His team, their opponents, and the stadium of watchers had seen Hennessey bleed out on the ice. His family had been in the bleachers, too.
The condolence book on the Caribous’ website had hundreds of entries, the most recent ones were only a few weeks old. The latest entry had come from a V.K. on the tenth anniversary of Linden’s death.
’I still miss you. V’
It had taken me a couple of days to make sense of it all. After going through Linden’s ArgoS account that was still live, I was sure they’d been a couple. Vee quit playing when Linden died. He moved back to Germany and got the job as a forest ranger.
It didn’t make my situation easier, but I understood why he’d sent me away. He couldn’t live with the fear of losing someone else.
I didn’t bother looking for him again after that, but I set up alerts on all platforms I knew in case one of his old jerseys cropped up. It was a terrible idea and would hurt like hell, but then I’d have something to remind me about him.
We shouldn’t be.
I’d given myself a week to grieve, maybe two.
A week and then fun Decks would be back.
And I somehow came back. I cracked jokes at practice and played great in the games. I pushed myself in the gym, but a part of me was still missing in the forest, yelling for Vee at the top of my lungs.
Losing him—and damn, I couldn’t believe how weird that sounded after less than one day together—hit me hard.
All day, every day, I prayed to whatever deity listened that the pain would become more bearable.
How the hell am I supposed to make it through the next fifty years?
Or would I simply fade away?
Is it possible to die of a broken heart?
How was I supposed to forget the emerald green plumage and blood red comb? I vividly remembered the texture of his feathers under my fingertips and I recalled perfectly that they were so glossy they felt almost wet. Oh, how he’d moaned when I had gone down on him in that shower…
Shit.
Getting a boner in our locker room was the last thing I wanted. I switched off the water and grabbed a clean towel from the shelf on the wall.
I tried my best not to think about Vee, but my thoughts strayed back to him like a mangy dog to the butcher’s shop.
I’m in so much pain, even my dick hurts.
It wasn’t the hurthehad caused me. God, it had hurt so fucking good. My dick wanted to feel his warm, slick beak surrounding him again. And yeah, I knew exactly how pathetic I was.
Vee was the first man I let inside me—repeatedly. How could I give up on him when I still felt his dick with that deep ridge in my ass?
Once I covered up my hard-on with my boxers and jeans, I collapsed on the bench and vigorously rubbed my hands over my face. It was covered with a few days worth of beard. It itched, but I didn’t find it in me to shave or care much about…anything, really. I threw on whatever clean clothes I had without looking at my haggard, shaggy face in the mirror.
When my head emerged from my sweater, Arne approached me like a spooked horse.
He rested his hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Hey Nate, are you okay?” my captain asked, with a concerned expression. His dark blue eyes pierced me, and it made me feel like he saw straight through me.
“Yeah. Great, thanks,” I lied. “I’m not really on top of my game today.” I averted my eyes. I’d only confided in Bo what had happened in the forest. The others had got the vanilla version.
They didn’t need to know what still fucking broke me.
Arne stepped back.
“No partying with the guys tonight.” His eyes flicked down to the bruise at my thigh. “Get some rest, bror. And put ice on that.”
