Page 98 of These Wicked Games
“I know it’s hard, but let’s not play the what-if game right now. Alright? You know I’m here too. We’re friends too. If you need to talk you can tell me anything,” I say.
“And he probably will, because Atlas tells everyone but me his secrets,” Oli huffs.
“Not now!” I snap at my grumpy boyfriend.
“I’m sorry,” Atlas concedes. “I’m so scared.” It’s moments like now, when shit truly hits the fan, that I remember how much younger he is than me, Oli, and Grey. Four years may not seem like a lot but Atlas is in a different phase of his life than we are. “He’s not going to play again this year. Maybe not ever.”
Oli rolls over, putting his arm around Atlas. “Hey, he’s going to be okay. Alright? He’s going to have surgery and rehab and he’ll be fine.”
“He has the best doctors, the best medical care. He’ll get through this,” I add, although none of us know. Atlas doesn’t answer, he just sinks into our warmth.
“As soon as we’re back home, we’ll visit him. The hospital will be so sick of us.” That makes him laugh. “I even bet there’ll be cute nurses you can hit on.”
That makes him laugh a little before a sniffle sounds between us. “I don’t want cute nurses. I want my friend to be okay.”
“I know.” I soothe my hand along his back, pulling him into me.
Finally he’s quiet, and his breaths even out against my skin. It’s quiet in this room, and after this whole night I am dead tired.
“Andre,” Oli whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for being here tonight, with him. I appreciate it.”
“Of course. He’s my friend too.” I close my eyes, trying to get comfortable. “Good night, Oli.”
It’s quiet for a moment and I think he’s fallen asleep. “Good night, myzayka.”
Bastard.
twenty-nine
Andre
Four months later.
We wait at Grey’s door, knowing he won’t be the one to answer it. He alternates between crutches and a wheelchair. At first we’d had hope that after surgery things would improve, but the damage was even worse than they’d initially thought. I’ve only known Grey for a short time, but seeing him sink deeper and deeper into himself hurts, and I know it bothers Oli way more than he’s letting on.
He knocks again, and I’m about to tell him we can try again later when the door swings open to a tall, lean man standing in the doorway. He’s wiry, with glasses that are far too big for his face, and his mop of brown hair is disheveled, like he ran from the other end of the house to get the door. “Hi uh, can Ihelp you?”
“We’re here to see Grey.” Oli glares. “Who are you?”
“Oh, sorry.” He laughs nervously, meekly sticking out his hand. “I’m Felix, Grey’s new caregiver. Uh, I just started. I haven’t had a chance to really go through things yet.”
“Caregiver?”
Felix nods timidly, and while he’s not much shorter than we are, he’s about half our size. He looks between us nervously.
“Oli, why don’t we stop scaring this poor man and ask to be let inside?” I nudge him. “We’re just visiting. We just wanted to see him. Tonight’s an important game for us.” I wish he could be there. I know if he were in his right mind, he’d want to be.
Tonight we’re throwing a special pride night. Most of the players are wrapping their sticks with rainbow tape, and we’ve commissioned special jerseys we’ll auction off after the game. All the money will be donated to the youth shelter downtown. This was all Oli’s idea, and I’m so proud of him.
We’ve gotten our fair amount of shit from players, fans, and reporters over the last four months, but it’s never stopped Oli from being loud about who he is. “Can we come in please?”
“Oh, yeah um, no problem. He uh—” Felix looks back inside the house, then lowers his voice. “He's not happy right now.”
“He’s never happy anymore.” Oli pushes past him into Grey’s home, and Felix follows behind us. “So, are you staying here or—”
