Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
I rubbed my hands together, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. “I’m ready.”
I laced the rental skates and raced to the edge of the rink, feeling oddly emotional at the first slice of borrowed blades on smooth ice. I sensed Vin’s eyes on me as I looped around the perimeter, taking it nice and easy and slowly upping my pace, imagining a stick in my hand and a puck just out of reach.
This reminded me of learning to skate when I was five or six, watching older kids play at the frozen lake near my grandparents’ house. They were probably only twelve or thirteen, but they’d seemed like gods to me. Later, after they’d gone home, I’d strapped on skates my grandfather found in the garage and raced onto the ice like I owned it. I’d fallen flat on my ass time after time, but eventually, I matched the streaks the older boys left behind on wobbly knees with a phantom stick in my hand, chasing a ghostly puck.
My grandfather had watched in amusement, a broad smile on his face. He’d cheered me on, his cheeks pink from the cold. I remembered him saying dinner would be ready soon and they’d be looking for us, but we stayed until the evening cast long shadows…something like this.
As much as I’d grown to love the bright lights, the fans, and the frenzy, this felt healing somehow.
I increased my speed, right foot over left, leaning hard into each turn lap after lap. I skated backward, flipped forward, changing directions at whim as I rocketed imaginary pucks out of my way with my imaginary stick. In my head, I scored twenty goals, the fans were chanting my name as my teammates leaped over the wall to celebrate my triumphant return. Reality: I careened to a stop at center ice, bent over with my hands on my knees, gasping for breath as I blinked tears from my eyes and sent up a jumbled prayer of, “Please. Please. Please.”
Please what? I didn’t know.
Please, don’t take this away from me? Please, let me see clearly again?
My grandfather popped into my subconscious out of the blue. He used to caution my sister and me from making greedy requests to the heavens as if we were making holiday wish lists every day of the week. “Gratitude first. Ask for help in finding your path.”
I had no idea what the hell he’d meant back then, but now…fuck, it was worth a shot. “Please, show me the way,” I whispered.
“Hey, you looked good there,” Vinnie called out, skating toward me. “How d’ya feel?”
“Great.” I stood and bumped his fist, waving at Nolan, who was busy dropping orange cones on the blue line. “Thank you for this. It’s…exactly what I needed.”
“I’ll skate with you next time. We’ll get Nol to show his moves too,” he said as Nolan joined us.
“My moves?” Nolan rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if I have any of those anymore, but count me in.”
Vinnie flashed an adoring gaze at Nolan and kissed his temple. “You definitely have moves. Almost as good as mine.”
I shamelessly stared, noting the subtle ways they seemed connected even when they weren’t touching. Every glance carried weight, every smile held a little something extra. I hadn’t been around many same-sex couples. Honestly, Vinnie and Nolan were my first real reference, and they made it look easy. It never felt strange to be with them. They just…fit.
Nolan nudged Vin’s ribs. “Right. We can get a few other guys too…just say the word. The juniors would kill to shoot with you.”
“They’d either try to show off, or they’d be useless with hero worship,” Vinnie scoffed.
“True. But we have other options. Like…” Nolan snapped his fingers. “JC. You’re friends, right? I mean, I’ve seen you at the coffee shop together, so I assumed—”
“Yeah, we’re friends,” I intercepted abruptly. “Um…he’s a nice guy.”
Nolan nodded. “And he’s actually a pretty good hockey player.”
Vinnie’s brows shot to his hairline. “He is?”
“Yeah, he played in the minors for Quebec for a few years.”
“What?” Vinnie gaped. “Are you serious? Why didn’t I know that?”
Why didn’t I know that?
“I don’t know. It was a long time ago.” Nolan nodded a greeting to someone behind us. “The kids are trickling in. Let’s get ready, Coach. Good to see you, Trunk.”
“You too. And thanks for the ice time. I needed it.”
“Let’s do it again tomorrow, man.”
I bumped Vinnie’s fist and skated to the bench, my head buzzing in twenty directions at once and every thought was about Jean-Claude. Not the wonder of being on ice for the first time in a month or my religious moment, or my admiration of Vinnie and Nolan and the life they’d made here.
Nope.
My secret male lover was a former pro hockey player. What the actual fuck?
6
JEAN-CLAUDE
“It was a long time ago. Chop a little finer. Like this.”