Breakaway

by Avon Gale

  Lane nodded. “It finally occurred to me that maybe being quiet all the time wasn’t helping me out any,” he said, and something in his head made a noise like a bell. Or a goal horn. Lane ignored it. He was getting good at that.

  “That’s not what you do on a team.” Reeder shut his locker, then zipped up his bag. “Since I’m the Captain, I’m allowed to make a recommendation as to who the next one should be. And I’m recommending to the guys that it be you.”

  “Me?” Lane was flattered but also surprised. “Did you miss the part where I’m terrible with people, Reeder?”

  “No. You know what? You’re a lot better than you think you are. You say things in interesting ways, but you have leadership abilities. I can tell. Come on, man. We’re hockey players. None of us are good with people, or we wouldn’t be here.”

  That was certainly true. Lane laughed, raking a hand through his hair. “I guess you’re right. Still, I’m new. Do you think...? I mean, you vote on that. Right?”

  “Right. And I think that my recommendation will go a long way with the team. But let me tell you something about being captain, Lane.” Reeder finished with his bag and stood up. “You have to say things sometimes that people don’t want to hear. And they have to trust you and believe that you mean what you say. I think you can do that, probably better than anyone else on the team.”

  Lane had no idea his captain thought that highly of him. He was almost embarrassed—though pleased—to hear that. “Thanks,” he mumbled, staring down at his hands.

  “You’re welcome. One thing, though, Lane.”

  Lane looked up. “Yeah?”

  “For them to trust you? You have to trust them.” Max gave him a pointed look.

  Lane was honestly clueless for a few seconds, but then he realized what Reeder was telling him. “Oh.”

  “It’s the same thing as before, Courts. If you’re quiet about it... well, no, maybe it’s not exactly the same, but it is still you setting yourself apart, and that’s not something a leader can do. Especially the captain of a team,” Reeder said very seriously, like a motivational poster. He cracked a smile. “You’re a good guy and a great hockey player. I’ve enjoyed playing with you. I think it will be fun to play against you actually, and luckily they’re sending me to a team in playoff contention. No mercy, Courts.” He held out his hand.

  Lane stood up and shook it. “No mercy, Reeder. It will be fun, but I wish you could stay here.” It was a simple, heartfelt statement, and he meant it. “Maybe we’ll play together again sometime.”

  “I hope so, Lane. I really do.” Reeder gave him a happy grin. “And just so you don’t feel bad, this trade gives me a two-way clause in my contract. So I could possibly move up to playing in Portland for a few games. So you don’t have to worry, this isn’t a bad career move for me or anything, Gretzky.”

  “Stop it.” Lane hit him on the shoulder. “Good luck, Reeder. Except in the playoffs, because we’ll destroy you.”

  “Right. Whatever,” Reeder chirped, hitting him back. “See if you can get past the Renegades first. I’m pretty sure my new rivals are the guys in Utah.”

  “All of them?” Lane smiled to show he was kidding. “Hey. Who’d we get for you? It better be someone good. I can’t score all the goals.”

  “See. And now I know you, so that doesn’t make me want to punch you in the face. All that much anyway. But sadly no goal scorers here. The deal was for a defenseman. Name’s Ethan Kennedy. We need one.” He stopped for a minute. “You need one, since Bridey’s out.”

  Max looked a little emotional, which Lane thought was probably par for the course in situations like this. He just went about packing his things and let Max compose himself. Ignoring emotions was always the right thing to do, wasn’t it?

  They walked out together, and Max joked that at least he didn’t get traded somewhere cold. “I’d be pissed if I were going to Toledo. But hey. It’s Vegas.” He stopped by his car, which had Minnesota plates. Lane hadn’t ever noticed that before.

  Maybe I should pay more attention to people. His inner voice sounded like Zoe.

  “Think about what I said, Lane. And this team has a good shot at the Cup this year, so I hope you at least get far enough where we can knock you out.”

  “Do my best, Captain,” Lane said. The two of them shook hands, and that was that. Lane was behind him as they left the empty arena lot, each of them going in opposite directions. If Lane were the type to notice those things, he’d probably find it symbolic.

  Ryan was eating pizza when Lane got home, which meant that Zoe wasn’t there. Ryan only cooked when she came over. Lane knew that Zoe was aware of that and thought it was cute. “Hey. How was your skate? You hear about Reeder?”

  “Yeah. How did you? I heard ’cause I saw him at the rink.”

  “Younger called me. I think he heard it from Landers. Don’t know. Did you hear who we got?”

  “Ethan Kennedy. A defenseman, Reeder said.” Lane took a piece of pizza. “Sucks for Bridey, though.”

  “Yeah. No shit. Knocked onto the IR before the playoffs,” he said sadly, referring to the injured-reserve list. “Hey. You’re not mad or anything about Zoe. Right?”

  The subject switch from hockey to girls was not new to Lane, but it still took him off guard. “No. She likes you. Don’t be a dick or anything, though. Okay? I’ll have to hit you.”

  “I won’t,” Ryan assured him. “Not because of that, though. Because I saw your one attempt at a fight, Courts.”

  “Right. I’ll... have Zoe hit you?” Lane cleared his throat, reaching for another piece of pizza. It was only eleven thirty in the morning. Had Ryan called the pizza place right when he woke up? “Wait. No. You like that.” He kept talking. “Just don’t, because she’s my best friend. And if she gets hurt or whatever, she’ll have a lot of feelings, and I am not good with those.”

  “I noticed,” Ryan said dryly. “Shockingly enough. But I’m glad you don’t mind. Or aren’t jealous or whatever. Even though you’re dumb, because she’s hot. And that accent, man.”

  If you want them to trust you, you have to trust them.

  Lane put down his pizza. His heart was hammering in his chest, but it was time to stop hiding. “I’m not interested in her. But it’s not because I’m dumb.”

  “Matter of opinion, bro.”

  “It’s because I’m gay.” Lane could have said he was seeing someone or made it vague, but he didn’t want to. Not anymore.

  Ryan took another piece of pizza, and the look he gave him was almost sympathetic. “I know, Lane. But thanks for telling me. I was wondering if you were ever going to.”

  Lane’s mouth set in a tight line. “Did Zoe tell you?”

  “Oh, no,” Ryan laughed. “Courts, there are only so many times you can run away from a sure thing without a dude starting to wonder. All those girls I’d bring home? One for you, even? Not that I don’t appreciate the threesomes, but come on.”

  “So you just... figured it out?” Lane leaned back against the counter. “Huh.” He squinted up at the ceiling. “And you don’t care?”

  “Dude, I’m from Toronto. No. I don’t care.”

  “But we’re teammates. I’m your roommate.” He was still talking to the ceiling and he made himself stop and look at Ryan. “It’s different when it’s someone who’s one of those. Or both of those. Isn’t it?”

  Was he doing that thing Zoe talked about? Projecting? “Seriously is it? Because maybe it’s not. I don’t know.”

  Ryan shrugged and knocked his shoulder. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just know I figured it out. And I was kind of glad, because that meant you weren’t sleeping with Zoe and I still had a shot. Do you want to go running in an hour? I need a workout that isn’t conducted on my back.”

  “Don’t talk about Zoe disrespectfully,” Lane told him. “Was that disrespectful, do you think?”

  “No. But if it were, I’d tell her I said it. She’ll give me a lecture about social justice. It’s funny, �
�cause I keep trying to remind her I’m Canadian and that we have universal health care and legalized gay marriage before America. But she’s cute when she gets all riled up. It makes her accent sound like candy.” He grinned.

  Lane messed with the pizza box, opening and closing it four times before Ryan hit him and made him stop.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you think I should—” He stopped because Lane realized that Ryan couldn’t tell him whether or not he should tell the team. Only Lane knew the answer to that. “Do other people know?”

  “Look, Courts, we don’t sit around and discuss your love life. I mean, I live with you. So I notice things. But I never said you were a weirdo who didn’t want the hot chicks I brought home with me. Well, I did once or twice. But then I didn’t want the guys thinking I had horrible taste.” He finished his last piece of pizza. “Do you want to go running or not?”

  “I do, but I had that optional skate this morning. Can’t we play video games instead?”

  “I’ll play when I get back. It’s not a big deal. And you know, if Riley wants to stay over sometime, I think I’ve given you enough sex shows through the walls that I deserve some of my own. Even if it’s... ah... not my bag. So to speak.”

  “Riley? Why would Riley stay over?”

  “Lane, I know you’re gay, remember? You don’t have to pretend you just go to Hunter’s place to avoid my throwing girls at you and because Riley cooks and has more soft drinks than a vending machine.”

  “But that is why,” Lane told him, following as Ryan moved toward his bedroom door. “I’m not dating Riley.”

  “You’re not? Are you dating anyone, or are you just playing the dude field?”

  “I don’t know what that is, Ryan. But yeah. I have a boyfriend.”

  Ryan’s eyes widened. “It’s not Reeder, is it? That would be tragic and sad. Oh, wait. He has a fiancée. Zoe thought she was hot. Zoe likes girls too,” Ryan said, sounding proud. “I’m a friend and ally to your people, Lane.”

  “Thanks, Ryan. I’ll put it in the next newsletter.”

  Ryan burst out laughing. “You know, I like to think living with me improved your humor. That was funny.”

  “I make jokes, but sometimes they’re not funny,” Lane told him helpfully.

  “So who are you dating, then? I’m going to go through everyone on the team if you don’t tell me.”

  “It’s no one on the team,” Lane assured him. Jared had told a few of his teammates about Lane, so Lane figured it was all right to tell his about Jared. “It’s Jared Shore.”

  “Wait. Really? I’m not sure if I’m impressed or intimidated right now, Courts.” Ryan pulled his shirt off, wandered into his bedroom, and put it in the hamper. His room was clean, and his bed was made. “Zoe’s coming over later,” he told Lane, as if he’d read Lane’s mind.

  Realizing his roommate was shirtless, Lane was in the awkward position of not knowing if he should leave or not. But Ryan was still talking—loudly as usual—making finger guns at him at one point and changing into his running clothes. “Come on. Get ready and go with me. I want to hear how this even happened. Also it’s very important you tell me what I can say to him on the ice about it, since he’s on the second line for the Renegades now too.”

  Lane went to change. He didn’t want to go running, but he always liked talking about Jared. And besides, he could suggest a few things to Ryan. Hockey was hockey, man. Jared would understand.

  Lane thought about how to tell his teammates, and he was still thinking about it when Coach Spencer called a team meeting to discuss Reeder’s trade and their new player, Ethan Kennedy. At the end of the meeting, he brought up the team captaincy and how it was vacant now that Max was no longer on the team.

  “Reeder made a recommendation for his replacement, and that’s none other than our very own Mr. Lane Courtnall.” Coach Spencer motioned at him. “Come up here and tell the team why you should be the Captain, Courtnall. And I’ll go outside. So if you want to talk about how you’ll feed me my whistle for dinner, you can. But good luck. We’ve all seen you fight.”

  Even Lane laughed at that, but nervously. When the coach left, Lane swallowed hard and made his brain shift into hockey mode. It didn’t make him a better speaker or anything, but it helped him focus. “It’s an honor just to be nominated,” he started, and everyone laughed—even though Lane meant it seriously. “Seriously it is. Reeder told me that, and I was kind of surprised, because I did say stupid stuff, and then I didn’t say anything. And I know that was the wrong thing to do. I’m not that great with this speaking thing, and you all know that because I try to talk to you and usually at some point... you laugh at me.”

  Everyone laughed at that, but Lane expected them to. “Anyway I’ve learned a lot being here. And you might not believe this, but it’s made me better with people.” Lane smiled ruefully. “I promise. And it’s made me better at hockey, because now I know what it’s like to be a teammate. I didn’t know that before I came here. Which is maybe not the thing to say if you want to be captain, but I think a good captain should listen and learn stuff, not just tell people what to do. And I can do that. The listening and stuff, not the telling anyone what to do. Though if I have to, I can probably do it without sounding like a dick.”

  Lane waited for a moment, trying to work out what to say next. But before he could do that, Cody Sparks raised his hand very solemnly. “Do you promise to give these inspirational speeches before every game? If so, you’ve got my vote.”

  The guys laughed again, and Lane knew as well as anyone that their attention span for that kind of thing was at an end. It was now or never. “Also, Reeder told me that you guys would trust me if I would trust you. And so you should probably know that I’m gay.”

  The room stopped and went quiet. It was Sparky who broke the silence. “Someone call Bridey right now. I don’t care if he’s in the hospital or in surgery. Tell him he owes me twenty bucks.”

  Lane gave a horrified laugh. It was inappropriate, but he didn’t know what else to say. “Look. It’s not really—you don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know.” No one would look at him, though, so Lane was pretty sure he’d made a huge mistake by telling them. “That’s all, I guess.”

  He walked into the hallway. If Coach Spencer heard him, he didn’t say anything. “Wait out here a minute, would you?”

  Lane nodded. He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, and he was shaking a little. His mind felt numb, like he couldn’t believe he’d just done that. Maybe he should have told them individually. Maybe he shouldn’t have made it a big deal. Maybe—

  No. It was the right thing to do. If they can’t deal, it’s not your fault.

  “All right, Courtnall, get back in here.”

  Lane put his chin up and walked back into the room. Zoe was right. It wasn’t his problem if his teammates didn’t like it—or him—because he was gay. They were there to play hockey. He didn’t have to be captain, and he had friends on the team who already knew. So it would be fine if they wanted someone else. Totally fine.

  Standing up there and telling his teammates he was gay had been the scariest thing Lane had ever done. Scarier than that moment before he kissed Derek. Scarier than throwing his gloves down and squaring off with Jared Shore. Scarier than anything.

  But whether he lost the vote or not, it was also the proudest moment of Lane’s life.

  “Congrats, Courtnall. The vote was unanimous, meaning you went from team pariah to team captain in less than a season. Impressive, kid. Real goddamn impressive.” The coach’s hand was warm on his shoulder. He squeezed and let go. “Now go home and get some fucking rest, kiddos. The playoffs are coming, and I want to drink second-rate champagne out of a goddamn trophy before I retire. This is the best chance I’ve had, so don’t fuck it up.”

  “Let’s take Captain Courtnall here to Cruisers and get him drunk,” Sparky said cheerfully, clapping Lane on the back. “I don’t want to sleep with
you, though,” he told Lane. “No offense. I’m just saving myself for a Victoria’s Secret model.”

  Not everyone went with them to Cruiser’s for a drink, but enough that Lane knew it was going to be all right.

  Jared had played playoff hockey before, but none of his teams had ever gone beyond the second round. The Renegades were looking at a first-place seed in the conference and home ice advantage throughout the playoffs.

  The Kelly Cup wasn’t the Stanley Cup, but Jared wanted it more than he’d wanted anything in his life. With maybe the exception of a cocky brat with amazing abs, a blowjob mouth, and a terrifying inability to think through how things sounded before he said them out loud.

  Jared was playing the best hockey of his entire life and was giving his agent a reason to start calling the Renegades’ top brass to negotiate a deal for next season.

  Coming home from a grueling road trip that included Ontario, Utah, and Toledo, Jared was too tired to process the information left in a voice mail by his agent, Jimmy Hanes. He put it off until after a good night’s sleep and a very inspirational Skype session with Lane.

  Captain Lane. Jared was so proud of him. He had told Wynn and Leblanc that Lane was the captain of the Sea Storm, leading his team to serenade Jared with a song called “Captain of my Heart,” which sounded like a mix of “Total Eclipse of the Heart” and “My Heart Will Go On.” It was definitely made up.

  His agent was not one to leave specific instructions to call him back, because Jared wasn’t a client who required a lot of his time or attention. Jared could probably handle his contract stuff on his own, but it was nice to have someone file papers and all that other shit. As long as he kept his current address on file, he didn’t have to worry about it.

  But there was a message to call him, so Jared did so. Jimmy went through the usual greeting, proving he’d picked up Jared’s file to memorize some things and sound like he was on top of it all. “Hello, Jared Shore. How is your hockey season with the Savannah Renegades, to whom you are signed for a season at a reasonable rate for a thirty-one-year-old player, progressing?”