Page 42 of Speak in Fever
But he refuses to acknowledge it. Refuses to name what's happening to him as heartbreak or disappointment or any other word that might give it power. Instead, he stands up and tells himself he's fine, that this was just sex, and that nothing is different.
Chapter 13
Percy has shared hotel rooms with teammates before. It's part of professional hockey—travel budgets, league accommodations, the practical realities of moving twenty-plus players across the country on a regular basis. Rooming arrangements are typically straightforward, professional, and completely unremarkable.
What's remarkable is how different it feels when the teammate in question is Rath Platts.
They'd maintained careful boundaries—stayed on their respective sides of the king-sized bed, kept conversation minimal, treated the whole situation with professional courtesy. But Percy had still been acutely conscious of Rath's presence three feet away, warm and sleep-soft and completely off-limits.
And when they’d woken up together, with Rath in his arms and his ass pressed against him so sweetly, Percy had forgotten he was supposed to be thinking this whole thing through rationally. He had been consumed with feeling Rath in hishands, with getting his mouth on his neck, with having him in any way he could get him.
Now it's game day, and Percy is trying to channel that restless energy into hockey focus as he laces his skates in the visiting locker room at SAP Center. Around him, his teammates go through their usual pre-game rituals—Terrible adjusting his gear for the fourth time, Torres stretching in increasingly elaborate positions, Harley having what appears to be a philosophical conversation with his goalie mask.
"You ready for this?" JP asks, settling beside Percy on the bench.
"Always," Percy replies automatically, but his eyes drift across the room to where Rath is getting dressed. Even in the controlled chaos of a pre-game locker room, Rath moves with fluid efficiency, and Percy finds himself watching the process with more attention than is strictly professional.
"I meant for playing with Platts on the power play," JP clarifies with a knowing grin. "New combinations, new chemistry. Could be interesting."
Percy forces his attention back to his skate laces. "We've been working well together in practice."
"Practice is different from games." JP's tone is casual, but Percy catches the underlying message. Game situations are faster, more intense, requiring the kind of instinctive trust that goes beyond system knowledge. "Think you two are ready for that level?"
"We're ready," Percy says, and realizes he means it. Whatever complicated feelings exist between them, their on-ice chemistry is undeniable.
Coach's pre-game speech is focused and tactical—San Jose's tendencies, key matchups, the importance of starting strong on the road. Percy half-listens while running through his own mental preparation, but part of his attention keeps drifting toRath, who's been unusually quiet all day–and Percy has a good feeling that it’s his fault.
When they take the ice for warm-ups, Percy feels the familiar surge of adrenaline that comes with game preparation. The crowd noise, the crisp cold air, the satisfying sound of pucks hitting boards—all of it combining into the sensory cocktail that reminds him why he fell in love with hockey in the first place.
During passing drills, Percy finds himself paired with Rath more often than random chance would suggest. Every clean pass between them, every perfectly timed give-and-go, reinforces the connection they've been building in practice. Rath's positioning is instinctive now, like he knows where Percy will be before Percy himself has decided.
Game time arrives with the usual surge of organized energy—final equipment checks, last-minute tactical reminders, the focused quiet that settles over the locker room before they take the ice for real.
Percy leads the team out of the tunnel, the captain's responsibility he's carried for four years but never takes for granted. Behind him, he can feel his teammates' energy, their readiness to follow his lead and execute the game plan they've been preparing.
The opening faceoff goes to Percy, and from the first shift he can tell this is going to be one of those games where everything clicks. His passes are crisp, his positioning is perfect, and when he looks for Rath on the power play, Rath is exactly where Percy needs him to be.
Their first goal comes eight minutes into the first period, a beautiful sequence that starts with Percy winning a defensive zone faceoff and ends with Rath burying a rebound that Percy created by driving hard to the net. The assist feels as satisfying as scoring himself, especially when Rath's celebration includes a quick glance toward Percy with undisguised excitement.Whatever tension exists between them from this morning, it doesn’t appear to have made it onto the ice.
The second goal is even better. Midway through the second period, Percy and Rath work a two-on-one that showcases everything they've been building in practice. Percy draws the defender, Rath finds the perfect angle, and when the pass comes, it's tape-to-tape perfection that Rath converts with a quick release that gives the goalie no chance.
This time, Rath's celebration is more emphatic, and when he skates over to Percy for the congratulatory contact, there's something electric about the brief collision of their bodies. Just teammates celebrating a goal, but Percy feels the contact everywhere.
"Beautiful pass," Rath says, his face flushed with exertion and satisfaction.
"Beautiful finish," Percy replies, and they stare at each other for a moment that stretches beyond normal goal celebration before the rest of the team arrives to join the huddle.
The third and fourth goals come from other lines, but Percy and Rath continue to dominate their shifts, creating chances and controlling play with the kind of chemistry that makes coaching look easy. Every time they're on the ice together, something special seems to happen—if not scoring, then sustained pressure that wears down San Jose's defense and creates opportunities for their teammates.
By the time the final buzzer sounds on a 4-1 victory, Percy feels the deep satisfaction that comes from a complete team performance. But more than that, he feels the specific pride that comes from watching Rath excel, from being part of the chemistry that made it possible.
In the post-game handshake line, Percy catches Rath talking animatedly with JP about the power play goals, his face bright with the kind of joy that makes Percy's chest warm. This iswhat Rath looks like when he's confident, when he knows he belongs, when he's not worried about proving himself because his performance speaks for itself.
"Hell of a game, Platts," Coach says during the post-game address. "That's the kind of offensive instinct we've been looking for."
Percy watches Rath absorb the praise with humility, but he can see the satisfaction in his posture, the quiet pride that comes from earning recognition through performance. It's such a good look on him.
Back at the hotel, the team scatters to shower and change before regrouping for what Torres has already declared will be a "proper celebration" at one of San Jose's downtown clubs. Percy normally approaches these team outings with resigned professionalism—necessary for team bonding, but not exactly his favorite part of the job.
