Shots on Goal (Stick Side Book 3)

by Amy Aislin

  “What’s wrong?”

  “A few weeks ago,” he said, playing with the tab of Roman’s zipper, “before we met, I applied for grad school, for library and information science.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Roman took in his downturned expression. “You didn’t get in?”

  “I haven’t heard yet, actually. The thing is . . .” Squaring his shoulders, Cody blurted, “It’s in Boston,” and shattered something fragile in Roman’s heart.

  Boston. Where Mitch would be playing next season. I go where Mitch goes, Cody had once said. Of course. Why hadn’t Roman put that together sooner? He was going to be cast aside again—through no fault of his own this time—but the result was the same. He’d be all alone.

  He’d known, hadn’t he? That talking about the few months he’d been homeless, giving voice to them, would give them the power to change things. All it had taken was a few minutes for him to lose everything again.

  Slumping back against the railing, he tried to imagine a world where he wasn’t greeted by Cody’s sunny smile. A world where Cody didn’t leave his mystery novels on top of Roman’s fantasies on the night table. Where Cody didn’t sweep into his apartment after a long day and make everything brighter.

  His emotions were seesawing between the relief of finally having told Cody everything about his past and the agony that grasped his heart in a fist at the thought of Cody leaving him.

  Until Cody said, “Except now I’m half hoping I don’t get accepted.”

  “You . . . What?”

  “I don’t want to leave you.” Cody’s whisper was wretched and agonized. His eyes glistened. “But I don’t want to leave Mitch either, and I don’t know what to do.” His arms flailed, voice rising. “God.” He dug his fingers into his eyes beneath his glasses, his voice thick with tears. “I should’ve told you this weeks ago. I don’t even know if you’d be interested in a long-distance relationship. I was trying not to put my life on hold while I waited to find out, but what if all I did was break both our hearts?”

  Long-distance. Relationship.

  Cody wasn’t leaving. Well, he was—he might—but he wasn’t leaving him.

  “Yes,” Roman said with a grateful laugh.

  Dropping his hands, Cody frowned at him. “Huh?”

  “Yes to the long-distance relationship.”

  The shoulders that had climbed up to Cody’s ears dropped. “Really?”

  “Cody.” Roman took his cold hand, pulled him closer, secretly thrilled when Cody grasped his hand in both of his and tucked it against his chest. “Grad school is a big fucking deal. If you get in, you go.” His stomach shriveled at the words. Cody could never know how much it cost him to say that. “You and I? We’ll figure it out. We both know long-distance relationships can work. And besides, Boston’s not that far. We’ll figure it out,” he repeated for good measure. “Okay?”

  Cody was nodding wildly as he fell onto Roman, slumping against him. Roman held him tight, tighter, unwilling to let him go for even a second, never mind for however long his program lasted.

  But he wasn’t going to be the one who kept him back from his dreams.

  The light festival was still happening in the marketplace across the street, light canopies lit in white, colored spheres hanging from trees, white lights creeping up lampposts. The lights against a night-darkened sky, the scent of dinner, the snow-covered rooftops and awnings, the sounds of conversation and laughter drifting up from the street below, the warmth of Cody’s body tucked into his, Cody’s hair tickling his neck and jaw . . . It was a sweetly imperfect moment out of time. Roman wrapped it in a ball and committed it to memory, like placing a pin in a map to mark that he’d been there.

  “Cody?”

  Cody hummed, face in Roman’s neck.

  Roman ran a hand through his hair and kissed his temple. “I love you.” Grad school wouldn’t change that. It was true now and it’d be true if Cody left.

  In his arms, Cody’s entire body stilled. Before Roman could panic, Cody lifted his head, his eyes dark and wet behind his glasses. A thumb ran over Roman’s cheekbone, so casually intimate that Roman’s breathing stuttered. Waiting. Hopeful. His heartbeat was loud in his ears.

  There was awe in Cody’s expression as his lips turned up. “I love you too.”

  Roman sagged. In relief. In joyousness. In surrender.

  If there was a small part of him that was worried Cody would follow Mitch to Boston even if he wasn’t accepted to grad school, well . . . He tucked that fear into a dusty pocket of his thoughts.

  Cody drove back to Glen Hill from Roman’s late Thursday morning, alternatively smiling like a goon and gripping the steering wheel in panic.

  Smiling because Roman loved him.

  Panicking because Roman loved him.

  Never in a million years would he have thought that being in love would scare the shit out of him, but there it was. He had the possibility of grad school to thank for the nervous fear.

  “I haven’t said I love you in a really long time,” Roman had whispered last night when they’d gone to bed, cuddled into each other. “It feels good to say it to you.”

  Now, the mountains blurred in front of him as he replayed Roman’s words. He pressed a hand to his chest, where his heart was thumping madly, and spent the better part of the drive psychoanalyzing himself.

  Roman loved him. Loved him. And he’d said it first, even knowing Cody might be going away in the fall, blowing Cody’s mind skyward into the stratosphere. After everything he’d gone through, Roman had had the guts to open up—about his parents, about Kas, about being homeless, which . . . God. Twelve-plus hours later, Cody still hurt for him, as if someone had shoved a pike through his chest. Cody was freaking out about being in love and Roman had once been homeless.

  Okay, maybe comparing love and homelessness was like comparing tree bark and a spaceship, but Cody was so amazed at how completely Roman seemed to have his shit together that he couldn’t think of anything better. Of course, Roman didn’t have his shit together, not entirely. But he was trying, was working through his past to be better.

  Outside of Cody’s mom, who’d essentially raised him as a single parent and given him the best life possible, Roman was the strongest person Cody knew. To experience what he’d gone through and have the guts to take a chance on Cody and then tell him that?

  Cody wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap and sit him in a corner far away from sharp objects. He had a mental image of a bubble-wrapped Roman sitting on the recliner in his apartment, only his face visible, empty space around him, Cody feeding him his meals, and snorted a wet laugh.

  He pulled into the Glen Hill Public Library parking lot an hour after leaving Roman’s. He owed Eileen a shift sorting books. He’d come for storytime on Tuesday with Roman but hadn’t stayed for his usual shift, wanting nothing more than to spend every spare second with Roman that he could.

  Two hours later, after powering through four boxes and cataloging them into the library’s system, he headed out.

  It wasn’t until he arrived home after a pit stop at the mailbox that he realized the universe was an ornery bitch.

  Tucked between the flyers and junk mail was an envelope for a college in Boston. One he’d been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.

  He placed it on the kitchen island and stared at it. Had he gotten in? He couldn’t tell based on the size of the envelope. When he’d been accepted to Glen Hill College, his acceptance letter and a bunch of papers—scholarship stuff, meal plans, residence applications—had arrived in a large envelope. A dead giveaway that he’d gotten in. Some of his high school friends, however, had received a simple acceptance letter in a regular-sized envelope, the rest of their papers arriving later.

  So this regular-sized letter from Boston could be either good or bad.

  Which way did he want it to go? Move to Boston with Mitch, away from Roman? Stay here with Roman, away from Mitch?

  Both options sucked.
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  “Just do it, you dumb shit.” Unable to take the suspense, he ripped into the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper.

  Dear Mr. Evans,

  Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you acceptance into our Masters in Library and Information Science program starting this September.

  His arms fell to his sides. His fingers slackened, the letter falling to the floor.

  In. He was in.

  Gripping the edge of the island’s counter, he took a step back and hung his head between his arms.

  He was in, and he couldn’t think clear enough to figure out what that meant. For him. For him and Mitch. For him and Roman, who loved him and was willing to continue their relationship long-distance.

  Cody hadn’t meant to tell him about grad school last night—there was no sense worrying him about it when he didn’t have a response to his application yet. But then Roman had told him the full truth about his past and—I was afraid that I’d lose everything again. Including you.

  Cody couldn’t do it. Couldn’t leave him in the dark anymore, not after such a statement. He deserved to know that he might lose Cody, even if just temporarily.

  The front door flew open.

  “Hey!” Mitch called.

  Sniffling, Cody shoved the letter back into the envelope, not ready yet for Mitch to know. “Hey.” He took a deep breath, composing himself, the sound of Mitch getting rid of his winter gear loud in the otherwise silent house. Cody had offered to pick him up at the airport, but one of Mitch’s teammates had been in Burlington today and had given him a ride home. “Did you put an offer on that house you told me about?”

  “Yup.” Mitch stepped into the kitchen. “And—” He cut himself off, stopping on the other side of the island, and blinked at Cody. “Why do you look unhinged?”

  “What? I don’t.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Just going through the mail. See?” Cody waved at the flyers scattered on the island.

  “What’s that one in your hand?”

  “Huh?” Crap. He hid his hand behind his back, the paper crinkling. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing has the logo of a Boston university?”

  Damn it. How did he see that from over there? “It’s nothing.”

  “Oh.” Mitch seemed to come to some sort of conclusion—his brows lowered and his teasing smile disappeared. “You didn’t get in? I’m sorry, Codes.”

  “No. I mean, yes. I mean—” He set the wrinkled envelope on the island. Resigned, he said, “I did get in.”

  “Okay,” Mitch said slowly. He crept around the island and leaned against the kitchen counter to Cody’s left. “Why don’t you look happy about it?”

  “I’m . . .” Cody blew out a long breath. Closed his eyes. Opened them again. “I’m in love with Roman.”

  “Yeah.” Mitch’s smile was so gentle it made Cody’s heart hurt. “I kind of figured.”

  “But I got into grad school in Boston.”

  “Ah. I see.” Of course he did. They knew each other too well for Mitch not to understand. “How long is the program?”

  “Two years. Maybe I can bring it down to a year, a year and a half if I take classes in the summer.”

  “You don’t think you can do a long-distance relationship for two years?”

  “But I don’t want to. I don’t . . .” Pulse thrumming in his ears, Cody paced into the tiny living room that adjoined the kitchen. He’d been so relieved, so grateful, when Roman had agreed to a long-distance relationship, but now, with reality in the form of an acceptance letter staring him in the face . . . “I don’t want to be that guy pining for his boyfriend. Waiting for that phone call or email.” He was breathing too fast, but he couldn’t get rid of the anvil on his chest.

  “Cody—”

  “That guy who sits by the window waiting for someone to show up. The one who cries into his bad cafeteria dinner after his boyfriend calls to break up with him.”

  “Co—”

  “The one who can’t concentrate on school because all he can think about is how sad he is.”

  “Is that what you think I do?”

  Brought out of his thoughts, he stopped next to the coffee table. “Huh?”

  “All of that,” Mitch said. “Is that what you think I do?” He didn’t look offended, only mildly curious.

  “I . . . No. You . . .” No, even when Mitch and Alex had first started seeing each other, Mitch had only ever been the determined person he was. He kept himself busy. With school, with work, with friends, with hockey, with damn piano lessons. “No.”

  Mitch sighed and leaned his head back against the cupboard. “I miss Alex every second of every day. I just spent the past five days with him, the longest stretch we’ve spent together since last summer, and I miss him already. But have you ever seen me sitting around moping about it?”

  No. Not once.

  “Alex and I have our own lives,” Mitch said as Cody made his way back into the kitchen. “One day they’ll intersect, but for now we’ve got our own thing to do. But we’re not letting that stop us from being together. Maybe you and Kinsey are in a similar place right now.”

  “Maybe,” Cody conceded. “But I can’t stop—”

  Mitch’s head tilted. “Stop what?”

  “I just . . .” Aligning his thoughts took more effort than Cody cared to admit.

  “What’s the real reason a long-distance relationship freaks you out? Because all of that other stuff? The pining and the waiting for phone calls and crying over bad cafeteria food? It’s all surface stuff you and I both know you can handle. What’s really bothering you?”

  Cody blew out a shaky breath and stared at his hands instead of at his best friend who knew him far, far too well. “Long-distance relationships can work, I know that. You and Alex are a shining example. My parents too. But I can’t stop hearing all those times my dad told me no. No, I can’t come home for Christmas. No, I won’t be there for your birthday. No, I can’t talk to your class for career day. No, I can’t take you to school for take-your-dad-to-school day. No, I can’t help you save the damn library.” Nose burning, he ran a hand over his chest. “It’s like he never wanted a kid and was just going through the motions, and now he doesn’t know how to tell me to stop calling. What if the same thing happens with Roman?”

  “I’ve told you before, Codes—Roman Kinsey isn’t your father.”

  “Ugh.” He hated himself right now. Sinking onto one of the barstools, he hid his face in his hands.

  Crinkling paper was loud in the kitchen, then silence reined as Mitch no doubt read Cody’s acceptance letter.

  “This says you have until June first to accept or decline,” Mitch said. “That’s two and a half months to make a decision. Use that time. Figure out what you want. Hell, if it’s not too late, apply to grad schools nearby.”

  “But then you’ll—” Cody cut himself off, afraid of sounding like an idiot.

  “I’ll what?”

  “You’ll be all alone in Boston,” Cody mumbled into his hands.

  Arms came around him. A kiss to the top of his head. “I love you, you know that? I’ll be on a hockey team. I won’t be alone.”

  Dropping his hands, Cody leaned into Mitch. “You’ll replace me within a week, won’t you?”

  “You’re an idiot.” Said with so much affection, Cody blinked back tears.

  “I don’t want to live away from you,” Cody admitted.

  “But do you want to live away from Kinsey?”

  Every part of him rebelled against the idea. A lone tear tracked down his cheek, silent and sad.

  “Take the next couple of months,” Mitch repeated. “Think about it. If it’s easier, take Kinsey and me out of the equation. What would you do if we weren’t in the picture?”

  Cody chuckled wetly. “That’s easy. I wouldn’t be in this situation. I would’ve gone to NYU since they offered me a full ride unlike cheap-ass Glen Hill College, which only offered me a parti
al scholarship. I would’ve fallen in love with a poetic drama major who lives and breathes Broadway, and we would’ve lived happily ever after in a tiny Manhattan apartment.”

  Mitch laughed, his shoulders shaking against Cody. Cody laughed with him; it was that or sob into his acceptance letter.

  Kissing the crown of his head again, Mitch let him go and opened the fridge. “Want to hear about the house?”

  “God, yes.” Anything to distract him. Folding the letter, he put it into his back pocket. Temporarily out of sight and out of mind. Which was exactly what he was afraid would happen with Roman if he moved away.

  Something was up with Cody, but Roman couldn’t put his finger on what. Just that, in the past couple of days, Cody took longer than usual to respond to Roman’s texts, and when he did, they weren’t as enthusiastic. Fewer all-caps. Fewer exclamation points. Less familiarity.

  Was it possible that the honeymoon stage of their relationship had come to an end so soon? Roman didn’t think so, but he didn’t like the other alternative—that Cody was distancing himself for a reason. And that he was doing so only days after using the big, scary L-word was slightly disconcerting.

  Good thing Roman didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on it.

  His team flew out Friday morning, landing in Nashville in time to head straight to an afternoon practice, with another practice early Saturday morning, hours before their game.

  That the Vermont Trailblazers no longer sucked was obvious in the number of green jerseys with white and red accents that made up a crowd during home games. Compared to when Roman had joined the team just over two months ago, the difference was like comparing a puddle and an ocean. He’d heard through the grapevine that they were selling more tickets, and the debate in the organization about moving the Trailblazers to a different city had been tabled for now, pending stats and ticket sales in the first half of next season. Tabled, however, wasn’t permanent enough for Roman to start house hunting, so he was now indefinitely renting his little apartment across from the Church Street Marketplace.