Chapter 1

Chapter One

HUGO BLADEN

I dig in my skate and wait just in front of Winny in goal as one of our new centers—Mark Rigbe—comes quickly toward me. He sees me. I know he does. He picks his head up, meets my eyes, then hunkers down with the puck.

He thinks I’m going to move. In basketball, if you don’t move and the other player runs into you, it’s their foul. This isn’t quite the same thing, but the idea is similar. For me, anyway. I’m not moving.

Rigbe doesn’t catch the memo, so I lower my center of gravity, and he slams into me. Because I have my skates dug into the ice, I don’t move. I just absorb the impact as Rigbe crumples to the ground in front of me with a groan.

Winny—Winslow Oberlin—whistles. “Brick wall, Hugo.”

I look down at Rigbe. Maybe he’s hurt.

Noah Kain, one of our wingmen, skates to a stop on his other side and looks down too. “You gotta know when to turn, Rigs. You okay?”

“Not dead,” Rigbe grunts.

Coach Ajo glides to a stop beside Noah. “Injured?”

I don’t see Rigbe move. Maybe he’s taking internal inventory. Eventually, he shakes his head. “Nah. I think I’m all right.”

Coach nods. He turns to me and pats my helmet. “I’m going to tell you ‘nice block,’ but also don’t hurt your teammates.”

Grinning, I nod. “Yes, Coach.”

“Both are equally important.”

“Yes, Coach,” I agree. “Sorry.”

Coach Ajo shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. That was a superb block. You made Winslow’s job obsolete.”

“Not true,” Winny says. “He stopped the player, not the puck. Momentum kept the puck going.” He pushed the puck away from him with his stick. “I’m still very necessary.”

Coach smiles without comment. He turns to the other end of the ice where our second goalie and more of our team are working on different skills. I reach down and haul Rigbe up by his pads. He stretches and groans.

“I need to sit for a minute,” he says as he turns and slowly skates toward the bench.

“Think he’s really hurt?” I ask, worrying my lip.

“I think he’ll be okay,” Noah promises. “Egon’s right there.”

As we watch, Egon Aahnu, one of the team’s physical trainers, is already behind Rigbe with his hands on Rigbe’s neck, assessing. He doesn’t look concerned as he asks Rigbe questions.

“Come on,” Winny says, shoving at my shoulder. “Back to practice.”

Rigbe gets back on the ice ten minutes later, but he joins the players at the other end of the ice and Atty is sent our way. Coach always tries to split us into two groups with some of our veteran team mixed in with our new members. Even if those new members have been playing for years, like Miles Norton, who’s been in the NHL for a decade.

But he’s new to us, and every team is different.

L.A. is my fourth team and probably my favorite. Especially now that Coach Ajo is here. I have the best friends and we win games and shit. It’s been a lot of fun. I really hope to retire from L.A., though I don’t plan to retire soon. I’m pushing thirty but L.A. just signed me for another three years, so I’m confident that my game hasn’t slackened.

“Hustle, Wiliker,” Coach calls and I pull my thoughts back to practice. Rigbe is okay. That’s most important. Now I can focus on keeping the puck from Winny.

I stretch with my hands over my head, using my stick for leverage as I stretch my spine. It’s time for another massage. My shoulders feel stiff and achy. I push off with my skate and head for the chute.

“Hugo,” Winny says and I change my trajectory to circle back around. “Can we talk a minute?”

Nodding, I move back toward him. He’s still in the crease, with his stick and gloves resting on top of the net with his helmet. He’s squirting water into his mouth as I slow in front of him. “What’s up?”

“You remember Dana?”

My eyebrows knit together. “No? Should I?”

Winny chuckles, shaking his head. “Yes. Not only have you hung out with us several times these last six months, but she was your date first.”

Guilt makes me flinch. “She was?”

His grin widens. “Yes. The day that Coach Ajo moved in beside Atty. Remember?”

I smile. “Definitely remember that day. Coach was cool.”

“But you don’t remember Dana, huh?”

Again, I flinch. “No. Sorry.”

Winny shakes his head. “We’ve talked about her before. Six months ago, I ran into her at the grocery store, and we started talking. I asked you shortly after that if you’d mind if we hung out. Do you remember that conversation?”

Sighing, I shrug. “Please don’t find offense in this, but most of the time, I don’t even ask names. They’re all a blur. None of them stand out. Sorry.”

“So I suppose I’m wasting my time if I ask if it would bother you if she moved in with me?”

My eyebrows knit together. There’s a barrage of questions suddenly slamming around inside me, but I settle on asking, “Why?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking ‘why’ to?”

I shake my head. “Aren’t you uninterested in sex? And romance?” My mouth snaps shut. “Sorry. ”

Winny laughs. “Yes, I’m asexual and aromantic. No, being with Dana doesn’t change that nor is she some magic ‘fix.’ But I enjoy her company. Her companionship. Being aro doesn’t mean I hate any kind of partnership. It means I don’t feel about some aspects of romance the same way others do.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve never had the desire for a relationship. I’ve never experienced a crush on someone or being in love. So many people crave a relationship for one reason or another, be it romance, intimacy, family, or something else. I’ve never needed nor wanted any of that to feel fulfilled. I don’t feel a romantic attraction to anyone.”

“Including Dana.”

He smiles. “Yes.”

“Then I’m confused about why you’re letting her move in. Is she homeless?”

Winny laughs. “No. Like I said, I enjoy her company and companionship. She and I have had extensive conversations about sex and relationships where I’m involved, and she’s happy with the way we’re going.”

“Have you had sex with her?” His amused look makes me backtrack. “Sorry. Not appropriate to ask. I just mean…”

“A relationship isn’t defined by whether sex is involved or not,” Winny points out.

My eyebrows knit together. “No…” I hedge. “I… understand that.”

“I don’t think you do. The only reason I’m bringing this up to you is because I don’t want you to feel unwelcome in my home. I still want you to come over and hang out like you do now. I don’t want it to be awkward that someone that you once dated or whatever it is you do, is now my partner.”

I don’t miss the fact he doesn’t use the term girlfriend. It’s curious. Maybe that’s just the lack of romance. Or something.

“Isn’t it really soon?” I ask, frowning. “Is she pregnant?”

Winny shakes his head, but it’s not in answer to either question. It’s that look I get from people when I’m being invasive. Before he can answer, I shake my head adamantly. “I don’t care who you live with. Even if I’ve messed around with them in the past. It won’t be awkward for me.”

He cups the back of my head and brings me close for a hug. I smile, resting my sweaty head against his.

“Yes, it’s a little soon and no, she’s not pregnant,” he says quietly. “But I do want your blessing, even though it’s clear that she wasn’t important to you.”

“Why do you want my blessing?”

“Because you’re my best friend, Hugo. And I won’t do anything to hurt our friendship. My romance meter might always be at zero, but my platonic love for my friends is very high. I won’t do anything at all to jeopardize our friendship.”

I squeeze him. “You’re my best friend too. You have my blessing. I’ll give you my kidney and a lung too.”

He chuckles. “Not necessary, but thank you. Come on. Let’s get changed.”

Winny gathers his gear and we head for the chute. I let him go first because his hands are full. On our way down the hall, I spot Torin, the man who wears the Surry the Seal mascot costume. He’s really quiet, but super nice.

“Hi, Torin,” I greet, giving him my biggest smile.

His shoulders rise and he takes a step back, his face turning red. “Hi,” he says.

I wave as I continue down the hall toward the locker room. In front of my cubby, I strip from my pads until I’m bare. The air feels cool and I shiver as I grab a towel and head for the showers. I’m probably the person who takes the longest showers. I like to make sure I’m extra clean.

While I wash, I think about what Winny said. It’s really nice that he asked me about Dana. Because I feel like maybe I should remember her, if for no other reason than maybe I’ve been around her a few times since she and Winny started dating, I try really hard to think about her. Winny said she was there the day that we met Coach Ajo.

But my attention had been so focused on our new coach and learning all about him that I don’t really remember much else. I remember my friends. And how Noah was nervous because he had bows in his hair and there was someone new seeing it for the first time. I remember asking Ajo a lot of questions that I sometimes had to rephrase so they weren’t quite so… sounding judgy or mean.

I’m not sure when or how my questions turned that way. Maybe it’s something I’ve always had. Maybe people made excuses for me growing up. I’ve heard it enough—the dumb hockey player. There’s a very real chance my questions and the way I ask them were always excused away because I’m just a ‘dumb jock.

But no matter how long I try to think about that day, I don’t remember Dana. I equally don’t remember her any time I’ve been over at Winny’s house. All I can remember is laughing with Winny and the rest of our friends. I don’t remember a girl being there at all. I feel like that’s something that would stand out since, aside from me and Winny, we’re surrounded by gay couples.

Which is cool. I love my gay friends. They’re super smart and kind and talented. But that’s the thing—Noah has Lix, Atty has Toby, and Egon has Rakesh. All men. Unless I bring a girl around, then there aren’t usually any women there.

So I should absolutely remember if I had one there with me!

I feel super sheepish by the time I get out of the shower and wrap up. What kind of shitty person blocks out an entire person? Knowing myself, I can almost excuse away the day at Atty’s when we found Ajo had moved in. I was hyper focused on learning all about him.

Although, I say almost because she was my date. It’s beyond rude to have forgotten her. I can only imagine how I brought this probably lovely girl and then basically abandoned her for the evening. Did I even drive her home after?

What kind of asshole am I?!

“What’s that look for?” Winny asks as I take my seat on the bench.

“What look?”

“You look like you’re trying to solve a quadratic equation.” He laughs. “Yes, that look right there.”

“I don’t even know what a quadratic equation is,” I mutter, feeling even more stupid.

“Neither do I. The term alone gives me nightmares. But really, Hugo. What’s wrong?”

Shaking my head, I pull my gym bag around to look for clean socks. Even if mine weren’t sweaty and gross, there are just some articles of clothing you never put back on once they leave your body entirely. “Nothing,” I say as I pull my sweats back on and adjust my dick in them. There’s no good way to set the thing. It’s just there.

I stopped wearing underwear when I was seventeen. Yes, that young. It didn’t take me long to realize that they just don’t make underwear for my particular predicament. They’re more uncomfortable than they’re worth.

And tight pants? Anything form-fitting is miserable. Suits are terrible. My dick is simply not made for anything tight. My fucking cup was custom made, for fuck’s sake. That was an awkward conversation when I was a teen trying to explain to my coach that my cup just didn’t fit around my dick. Even the extra-large. I think we were both scarred from that conversation.

“You’re lying,” Winny argues.

The locker room is mostly empty now. Between Winny and me hanging back on the ice and then my long shower, I’m not surprised.

I shake my head again as I stick my foot in a sock. “I just feel bad that I don’t remember Dana. It makes me feel like such a dick.”

“She’s not offended. I explained to her ages ago that unless there’s someone in your immediate circle or having to do with hockey, your memory for people and names is a sieve.”

“I’m not sure that paints me in a better light,” I mutter, sticking my other foot into the second sock. There’s something in this one that makes my face scrunch. I pull it off again and stick my hand in.

A grin spreads over my face when I pull out a tiny blue duck. My birthday was last month, and my friends threw me a huge duck themed surprise party. I had an enormous duck cake and little duck cupcakes. There were rubber ducks of all sizes covering my house and yard. And just to prolong my fun, they hid something like 250 tiny ass little ducks all over the place. I think I’ve only found like 100. I’m probably going to be finding them for the next three years.

They promised they didn’t hide them anywhere dangerous, though. Like in my grill or oven or food. Only harmless places.

Winny chuckles. “Still finding them, huh?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think I’ve even found half of them,” I admit. “I don’t mind, though. They always make me laugh.”

What I don’t tell anyone is that I have a shelf in one of my kitchen cabinets where I keep them all. They’re lined up in order of color. Every time I find one, I add it to the collection. Atty said I could just throw them all away, but… I keep them. Because every time I look at them, I remember how my friends went all out for me. They’re the best friends a guy could have. I know how lucky I am.