“What number is Nate? It’s so fucking hard to read their names,” Luke mutters, leaning forward further.
“Eighty-six. He’s there.” I point to where Nate is standing next to a stretching McIntire, leaned over with his stick resting across his thighs. “With the goalie.”
“Maxy says they’re close,” Luke tells me. I nod. Nate is always talking about him. “He also says that he’s got terrible performance anxiety and that he thinks he sucks.”
“Nate said the same thing.” Leaning back, I divide my attention between Max and Nate, watching as they stretch and warm up. “He’s good right up until he makes a mistake. They blew that three-point lead in their last game because he let in four goals in ten minutes.”
“And then he got pulled, right?” Luke clarifies. “Which, you know, probably did loads for his self-esteem.”
“It’s a hard call to make, I think. If the goalie is hemorrhaging points, the coach really doesn’t have a choice but to yank them.”
Luke nods in agreement, eyes tracking Max as the game starts. Even though I’d prefer to watch from the comfort of our living room, it’s impossible not to have fun at a live game. The energy is so high, it’s infectious—beside me, Luke’s knee is bouncing up and down as he watches. He hasn’t once sat back in his seat. I don’t even need to watch the game to know when Max has the puck, Luke’s reactions telling me everything I need to know.
As is typical, Max is the first to score but it’s called back when the play is deemed to be offside. Luke grumbles a few colorful expletives about the referee as he sits back down.
“That wasnotoffside,” he tells me. I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Do you even know what that means?”
“Yeah.” A pause. “Okay, no.”
We lucked out and are ending our season playing a team that is finishing at the bottom of the standings. McIntire has only had to make fourteen saves in the two periods of play we’ve had so far, and he’s managed to stop each one. On the opposite end of the ice, the netminder hasn’t been so lucky. As the teams leave the ice for second intermission, the score is sitting at 4—0 in favor of us—two of which were earned by Vasel, one by Max, and the last by a defenseman I don’t recognize.
“Performance anxiety my ass, that goalie is killing it!” Luke says happily, watching Max until he’s out of sight in the locker room before turning to me. “I’m so fucking excited to watch him play in the NHL.”
“He might not play much, or at all, the first year,” I warn. Luke waves a hand and makes a disbelieving face.
“He will. He’s going down in hockey history, mark my words.”
“Consider them marked.” He laughs.
“Max tells me you’re off to Montana.” I nod. “Just so you know, he was, like, super excited about it when he told me. He’s really happy for you.”
I glance at Luke. I’ve wavered several times on my decision to spend the summer with Nate. Not only will this be the longest stretch of time Max and I have ever spent apart, but it’s also a massive turning point in his life. He’s starting his NHL career this summer, and I know he’s nervous about it. He might not need me with him, but what if he does and I’m not there?
“I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing,” I admit.
“You are. Is he going to miss you? Yes. But he wants you tobe happy, and in his mind you won’t be happy going with him to Detroit—you’ll be happy with Nate.”
“That’s not true?—”
“Of course not,” Luke agrees, bumping me with his elbow. “But you know how Maxy is. He’s worried about you. He doesn’t want you making big decisions only based on him.”
He’s right. Life used to be so easy before we moved here, but now things are muddled—everything that happened at the party and afterward, the NHL, and of course Luke himself. I hadn’t been expecting Luke, and I certainly hadn’t been expecting him to hold such a huge presence in Max’s life.
“I’m scared for him,” I admit. Luke, I know, is the only other person in the world who understands this fear.
“I know. But between the both of us, I think he’ll be all right. I’ll have him in Detroit during the hockey season, and you can have him in Montana during the summer. Joint custody.”
“I’m not moving to Montana, Luke. I’ll be there for a couple months for vacation.”
“Mm, sure. Oh shut up, there’s Max.”
He sits forward in his seat once more, eyes on the ice. I don’t bother telling him that he was the one talking and therefore the one that needs to shut up and pay attention. Shaking my head, I search for Nate.
His line is on the bench and he’s leaning back, gesturing as he says something to Coach Mackenzie, who’s bent over him. As it always does when I look at him, my stomach seems to crawl up into my throat and my brain turns a little fuzzy. He’s beautiful and happy and a little bit wild.
And right now he’s mine.
