Page 136 of Full Body Hit, Part 1

“Fine.” The kid sighed.

Chase stayed in his room most of the day, creeping out in the early evening, dressed in loose sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

Auston had turned off the TV the moment he heard the kid step out of his room, not wanting to get into an argument about leaving it on—the screen wouldn’t be good for Chase’s head.

“Sit,” Auston ordered as Chase hovered. “I’ll get you some water and put a podcast on or something. And I swear to God, if you tell me I don’t have to, I will punt you out of this window.”

Chase let out a surprised laugh. “Okay. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise. We’re teammates. Relax.”

If Auston were a better person, he’d acknowledge that it was normal Chase wasn’t relaxed, what with Auston’s usual attitude towards him, but he wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart.

Auston got Chase to lie on the couch, throwing a blanket on him and ignoring his shocked, “Oh. Thanks.” He put a hockey podcast on and settled on the other end of the couch, which was luckily massive enough to allow space to remain between them. He fit cushions around himself, supporting his aching hip.

Auston closed his eyes. The constant pain was exhausting, and the lack of texting with Charlie had left him in a sour mood. He listened to the podcast with a frown on his face, disagreeing with most of what the two knuckleheads were saying.

“Bullshit,” he mumbled at a particularly egregious part.

Chase stirred. “Hm?”

“Nothing. These idiots. Sure, the Rockets’ goalie tandem are top of the charts in letting goals in above expected, and obviously the defence plays a role in that, but you’ve got Hanson on the first line and Panev on the second, and those two are tough to play. I don’t think I’ve won a single board battle against Panev in years, and even when I was a Beast, we had to chip and chase most of the time because he’s so good on the blue line. The two main goalie pairs have the same fucking weakness above their blocker and their five-hole—sometimes it really is the goalie that sucks.”

Chase had shifted so their eyes could meet. “Wow. Yeah. That makes a lot of sense.”

Auston snorted. “Don’t gotta sound so surprised. I’m old enough to have learnt a thing or two.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re absolutely decrepit,” Chase chirped.

“Oi,” Auston said, but a smile tugged at his lips. “I was young once, you know.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Chase replied, and Auston immediately sobered, taken back to the comments from the previous night.

You were my favourite player.

He wondered if Chase remembered saying any of that. Knowing concussions and how out of it the kid had seemed, probably not.

Auston let the conversation settle, the podcast a distant rumble as he stared at the kid. That same strange thing from the night before rumbled in his belly at seeing Chase so small and tucked in on the couch, buried like a shell in the sand. Auston wanted to dig him out, brush off the grains and keep him in the palm of his hand instead, where he’d be safe.

He didn’t know where the fuck that particular impulse was coming from. There was just something suddenly familiar about the kid’s shape, as if Auston had seen him in a recurring dream, visited by the vision when he was at his calmest and most vulnerable.

The day turned out less annoying than Auston had expected. Barring Chase’s pathological need to keep apologising and offering to do things he simply didn’t currently have the capacity to do, Auston found it wasn’t the worst thing to take care of someone.

Despite the pain in his hip, Auston went to bed with most of his pieces aligned and settled in place. He’d fed Chase, kept him hydrated and entertained, and made sure he was warm and rested.

The only thing missing was hearing his baby’s voice on the other end of the line, but that could wait until the next day.

***

At this point, Auston had probably seen hundreds of pictures and videos of Charlie, both clothed and unclothed. He’d developed an absolute certainty that if he ever spotted Charlie in the wild, he’d recognise him instantly. There would be something about the slant of his shoulders or the way he stood that would call to Auston.

He was sure of it. Auston had accidentally slept in, waking fuzzy and cotton-mouthed. He checked his phone first thing, disappointed to see there were no messages from Charlie even though he had been expecting it.

He forced himself out of bed, going to the bathroom before shuffling to the kitchen, still bleary-eyed and tired.

And there, sitting on a kitchen stool, was Charlie.

Charlie.