Page 92 of Wingmen

“I need to go to the rink later.”

Dustin looked carefully hopeful. “Can I drive you?”

Elliot held his gaze, feeling the same. “Sure.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Dustin

Dustin ached to the core of his bones, but the physician said he was probably through the worst of the withdrawal. He was diagnosed with an official medical term, which was grim and also fascinating. Mild Opioid Use Disorder.

During something called a biopsychosocial assessment, he learned he was ‘suffering from a triangle of interlocking factors’. Biological: his knee, his nervous system, possible genetics. Psychological: career stress, denial, identity loss. And social: the NHL culture, his wealth, isolation, family history.

He’d never considered that he’d be treated as an ‘ill person’ who was ‘suffering’. He’d pretty much written himself off as a little fucking moron.

“But dependence is not addiction, and because you reached out, and are compliant and committed, that’s the clearest indicator we have that you’ll recover successfully,” the specialist said. “Basically, having a ‘come to Jesus’ on your own is a strong signal.”

Dustin didn’t love that: ‘come to Jesus’. He’d never even been inside a church. He preferred to think of it as a ‘come to Jordan’. By way of Elliot.

He was prescribed some non-addictive meds to manage withdrawal, but both the specialist and Dr. Wu seemed more concerned with his mental health than the physical symptoms. He was referred to a clinical psychologist.

On the way home, one thing the doctor had said kept nagging at him. It was the thing about social factors. Specifically: his wealth.

At the door two nights ago, Elliot had accused him of booking a flight and a hotel like it was nothing. He was right: the cost of that hadn’t even factored into his decision. Of all the math he’d done that day, that calculation wasn’t part of it.

How differently would this have gone for him if a flight to Canada and a night in a hotel hadn’t been available? If hehadgone down to the North Park Blocks? If he didn’t have a brother who could afford to fly in for a week? If he didn’t have a team doctor referring him to a private specialist? If all that wealth hadn’t shielded him from the worst of this?

What would have happened to him then?

Jordan wasn’tsure what to make of Elliot.

He arrived at eight the next morning, directly from the airport, and Elliot answered the door in a pair of Dustin’s sweats and one of Dustin’s t-shirts. Not because they’d slept together – Elliot was in the spare room – but because Elliot hadn’t been back to his hotel to pick anything up.

He must’ve opened the door without thinking, and Dustin, who was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, heard it happen and suddenly realized he hadn’t told Jordan about Elliot, orGrindr, or the Ask Gay Men subreddit, or even the wingman bet. There was nothing untoward about Elliot being there – Jordan had told him to have someone come stay – but Dustin was gripped by panic. He spit and rinsed and sprinted out to find Elliot on one side of the door and Jordan on the other, looking equally surprised to see each other.

“Jordan!” He tried to look normal. “Hey! Uh…this is Elliot.”

“I’m aware,” said Jordan, looking slightly bemused and holding out his hand for Elliot to shake. “The new Bennet.”

Elliot shook his hand, looking like he’d just remembered he was wearing Dustin’s t-shirt, and had been rendered temporarily mute.

“He came to stay for a couple of days,” said Dustin. “Keep an eye on things.”

“I heard you were doing the off-season here.” Jordan let go of Elliot’s hand and bent to pick up his suitcase. “How’re you liking it?”

“Good!” Elliot stepped aside to let him pass. “Nice. Yeah, really good. Beautiful city, great town.”

Jordan didn’t seem to notice that Elliot was talking way too fast. He set down the suitcase inside the door, looking around the loft.

“Well, thanks for coming over. I guess I didn’t realize you guys were friendly. Sounds like Dustin got over his grudge.” He eyed Elliot’s borrowed sweats and t-shirt, and Dustin told himself it wasn’t weird that Elliot was wearing his clothes. People borrowed clothes.

Elliot glanced at Dustin. “We started training together, figured the whole feud was pretty dumb.”

“Great.” Jordan clapped Dustin on the shoulder. “This old man’s keeping up with you?”

Elliot caught Dustin’s eye behind his back as he turned and went to take a seat at the island. “He does alright.”

No one had eaten, so after he took his meds, Dustin drove them to a diner. Over eggs and bottomless coffee that was almost as bad as the stuff he made at home, he told Jordan how it went with the specialist.