Page 20 of Fresh Ice
“Don’t do that, please,” Levy asked quietly.
Alonso froze, dropping his hand to his lap. “Are you going to tell them? Just…I need to know if I have to call my agent.”
Levy let out a frustrated noise. “Obviously I’m not going to tell anybody,” he grumbled.
Hope flickered and then spluttered out inside Alonso. “For real? If you’re just saying that—”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I’ve got your back, man?” Levy cut in. “I wanna play hockey with you for the rest of my career, don’t you get that? And it’s not even about that. You’re my fuckingfriend. That means something to me.”
It was only then, the two of them sitting on their second-hand couch with Levy so damn earnest, that Alonso finally started to believe those words.
His body was still prepped for disaster, but something in him began to thaw.
“Okay,” Alonso said quietly.
“Okay,” Levy replied.
Alonso took a trembling breath. “Are you mad?” It was a pathetic question, but he had to know.
“Mad about what?”
“About me lying to you. About the fact that you’re playing with an Omega.”
Levy opened and closed his mouth a few times, a gasping fish. “Olive…I honestly don’t know what kind of person you think I am. Like…obviously you had to lie to me about that. I mean, hopefully you would have told meeventually, but that’s your decision to make. And, I don’t give a damn that you’re an Omega.”
Alonso shook his head. “You don’t have to just say that. I know that what I’m doing isn’t right.”
Levy waved his hands around manically. “What’s not right is the NHL’s attitude on Omegas. It’s ridiculous. You were a fourth-overall pick, for God’s sake. What does that say about an Omega’s ability to play here?”
“But…I tricked them to get that spot. They would have never—”
“Where is this coming from? You sound…brainwashed. You got that spot because of your hockey. Was your hockey a lie?”
Alonso didn’t say anything, but Levy barrelled on.
“Exactly. So. You’re no less deserving to be here than any of us.”
That’s not what my dad said. The words almost slipped out of him, but he knew instinctively that Levy wouldn’t take them well. “Okay,” he mumbled.
Levy let out a frustrated noise but didn’t push. “I know it’s a big ask, but you can trust me, yeah? It’s you and me, dude. We’re going to win a cup together one day.”
A smile flickered onto Alonso’s face. “Just one?”
Levy grinned. “There you are. Nah—two.Three.”
Alonso laughed. “Can’t wait.”
Only time would tell if Levy was telling the truth.
If he could actually be trusted.
**********
The following morning dawned with a pit of dread in Alonso’s stomach. Yesterday’s optimism had been consumed by the night, leaving a hollow space behind.
Levy said he wasn’t going to tell anybody now, but one single slip, one angry rant or drunken comment could undo that.
It was a blatantly unfair thing to think about Levy—sweet, optimistic Levy—but Alonso couldn’t help it. Fear was stronger than logic.
