out along the lineup. But when they did, they were lethal.

Gags had had a rough couple of games adjusting to the increased pace and physicality of the big leagues. He’d had to remember to keep his head up at all times, never give up on the play as long as he was still on the ice. He got blown up in the corners a few times, but popped right back up like a whack-a-mole. He wasn’t playing badly, exactly, but he definitely stood out, and not in a good way. Zach could see him, getting up and down from his seat, pacing up the length of the aisle.

Zach shifted gently so that he wouldn’t wake up Nate, tipping his head back into the space of his seat with two fingers. Nate stirred and made a soft noise that knocked the wind right out of Zach’s gut, but didn’t open his eyes. Zach thought, again, how Nate had felt tucked up against his back, how hard he’d been.

Okay. Jesus. Get it the fuck together, Zachary.

There wasn’t a whole lot of room in the plane’s aisle, even though he and Gags were nowhere near the biggest guys on the team. “Gags,” he whispered, “everything cool?”

Gags turned those hound dog eyes on him. His hair was a little disheveled, like he’d been pulling at it where Zach couldn’t see. “Yeah, it’s cool. I just, uh, get like...you know?”

Zach thought about three seasons with Nate, sitting outside the stall in the bathroom to keep anyone else from coming in while he puked, talking him down from panic attacks, being the only one on the team who knew how twisted up in knots he got before and after games. He didn’t always understand it, but he probably knew better than a lot of the other dudes what was up. He said carefully, “Yeah, um. That’s not super unusual, you know?”

“Doyouever feel like that?”

“I don’t. But I have some really good friends who do. It’s not weird.”

“Ifeel—” Gags blew out his breath in a sharp huff, and his brilliant orange bangs flew up. “Ifeelfrustrated.”

“Don’t fight it so much on the ice. You gotta let the game come to you sometimes. You’re good at what you do, that’s why you earned that spot out of camp. You just have to stop getting in your own way.”

“Oh, when you say it like that, simple, mets-en.”

Zach reached out and ruffled his hair. “I believe in you, bud. You just have to believe in yourself.”

Gags erupted into choking little snickers that he tried desperately to swallow down so he didn’t wake anyone up. “Crisse, who pissed a motivational video intoyourcoffee?”

Zach turned wounded eyes on him. “Joshua Gagnon, do you talk to your mother with that mouth?”

Gags settled back down into his chair, but he was smiling. “Mymama? You should fucking hear her talk, man. A hundred times worse than me.”

“You good, though?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

Zach ruffled his hair again and looped back up the aisle to where Nate was listing to one side without Zach’s body to hold him up. He wasn’t entirely sure if Gags was telling the truth, but at least he was talking about it. Zach hadn’t had anyone to talk to when he was a rookie in Montreal. Safaryan had tried, but Zach hadn’t taken the olive branch. The idea of needing to rely on anyone, even the captain who was probably going to be a Hall of Famer one day—it had felt like weakness. Zach had just been there, the number two overall pick in an Original Six franchise, with all of the expectations of an entire province on his shoulders. And he’d given them what they wanted—the Cup—but he’d also had to find ways to deal with the pressure. And ultimately, he’d paid the price.

Philly was a different kind of market and Gags was a different kind of kid. But Zach felt uneasy, remembering how close he’d come to losing everything. He wished Nate were awake so that he could talk to him about it, but Nate was still fast asleep, his eyelashes resting on his cheek. Instead, Zach tucked his shoulder back under Nate’s chin. Felt Nate’s breath hot against his neck. Closed his eyes and, finally, drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Nate got a close and personal view of the smeared, dirty glass as Dylan Cameron, one of the Calgary Stampede’s most annoying forwards, smashed him into it. Nate was a big guy at 220 pounds. Cameron was a little bigger, and he wasmean. Last playoffs, when he’d been playing for Tampa, he’d ended Danny Garcia’s playing career with a nasty hip check.

This time the boarding had been partially Nate’s fault.

He’d had his head down, and he should have known better. But—

Nate picked himself up off the ice, wheezing. He could already hear what the announcers must have been saying:bone-crushing hit; Singer slow to get up. All of the pads in the world couldn’t cushion the blow of over two hundred pounds of muscle slamming into you at twenty miles per hour. His head was spinning a little, but he didn’t think it was a concussion. Just a bit of wooziness he’d have to shake off. He’d have to get it together. He could hear noise behind him and saw both Zach and Bee up in Cameron’s face, with the linesman trying to get in between them before it got nasty.

“It was a clean hit!” Cameron yelled at them.

The ref sighed. “Come on, buddy. Who the fuck are you trying to kid? You know that was boarding.”

“You’re fucking kidding me!”

“Yeah, he’s totally known for his sparkling sense of humor,” Nate said. His voice still sounded a little tight. He had to get it together even if his chest felt like he’d bruised a rib. They would be on the power play, and Nate was on the first unit. They’d probably start with the second this time, but he’d only have a few seconds of respite on the bench before swinging into action again.

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