“Had a bad one last year, right after I signed my extension. But I’d had a few before, in college, and this one lingered.”
Nate recognized the tone of voice Ramsey used. He’d used it, too, his last year with the Condors, when he’d struggled with a hamstring injury that he could never seem to shake.
Awareness made him want to be nice—well,nicer—but then Nate thought about it. Thought about how he’d clearly been going through it in June, but he’d not said a word. Pretended.Lied.
He had a glass in his hand tonight. Same as he’d had a glass in his hand onthatnight.
“Didn’t know you could drink with concussion syndrome,” Nate said, speaking up for the first time since they’d headed to the private room.
Ramsey’s gaze swiveled in his direction. Eyes that pale a blue shouldn’t burn that bright, but Ramsey’s did. They scorched Nate, deep down, and he knew Ramsey was thinking, too, of the night they’d met.
“This? This isn’t vodka. It’s just sparkling water, dude.”
Sometimes Nate wondered if he’d ever seen Ramsey at all, or he’d just fallen for the myriad and shifting performances Ramsey employed.
“Ah,” Nate said coldly.
“Hey, who’s up for a game?” Dawson said, changing the subject as he grabbed a pool cue from the rack, rolling it between his palms.
“I’ll play,” Cam said immediately. Not surprising. The rook had a huge crush, visible from space, on their veteran kicker.
“Count me in too,” Lane said, and, even more unsurprisingly, Trevor followed suit.
Next time, Nate wasn’t going to hold back. When Lane needled him about his dry spell, he was going to needle Lane right back, and about Trevor, specifically.
“Flynn? Banks?” Dawson asked them, but they shook their heads, seemingly pretty comfortable on the couch together. Nate had been pretty sure their QB1 was falling for the Thunders’ new offensive lineman, and this didn’t do anything to dispel his suspicions.
“My balance isn’t what it used to be. I can usually make do with darts, but not pool,” Ramsey said wryly.
Nate kept telling himself he’d be fine, he could be chill, even, but every fucking time Ramsey opened his mouth, it was like getting hit with the news all over again. No time to adjust. No time to think any of this through.
“Dude, that sucks,” Levi said sympathetically. “So what’s it like, long-term injured reserve? Know what it’s like in football but not hockey.”
Nate was tempted to lean over and smack his hand right over Levi’s mouth so he wouldn’t ask any more sympathetic questions. He didn’t need to hear any more. He didn’twantto hear any more.
“Get paid. Do nothing. Try to recover so I can play again. That’s what it’s like.” Ramsey sighed. “Hardest part is staying busy. Which is why I’m up here. Wes was tired of me whining about being alone in Buffalo.”
Nate remembered, despite not wanting to, exactly what Ramsey had said back in June.Kind of at a loose end at the moment,he’d said.
That hadn’t been a lie either.
Hard to say what Nate was more pissed about: that Ramsey had lied or that he’d been honest in his own way.
“He was so depressing,” Wes said earnestly. It was becoming very clear to Nate just how close he and Ramsey were. Maybe he’d been wrong about the sex. Butno. Nate knew what Ramsey looked like when he was flirting. He’d witnessed it. Fuck, he’d had all that charisma turned on him. And it was never like that when Ramsey looked over at Wes. Like he did right now.
“And we’re there for each other,” Wes added.
It was stupid to be jealous. Stupid to hate Lane and Levi and Aidan and even stupider to hate Wes, for getting bits of Ramsey—the real bits of Ramsey that Nate never had—but stupidity had never stopped anyone with a dick before.
“Adorable,” he said dryly.
“We’ve known each other a long time,” Ramsey said firmly.
Nate wondered if Ramsey knew all about the seething brew of emotions in his stomach. But this was Ramsey so of course he did.
“Yeah?” Aidan asked, clearly trying to defuse the situation in the most Aidan-like way.
“We went to Portland U together,” Wes said.
