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It took me a long time and lots of therapy to accept I love my current life. At first, I rationalized being a camboy to pay my bills. A way to ensure I’ll never be homeless again.
My family didn’t accept my sexuality and would disown me if given the chance. I didn’t give them the chance.
It’s hard to break ingrained thoughts and opinions. Even with tons of support, the process took years. Most people don’t aspire to take their clothes off for strangers. It’s not on the top of anyone’s job list.
Mav has been nothing but supportive and has given me zero reasons to doubt him.
That’s not normal. People have opinions and judge others.
Doubt gnaws at my insides, begging me to be cautious and not hand my heart over to Mav. Too late for that.
But he’s so happy to see me and has practically moved into my brownstone. I crave the life he’s offering so much I’m afraid I’ll strangle us to death, with fear forcing me to hang on tighter and tighter.
Brant scores when he’s with Mav’s line, so they meet for a celly dance I helped them create. Mav and his wingers have a separate dance if Brant and O’Keefe aren’t on the ice.
It’s honestly incredible how much stability they have on skates. Some people couldn’t do the dance moves on a hardwood floor, let alone on ice skates.
Brant’s goal puts the Enforcers up by one, but there’s too much time left to take a win for granted.
Drake smashes the guy who hits Lucky into the boards and gets a penalty for tripping. He hugs Lucky and says something before skating to the sin bin. That’s my favorite term for the penalty box. Grown men getting into trouble playing a violent sport, and it’s a sin. Hilarious. Drake wasn’t subtle, and now the other team has a power play.
I grip Lo’s hand and stare at the puck, summoning the mental power to stop it from going into the goal. I’ve become a crazy fan. No regrets.
Benz is in goal tonight, and he’s playing with honed precision. He deflects it, but their forward swats it, and Benz makes a diving catch.
The next thirty seconds last a lifetime, and there’s still a minute and a half left on Drake’s penalty time. Ace gets the puck and sends it across the centerline to give them time to change lines.
Mav returns to the ice, and Lo wrenches his hand from mine, shaking it.
“I need this,” he says in a droll tone.
But I ignore him, keeping my eyes on the puck.
Mav has explained to me countless times how everyone has a role and it changes if there’s a power play. I hear: blah, blah, blah. But now that info seems vitally important, and I wish I’d paid attention.
Griff gets the puck to Mav, and they race toward the opposition’s goal. This is when they try to keep possession and run the penalty out instead of scoring right away.
My eyes flick between the puck and the timer. Mav keeps the puck on his stick near center ice, and he’s not challenged. Time ticks along at an absurdly slow pace.
Mav fakes a spin, then shoots the puck with lightning speed over the goalie’s left shoulder. The power play ends, and we’re up by two instead of tied.
I jump around, hugging Lo. “They did it!” I whoop.
Lo squints at the jumbotron. “The game’s not over.”
“But we scored on their power play!” I exclaim.
“We.” Lo barks a laugh. We used to make fun of fans who’d say “we” regarding their team. Irrationally thinking they had some part in the success. I’m all about the “we” when it’s the Enforcers.
There’s only three minutes left in the game, and Lo gives me the look.
“No, stay.” I hug his arm and plead.
“Why? You go be with your man, and I’m getting out before the mass exodus. Text me when you’re home or if you need me.” He lifts me off my feet, then disappears as the Enforcers change lines.
My arms swing awkwardly as I follow Mav’s instructions to the dressing room. My anxiety has taken over, and my body can’t remember the coordination needed to walk normally.
I’m having flashbacks from high school of waiting and waiting for Mav only to be left behind. Logically, this has nothing to do with that. But in my experience, stress overrides logic every single time.
