10. Kade

Chapter ten

Kade

M y phone's ringer—a recording of crowd cheer noise—woke me at 6 a.m. I fumbled for it, and my pulse raced when I saw Coach Cabot's name on the screen.

Trying my best not to sound sleepy, I answered. "Langston here."

"Good to hear you, Kade. You sound chipper for so early." Coach's rough voice was like sandpaper. "How's the summer?"

"All is well. Working out and getting plenty of time on the ice and—"

He cut me off. "What I like to hear. Listen, I called for a quick discussion of the rest of your summer plans and my expectations for my team."

My stomach clenched. Was there any way he knew about Ziggy? It didn't sound impossible that a gossip like Dottie Perkins could set off a chain that ran all the way down to Manchester."

"Of course, Coach."

He gave me a bird' s-eye view of it all and insisted on my presence. "I'm running some major team-building activities next month. We need to have you there. The younger players look up to you as a leader."

Forgetting he couldn't see me, I nodded. "Yes, Coach. You can count on me."

"And then there's the training regimen. You'd better not be slacking off. Can't afford our star players lying on a beach somewhere turning soft."

To me, the words sounded like an accusation. I'd been working hard, using the weight room in my building when I wasn't on the ice at the arena.

"No slackers here. Following the summer guidelines to the letter." I did my best not to sound defensive.

"Good man. And Kade," his voice suddenly sounded more serious, "be careful up there in Maine. Small towns have a way of being… distracting. Every minute of the day, you're representing UNH, and I can't tolerate things that compromise your performance or cast a shadow on the team's reputation."

Goosebumps rose on my forearms. Did he really suspect something, or was it some kind of paranoia about undercover plots by rival schools?

"Yeah, I get it, Coach. No problems here."

"Stay sharp, Langston. We'll touch base again soon."

I took a deep breath as the call ended. The leather felt cool on my skin as I slumped onto my couch.

The familiar pressure started building again almost as soon as the call ended. Coach's expectations, my own interests, and thoughts about my teammates all pressed down like a heavy weight on my chest.

Coach's words rattled in my head. "Every minute… you're representing UNH." What did that even mean? Did UNH hockey own my life 24/7? What about leaving room for me to be me?

Ziggy came to mind, and I immediately remembered how my heart raced whenever he was near. Did that mean my interest in him could compromise my performance? I didn't understand how it could. After spending so much of the summer with Ziggy so far, I felt more motivated than ever.

Still, my college teammates were like brothers to me. Anything that could let them down… I sighed heavily.

I needed to talk to someone, and I knew where to turn. Pulling out my phone, I looked up Dr. Fellows. I was still five days from my next scheduled session, but she assured me I could call any time.

An hour later, I found myself seated in her office. A light hint of lavender filled the air, underlined by the slight mustiness of old books. I slumped in a leather-upholstered chair, and Dr. Fellows sat across from me.

A neat bun gathered her brown hair. She had glasses with tortoiseshell frames pushed partway down her nose. I always sensed an air of humble authority, which made it easy for me to open up and talk.

"First off, I am sorry you are feeling stressed," she began. "Can you tell me what's troubling you?"

The words rolled out of my mouth after one deep breath. "I… I guess a lot of it is related to Ziggy. We've gotten closer… really close. Then, this morning, I got this call from Coach. He's going on about loyalty to the team and not being distracted and… I'm not sure what to do."

Dr. Fellows nodded as she always did. Her face was a picture of calm. "So, it sounds like you're experiencing competition between your personal wishes and the obligations already set in place. We can dig a little deeper into that. Remember how we've already talked about your inclination to put the expectations of others over your own needs?"

I nodded, remembering what we talked about in earlier sensations. "That's the stuff you said about setting boundaries, right? And you mentioned respecting my own feelings."

"Yes, that's right on the nose. Can you tell me how that might apply to today's situation with Ziggy?"

While thinking about the question, I leaned back and slumped further. "It was all okay until the phone call. Now, it feels like getting closer to Ziggy might be a betrayal to my team because he goes to UMaine. Then, when I think about that, my gut hurts because being with Ziggy feels right at the time."

With a slight forward lean, Dr. Fellows responded. "You have made tremendous progress on the path to understanding your needs and desires. Now, it's time to work on integrating that with existing commitments. Remember, it's about blending them together, not choosing one over the other."

"But how?" I looked at her, trying to see some sort of answer in her hazel eyes. "Coach makes it sound like it's one or the other. Can I really be a leader on my time while I'm close to a player for a rival team?"

Dr. Fellows smiled. "When you find yourself stuck like this, it's time to try to break it down. First, what does being a good team member mean to you?"

I considered the question. "Well, that's about giving it 100% every time, supporting my teammates, and being consistent."

"Does your relationship with Ziggy get in the way of that?"

I blinked. Dr. Fellows made seeing the different parts so easy. "No, I don't think so. If anything, he makes me a better player because I want to keep up with him."

After removing her glasses, Dr. Fellows polished them briefly, providing a welcome pause in the conversation. "Does that mean that you might be building up a conflict that, at worst, isn't as intense as you fear? Let's shift the focus to Ziggy. What does being a good man for him look like?"

I spoke slowly. "Being honest. I think I should support him even if we play for different teams. It's important to make time for him. That's easy now. In the future, not so much."

"It sounds like you understand some of the pillars that support a solid relationship. They aren't that different from what you mentioned about being a good team member. Honesty, support, and dedication are essential for both."

I started to understand her point. "So, you don't think I have to choose?"

"In a nutshell. I don't think being a good player and leader on your hockey team and developing a relationship with Ziggy must be mutually exclusive. Like you said, improving at either will likely assist the other."

She left me with something to keep in mind as the session ended. "Keep considering what your world will look like if you can simultaneously honor your feelings for Ziggy and your commitment to your team."

"Thanks. I will keep all that in mind, and I feel much better. I need to be honest with my team, Ziggy, and myself. I need to make sure I'm not hiding who I am or what I want behind being the guy who always does what's expected."

Dr. Fellows nodded. "That does sound like a mature approach, Kade. Also, remember that it's fine for everything to be a process. Changing it all overnight isn't necessary."

I toyed with a pencil on the edge of her desk. "Yeah, I get that. The trainers say the same thing when we're trying to get over an injury. Take it a step at a time and work on getting better each day."

By the time the session ended and I left the office, I didn't know the specifics of my path forward, but I felt better equipped to follow it. I took a deep breath of Whistleport's salty air mixed with a hint of pine, which settled deep in my lungs.

My phone chimed. It was a text message from Ziggy.

"Just got a blast from the Coach. You free to talk?"

Hearing from him put an immediate smile on my face. I invited him over to my apartment for the first time. Fifteen minutes later, Ziggy knocked. I swallowed hard and greeted him at the door. He looked worried.

"Hey," his voice was soft with a rough edge. "Thanks for inviting me."

I reached out and pulled him into a hug. His expression brightened a bit. "Hey… any excuse to see you."

Ziggy held on tight. "You don't know how much I needed the hug."

When I let go, I was suddenly aware of how the apartment might appear to someone for the first time. The furniture was as inviting as a hospital waiting room, and the walls were almost entirely empty. Would it put Ziggy off and make him think I was as dull as my summer home?

He whistled low. "Well… this is something else."

Ziggy wandered around, exploring every corner. He paused at the floor-to-ceiling living room windows that looked out on the harbor.

"And I thought our view was great, but we have to lean a bit to the right to actually see the ocean. You've got the postcard shot."

I relaxed a bit. His voice was upbeat. I followed him to the kitchenette, where he ran a hand over the smooth granite countertop. "This is fancy. Do you cook, or is it just for show?"

Color rose in my cheeks. "I… make a mean bowl of cereal."

"Every chef starts somewhere." Ziggy laughed. "I'm impressed by your digs."

He returned to the living room and stopped by the one personal item. It was a bookshelf I used to hold some of my favorites. I brought them from New Hampshire in a cardboard box.

Ziggy's fingers trailed over the spines. "The Great Gatsby next to Gretzky . I like it.

I shrugged and tried to inject a little humor. "What can I say? I contain multitudes."

Ziggy chuckled. "Did you just quote Walt Whitman at me?"

"Maybe." I moved closer. "Was it a good idea?"

"Jury's still out." That's what he said, but his smile told me otherwise. He plopped down on the leather sofa. "Damn, this is twice as comfy as any furniture in my house."

I sat next to him. "Mi sofa es su sofa."

Ziggy's arm snaked around my waist and pulled me close. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. He leaned his chin on my shoulder. "This is good."

"Yeah." I let two or three minutes of silence pass between us. "So, your coach called, too?"

"Too? I didn't know about yours. Mine was talking about all this team unity stuff and representing the program. For a second, there, I thought he might know."

I shook my head. "Tell me about it. It's like somebody's waiting outside to break down the door and yell, 'Gotcha!'"

We glanced nervously at the door for a second, and then Ziggy laughed and tackled me on the couch. We shared a quick kiss. "Damn, I guess what Coach said is important, but this…"

Ziggy's voice faded into another kiss. This one was deeper, and he parted his lips. I did the same, and a bolt of electricity raced through me when our tongues touched.

He rolled slightly to the side, the leather creaking beneath us, and, for the first time, he touched my bare skin. He slipped his right hand under the hem of my T-shirt, and our eyes met, the gazes locked. I gasped when he splayed his fingers out across my abs.

When Ziggy started to tug at my shirt, I raised up just enough so he could pull it up and over my head. When I reached out for his shirt, he teased. "You wanna see that?"

"I've seen it in the locker room—at the arena."

"But have you touched it?"

"In my dreams," I grunted. "Fuck, and yeah, that's the truth."

Ziggy gripped his shirt with both hands and tugged it off over his head. My breath caught, and I bit my lip. Could I really touch that—his body—maybe even kiss it? Almost tentatively, I reached out and ran my hand slowly up his abs until my fingertip touched a firm nipple.

He curled his body downward and kissed the side of my neck. I moaned. It felt so damn good.

"Mmmm," he hummed against my neck, and then he whispered. "I always thought this would be more… I don't know, aggressive? Like checking someone into the boards."

I laughed, and Ziggy rolled on top of me, the weight of our bare chests on each other. "You thought we'd body-slam each other?"

"Maybe a little."

"Well, if you…" I immediately wanted to please him and do what he wanted so he would be happy.

"Shhh." He smothered me in another kiss. "This is great. It's… it's us."

We explored at a slow pace, all above the waist. My fingers traced the firm contours of Ziggy's back, feeling the subtle ridges of muscle beneath warm skin. I wanted to tug at Ziggy's jeans so badly, and I didn't, too.

Being with a guy was still uncharted territory. It was easy to let my thoughts jump fifty giant steps into a terrifying future, but then he kissed my bare shoulder, and all those worries faded.

We didn't have to be like the sex gods in porn. I wanted to be just Ziggy and Kade.

"Your hands are softer than I thought they'd be," Ziggy mused as we wove our fingers together.

"Fancy hand cream, of course."

He rolled his eyes. "How do I like you so much? This isn't supposed to happen."

"You like me?" My heart pounded.

"Of course… duh. Would I do this with a guy I didn't like?" Suddenly, he took a nipple lightly between his lips, then sucked and tugged.

"Oh… oh, God," I gasped, my voice ragged with desire. My dick strained against my jeans. A warm flush spread across my chest, and I heard my heartbeat thumping in my ears.

Ziggy pulled back and then smiled wickedly at me. "I think you like me, too."

"Man, you're quick… to notice that." We were silent for another few minutes, staring into each other's eyes. "Ziggy, I'm gonna say something, and I hope it doesn't sound stupid."

"Who cares if it does?"

He was so damn accepting. I couldn't remember when that happened with anybody else important to me. "Well, I'm just happy we're not body-slamming each other… not yet. Thank you for that."

"Well, so that you know, my cock is rock hard. You can probably feel that anyway, but yeah, I'm happy to take this part slow. And your body… oh man, perfect. It's even better than I thought a guy would feel. Your skin is so smooth, but I feel the muscle underneath. Hot."

I smiled so wide that I thought my face would crack. "Yeah, same. So good."

"Kade, what are we doing?"

I sighed. "Who knows? I mean, I wish I knew, but all I really know is that I don't want it to stop."