Well fuck me, because it’s Thatcher’s bedroom voice that starts working its magic on my own desire. I’m painfully hard from watching the effect I had on him, but now I feel the urgency to do something about it.
Thatcher continues, his eyes hungry as I readjust the screen so he can see more of me. His look is just about enough to do me in—I could easily come like this with him watching me.
“I’m getting lube,” I tell him. “And you are too.”
***
The second game is better. We’re ahead by two, and in the third I have control of the puck when the goalie’s out of position, leaving an easy goal on an unattended net, but I’d hardly call it a shot. It’s more of a stroke of luck, being the guy with the puck when Boston’s not where they should be. But still, it’s my first goal in the NAPH since being back and leads to a Knights’ win, so that’s not nothing.
“Hey.” Jerry catches me in the locker room after the game. I’m still pulling a shirt over my damp head when he sits on the locker room bench.
It’s a nice enough locker room, but it doesn’t have Thatcher’s custom-made hockey-stick bench.
“What’s up?”
“Another great game, Roe. I’m not the only one noticing.”
I nod, putting stuff into my duffel. “Good.”
“GM and Coach want you to finish the series tomorrow night here in Boston.”
So, that means I’m back to Fox River Falls and the Iceguard after this next game. I assumed it would be sooner rather than later that I’d go back down. If anything, three games was more than I’d hoped to have.
“Alright.” I nod. “Whatever needs to be done.”
Jerry clasps my shoulder. “Where are you headed?”
I nod toward the warmup room. “Trainer then catching up with Benji.”
“Benji’s been solid for us. Always is. We’ll get you on a plane back together if we can.”
After running through a few things with the trainer, I tape my knee for extra support since the next game is the next day without the buffer day of recovery in between, like we had between the first and second of the series.
Benji shows me a great seafood place he found, and by the time we’re done it looks like a family of five ordered food rather than two men.
As we walk back to the hotel, Benji teases me about my text stream with Thatcher as my thumbs fly over the screen.
“So, I take it things are going well with the hot dad?”
“Real good.”
“What does he think about the call-up?”
I shrug. “Nothing but support, man. He has every reason to be nervous,” I begin, thinking of how true that is. From his father to Liz, Gabe Thatcher’s life has taught him to keep his heart far away from hockey and from a guy like me. And here he is, my biggest cheerleader.
“Holy fuck,” Benji says, digging an elbow into my side. “You’re in love with him.”
I blink at Benji.
“What? No. It’s way too early for that.” Falling for him? Maybe. But I have yet to land. Right? Wouldn’t that be something I should know?
***
The last game in the series comes fast. Since we just played the night before, the morning is light and focused on plays and film over drills or workouts. The advantage of having the home ice can be seen more in this game than arguably any other, so we don’t want to tire ourselves out. The other team went home to rest, not a hotel, and by the third in the series, it can show.
I have my bag packed, so when we get a break before the game, everyone else heads back to the hotel but I choose to walk around. The weather is nice so I grab some lunch and sit in the sun close to the water. The coast does have it’s perks.
I text Thatcher off and on. He knows I’m headed home after this, but I can tell he’s letting me set the pace on how frequently we talk and what is said.
