“These Toronto guys don’t fuck around,” Coach continued when the laughter and noise calmed down again. “Get that puck whenever you can and ram their defence like raging bull. Killinger is shit at skating backwards—”
Niko slapped a hand over his mouth to stop his laughter.
“So, use big bodies and passes to get around him. They’re rebuilding their lines, and doing shit job. Don’t let his speed turn you intocrying baby, Snow and Cote will be on him all night, so rest of you need to step the fuck up and drive puck to net. Yes?”
“Yes, Coach!”
Fedorov nodded and then left to do coach things with his consulting team and assistants, and August allowed his muscles to unlock now that the fear of being reprimanded had passed.
“Advil,” August said to the nearest staff member. “Please.”
The friendly-looking guy smiled and went to get him what he asked for, leaving August to suffer on the bench and grind his teeth.
“Hey,” Niko knocked their arms together. “Are you…alright? Like really alright, not manly stupidity alright.”
August squeezed his eyes shut. Sometimes when Niko spoke, he couldn’t understand what he was saying, even if it was in English.
“I’m fine,” he lied.
“Here, Mr. Snow.”
August raised his head and attempted a smile as he took the Advil and the water bottle being offered to him. “You saved my life. Thanks.”
The man blushed and hurried away, stammering through a sentence that August was unable to decipher.
“Head still hurting?” Niko asked, his sharp, green eyes lingering on the Advil until August popped them into his mouth. “I told you to take a break, but you’re refusing to listen—”
“I got a hat trick,”August hissed, keeping his voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard above the multiple conversations happening. “I don’t need a doctor or a therapist right now; I just need to play hockey. It’s the only thing that helps.”
“Gus—” Niko pushed closer until they were nearly touching noses. “You just went through something that literally broke your brain. I know you don’t see it, but no matter how much you joke and smile and hit the back of the net with a puck, you’re not reallyhere.”
Pain jabbed between his eyes, and August pinched the bridge of his nose to soothe it. “Gonna take a walk,” he said, standing to unbuckle and remove his pads. He didn’t look at Niko because he didn’t want to see the worry in his eyes, not right now.
Avoiding the media team, August found a part of the corridor with no people and fewer lights, hidden from sight. The moment he was alone, he sighed and pressed his head to the cold wall, soaking up the temporary relief it provided.
Relief that only lasted until he heard the thud of skates approaching, and he opened one eye to greet his captain.
Eren Callahan, the man who married Esme Harlow, and the man who still smiled after her death. The man who gave off an air of easy charm, and who had had his back after losing the cup last season, despite the heavy knowledge that his wife was dying.
“Gusty—”
“I’m sorry.” August dropped his arms and pushed off the wall to face his captain. “I’m a stupid piece of shit, and I didn’t realize—I didn’t know she was gone. You must have told me, but I’m such a stuck-up prick that I didn’t bother sparing a thought for her. And what’s worse, Iknewher. I danced with her at prom, and we won prom king and queen, and—”
He fucked her brother, told him he loved him, and then never spoke to him again.
“Listen,” said Callahan. “You’re a big bastard, so this is going to be awkward.”
Eren strode over and opened his arms, giving August a clear warning before he grabbed him in a hug and crushed him.
“August, what iswrong? You’re playing the best hockey of your life, but you’re scaring the shit out of me. Tell me what happened—you can trust me.”
August patted his captain on the back and then gently eased them apart. “I’m not okay,” he admitted. “I remembered some deep crap from my past, and I think it fucked me up. I feel like I should be freaking out, but everything is so…numb. I don’t know who I am anymore, Cap. I’m only playing the best hockey of my life because I’m not in my head at all—I’m outside my fucking body, and I—”
August pressed his bare back against the wall and shut his eyes. His head waskillinghim.
“You shouldn’t be playing right now.”
August shook his head. “Moving on instinct alone got us four goals.”
