Page 20 of Full Body Hit: Part 2
“Sounds good.” Chase grinned, jumping on Sammy to give him a big hug, and Auston had to watch as they wrestled unsteadily on the ice before Sammy skated away with a last glare in Auston’s direction.
Chase winced sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“What does he think I’m gonna do to you?” Auston grumbled. “I’m not a fucking serial killer.”
Chase shrugged. “He’s just protective. Uh…by ‘help’, did you mean feed you pucks? Because that’s as much as I can offer.”
“You know that…Michigan goal better than me.” Auston regretted saying that the moment it left his mouth, recalling how he’d barked at Chase in the middle of a game after the kid tried the move—scooping the puck with the blade of the stick behind the goal and trying to stuff it into a corner of the open net.
It was one of those moves that the old guard just wasn’t into—too sneaky as the player tried to pull something from where the goalie couldn’t see. Too showy.
But it took balls to try and pull it off…especially as a rookie.
Predictably, Chase’s face twisted. “I thought you weren’t a fan of that,” he pointed out.
“I think we should all just collectively forget everything I’ve done and said for the last few months. That was Dick Auston. This is…Real Auston.”
Chase considered him, eyes searching his face. “That doesn’t seem possible, you being two completely different people.”
Auston’s lungs clenched. “Then…give me a chance to be better. I want to be better for you.”
That might have been a bit too much. Chase’s eyes widened, lips parting, the silence falling between them heavy the way only vulnerability could make it.
Auston fought the urge to clam up. To take it back.
Chase took a deep, audible breath. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that.”
Auston gave a jerky nod, hope a wash of clear liquid that drained the tension out.
He kept the extra practice light, suggesting a game of keep away, not unlike that day they’d had to make a video and had ended up playing tag with a coat.
God, he should have known he was weird about Chase—that there’d been something there from the beginning.
It was forty-five minutes into messing around that Chase asked him to help him withhisshot. “You don’t need the help, but my one-timer is shit.”
“Hey, now. No need to be so critical.” Which, yeah, was ironic coming from him. “I’ll give you some pointers, though.” He nodded to where Chase should stand. “Show me what you’ve got first.”
Auston fed him a couple of pucks, analysing how the kid hit them.
“Okay,” Auston called out, skating over. “You’ve got to go lower. Let me show you.”
Auston hit a few pucks from Chase, getting down low onto his knee to slap it into the right corner of the goal.
“Jeez,” Chase said. “I’m never gonna get it like that.”
“Yes, you will. It’s about momentum more than strength. Come here.”
Chase slid sideways, making a small noise when Auston grabbed him and positioned him with his back against Auston’s front.
“You have to use your whole body, yeah?” His heart was pounding, mouth dry as what he was doing hit him.
This was Charlie. His Charlie—the one who had fucked himself desperately for Auston the night before.
His baby.
Auston’s hands clenched on Chase’s hips. God, there was barely an inch separating them. Even in the cold air of the empty arena, Chase was all warmth, cheeks red, mouth parted, slick and dark inside.
What would Chase do if Auston pressed them closer?
