Matt tugs him in for a firm kiss, then pulls away, skating backwards and laughing.
In his pocket, Nick’s phone buzzes repeatedly. Pulling it out, he sees a dozen new notifications in the team group chat. His stomach clenches—a bunch of the guys are headed to Hugsy’s for post-practice food and video games and they want Nick to come join them. He should be there; he’s the captain, he needs to spend time with his boys. Make sure everyone’s doing okay. Things have been weird, with him out injured and the rookies trying to step up to compensate. A good captain would be working with them, even off the ice, as much as possible.
You’re allowed to take a day off, mutters a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Marco—and indeed, he has a private text from his best friend, who knows where he is and who he’s with and is promising to back up whatever lie he wants to give.
If Nick were with a girl, he wouldn’t have to lie. He’d get some chirps about ditching his boys for a date, but they wouldn’t argue. Instead, Nick has to add one more thread to the web he’s weaving.
Nick
Sorry boys—had PT earlier and now I’m wiped. Next time!
He pushes away the rising guilt, turning back to watch Matt skate. It’s one missed gathering, not the end of the world. Making Matt happy like this is worth it.
Nick keeps to his trainer-approved warm-up, his eyes fixed on Matt as the other man sprints up and down the ice, turning tight curves and snowing Nick occasionally with hard stops, mischief in his smile. Watching him makes Nick’s heart swell. He recognizes something familiar in the joy in those brown eyes—this is a man who loves the ice the way Nick loves it. Whogets it.
“When was the last time you got a chance to skate?” Nick calls out. Matt shrugs, slowly skating a loop to end up at his side. He reaches out, tangling his fingers in Nick’s, and it’s so unexpected Nick almost trips.
“Maybe, like, six months ago?” Matt muses. “Even longer since I last played hockey. We tried to join a rec league a while back, but we were so busy we could never make practice.”
The longest Nick’s ever been off the ice is six weeks for a broken jaw in the Q—the idea of goingsix whole monthswithout putting skates on makes his chest hurt. “Any time you wanna skate, we can come out here. We’ll bring the rest of the band, too.”
Matt looks at him in surprise. “Seriously? Will the owner mind?”
“Nah,” Nick says, waving him off. “Like I said, he’s chill.” He squeezes Matt’s hand, the pair of them keeping a slow pace around the rink. “I can tell you miss it. It’s not quite a rec league, but… it’s something.”
“It’s perfect,” Matt insists, twisting to skate backwards, taking both of Nick’s hands in his. “The band will be so psyched.” Then he smirks, giving Nick an obvious look of appraisal. “Maybe next time you can put your full gear on. I want to see if it’s as sexy up close as it looks on the jumbotron.”
Nick barks a surprised laugh, pulling Matt in so they’re both drifting across the ice, arms around each other. He bites the musician’s bottom lip playfully. “That does it for you, huh?”he drawls, loving the faint flush creeping across Matt’s cheeks. “That could be arranged. Preferably on a day you don’t bring the rest of the band, though.”
Matt’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. Their momentum slows, and Nick winks, pulling away to resume skating.
It takes Matt a second to follow but he reaches for Nick’s hand once more. “I, uh, sounds good, yeah.” He pauses, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Oh, that reminds me… Case asked if we were coming over for board games tonight.”
“You can go if you want to,” Nick says immediately. “Don’t feel like you have to invite me or whatever.” He doesn’t want to keep Matt from his friends just because he’s taken on the task of helping Nick through his recovery. Maybe Nick can head to Hugsy’s, if his teammates are still there by then.
The musician shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. “She asked aboutboth of us,” he says exasperatedly. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d be up to it with the concussion and stuff. We can get pretty loud.”
“Oh.” This time Nick does stumble, but Matt’s grip keeps him upright. “Okay. Then, uh, yeah, that’d be cool. I think I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re not feeling it, you can say no.”
“No!” Nick protests instantly. “I like hanging out with your friends! They’re cool.” He swallows around a dry throat. “I’m just… still getting used to it. Being with people who aren’t straight. People who… who know. About me.”
Even Marco’s sisters have never had it confirmed, though he knows they have their suspicions. But it’s not the same as being with the band, having them make little jokes about his queerness in a way that feels friendly rather than insulting, like they’re welcoming him to the club.
A glimpse of the community he wishes so badly he could be part of.
Matt’s smile turns knowing, and he turns back around to skate at Nick’s side, still holding his hand. “I’m glad we can be that for you.” He brings their joined hands up, kissing Nick’s wrist. “I wish you could meet some of our other friends. Wish I couldreallyshow you the community out here.”
“You have.” Nick’s voice cracks as he thinks of the Sticks+Stonesconcerts, of the way he felt in those crowds. The feeling ofbelonginghe’s never quite managed to get anywhere else, even on the ice, no matter how hard he tries.
“Not as much as I’d like to,” Matt says sadly, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
A grimace flickers across Nick’s face—that’s the price he has to pay for being in the NHL. A necessary evil, as much as his heart longs to know what life might be like on the other side of things.
He can wait till retirement for that, right?
Chapter Eighteen
