Page 116 of Friendzone Hockey
“The one and only.”
“Casey’s off of him today,” he says, as if my brother quit carbs for the weekend—something he’d never do, right along with quitting Sutter’s dick. “He thinks it would be funny to direct Sutter to the Meyer house.”
“No.” Mercy has enough on his plate.
“You’re no fun. Jack said it would be fine.”
All I have to do is cross my arms.
“Alright, I’ll tell him not to. Would have been epic, though,” he mutters. “But anyway, Syd wants to talk to me about something later. What do you think it is? I’m stressing here. He knows I’m anxious as fuck. Everyone knows the phrase “we need to talk” sets my head spinning.”
Well,wedo. Syd doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of Dash. Know who knows everything about Dash? Me. It’s me.
“Have a seat, sweetheart. Wanna tell me about it?”
He rests his head on my bar top as he does, circling his finger over the copper. “You still gonna play for Vancouver?”
That wasn’t a decision I made lightly. When I was offered to move up from the farm team I’ve played on with Dash for several seasons and play in the NHL, it wasn’t the happy moment I thought it would be. I was filled with so much conflict—I’d be leaving Dash. In the end, I took the contract as a just-in-case measure. Just in case Syd and Dash don’t last. Just in case he ends up with me by some miracle.
Just in case he’s still in love with me.
It’ll pay for a good future for us. I can make all his dreams come true. But the sacrifice gave me pause. It’s hard enough to manage one hockey schedule let alone two. It’s probably the only thing I’d rather talk about less than Syd.
“Thought you wanted to talk about Syd?”
“Not really. I mean, I do, but all I’m gonna do is come up with one totally illogical scenario after another, and it would all be speculation. Unlike our very real impending separation, that is, if you’re still going?”
“I’m still going.” And I’m fucking decisive when I say it, too. The life I could give him with NHL money is beyond measure. It’s happening, no matter how distraught I feel when I have to look into that face he’s giving me right now.
Fuck. His lip’s wobbling.You’re killing me, Dashie.
“Can I come with you?”
“What about your hockey career?”
He shrugs. “Dunno. But, like, if I wanted to, would you let me?”
It’s a test. Why’s he testing me?
I sigh. “It’s not a matter of letting you—you’re an adult, you can make your own decisions—but I would try to talk you out of it.”
It’s the wrong answer. I know it as soon as I’ve said it.
“That’s the same as not letting me, Stace.”
“It’s—”
He pops his head up, a hard expression in his eyes. “It’s the same to me.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Yeah, kinda. It’s like you don’t give a fuck that you’re leaving.”
He’s picking a fight, but what he’s really looking for is security. Leaving is hard for Dash. It might always be.
I lean over the bar top. It’s the slow lull of the day, but there are still a few patrons around. Don’t really care about them. I slide a hand across his face. It’s just me and him.
“I give so many fucks that I don’t want to go. I never want to be separated from you.”
