Page 39 of Two for Charging

Chris shook his head. Yet another reason it was a good thing he hadn’t gotten the A. Team leaders had to be up on the opposition, and Chris sucked at that. He loved playing hockey, but watching made him wince every time someone hit the boards. Sometimes he got queasy during video review. He didn’t mind doling out hits or taking them, but seeing them on screen reminded him of all the articles Matty sent him about CTE, and thinking about those for too long made him start imagining symptoms.

“Denisov is an absolute beast this year,” Howie said morosely. “He sent a guy careening into the boards headfirst from ten feet away when they played the Wyverne. Didn’t even do it on purpose. Imagine what he can do when he’s trying.”

“Maybe he forgot the last time we played?” Chris offered.

Howie shook his head. Chris hadn’t heard what he’d said to throw Damir Denisov off back in December, but it had been effective. It had led to the Firecrackers’ star forward losing three quarters of the face-offs for the rest of the game. It had also led to him punching Howie in the face.

Chances were good he’d be out to prove something tonight, especially since the Firecrackers would want to win their home opener.

“Well, I’ll protect you, then. That’s what I’m there for.”

“Aw.” Howie rested his head on Chris’s shoulder. “Best D-man.”

The gesture made Chris think of Luca’s other offer, the offer to cuddle whenever he wanted. He doubted Luca meant it. Chris wanted to cuddle all the time. Shutouts were his favorite games because when they won, he got to give Dmitriyev a proper, all-encompassing hug instead of a quick forehead tap. Having Howie lean on him this way was nice. But platonic, team hugs didn’t give him the same safe, content feeling as when he had someone to hold in the evenings while he watched TV, or maybe all night long.

He could be happy without sex indefinitely, but without cuddling? No chance. He didn’t miss dating for the most part, but he did miss cuddling.

For all that he was as approachable as a cactus, Luca gave great hugs, hard enough for Chris to feel wanted and appreciated, soft enough to be cozy. If Luca really meant it, Chris would absolutely be cuddling him more.

Still lying against him, Howie snickered.

“Hm?”

“Best D-man. ’Cause of your massive schlong.”

“Oh my God.” Chris would never live down admitting he was a little above average.

Mooney’s head popped up over the back of the seat in front of them. “Is that what happened with all your girlfriends last year? Took one look at the anaconda and dipped?”

A dull thud followed his question, and then he said, “Ow! What?”

“You are being mean. Do you want me to download the foghorn app?”

Chris smiled to himself. Luca ribbed Chris as mercilessly as any of the guys when he thought Chris had done something dumb—like claim to be Italian. Chris would argue this was because his parents had drilled it into him; he hadn’t had cause to think about it much until Luca. But Luca never made fun of things he knew would hurt. It was why Chris had felt comfortable admitting his problems with dating.

“Ben tells me it’s one of the silliest things about hockey,” Phil said, joining the conversation from the other side of the aisle.

They all turned to stare at him.

“How we all call defense ‘the D’ as if the abbreviation isn’t already taken.”

“Well, yeah,” Howie said. “That’s why it’s funny. Didn’t everyone’s U-15 team get the giggles during a strategy meeting at least once?”

They all agreed, except Luca, who shrugged. Chris could see the line of his shoulders rising and falling in the seat in front of him.

“The joke does not work in Italian,” Luca said.

“Lucky,” Howie moaned. “Coach made us do bag skates until no one was laughing anymore. It took an hour.”

Bag skates for an hour sounded brutal. So far, Lindy hadn’t used them as a punishment or as a team bonding exercise, with the exception of the very first memorable practice. Chris hoped she kept it up. He was all right at sprinting because he did a lot of endurance work on the spinning bikes and ellipticals to make sure of it. Otherwise, his size would put him at too much of a disadvantage.

But it always made the whole team grumble, made everyone grumpy and prone to lashing out. Some coaches thought they could unite the team against a common enemy if they acted like dicks, but Chris had never found it very effective.

A thought occurred to Chris. “Hey, Howie, wasn’t your U-15 coach your dad?”

“Yup.” Howie grimaced. “I had to run sprints longer than anyone.”

Chris winced in sympathy. He was so glad his dad never got into coaching. The idea alone made him hunch his shoulders to be less noticeable, though his instant fear filled him with guilt. Hockey was an expensive sport, and his dad had always paid for his gear. He should be thankful for how much effort Dad had put into his career, not thankful he hadn’t put in more.