Shots on Goal (Stick Side Book 3)

by Amy Aislin

  Cody hung out in the library’s lunchroom during Tuesday’s storytime and brought up his text messaging app. Clicked on his dad’s name, wayyyyy down the list.

  And stared at it.

  There was no way his dad would be available to fly in for Saturday morning to replace Roman’s apple turnover talk, right? His retirement ceremony was a week and a half away and he was probably being kept busy trying to finish up . . . stuff.

  This week was it, the final three speaker events. Roman was on tonight, talking about what went on behind the scenes of a hockey team. Tomorrow, Marjorie at the tourism office was going to give a presentation on things to do in Glen Hill. And then Thursday, Alex was flying in to do a book signing and Q&A session.

  He’d done his part. It was in Eileen’s hands after that.

  Sucking it up, he exited out of the app and called his dad directly, knowing exactly what to expect: voicemail.

  Which was why he stuttered inanely when his dad actually answered. “Oh. Uh, hi. Dad. Uh . . .”

  “You okay, kid?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, yeah.” Leaning against the counter, he rubbed his brow. “Just that I expected to get your voicemail.”

  “You’ve got good timing. I’m just heading home. What’s up?”

  A whump, like a car door slamming, hit Cody’s ears as he stared at the floor, bouncing one foot against the tile. “Um, I was wondering . . . See I work at the local library, and I’ve been setting up some speaker sessions and . . . Well, it’s to prove to the town that the library has community value since there’s one citizen who thinks it should be shut down . . . Anyway, that doesn’t matter. I was wondering if, maybe if you had time, you’d be willing to give a talk about some of the cultures you’ve encountered during your deployments?”

  “Oh hey, that’d be fun,” his dad said, and Cody couldn’t decide if he should whoop for joy or cringe; he hadn’t told him the caveat yet. “How about sometime mid-March? I’ll be officially retired by then and have loads of free time.”

  “Um . . .” Cody cleared his throat, foot double-timing against the floor. “The town meeting is the first Tuesday in March, so next Tuesday. That’s when there’ll be a verdict on whether or not to shut us down so, um . . . I kind of need this to happen before then. Like, in the next week.”

  “Ah, kid.” A gusty sigh filled the line with static. “I wish I could, but in that time frame? It’s not gonna happen.”

  “Right, yeah. Of course.” His body weighed with leaden disappointment, Cody sank onto the floor.

  “I’m really sorry, kid.”

  “Sure.”

  “Is there anything else I can do to help? Can I donate on the website?”

  “That’d be good. Thanks, Dad.”

  He was preparing to hang up when his dad said, “Hey, Cody? I’m glad you asked.”

  They said their goodbyes. Collapsing against the cabinet behind him, Cody yanked at his hair. He’d known what to expect, so why was he still so sad?

  Voices reached him before the lunchroom door opened and a couple of the part-time librarians entered. Desperate to be left alone, he made his escape and headed to the attic to sort a couple boxes of books while he waited for Roman to finish storytime. He’d set up for Roman’s talk afterward. Nervous tension kept his hands and mind busy, so that by the time Roman found him thirty minutes later, he no longer felt unsettled and edgy.

  “Hey.” Devoid of facial piercings, as he always was for storytime, Roman strode in wearing black jeans and a denim-blue, long-sleeved T-shirt. Kissing the crown of Cody’s head, he sat on the floor opposite him, his legs bracketing Cody’s hips. “What are you reading?”

  Cody held the book up. Ghost Towns of Vermont. “I thought there’d be actual ghosts in it.” Setting the book down, he reached behind him to grab a different one. “I have something for you. Check this out.”

  Roman whistled as he gently flipped over the cover of The Eye of the World. “A first edition?”

  “Flip the next page,” Cody said, sitting on his hands to prevent himself from doing exactly that and spoiling the surprise.

  Roman flipped and— “Holy shit!” He stared at Cody, his olive-green eyes wide. Back to the book. Cody. The book. “A signed first edition? What idiot would give this away? What box did this come from?”

  Grinning at Roman’s child-like awe, the tight strain in his shoulders unraveling, Cody waved at a cardboard box a few feet away that had seen better days. It looked like a dog had chewed on one bottom corner and an entire side had water damage. The books, miraculously, appeared undamaged.

  Roman practically tore the box apart looking for more hidden gems, and when he found thirteen more hardcovers in the series, all signed, Cody would’ve sworn he was about to cry. Stacking them in a pile in front of him, Roman counted them as if to make sure they were all there.

  “Do you have any idea what these would go for right now?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Four thousand, five thousand dollars.”

  Cody’s draw dropped. “What?”

  “Who donated these? You should contact them and tell them to come pick them back up. They could sell them to a specialty bookstore that would know what to do with them.”

  “There’s no record,” Cody said. “Not for any of these. People drop them off never wanting to see them again, so . . .” He waved a hand. “Eileen said you can have them if you want.”

  Roman scooted closer to the stack. “Oh, I definitely want.” He pushed the books in Cody’s direction. “But I think you should keep them for the fundraiser, auction them off.”

  “Oh. That’s . . . That’s a good idea.”

  “I do have them from time to time.”

  “It’s really nice of you to give them up.”

  “Well.” Roman leaned forward, gave Cody a soft peck on the mouth. “You never know who might buy them. Now do you want to tell me what’s wrong or do I need to pry it out of you?”

  Just like that, the smile fell off Cody’s lips. He glanced away and picked at the frayed edge of his jeans. “Talked to my dad earlier. Asked him to do a talk. He said no.” Unable to stand the sympathy on Roman’s face, he added, “He retires soon, so he’s got a lot on his plate.”

  Roman ran his hands over Cody’s thighs. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” Cody said, jerking one shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s what I expected. He did say he was glad I asked though.”

  “Wouldn’t you be glad if he asked you to come help him organize his home library even though you couldn’t make it?” At Cody’s incredulous look, he poked him in the shoulder. “Don’t deny it.”

  “Ugh.” Canting forward, Cody fell into Roman. “Why do you have to go and make sense? Can’t you let me stew?”

  “Stewing is unproductive.” With a kiss to Cody’s temple, Roman stood and held out a hand to help Cody up. “Let’s go do something useful and set up downstairs.”

  Appreciating the distraction, Cody let Roman lead him to the staircase. Roman glanced over his shoulder as they reached the door, brow pulled low. “Shouldn’t you put those books somewhere safe?”

  “Don’t worry.” Cody patted his shoulder. “They’ll still be there later.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Trust me. Nobody comes up here but me.”

  Roman started down the stairs ahead of him. “I don’t see why not. How can that giant spider in the corner not be a selling point?”

  “It’s been there for months,” Cody said, running a hand over the back of Roman’s neck, over his tattoo, before they emerged onto the first floor. “I think it’s dead.”

  “Still gross,” Roman muttered. “I’ll grab the chairs from upstairs.”

  “I’m on water and Danish duty.”

  Roman crossed the main floor to the stairs on the other side, then headed to the second floor. Cody had always thought it weird that the attic stairs were on the first floor, but whatever. Old houses.

  In the kitchen, he fill
ed little plastic cups with water, then took the day-old (but still delicious) Danishes out of paper bags and cut them into quarters. Once he was done, he brought them out to the front and placed them in one out-of-the-way corner of the checkout counter.

  Roman must’ve been extra speedy with the chairs because they were all set out in neat rows. The ones in front were currently occupied by a group of tall, fit guys wearing Trailblazers-branded ball caps.

  Wait. Were those—

  “There he is!” One of the guys stood and looked at . . . Cody?

  Cody checked behind him, as one was wont to do when a random stranger acted like they knew you, and found Roman coming out of the bathroom.

  “Vause?”

  Teammates. As Cody had suspected.

  And he didn’t have anything for them to autograph, damn it.

  “What are you guys doing here?” Roman asked, sliding up next to Cody.

  Vause clapped Roman on the shoulder. “We’re here to support you.”

  “Why?”

  They all stared at each other for a second as if they didn’t understand the question. Mirth tickled Cody’s chest, and he pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

  “I don’t suppose one of you wants to give the talk for me?” Roman said hopefully.

  Cody’s head whipped toward him. “Hey!”

  “Kidding. Mostly.”

  “Nah,” said another of Roman’s teammates, this one tall with a sandy-blond beard. “We’ll just sit inconspicuously in the back row.”

  “Inconspicuous,” Roman repeated, eyeing their ball caps. “Right.”

  Cody snorted a laugh, and it seemed to shock Roman out of his . . . well, shock . . . and he said, “Cody, these are my teammates. This asshole is Vause.” Vause grinned. “The tall, bearded one is Ritz, and the one next to him is Honeybun. Kas you’ve sort of met. And the little one is Cotton.”

  Cotton’s expression went from pleasant to the sour-faced look of confusion. “Little?”

  Little, in this case, was entirely relative. He was Cody’s height but more obviously muscled, and yet he was shorter and leaner than the rest of his teammates.

  “Guys, this is Cody, my, uh . . .”

  “Hi.” Saving Roman from himself, Cody thrust out a hand. “It’s so good to meet you all.”

  “You the one who suckered Kinsey into this?” Honeybun said with a wide smile.

  “Yup!”

  Roman’s face twisted. “Suckered?”

  Kas’s eyes kept going to Cody, to Roman, to Cody, and back again, a dawning realization hiking his eyebrows up. He saw too much, that one.

  To distract him, Cody said, “Why don’t you guys have a seat?” People were starting to trickle in. “The talk’s going to start in a few minutes.”

  “Cool.” Kas gently punched Roman’s upper arm. “We’ll make sure to post on social media.”

  Roman froze. “Say what?”

  “Yeah,” Cotton said, brandishing his phone like a weapon. “It’ll help bring awareness to the library, right? Ritz mentioned there’s a possibility it might close and you’re trying to stop that?”

  Cody turned to Roman with pleading eyes.

  Roman sighed. “Fine.”

  The talk went off about as well as Cody expected.

  Which was to say, it went amazingly.

  Despite Roman’s previous assertion that he didn’t enjoy public speaking, as soon as he stood in front of the crowd, he portrayed confidence and ease, and instead of taking questions at the end like most people, he started his talk by telling his crowd of sixty-eight—sixty-eight!—to interrupt with questions anytime.

  The result was more of a conversation than a presentation. And Roman thrived on it.

  Cody wasn’t surprised. Everything Roman had told him that he missed from home—walking to school or the beach with his friends—told Cody that Roman missed people. Missed social interaction. Missed being part of a group of friends.

  He missed feeling like he belonged.

  And turning his talk into a conversation—granted, one with a lot of people—made him feel like he was part of something.

  Cody was so in love with him it made his limbs heavy and his knees weak.

  And the way Roman commanded the crowd turned him on so much it made something else ache. Fuck, Roman was sexy as hell, all confidence and power.

  He tried to focus on Mitch because although he could acknowledge that Mitch was good-looking, there wasn’t a single part of Cody that was turned on by him. Mitch was currently sitting in the last row with the Trailblazers, who he’d made friends with almost instantly because Mitch could make friends with a wall if he wanted to, and he was asking Roman a question that Cody wasn’t following. Not because he couldn’t hear or didn’t understand it . . .

  But because Roman was fucking shining and Cody was in awe of him. He wanted to take Roman home and love on him so hard.

  A minute later, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

  Mitch: If you don’t stop staring at Kinsey like that, the whole room’s gonna know how you feel about him.

  Cody: I’m being subtle.

  Mitch: Sure. Subtle as a pride parade.

  Cody turned a laugh into a cough.

  Somewhere around the half-hour mark, having moved on from a friendly debate about the merit of shootouts, someone asked about Roman’s thoughts on a perceived bad call in one of last week’s games.

  “Why don’t I have Billy Honeybun answer that one for you,” Roman said, “since he was the one involved. Hey, Honeybun?”

  Cracking his knuckles, Honeybun rose from his slouch in the back row and sauntered up to the front with a grin Cody would call feverish. The crowd gasped and murmured as they realized they had a second hockey player in their midst. Phones came out, and all Cody could think was Yes! Post to social media! Get more people in here!

  He sent a silent mental apology Roman’s way.

  Honeybun, standing next to Roman at the front of the room, hands on his hips, said, “So here’s what happened.”

  Before too long, he’d called up Ritz, Cotton, Kas, Vause, and even Mitch, and all of a sudden there was a live-action replay in the center of the Glen Hill Public Library. The audience, eager and excitable, had stood to gather around for a closer look, the littlest ones standing on chairs or the checkout counter or perched on their dads’ shoulders.

  Once the event ended, Roman and his teammates were predictably waylaid for selfies and autographs. The crowd had grown—Cody had watched from the sidelines as social media did its job and the door had opened, and then again, again, and again, admitting new people in packs of twos or threes. Teenagers, families, kids in Trailblazers-branded hats and jerseys. There had to be at least a hundred people in here now. It was an impromptu party, and Cody definitely didn’t have enough Danishes.

  He stayed out of the way by the checkout counter, taking his own photos with his phone that he planned to post to social media later. Was it too late to get these photos into next month’s issue of the Glen Hill College newspaper? At the very least, they could go up on the town’s website.

  He sought Roman out and found him signing the bill of a kid’s baseball cap.

  “I’m serious.” Mitch parked his butt against the counter next to Cody and nudged him. “You look like you’re ready to fall at the guy’s feet.”

  “It’s not his feet I want to fall on.”

  Mitch choked on nothing. Mentally patting himself on the back, Cody stood tall; catching Mitch off-guard wasn’t easy.

  “Jesus.” Mitch pretended to fan himself.

  Cody shoved him with a laugh. “Fuck off.”

  Leaning his butt back against the counter, Mitch crossed his arms. “Listen. About spring break.”

  “What about it?” Spring break was still three weeks away.

  “I’ve got a few days with no games and no practices.” The Glen Hill College Mountaineers had clinched a spot in the Hockey East Quarterfinals, which were taking place the weekend
after spring break, and their coach had given them a few days grace before he started them on intensive practice. “Would you be okay if I went to Toronto to be with Alex? It’s just, you and I usually spend spring break eating junk food and catching up on movies—”

  “Mitch,” Cody interrupted, bumping their shoulders. “Of course I don’t mind.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why do you look both happy and disappointed?”

  Mitch shrugged, lips twisted. “It’s the first spring break we’ll spend apart.”

  Only for a few days, but still. Cody understood what he was saying. “What do you think it means?”

  “That we’re growing up?”

  Cody leaned against him. “But never apart.”

  “No. Never that.”

  Mitch’s shoulder warm against his, Cody stayed where he was even though he should’ve been cleaning the platters or putting the folding chairs away. His best friend was next to him, his boyfriend a few feet away commanding a crowd like he was born to it. Cody didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  He refused to look at his and Mitch’s growing up—but never apart—as anything but a good thing. Cody had spent his entire life following Mitch around, all the way into college, and possibly beyond if he was accepted into grad school. And not because he didn’t have other friends or his own life. He and Mitch just clicked. Always had. They might someday live apart, but they’d always be there for each other. Them spending part of spring break away from each other was a natural progression of getting older and leading separate lives.

  Later, once the audience had left and things quieted in the library and Mitch and the Trailblazers helped bring the chairs back upstairs before they too headed home, Cody waited on bouncing feet while Eileen thanked Roman and handed him a small gift bag Cody knew held a Glen Hill Public Library-branded T-shirt as a thank you.

  “What are the chances of me getting my own library card now?” Roman said a few minutes later when Eileen retreated and Cody ambled up to him.

  “You still don’t have a Glen Hill address. You can keep using mine, as long as you bring the books back on time next time.”

  “Know about that, do you?”

  “Mm-hmm. There’s an automated email reminder that goes out to the cardholder when their books are overdue.”