He Shoots He Scores

by Tricia Owens

  “Then why are you calling me?”

  Getting Neil’s sister involved was risky. It could be considered crossing a line. But he felt it was worth it. “I’m trying to find Neil. He’s not at his place. I was hoping maybe you might have an idea where he could be.”

  “You tried calling him?”

  “Yes. No answer. Probably because it’s me,” he added.

  She didn’t respond for a few seconds. “Why wouldn’t he answer a call from you?”

  “I’m not sure, but I get the feeling he’s trying to avoid his teammates right now.”

  “Maybe. But Neil doesn’t run. Not from anything. Even when I think he should.” She groaned. “Look, I need to know something before I say anything further. Are you doing this because he’s your new guy?”

  He thought the question over, trying to figure out what she was getting at. “You mean am I trying to protect the team?”

  “Among other things.”

  “Honestly? I don’t think the team needs protecting. It was one game. I’m already over it, aren’t you?”

  She snorted. “That sounds like something you’d say. I guess what I’m asking is why are you going out of your way here if what just happened is no big deal? Neil will show up at practice tomorrow. Where’s the hurry to talk to him? Maybe he just needs space. The media people are acting like assholes right now, so I don’t blame him.”

  “I don’t blame him, either. Though you should know, he was willing to talk to them. I admired that a lot, even if I thought it was unnecessary.”

  “One thing you’re going to learn about Neil is that he takes responsibility for everything he does, good or bad, his fault or not. There’s a reason he was captain of Colorado. He’s a really good guy who only wants the best for everyone around him, and I’m not just saying that because he’s my brother. If he were a jerk, I’d say so.”

  Adrian grinned. He really liked this woman. “I’m getting that impression about him, too, so I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’m looking forward to becoming his friend.”

  “Uh huh. So that’s what you’re doing right now? Trying to become his friend?”

  The wariness in her voice gave Adrian food for thought. Why was she so protective of Neil? It seemed to go beyond a sister’s care for her brother. Her caution seemed angled, pointed at Adrian’s reasons for wanting to contact Neil. Was she aware that Neil was gay? Adrian was beginning to think she did know. What else did she know?

  “Maybe I’m misreading you,” he said, keeping his tone light, “but it seems like you’re not convinced that I actually like your brother and want to be friends with him.”

  “Look, all I can go on is what I’ve seen and read about you in the media. You seem like a blast to hang out with. You’ve got a great smile and no one can question your butt.”

  Adrian barked out a shocked laugh.

  “But anyone can make themselves look good in the media if they’re savvy enough. And you have a history of—no offense—having a short attention span when it comes to the people you surround yourself with.”

  He cocked his head, confused by the statement. He mentally skated around it a couple of times. “Short attention span? What do you mean?”

  “Just that it seems like you like variety. I don’t want Neil becoming another flavor.”

  His mouth formed into an ‘O’. Was she implying what he thought she was, or was he reading into it? The odds seemed 50-50 either way. He ran his finger along the steering wheel and took his time deciding what he wanted to do. There were steps he’d need to take if he wanted this thing with Neil to work out. They were dangerous steps and they didn’t need to be taken just yet, but they would be necessary eventually. If Adrian were truly committed to this.

  He smiled to himself. What was life without risk? What was hope without the threat of disappointment?

  “May I call you Moira?” he said.

  “You may.” She sounded faintly amused. “Should I call you Adrian or Maggy?”

  “Unless you’re going to slap my butt in the showers, you should call me Adrian.”

  Her laughter filled his ears. “Uh oh, now you’ve got me thinking hard about this.”

  He grinned. “Moira, I’m interested in Neil.”

  Her laughter tapered off.

  “Neil’s an interesting person,” she said carefully.

  “That’s not what I mean. My interest is personal.”

  “I saw the photos of you at the steakhouse opening. Your date that night was gorgeous. I think she’s one of the rare girls I’ve seen you photographed with more than once. You two getting serious?”

  “Moira,” he said patiently, “I don’t think I need to explain to you, of all people, what a beard is.”

  He heard her gasp. “Points for being direct.”

  “I may be a guy who likes to have a good time, but when I’m talking about something that means something to me, I’m always truthful.”

  “This is—I can’t—why would you tell me this?”

  “You and Neil are the only ones who know.”

  Her breath rattled through the receiver. “Alright. Okay. I get it.”

  “I need to talk to him, Moira.”

  She was silent for long enough to worry him. “This isn’t a game,” she said eventually.

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “Then you’re aware that if you hurt him, you’ll be destroying his career, too.”

  “First of all, I don’t intend to hurt him. Second of all, our personal lives and our professional lives can be kept separate.”

  “I say that to him all the time, but it’s only now, hearing it from someone else, that I realize how naïve it is.”

  He dug his fingernail into the leather of the steering wheel. “Maybe it is naïve. Maybe reality is going to smack me in the face one day. That doesn’t change how much I want to make this work. I believe I can. I want to. I’m going to try my hardest. He’s worth it.”

  “Ugh. You’re supposed to be a himbo: pretty, but dumb and shallow. I don’t know how to feel about a guy who might actually be good for Neil.”

  He smiled, but his heart was pounding. “Help me to get a hold of him?”

  “You risked a lot by outing yourself to me, Adrian. For that alone, I owe it to you to give it a shot. I’ll call you back.”

  “Thank you, Moira.”

  “Don’t thank me yet.”

  She hung up, leaving Adrian cradling a tentative hope.

  ~~~~~

  She didn’t call back right away, so he optimistically headed home to change out of his suit. Dressing up was mandatory when heading to the arena for games, but he wasn’t out to impress Neil with his looks. He changed into jeans and a pullover.

  He had just pulled a bottle of water from the fridge when Moira called back.

  “I found him,” she said. “He sounds drunk.”

  Adrian’s stomach clenched tight. “Did he say where he is?”

  “Capital Hill? Do you know where that its?”

  Oh, shit, Adrian thought. To Moira, he said, “I’ll go get him. Thank you for helping me.”

  “Make sure he’s okay.”

  “I’ll text you when I’ve got him.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Adrian. Just—thanks.”

  He could tell she’d wanted to say more and he wished she had.

  He took his Jeep this time, since the car was slightly less conspicuous than his fancy Volvo. He also made sure to wear a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. He found metered parking on the street, grateful that it was a Tuesday night and the area wasn’t as wild as it could be on a weekend. Still, there were a lot of people out and about, and of course all the bars were open. All the gay bars. Capital Hill was Seattle’s gay district.

  Moira had said Neil claimed to be inside Puppies. This was Adrian’s first time in this neighborhood, but that didn’t mean he was unaware of the reputations of the various bars and clubs here. Puppies was one of the tamer bars, absent a dance floor, DJ,
or karaoke. When Adrian entered, he found himself in what could have been a sports bar in any city if it weren’t for the pride flag displayed above the bar between the two large television screens. One screen was playing hockey highlights. The other showed a talk show featuring hockey pundits. Thankfully, the two dozen or so patrons inside weren’t paying the TVs any mind.

  With one exception.

  Adrian approached the booth facing the bar while thanking the gods that Neil had possessed enough self-preservation to wear a baseball cap, too. He was still in his suit, but he’d pulled a windbreaker over it, toning down the formality, if creating an odd fashion ensemble. Still, if a hockey fan or even a sports fan who watched a lot of highlight shows took a long enough look at him, he would be identifiable. He sat staring at the TVs while surrounded by empty beer bottles. He registered Adrian’s approach with a scant flicker of his eyelashes.

  “We need to go,” Adrian said once he was close enough to be heard above the hum of conversation.

  “I’m drinking,” Neil told him.

  “We’ll drink somewhere better.” Adrian grinned. “I’ve got a place in mind that you’ll love.”

  Neil continued watching the TVs. “I’m fine where I am.”

  “You’re going to be a baby about this?” Adrian teased.

  As he’d hoped, that dragged Neil’s attention away from the TVs. “Does that make you my self-appointed babysitter?

  “If that’s your kink, sure.”

  Neil reached for a half-full beer. “Go away, Magnusson. I’m not going to jump off a bridge. I’m having a few drinks and unwinding.”

  “In a gay bar.”

  The bottle in Neil’s hand trembled. “It’s a free country.”

  “If I get on my knees and beg,” Adrian said, “will you leave with me? I’m dead serious here.”

  Neil raised his brows. “You’d beg?” He motioned with the beer bottle. “Go ahead. I’d like to see it.”

  Adrian didn’t hesitate, bending his knees—

  “Jesus, stop!” Neil stared at him in horror. “I can’t believe you were seriously going to—” He slid his beer away from him with an uneasy look around at the other patrons. “We’ll go.”

  Proud to have called his bluff, Adrian followed him out of the bar.

  “You’re shameless,” Neil complained as Adrian pushed him toward his parked Jeep.

  “Says the guy who was secretly hoping he’d be recognized and his career destroyed,” Adrian said cheerfully. “Where’s your car, by the way?”

  Neil motioned vaguely in the direction of a parking garage.

  “Good. It shouldn’t be towed from there. I’ll bring you back in the morning to pick it up.” Adrian waited and made sure Neil was seated and wearing his seatbelt before closing the door and coming around to the driver side. As he drove down the street, he counted his lucky stars that they’d managed to escape the area without notice.

  “I wasn’t.”

  He glanced over at Neil, who was staring at the dashboard.

  “What’s that?”

  “I said I wasn’t.” Neil glared at him. “I wasn’t secretly hoping to be recognized.”

  “Then it was a spontaneous decision to go to the gay district in a suit while your face dominates every sports channel on every TV in the city?”

  “You overestimate the interest in me or in hockey in Seattle.”

  “On the contrary. I’d say you drastically underestimate both.”

  “That’s your bias talking.”

  Adrian was amused by the comment. “Maybe it is. I happen to be obsessed with both.”

  He checked Neil for his reaction. The other winger stared through the front windshield, his face expressionless.

  “Obsession is a good word for it,” Neil said eventually. “I’m available to you, which makes me appealing. It’s like someone told you you can’t have chocolate, and suddenly you find a bar in your pocket. Doesn’t matter that it’s not a brand you’d buy. It’s chocolate, and it’s in your hand.”

  Adrian laughed. He couldn’t stop laughing, driving through two intersections while his whole body shook with it before he could control himself.

  “You’re a real smart guy, Neil,” he said, slightly breathless. He wiped at his eyes. “I’ve never known a person capable of the mental gymnastics that you are. You deserve a gold medal for the way you can avoid the truth.”

  “What truth?” Neil retorted. He yanked his baseball cap off and chucked it at his feet. “That we’re fuck buddies? Or we were. Clearly you want us to continue.”

  “Yeah, I do, and I think you do, too.” Adrian flexed his fingers on the wheel. “I think you need it.”

  “Here we go,” Neil said as he smiled down at his lap. “You’ve got what I need. The big ol' healing dick that will magically make me feel better.”

  “I think I’ve got something you need, alright. It’s called confidence in you. I watched the replays from tonight. You slipped because Johansson had you lined up for the hit.”

  “I let myself be distracted.”

  “You were afraid of being hit by Atlanta’s biggest player.”

  Neil bent forward and swiped his hat off the floorboard. He strangled it between his hands. “I wasn’t afraid.”

  “You remembered what happened the last time you were hit big. A broken arm and a concussion are nothing to sneeze at. I know I’d think twice about putting myself in a situation where it could happen again.”

  “Everyone thinks they know what I’m thinking,” Neil muttered as he continued to twist his hat. “Everyone’s a psychiatrist. Maybe all that happened is that I screwed up. I put too much pressure on the blade and it slipped. I fucked up. Simple as that.”

  “Then why were you hoping that something unrelated to hockey would take you out of the sport?”

  “What?” Neil’s eyes were round. Streetlights danced off the shimmer in them.

  Adrian felt bad about what he was about to say, but treating Neil with kid gloves wasn’t going to help the man.

  “The gay bar,” he said. “You didn’t bury your head in the sand. You didn’t go into hiding to wait out the bad press. You went straight to the most reckless place you could. If someone had outed you tonight, your career would be over. It would be out of your hands—or so you believe. You could retire—or be driven out, however much you wanted to suffer—and no one would ever learn how afraid you are.”

  “Pull over,” Neil ordered quietly.

  “I understand why—”

  “I said pull the fucking car over!”

  They were at the edges of Adrian’s neighborhood and the traffic was light. He pulled into an empty parking spot in front of a flower shop.

  “You’re not getting out of this car,” Adrian warned him, twisting to face him. “I’ll tackle you if I have to. Don’t test me.”

  “Good,” Neil shot back. He unsnapped his seatbelt. “Let’s fight it out right here. Get rid of all that testosterone you’ve been saving up for me.”

  “You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m fighting you,” Adrian said, keeping his tone mild. “That’d play right into your hands, wouldn’t it, if I conveniently broke your arm again?”

  Neil dove across the gear shift. Adrian was caught by surprise. He’d thought Neil was all talk. He managed to throw up his forearm to block the punch Neil aimed at his face. In the tight confines of the car Neil wasn’t able to put much force behind the swing, which skidded off Adrian’s arm and struck the driver headrest instead.

  “You stupid bast—” Adrian grabbed Neil’s wrist and twisted it, forcing Neil to bend awkwardly to the side to relieve the pressure.

  Neil tried to retaliate with his other hand, but his own seat was in the way, hampering his swing. Adrian surged forward to crush him against the passenger side door with his body.

  “Stop it,” he growled in Neil’s face. “Just stop,” he repeated in his ear when he turned away from Adrian to pant against the window. “You’re making a fool of yoursel
f.”

  Neil jerked his shoulder up. “Get off me.”

  “You’ve had too much to drink. You’re hurting. I’ll give you a pass, but you’re pushing it, Neil.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are!” Adrian laughed, incredulous. “Since when is it a pussy move to admit that you feel terrible? That you’re disappointed and sad?”

  “Because no one gives a shit about that!” Neil shot back, whipping his head back around. “And I don’t need anyone to stroke my hair and tell me everything’s going to be okay.”

  “Don’t you?”

  Neil struggled against him in a burst of energy, but Adrian out muscled him and had the benefit of a clearer head. After a brief tussle, he had Neil against the door frame again, one forearm braced against his collarbone to keep him in place.

  “You think you’re the only one who’s ever blown a huge opportunity to prove himself?” Adrian asked him, breathing hard. “In our sport alone, dozens of guys are screwing up their one shot at making a roster or moving to a better line. Every day, Neil. Every fucking day guys are blowing it and you don’t see them giving up the game and moving to Montana.”

  “I’d never move to Montana,” Neil muttered.

  Adrian stared at him. Then he burst into laughter.

  “Everything’s a joke to you,” Neil said, his tone sharp with bitterness. “Nothing fazes you. Must be nice to not give a shit about anything. But guess what? I do give a shit and that’s why I can’t continue playing if I’m not going to give a hundred and ten percent.”

  “So then do it,” Adrian said, sobering. “If you’re so determined, just do it.”

  “Because I—” Shame crested Neil’s face before he looked away. Adrian felt stabbed in the chest.

  “You don’t have to do it alone.” Adrian eased back, letting his forearm slide from Neil’s collarbone. “Let me help you. Let the team help you. Neil, the guys were fucking ecstatic about how you elevated our play tonight. It’s all they were talking about after you left. If they can do anything to keep you playing like that, I’ll bet you my left nut that they’ll do it. They don’t care what your hang-up is. They want the best from you and they can help you get it. We can.”

  “I can’t play if I’m a coward.”