Page 93 of Wingmen

“So you have to go into The Program?” Jordan reached across the table for the ketchup. “Does Dr. Wu need to tell your coach?”

Dustin shook his head. “Only if I was going on the active roster. I’m not gonna be playing until halfway through the season anyway because of the knee.” He picked up his coffee. “So I can deal with this while I’m still in Injured Reserve, and no one really has to know. Unless…you know, unless I’m still dealing with it in January.”

“Why would you still be dealing with it in January?”

“Relapse,” said Elliot, not looking up as he pushed eggs onto his fork. They all went quiet and he looked at Dustin. “Right?”

Dustin hadn’t told him that. He’d either overheard a phone call with Dr. Wu, or knew it because of his uncle. He nodded. “Right.”

“Mm.” Jordan put a bite of eggs in his mouth. “But that’s not gonna happen, is it?”

Unless the little fucking moron realizes he needs something for his knee.

“No,” said Dustin. “It’s not.”

Jordan didn’t say anything to that. He looked down at his plate again, skewering potatoes, and Dustin wasn’t sure exactly how to read the look on his face.

They ate. He watched his brother and Elliot get to know each other. They got along great – it was weird.

“You quit the league in twenty-seventeen, right?” said Elliot, reaching across the table for the syrup. Jordan nodded, chewing. Elliot poured, and Dustin recognized his thinking face. Which was nice: knowing Elliot well enough to recognize a face hemade. He finished pouring and set down the syrup, sucking some off his thumb. “What was that like?”

“Quitting the league?” Jordan tongued something out of a molar while he thought about it. “Really hard. I didn’t even think I was doing the right thing. I was only twenty-five.”

“Yeah, I remember the headlines.” Elliot picked up his fork. “Because Dustin had just started and you guys were supposed to be the Bennet Brothers.”

Jordan glanced at Dustin. “Right.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“Burned out. I was done. My entry-level contracts were expiring and nothing amazing was coming my way in terms of offers. And I had this shoulder thing that was just…grinding away.” Jordan picked over his potatoes. “I guess you probably know about our dad.”

Elliot quietly nodded.

“It’s pretty common knowledge,” said Jordan. “But yeah. He was a big part of why we both played, and to be honest, I probably only kept doing it as long as I did because I figured that’s what he would’ve wanted. But then I met Sarah and she helped me see that there’s life outside hockey. Felt good, honestly: like I was finally getting out from under the old man. I think she saved me; I didn’t know what I was gonna do – I went to Europe for a while, but I fuckin hate Europe, man. The French over there is…sofucking French.”

Elliot snorted and Dustin had to turn his eyes down to his plate, because seeing Elliot laugh made his chest ache badly, and he was afraid it was written all over his face. He sipped his coffee. It was helping his headache.

“So I went back to Canada, got into real estate – which is pretty par for the course for a hockey player,” said Jordan. “That led to contracting and now I run a roofing company. I work like a dog. But I do pretty good.”

Dustin snuck a look at Elliot and saw him making a face of disbelief. “And youlikethat?” Elliot said. “Roofing?” Dustin looked down again to hide his smile.

“I don’t hate it.” Jordan lifted one shoulder, picking up his coffee. “I go home at the end of the day to my daughter.”

Elliot looked like he couldn’t possibly fathom a world in which this was an acceptable way to live. Dustin watched him picking at his food. “There’s other stuff, though,” Elliot said, like he was reassuring himself. “You don’thaveto go into real estate.”

“Honestly,” said Jordan, “a guy like you will retire after a long, illustrious career, and never have to work again. That was never me. I was never Dustin Bennet-level talented.”

Looking embarrassed, Elliot mumbled, “I don’t know if I could just donothing.”

“You can run a foundation or something, if you really want to.”

“I don’t wanna run a foundation. I wanna play hockey.”

Jordan caught Dustin’s eye as the table went quiet. How many times had Dustin said exactly that to him? They all ate while the server came to refill their coffees. When she’d gone, Jordan said, “You don’t have to stop just because you retire. You could coach. Get into management.”

The wordretiresnagged in Dustin’s brain. He wasn’t sure if Jordan was saying that for Elliot or for him. He hadn’t heard him slip it into a conversation in a while.

“Hell, Rodriguez, you could do the media circuit if you wanted.” Jordan chuckled and sipped his coffee. “You’re pretty enough.”