“I told you how my mom worked a lot when I was growing up. Most of the time, she had two jobs, sometimes three, when she was helping out at the local hockey arena. Only on game nights. We moved around a lot. Different town every time.” I shrug lightly. “She did what she had to do.”
He nods but doesn’t interrupt.
“We didn’t have cable,” I say. “We never could afford it. Some of my neighbors, though, were nice enough to let me use theirs. So that was… something.”
I let out a small breath, not quite a laugh.
“One year for my birthday, she got me an Xbox. It wasn’t new or anything. I think she bought it off someone at work.” I smile faintly at the memory. “I was obsessed with it.”
He slides his hands slowly up and down my waist, letting me know he’s there.
“I’d come home from school. It would be just me for most of the night,” I say. “Until late. I’d do my homework, make whatever was easy to eat in the microwave, and then I’d play.”
I glance down at my hands.
“It was easy to disappear into, I guess. Easier than thinking about how I was always sitting alone in an empty apartment, hating how quiet it was.”
He doesn’t look at me with pity, which is what I appreciate most. He just listens.
“I used to stay up too late,” I continue. “I’d play until the early morning, sometimes talking to people I’d never met. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know them. They were there, and it was nice not to feel so alone.”
His thumb pauses against my hip for a second, then continues its slow movement.
“I get that,” he says quietly.
I lift my gaze back to his.
“It’s been the same for me,” he explains. “Not always gaming, but hockey.”
He shifts slightly under me, almost like he’s adjusting with the weight of his words.
“It’s the one place where my mind completely turns off,” he says. “I don’t have to think about anything. Not the noise or the pressure of the expectations.”
I study his face as he talks. There’s something softer in his expression when he talks about hockey.
“It’s an escape,” I say, and he nods. “That’s what it is for me too.”
He brushes a piece of damp hair away from my face.
“You don’t have to escape here. Not with me.”
I rest my forehead against his, exhaling a slow breath.
“I know,” I say quietly. “I know because we’ve played together before.”
He studies me for a second, his brows pulling together as he tries to piece together what I’m saying.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
My hands stay where they are, resting on his shoulders. My thumb brushes back and forth along his shoulder. He blinks slowly, like he’s still trying to catch up.
“We’ve known each other a lot longer than you think,” I admit. “I didn’t know it at the time. Not for a while anyway… not until later.”
He searches my face, trying to connect the dots until his expression shifts.
“You moved around a lot,” he says slowly. “You told me that before.”
His eyes shift, and I see the exact moment something clicks.
