So, here I am.
To… discuss matchups.
Even if what I really want to do is hold him. Have his arms wrapped around me again.
“Matchups, huh?” Beckett says with a knowing smile.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”
“As a coach or as a friend?”
I pause, even though we both know the answer. There is no real reason I’d be here as a coach. “A friend.”
He sits on the edge of the bed. “Well, in that case, it’s been a pretty brutal day.”
“Want to talk about it?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No.”
My chest tightens. Of course he doesn’t. At least not with me. “Want me to go?”
“No. I’m just not sure how to walk the coach/friend line right now.” The uncertainty is evident in his eyes.
“If it’s easier, I think this may be the one time you don’t have to think of me as your coach.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not up to me whether or not you are back on the ice. Sure, I could still bench you once you’re off IR, but I have no say over anything regarding you in the next three weeks. I’m as close to being just your friend as I’ll ever be.”
A smile spreads slowly across his face. “Well, in that case, let’s watch a movie.”
“Wait, is this what you’d normally be doing in the evenings if I wasn’t monopolizing all your time?” I ask.
He looks at me, his dark brown eyes pulling me in. “Yeah, Fin. I spend all my time watching TV. It’s how I’m a professional hockey player at thirty-four.”
“You’re a jerk.”
Beckett shifts so he’s sitting fully on the bed and pats the spot next to him. “Come on, friend. I’ll even let you pick.”
We scroll through the channels together, discussing the various options before deciding on an action film that came out a few years ago. Unsurprisingly, neither of us has seen it.
As we watch, we talk. The conversation starts where it normally does: hockey. But after we talk about the game tonight and what we need to do to clinch a playoff spot, we move to more personal things. Beckett tells me about his plans once the season ends. I admit I should probably go see my dad, but it’s like a three-day job interview anytime I’m with him.
“Larsen and Li were a good pair today,” Beckett says after a loud action scene, where the supposed good guys caused about twelve different apartment buildings to be destroyed.
“They were,” I agree.
“It was hard to watch.”
“It was harder to watch them play without you than I anticipated, too.”
“But I was also surprisingly proud of Larsen. He’s really stepped up,” Beckett adds.
I bump my shoulder into his again, but this time, I don’t move away. He’s warm and strong, and it just feels so nice to have someone by my side for once. “Are you becoming friends with the rookie?” I tease.
Beckett looks down, his eyes meeting mine. I’m practically resting my head on his shoulder, and from the way his eyes darken, I think he likes it. Maybe as much as I do.
He closes his eyes, his head tilting to rest gently against mine. “I’d prefer to think of it as more of a proud team leader situation.”
