Page 18 of The Puck Daddy

It isn’t until I feel the icy, cool air that I realize it’s been nine years since I was last here, skating on this rink. I’m hit with a comforting wave of nostalgia as I see the college students in front of me skating on the ice and doing drills. From here, I can see three coaches, but I can’t make out Coach Wilson from this angle.

I tell myself I’m looking for Coach and want to say hi. It’s beyond time for me to stop being afraid and greet the man. I tell myself I miss him, and I do; he was practically a father figure to me. But the truth is, I’m looking for one young man, and one man only. The guy who has captured my attention and won’t let go.

Like a moth to a flame, I see him. Adrian.

He’s working on his passes. He’s impressive, but even from here I can tell something is off. And damn me for wanting to figure out what’s wrong and how I can help him.

My fingers slide into the pocket of my leather jacket and touch the warm metal of my lucky coin.

Taking a seat, I continue to watch the Ice Dragon’s practice, curious about who pissed in Coach’s Cheerios. I chuckle. Clearly, the man is upset, and he’s taking it out on the team. When the whistle blows, my thoughts are confirmed. Rather than cooling down and getting ready to end practice, the team launches into a round of speed skating.

When the next whistle blows, indicating the guys can wrap things up and head into the lockers, I sneak out, not wanting to get caught watching. I promise myself I’ll say hi to Coach next time. Before I leave the rink, I walk up to reception and ask how to find the schedule for free skate. Higgens is right; deep down, I’m still a hockey player, and I’m meant to be on the ice. Even if it isn’t on a professional level, carving the ice will help clear my mind and hopefully get my head on straight.

Chapter 9

We’re totally stalking him.

Adrian

Staying away from the parties at Delfy House would be a whole lot easier if half the hockey team didn’t live there. Or, hell, if I didn’t live there. But when there are people cheering, laughing, and dancing just beyond your bedroom door, it’s practically impossible. Especially when everyone comes knocking, trying to see what I’m up to or if the room is available for a make-out session.

Right before heading out to see my brother, I go downstairs and say hello to everyone. Since it’s not the weekend, the guys have made it a habit to start the parties at Delfy House early,claiming the earlier they start, the sooner they can get to bed on a school night. It’s all just a load of crap to get drunk or hook up throughout the week.

I almost make it out the door when Callaway appears in front of me, red cup in hand. “Yo, superstar. Where are you going?”

“Dude, stop calling me that. I’m not a superstar.” Out of all the people on my team, Callaway is the trickiest to navigate. I used to be close with the defenseman when I was a freshman. Now, while I never really hid the fact I was gay, I didn’t go around announcing it either. Some of my teammates knew, and others didn’t.

When a scout from Olivia Cove approached me one night after a game, I confided in him. I’d heard that the Wyverns were inclusive, but I needed to know for sure. I’ve read so many articles about players, famous people—actors, musicians, athletes—who stayed in the closet throughout their entire career. They mentioned how miserable and lonely they were. I didn’t want that for myself.

The scout told me my sexual orientation doesn’t affect my talent, and if I decide to come out, it shouldn’t change my chances at the draft, and it didn’t. I was drafted high, and the cliché nickname ‘superstar’ was born. What I didn’t expect was for it to change my friendships with some of my teammates.

Callaway seemed to take it the hardest, confused as to why I’d come out. He didn’t particularly seem upset that I was gay, but more concerned. Whether it was for me, the team, or himself, Ican’t be entirely sure. Either way, after a few awkward months, Coach Wilson had about enough and told us to get our heads out of our asses.

For the most part, we work well together, but we never fully regained the level of friendship we had before I was out. Sometimes, I get little hints of jealousy, and it makes me feel bad. Especially since I know Callaway is just as talented as me.

“Well?” he asks, taking a sip from his red cup. “Where are you off to looking so damn sharp?”

I glance down at my tight black tee and fitted jeans. For the most part, I look the same, but tonight I took extra care in styling my hair and added a little extra cologne—not too much, but enough to know I’m clean and smell damn good, not like a sweaty athlete.

“Meeting up with Felix,” I reply.

Callaway arches a brow. “Only Felix? You look like you’re trying too hard. Like you wanna impress some poor sap.”

Barking out a laugh, I shove past him right as my face begins to heat up. “Shut up, man.”

Callaway grins. “I fucking knew it,” he crows. “Okay, bro. Have fun with your ‘brother.’” He adds air quotes with his fingers when he says the word brother.

Since parking by the bar is a nightmare, I decide to walk. It’s a cool night, but the California climate prevents it from becoming too cold. The moon is visible tonight, and there’s a light breeze. Felix is waiting for me a few blocks away from the bar.

“Hey, you!” I rush over and greet my little brother with a hug. I don’t care what others think. Ever since Mom passed, he’s needed extra affection, and if I’m being honest, so do I. Felix sinks into the hug, and when I pull back, he’s frowning. Something about him looks sad tonight, and I’m ready to kick asses and take names. “What’s wrong?”

He lets out a deep sigh before he continues walking. “Nothing. Just had a fight with Jared.”Jared. Not ‘my Daddy.’

“What did the fucker do to you?”

“It’s fine, Adrian. I’m fine. It’s just a fight. Couples fight sometimes. You can’t protect me from everything.”

I know that, but damn, do I want to. Felix is all I have left. Dad is gone. Mom is gone. I place a hand on his shoulder and stop him from walking. “I don’t think I can just switch it off, Fe. I love you. I always want what’s best for you.”

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