“Filthy liar—you hate stretching.”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” I whine, already out of breath again even though we had a nice long break while Nate yelled at me. “We should have done the 5k, not the ten.”
“If you’ve already run three miles, six is easy,” Nate says, which is exactly the sort of insane logic I’d expect from someone who never runs out of energy. “Come on, let’s pick up the pace a little bit. I want to beat my PR.”
He takes off and I follow, groaning.
14
Desmond
I watch,amused, as Nate skates around and gathers stray pucks. It’s technically my job, while his, right now, is to take a break and get some water. I glance over at Nico.
“Should I tell him to stop?” I ask.
“No. He probably doesn’t even need a break,” Nico says, amusement and affection in his voice. “In the past, I’ve assigned him extra skating drills just to try and burn off some of that energy.”
Snorting, I skate over to start pulling the goals. As I figured would happen, I’m joined after a few seconds by Henri Vasel.
“May I help you, Coach?” he asks politely. He’s the only one who never calls me by my name.
“Sure, big guy.” I up-nod toward the other post. “Grab that side.”
Between me and my two extra helpers, the ice is cleared in half the time it usually takes. Vas gazes around, apparentlylooking for something else he could assist with, as Nate skates up to us, grinning.
“Thanks for the help, guys.”
Nate waves a hand at me. “No worries. Vas’ idea.”
Eyebrows raised, I glance over at Vas and watch his cheeks pink. He sends a furtive look in Nico’s direction, and a sudden burst of fondness blooms in my chest. So, Nico was mistaken when he told me the team hadn’t seemed too concerned about his eyesight. Hadn’t cared.
“You two head off, and get changed,” I instruct. “I’ll finish up here, and meet you in the theater.”
“Are you sure I cannot—” Vas starts.
“I got it, mate. You deserve a break—go rest those legs.” Looking a little forlorn, Vas allows Nate to tug him toward the exit. The rest of the team is already gone, everyone eager to be rid of their sweaty gear and sit down for an hour. I too am eager to be off the ice, if only because that means it’s time for video review. Video review is better than sex, in my opinion.
When I’m changed back into my runners, I stop by the office to grab a few things before joining the team in the theater. Nico is behind his desk, carefully opening an orange pill bottle that I know contains his migraine medication. It reminds me of the request I put in with maintenance last week.
“There’s going to be some refurbish work going on here next week,” I tell him nonchalantly. He glances up at me, squinting. “Nothing crazy, they’re just installing new light fixtures.”
“Really? I didn’t realize they needed fixing,” he looks up at the ceiling, as though performing a visual inspection. His mouth tightens in a grimace and he looks away quickly.
“Oh I don’t think it’s a fixing thing, more of a refurb. Iguess they wanted to upgrade,” I say, still aiming for casualness. Everything I’m saying is a lie. I damn near had to beg for them to agree. “Sounds like we’re getting dimmers.”
Nico’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead. “Really?”
“Really,” I agree. “It’ll be nice. Take a break from the hospital lighting we’ve got going on.”
He smiles at me, and goes back to plucking a pill from his prescription bottle. A dimmer might not solve the headache problem, but it’ll probably be a big help. If anything, the office will be a small oasis away from the bright lights of the arena. I don’t even suffer from headaches, and they bother me after a time. I can’t imagine how it must feel for Nico.
Recently, worrying about the future has started to keep me awake at night, so I’ve spent that time researching different techniques to make his job a little more comfortable. I’ve started using fonts that supposedly are easier for people with low visual acuity to read. I’ve also read that changing the contrast for the colors on his computer might help, but I don’t think I could get away with doing that one on the sly. Nico would probably notice if I switched everything on his desktop to dark mode for no apparent reason.
“I changed a few things up for video review,” I tell Nico, gathering all my notes from last night. They’re pretty much useless to anyone but me. Even though they might look like the ravings of a lunatic, there’s a method to my madness and so far it’s paid off.
“Oh?”
“You know that little forward that plays for Harvard?” Resting my hip on the edge of my desk, I stretch my legs out. Unlike Nate, skating for hoursdoesmake me tired. “Casey Larsson? He’s tried for a Michigan goal in their last four games.”
