by RJ Scott
“I only want to make you happy, Ten. I’m thrilled to hear you sounding so upbeat. Your family will be too. When we tell them. In thirty years or so.” He rubbed at the back of his thick neck awkwardly. He was too cute. I grabbed a kiss, or five, and then we made our way back to the dressing room to get our shoes on.
“I’m kind of hungry,” I said after we locked up the rink.
“Well, I kind of made reservations for us at the pizza place you like so much.” Mads slipped the key back into his pocket. “We’ll head there as soon as I drop this key off at Ken’s place.”
“The pizza place with the stuffed crust mongo pizza?”
“That’s the one.”
“Okay, I love you more than like… anything.”
He gave me this bizarre kind of look, as if he were on the verge of saying something prophetic like, “I am the servant of the secret fire!” or “You shall not venture further!” or any other awesome Gandalfesque epic quote.
“I love you too,” he replied, took the bag from me, and walked to the Rover. After our gear was stored, I buckled up, watching Mads as he settled behind the wheel. He glanced up after snapping the seatbelt, must have felt me staring at him. “What?”
“You’re acting weird.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“You got some sort of something up your sleeve, don’t you?” He gaped at me. “Did you set up something at lunch?”
“Oh. Oh, yes, I did. Damn it, you can read me too well.” He grinned a little too widely.
“Yeah, I knew it. Did you get Wayne Gretzky… to come eat with us?”
“Not quite…” he answered, pulling into traffic, then purposely burying the conversation, no matter how I tried to wheedle what he was hiding out of him.
Papa Joe’s Pizza Parlor sat less than a block from Ken’s house. I hustled inside, the cold air and brilliant winter sun trying to give me some trouble but failing. As soon as I stepped into the packed pizzeria, I saw what the surprise was. Stan rose to his feet, shouted something in Russian that had every head in the place turning, and then rushed at me.
“My best of good friends,” he gushed as he wrapped me in a bear hug that forced all the air out of my lungs. “Is big welcome back to homes.” He kissed both my cheeks and then stared into my eyes. “Brain is not sloshing no more, true?”
“True, it’s not sloshing, but it’s kind of… dull at times.”
“Pah, my goodliest friend is not dull. Maybe just stupid from big knot on brain. Come! Sit with me. We have much talks to make. Jared, you come sit too. Come! Sit! Make conversations with me.”
Every patron watched us sit down. My face was hot with embarrassment.
“This is gift from Erik and Noah. They are snotty cold sick, and so I told them they could not come because you are healing your brain and would not wish a snot cold to be in your head.” I took the book and smiled at my best buddy. His gray eyes sparkled. “Go make the opening! I bet you are not sure of what it is.”
“Uhm, it’s a book.” I patted the neatly wrapped book.
“Ah, well, good guess, but what kind of book?” He waved at the server. I opened my mouth to guess. “I tell you! Is book about otter who gets hurt playing otter games. He gets most sad and is making big mopes all over himself and Mama Otter. Then he stops being sad and with the mopes before he grows into happy face otter! The end.”
“You should get a job as a book reviewer when you’re done playing hockey, Stan,” Mads teased. Stan glowed.
I threw Mads an amused glance. “Awesome. Thanks, bruh,” I said to Stan.
“Ah, is no big thanks needed. I read to Noah many times.” The server wriggled around Stan to take our orders. “They have some of pizza. Cheese crust and big meat. My friend Ten loves the big meat.”
Mads choked on the sip of water he’d just taken. Oh man, the looks we got from the nearby tables. I mean, yeah, it was true I did like big meat, but for serious?
“Okay, so uhm... tell me what’s up with you, bud.” I steered us deftly away from big meat discussions, then ordered a large chocolate milk. Mads got a large diet cola.
“What is up is much exciting things. I am studying for to become American citizen.”
“Dude, that’s awesome!” I offered him my hand. He grabbed it with a mitt the size of a dinner plate and shook it up and down. “Is it like super hard?”
“Yes, many facts. But is worth hard facts to become American. There is much I wish to do as citizen that only American can do. I wish to vote so that we have good people in charge. People who do not look down on LGBT people or women or people of colors. I wish to marry my love someday and find cake for us in any bakery. This only can be done for voting, and so, I wish to vote and make my new country happy home for all peoples.”
“You totally rock… you know that?”
Stan nodded. I chuckled.
“I know many things now. Like George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and Martin Luther King Jr. make America land of free and brave. Also, I am trying to learn state capitals, but it is most hard. There are fifty!”
“Yeah, I’m aware.” I sat back to make room for the pizza, which was massive and loaded with big meats. Just how I liked it. “Seriously, dude, best way to learn the state capitals is to check out Wakko’s ‘Fifty State Capitals song on YouTube.”
“Whacko song for capitals?” Stan threw a confused look at Mads.
“Don’t look at me, must be a whippersnapper thing. Ryker would probably know,” Mads said while lifting a slice of pizza to the red plastic plate in front of him.
“Ry and Jacob would totally know,” I said, diving in for a slice of my own.
“Then if Ten says it is totally good, I shall find the whacko song,” Stan announced with enough energy the people outside could’ve heard him.
It was great to be back home. I had really missed all of this. Mads, the town, my best friend, pizza, laughing, and just being able to forget the mess of the past month. If I buckled down, worked super hard when I went back to Tucson, I could be back here soon, super soon if I pushed myself. Hell, maybe I could be back on the ice in a few months…
Lunch sped past, and all too soon Stan had to go home to check on his snotty men. We hugged it out big-time, and I promised him I’d be home soon to help him study for his citizenship test.
Mads was all sprawled out in his seat, sipping coffee, looking at me over the rim of his mug. I picked up a crust that I’d left behind and took a bite out of it. I wasn’t hungry, far from it, but leaving a stuffed crust behind seemed like a crime.
“Did you notice how smooth your speech has been over lunch?” he asked over his steaming coffee.
“No, guess not.” Now that he’d pointed it out, I hadn’t gotten too mad at myself for falling over words or the annoying logjam of ideas trying to burst free. “Being home is good for me.”
“Having you home is good for me too.” He put his mug down. “We have the rest of the day. Are you feeling up to some shopping?”
“Yeah, totes.” I shoved the rest of the crust into my mouth and shot to my feet. Stan had taken the check over my and Mads combined protests, so I dug my wallet out and tossed a fat tip to the table.
“Whoa, slow down. Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?” Mads eyed me with concern. “It’s been a busy day so far. We could go home, nap, and then head back out.”
“You planning on slipping your big meat to me if we go home and go to bed?” I asked, then shoved my arm into the sleeve of my winter Railers jacket.
His eyes flared. “No, of course not, you’re healing. God, Tennant,” he sputtered, which entertained me to no end. He could sound like such a prude at times. What a dad.
“Well then, shopping it is.” I zipped up the thick woolen jacket. He sat there staring at me. “Come on, I’m fine. Better than… fine, I’m great.”
“No headache or pain of any kind?”
“I’m golden.” I folded my arms over my chest.
He sipped and studied me f
or five minutes until he had convinced himself that I was okay.
“Okay, one hour at the mall and then it’s home to bed. To rest,” he quickly clarified as he stood, then stretched. His sweater rucked up a bit to show me that sinful strip of toned belly. Shame he was so set on resting. I was up for more than a nap. A long, slow blow job sounded like heaven. “I mean it. No sex until you’re discharged.”
“Mads, that’s like some indefinite time. Could be… months!”
“Yes, it could be.” He gave me a knowing little smirk, patted my arm, and then headed to the door. I fell in behind him, and out into the cold we went. I squinted, then fished into my pockets for my shades. Mads waited for me to get them on.
“Which mall do you want to go to? Colonial Park or Strawberry Square?” God, he was smug all of a sudden.
“I want to talk about this… arbitrary decision you made… about no sex until I get sprung.” I planted my sneakers widely on the sidewalk and made a tree. No, that was leaving. Well, I made like a tree in that I put down roots.
“Here?” He waved his gloved hands at the shoppers rushing past. “You want to discuss my decision to make sure you take care of yourself and not overdo things by rushing into penetrative sex, right here?”
“Okay, first off, I said nothing about… penetrative sex. I was thinking about a blow job. Oh, sorry, ma’am,” I mumbled when an old lady in a purple knit hat gave me a dirty look. She huffed off, and so did Mads. I pulled up roots and jogged after him.
“We are not talking about this out in the open,” he told me when I caught up to him. Christmas music streamed out of a bakery door. “Actually, we’re not talking about this at all.” He stopped suddenly, then spun to face me. “As much as I want to, and trust me, Ten, I really want to, I am not going to jeopardize your recovery just to get my rocks off. You mean more to me than just something to slake my desire on. You’re my whole world, and you need to take it easy. If you can’t find the fortitude to curb your desires, then I’ll be the bastard and do it for you because I love you and I want you healthy.”
Okay. Well, wow. How did a man argue with that? “Can we maybe shower together and maybe… you know… shower together?”
His stern expression slipped just a bit. “God above, you’re tenacious.”
“That will serve me well… when I get back to Arizona, right?”
“Maybe a shower. Maybe. Right now, we’re going shopping for an hour. One hour. And then its home to rest and take your meds.”
“You’re such a worrier.” I rose to my toes to press my lips to his. The door to the bakery behind us opened, and Santa Bring my Baby Back to Me rolled out into the snowy street. “I love that… about you.”
He wrapped me in a hug and kissed me long and hard. “You’re everything to me, Tennant.”
“I know.”
“One hour of shopping, a nap, and then a shower.”
Yeah, man, I knew he’d start to see things my way. It really was a wonderful life, even if I had a killer long road ahead of me. With my man at my side, I knew I’d make it. He did that for me. Gave me strength, a solid base, and love. So much love. Lots of fretting too, but hey, that was all part of the love package, right?
“So maybe a shower first and then… a nap?”
“Tennant.”
Jared
So I had a final plan of how to ask Ten to marry me. In my head, we would be by the tree, and I would smoothly go to one knee and say just the right words, and he would consider his answer carefully, and then he would say yes with no hesitation or pauses. When it came to the actual day to do it though, things weren’t right.
First off, my knees had never really been the same since a low hit in a game against Ottawa. One torn meniscus later, and I had this fancy popping tune I could play every time I kneeled. So, gracefully to one knee was never going to happen. More like creaky old guy needing the sofa for support.
Secondly, and probably worse, was that everyone was here. Every one of Ten’s family. Even though they were less in his face this time, there was no way that many people could ever be truly quiet. It didn’t help that Ten had this knack for buying the perfect gifts, and the kids loved him so much they showed it by squealing. A lot. They also climbed over him, and even though we all asked them to stop, it was Ten who refused to make them get down. He held them and squeezed them like he was never going to see them again.
Thirdly, Ten still stuttered his words or at least delayed some of them. That morning, we’d been speaking politics, and he’d managed to say the word filibuster without hesitation, then stumbled over asking for butter for his toast. He couldn’t form the word butter. He said his head was blank, as if there was nothing there, and that suddenly it would pop into his thoughts, and he’d feel like an idiot for not knowing such a simple thing.
And then last of all was the fact that I wanted to ask him in private. Just the two of us appeared in this perfect scenario of mine, a quiet, thoughtful proposal that meant something and wasn’t swallowed up by congratulations or jokes.
So yeah, the proposal didn’t happen on Christmas Day, and even though the rings were in my coat pocket and they went with me everywhere, I still hadn’t found that right moment. Not only that, but with Jamie’s team playing us on the twenty-seventh, he stayed over with us, and that was one more person who appeared out of their room at inopportune moments.
It did Ten good to have one-on-one time with a single brother. Jamie on his own wasn’t all about teasing and sarcasm. He was caring and supportive and liked to hug. A lot. He even caught me on the way from the kitchen with a bear hug that would have been more comfortable had he not just been in a towel.
We were at the arena. This was my second visit back today. This morning had been team practice, talking strategy, working on a niggling issue I had with my third D-pair, and I’d gone alone. Tonight, we had Florida in the barn, and Ten had said he was coming with me, saying he’d watch from the Railers hospitality box, that he would stay seated and he wouldn’t overdo it. He had headphones with him and sunglasses and seemed to be taking everything very seriously, so who was I to argue? I collected him and brought him back when the team had all dispersed to their homes for naps and pregame rituals. It was just me and him in the locker room, and he’d parked himself in the cubicle on the end right next to where Stan’s goalie stuff was.
“I need to talk to Coach. You okay here?”
“Go for it. I won’t move.”
I wanted to say that I hadn’t meant he couldn’t move, but I guess, in all honesty, that was what I’d meant to say. The idea of him walking around the arena and getting dizzy or lost or fuck knows what left me cold. When I had the meeting out of the way and headed back to the locker rooms, he was still there, sitting cross-legged on the floor right by the Railers logo on the carpet. He had his eyes closed, his hands resting on his knees, and I didn’t want to disturb him. I knew that meditation was part of his rehab. Quiet times that gave his brain moments to heal, even as they threw him around trying to retrain his synapses. He had a hockey stick across his lap, and I recognized it as one of his, the signature part of the design on the edge. He must have left the locker room to go find it, but he was safely back, and that made me feel a little better.
I worry too much. He’s a grown man.
With his eyes still closed, Ten picked up his stick and smoothly rose to his feet, his toes right at the outer circle of the logo, and then he moved, and it was poetry.
Walking backwards, he moved his stick in smooth slow circles, like a gunslinger twirled his gun, the weight of the stick evenly balanced on one hand. He went into a deep stretch, placed his stick behind his neck, and then ended up with it on the floor behind him.
Only then did he open his eyes.
“Hey,” he said when he saw me watching. “How did I do?”
I wanted to tell him he was beautiful, fluid and sexy, and so damn strong, but we were at work, and people were in the corridor waiting to come in and only stopping becau
se I had my body blocking the door. I could hear Adler grousing already, something about coaches who don’t know they had a game. I punched behind me, making contact with someone who let out an oof and a curse. I really hoped it was Adler, the ass.
“You’re doing so well,” I said to Ten instead of telling him how gorgeous he was. “Your balance is there, you’re moving smoothly, and you’ve lost nothing when it comes to handling the stick.” I knew he needed to hear the technical side as well, and he smiled at me.
Then he stood up, wobbled a little, and then gave one more twirl of his stick. “I rock this rehab,” he announced.
We couldn’t talk anymore, because Erik and Stan had joined the waiting group.
“Ten in here?” Stan said in a very loud whisper, and someone shoved at my back. Finally, I couldn’t stop the team actually getting into their own locker room and stood aside. Stan pushed past Adler, followed by Erik and Arvy, Adler grousing that he would like to get on with getting ready and would people stop shoving at him. Everyone fist bumped Ten, pulled him into a side hug, treated him as usual, and I loved all of them for that.
The only wrinkle was when Gideon “Gids” Levesque walked in, took one look at Ten, and spun to leave. I think Ten had been waiting for him, though.
“Gids, wait!” Ten called after him, and the locker room was silent. Twenty or so guys watching. Gids had nicely integrated into the team. He was no Ten, but he’d been the skater called up from the Rush to fill the bottom line as everyone else moved around to cover Ten’s absence, and he’d done well. He was also probably returning to the Rush when Ten came back, but he was making the most of the opportunity, with three goals and two assists on his record at NHL level.