Page 121 of The Tryout

Our final game before the Christmas break is against Dallas, a team Ethan has made clear we need to beat. Not five minutes into the first period, I can tell that the game is different, more physical than the others I’ve played so far in Minneapolis.

The Dallas defense are constantly trying to strip the puck from me, pushing me into the boards at every opportunity. After every shift, I’m relieved to sit back on the bench, taking some deep breaths and preparing for the next chance to get pushed around.

Ethan’s face is intense, focused on the ice whether he’s playing or not. But Jamie seems distracted, almost as if he’s scanning the seats near the home bench. Finally, as I’m about to ask him what’s going on, his face lights up and he waves. I follow his eyes, only to find – Avery?

My eyes shoot back to Jamie, no doubt full of shock.

“What…what’s Avery doing here? I thought he was spending Christmas in California.”

It occurs to me that I’m not sure if Avery has told Jamie what we’ve been up to. Hell, I’m not even sure I know what to call what we’ve been up to – friends with benefits? Dating? More?

“Oh, he didn’t have enough time to get home for the break. Something about bad connecting flights? We thought he could come on up so he wasn’t alone.”

I’m not sure if Jamie recognizes the lie, but I do – in fact, I know Avery already had his ticket purchased. Still, I can’t help but be happy to see him. When it’s time for me to get back on the ice, it feels different, somehow, knowing there’s someone here watching me.

Or, at least, I think he’s watching me. Before the next faceoff, I catch his eye, waving with a small smile on my face. He waves back, giving me a wink that turns my blood hot. Crouching down, all I can think is Let’s make it worth the trip.

In the end, I have one of the best games of my career – certainly my best in the NHL. I put up two assists and, at the very end of the third, manage to sneak in my very first NHL goal. Mac grabs the puck for me as I celebrate at the bench, somehow hearing Avery’s screams over the rest of the arena.

After the game, I hurry through my cool down and shower, eager to see Avery in person. Ethan, still half-dressed, tells me he should be in the family and friends waiting area, and I can’t help but head out, leaving the guys behind.

As I turn down the hallway that I think houses the waiting area, I catch sight of Avery’s auburn hair at the end of the hall, talking to Astrid Lindholm while her newborn sleeps in a carrier on her chest.

I drop my gear bag, running down the hall as fast as my tired legs will take me, throwing my arms around Avery when I finally get to him. At first he stiffens, as though surprised by the hug, but soon his arms wrap around my waist.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” I murmur into the jersey he’s wearing - a jersey with my name on it, if I’m not mistaken.

“Me too.” He says into my hair, giving me one last squeeze.

Backing away, I look at him, taken aback by how good he looks up close.

“I missed you.”

He smiles at me, but before he can say something, I hear Ethan clear his throat behind me.

“This yours?”

He’s holding the bag I dropped down the hallway, but I can’t find room to be anything other than glad he grabbed it.

“Thanks. Can we go now?”

Jamie decides that my first NHL goal is reason to celebrate, so after a quick trip back to the house to change, we end up at a bar down the street from his house. Based on the Pride flag hanging over the bar, I guess it’s a gay bar, but to me it kind of just seems like any other bar.

The guy behind the bar waves as we walk in, clearly recognizing Jamie and Ethan. They head to a booth in the back and before we can sit down, the bartender is there with water for the table. As he passes it out, the guys order beers from the tap. He looks at me, and I can already see him gearing up to ask for ID.

“I’m good with water.”

Under the table, Avery nudges my knee with his own.

“You don’t want a Diet Coke or something?”

Honestly, that does sound good, especially since I’m dragging after the hard-fought game.

“Oh, uh, yeah actually. If you have it?”

The bartender nods and leaves the table. I grab my water and take a long drink. I wonder how long I need to stay before I can drag Avery back to the house – and, hopefully, to my bed.

Before long, the bartender is back with the drinks, and Avery clears his throat and lifts his glass.