3. Asher

THREE

The last gameof my first year in college was a spectacle to behold. Rarely were there games that seemed to flow so naturally. The struggle against the Blizzard Breakers was real, but the rising sense of fun touched every second I spent on the ice.

We hosted the game, came out in a blaze of glory, and kicked their asses. Sure, I'd gotten hard-checked more than once, my body slammed against the boards, bruises spreading all over me. I'd gotten the air kicked out of my lungs, too, but all those hurts faded away when Caden, Beckett, and Avery moved across the rink to score the winning point. Half the rink exploded in cheers and the other half moaned and bitched to no avail.

As was tradition by now, Beckett swept by Caden, yanked his hand, and swirled them around in celebration. When their helmets were off, they kissed so passionately that it was a wonder any ice remained in the rink.

I felt the heat rising to my face.

As if by instinct, I searched the team for the sight of my stepbrother. He was hard to miss; the biggest guy in a Titans uniform, large enough to tackle anyone who got in the way of our victory. I'd spent years wondering what it felt like to be crushed by him.

Jordan took off his helmet. His inch-long hair was tousled with sweat, sticking to his forehead. His face was glowing with heat and his smile was bigger than I'd seen in ages. He only ever smiled this much on the ice. Never back home.

Someone grabbed my shoulder and shook me to my senses. Sawyer wore his secretive smile as always. The story went that he used to scowl at everything and everyone, but ever since I'd met him, he always looked like he had just heard the best joke ever and waited for the right moment to tell it. "Well done," he said.

My part had been small today. I'd done as I had been told. I had kept the Breakers occupied more than once, giving our wingers a chance to score the points. Still, it was good to be appreciated. "You're the star of the game," I pointed out. "Deflecting that puck from a mile away."

Sawyer cackled and skated away, saying something to Phoenix, Sebastian, and Avery, who were on the other side of the growing group of Titans. My gaze returned to Jordan and stayed there all the while ovations poured throughout the rink and we basked in our glory. For this one shining moment, I allowed myself to enjoy it.

This entire year had been one big struggle. I'd tried and tried to break out, but I remained the most average of players on our team. Nobody would call me bad, but there were few who talked of my promising future. There was a lot of talk of talent, but few mentioned any significant results. I was good, not great.

And off the ice, my GPA was nothing to write home about. I failed at nothing, but I excelled at nothing, too.

The third category of what I had expected college to be like was probably the worst. I saw my friends fall in love, look hopefully to their futures, and heal after heartbreaks. Me? I had hooked up a few times, got rid of my V-card at long last — even if it was oddly underwhelming that first time — and realized I had nothing to hope for. Not one guy showed an ounce of interest beyond sleeping with me. I felt the same. So much so that I had given up on the whole thing a few months ago. I'd deleted the ‘dating' apps, which only served for guys to arrange anonymous hookups, and I had promised myself that my sophomore year was going to be all about my GPA and hockey. Random guys who wanted to get naked with me excited me so little that it didn't feel like a loss.

I was cutting out the distractions.

But I couldn't get rid of them all. One distraction walked before me as we headed to the locker room. His scent was musky with sweat, but there were traces of a pine forest and lemon coming from his heated skin. Drenched as he was, Jordan was still the best-looking person I had ever seen.

Some guys didn't care if they were seen naked in the locker room. Beckett, before he had switched teams and started dating Caden, had freely strolled around the locker room with his tool swinging around. Cocky fucker. Not that I had cared. It had only been an observation coated with disappointment that Jordan had never, ever done that. He would neatly tie a towel around his waist, walk back to his spot, rummage through his duffle, and pull his long boxers up his legs and under the towel. Once he was done, he would take the towel off while facing the wall, drag his pants on, and only then face the rest of the room. I had spent countless summer hours watching his torso, but even so, I always paused for a breath to glance at him. Today was no different. Once we had showered and returned to the locker room, Jordan occupied all of my attention.

The banter and friendly bickering were secondary. Guys were elated over our victory and I was happy that the mood was so light. But my focus was on Jordan. Three…two…one. He turned away, rolled his shoulders so that his pecs seemed bigger for a heartbeat, and met my gaze squarely.

Fuck.

If I kept looking, it would be a challenge; if I looked away, I would lose. I had been better than this. This whole year, I knew how to steal a glance without getting caught. I knew how to look from Jordan's right to his far left, my gaze gliding over him without actually looking at him.

He was still staring at me like I'd tattooed a middle finger on my forehead. It annoyed me enough to make me purse my lips and flatten my eyebrows. I was about to say something when he turned away from me. And though he was the one to break eye contact, I was left with the sense that I had lost this match.

I didn't have time to dwell on it. We barely dressed before Coach Murray entered the locker room. He beamed with pride and waited for the chatter to die down. The guys relaxed a little, dropping their backpacks and duffels, and turning their attention to Coach Murray.

This was the man who had seen my potential. I wished I could have done more to justify his decision to put me on his team. Luckily, I had three more years for that, and starting in August, my focus would be straight as an arrow and just as piercing.

"My Titans," Coach Murray said. He sounded more like he was musing than addressing us. "Year after year, you prove yourselves as the best team in the Tri-state region. And beyond, I would say. The Arctic Titans fill the ranks of the NHL year after year. And when I look at you — all your young, hopeful, determined faces — I see an unstoppable force, a well of potential that is almost as unlikely as finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow." He paused while we laughed. After a beat, he nodded. "We have an unusual concentration of talent here at Northwood. And in the past handful of years, that talent has blossomed and turned this team into an example of athletic excellence in colleges all around the country." Coach Murray lifted a finger, his steel gray mustache twitching. "Don't let this go into your heads, boys. You may be on the best team. You may make the team as great as it is. But greatness only lasts so long as you are all aligned, focused, and committed."

"Here, here," a few voices rose in the locker room.

"This year, you've won the cup, and now you've closed your season with a friendly game, taking this victory as a cherry on top of a very delicious cake," Coach Murray said, his voice rising.

Cheers rose more freely around me.

"But don't fool yourself into thinking that you're at the top of the world, boys. There's always another mountain to climb. There's always another game to win." He paused. His thinking seemed to take a lot longer than what I was used to. Then, he nodded slowly. "I will risk sounding soft, but the last few years have been a blessing. I've witnessed the forging of great men who will go on to stardom. And you, my team, despite all the headaches you have given me, have made me proud. That's the word I'm looking for, boys. I'm proud. Of your grace in victory as well as your dignity in defeat. I'm proud to have seen you grow and fall in love, to have seen your teammates go on to be revered professionals, and to have welcomed a new generation of Arctic Titans." He looked at Phoenix and me, and then he nodded. His mustache twitched one more time as he looked around the room. "This, then, is as good a time as any to tell you that I will leave Northwood with my heart full of pride. This year was my final one, boys, but even when I hand the reins to the next coach, I will keep an eye on you all. There won't come a day when I won't be glad to have dedicated my life to the Arctic Titans." Gasps that had filled the room in one instant were gone in the next.

In the silence, my ears buzzed. It was so abrupt, this lack of murmurs and chatter. We all stood stunned and quiet, our hearts beating a little faster as the surprise sank in.

Someone — Beckett? — started slow clapping. Another pair of hands joined in. I glanced there and found the third, Jordan, clapping alongside Beckett and Caden.

"We love you, Coach," Tyler said loudly, and Sebastian echoed it immediately.

The slow claps grew into thundering applause and we all showered Coach Murray with praise and love. This was a man I had respected for years. I had learned of him from Jordan. And as all things Jordan had introduced into my life, I revered him. The underlying instinct to think highly of everything and everyone Jordan respected made me both glad — I had never had any doubt about Coach Murray's intentions — and ashamed. Where was I in all of this? Jordan shaped me with little more than a shrug, a nod, or a dismissive snort. His stories sparked wild wishes and his opinions mattered more than he could have imagined. But he didn't care. Unless it was to scold or lecture me.

Coach Murray pulled my attention back to the present. "I won't say you've made me happy to retire. I don't look forward to leaving you. But…it's far better than leaving with nothing more than a sigh and disappointment. I couldn't have wished for a better lineup to see me off, boys. And I can't wait to see what you do next." He took a small step back.

Ovations, whistling, and hooting continued until Coach Murray bowed a little, waved, and nodded. His eyes glistened and my throat seized. I hadn't expected to see it. He was a stone-faced man, hard in every way, but his smile was genuine and fit his face like he'd been smiling his whole life. He was glowing and beaming with pride as the bittersweet sense of finality gripped the room.

A sort of melancholy followed Coach Murray's departure. He had thanked us many more times for our devotion and once again credited our success to our unity. In the wake of his announcement and his words, I wondered about the unity he spoke of. For the most part, I felt like an outsider, even though I had arrived here knowing Beckett and Jordan, and then getting to know Caden and the rest of them very well over time. Phoenix, for example, had come here with zero previous connections, but he had blended in and became a crucial part of the team.

"Who do you think is gonna coach us next year?" I asked him as we all left the oddly silent locker room.

"No idea," Phoenix said. "I don't think anyone knows yet. Coach Murray would have said something if he knew, right?"

I shrugged. I wasn't nervous. Not quite. It was the prospect of the unknown that made my stomach just a little uneasy. If the next one was a total psycho, we'd all be screwed. But what were the odds of that?

I decided to put that out of my mind. It wasn't something I had any power over. It would have been nice to have one strong connection within the team now that we were heading into the unknown. It would have been good to have an ally. Then again, I had never had allies on my teams. The closest to that was George on the night I had come out to Mom. Aside from that one moment, I couldn't remember anyone ever sticking up for me.

Again, I glanced at Jordan. My stepbrother could have played that role. Had he forged a friendship with me, maybe I wouldn't feel as lost as I did right now.

It didn't matter. Another summer break meant we wouldn't see each other for a while. He was going with Beckett while Caden visited his family, and then the three were supposed to spend a week together. If Jordan visited us at the lake house, it would be for the shortest time ever because he planned to return to Northwood and use the opportunity to prepare for his senior year.

I hadn't decided yet what to do with myself this summer. Mid-August would see me back here for conditioning and warmups, but what I was supposed to do all of June and July was still a mystery. So, I forced all thoughts of Jordan out of my head. I would see him again at the end of July or in August. Until then, all kinds of things could happen. Nothing was off the table. There was even a chance I would return to Northwood and not hurt every time he entered the room I was in.

There was a chance I would get over him once and for all.

It was a hopeful thought. Was it likely? I didn't know. I wanted to believe so. No matter how hard I had tried, the proximity to him in the team house reshuffled all of my feelings this year. The low-burning hatred blazed whenever he acted like an ass, but the attraction had never been stronger.

He simultaneously pushed me away and pulled me in. And the worst part was that he had no goddamn idea he was doing it. In one moment, he would chide me for copying his technique on the ice, which fit his physique much better than mine; in the next, he clasped my shoulder and told me I was right about the team dynamics and the necessity for our captain and our best player to get along. That had been ages ago — before Beckett and Caden discovered a way to reconcile their differences — but the praise remained etched into my heart and memory like it had happened this morning.

I attended the party after our final game, but only for a short while. It was hard to watch Caden and Beckett bicker while never missing a chance for physical contact. Their hands kept brushing one another's hair or face or arms. They kept glancing at one another with an underlying sadness. I knew what pained them. They were going to be apart for a time. It would be the first time since they got together. They dreaded it.

On the other side of the joined tables, Sawyer and Noah acted like newlyweds. It kept reminding me of all the things I didn't have.

Later, when I lay in my room alone because my roommate, Phoenix, had stayed out late, I told myself that some distance from college would help. I would have to suffer through Mom and George's flirting, but that was easier than watching my teammates fulfill all of their romantic dreams while I sulked. Besides, Mom and George had passed the honeymoon phase long ago. Their flirting was nowhere near as obnoxious as it had been three or four years ago.

As soon as the morning came, I got up, brushed my teeth, had a cup of filter coffee, and began packing. I was leaving the next day, but I wanted to be packed and ready. I might cave in tonight and install an app or two for the sake of a long, dry summer that awaited me. I might go out with someone. I wasn't sure.

Midway through packing my suitcase, my stomach rumbled, and I left the room to make myself a grilled cheese. Downstairs, in the kitchen of our team house, Beckett was sitting at the kitchen island with Caden holding his shoulder, frowning. They were alone and saw me as I came down, so I couldn't sneak back and give them privacy. But whatever was going on had to be bad because Beckett's frown was twice as deep as Caden's, his phone pressed hard against his ear, his head shaking. "…understand. How could that happen? And how bad is it?"

Caden nodded at me not to worry about intruding. I walked over to the fridge, found milk, poured it over a bowl of cereal to spend as little time as possible in the middle of their private moment, and searched for a spoon when Beckett startled me.

"Goddamn son of a bitch!" His pained voice made me spin around and he slammed his open hand against the counter. He set his phone on the kitchen island next to a full bowl of cereal and shook his head desperately.

Caden squeezed his shoulder harder. "Tell me."

Beckett's eyes were blurring with tears before he shut them. "It's Uncle Nate…"

Caden's breath hitched. "What happened?"

An endless moment passed before Beckett inhaled again. I stood, stunned, and watched Beckett Partridge search for words. "Last night…" He paused and shook his head. "…they were playing a friendly game when someone checked him. But it was rough. And I mean rough. He slammed my uncle against the boards so hard that it broke his collarbone."

Caden and I both sucked a sharp breath of air. I could feel the pain flash in my collarbone.

"Gave him a concussion, too," Beckett said in a tight voice. "That goddamn motherfucker."

"Babe," Caden whispered, pulling Beckett in for a tight hug.

Our captain sobbed into his boyfriend's chest, his back and shoulders shaking. Caden glanced at me half-sympathetically and half-apologetically as if it was an inconvenience for me. But my heart broke for the poor guys. All of them. I'd never found a lot of love for Beckett Partridge and his cocky antics, but I respected his captaincy. And Caden was a friend to me when nobody else was. Nate Partridge, though, was a superstar and an inspiration to many of the guys who lived in this house. If he was hurt, we all felt it.

"I'm so sorry," I said lamely, not sure what else to say. As if words could make anything better. "Will he be alright?"

Beckett straightened, pulling himself together and shrugging while shaking his head. "Thanks." He sniffed. "I don't know. His life's not in danger."

We all knew what was left unsaid. Being alive wasn't the same as being alright. How well would he heal? And would he ever play again? I nodded with sympathy for Beckett and his uncle, then carried my breakfast to my room.

It haunted me, this phantom pain in my collarbone. I feared a thing like that happening to anyone. Even the thought of it made me roll my shoulders and make sure my collarbones were intact. It was hard to finish packing and my mood for anything more than going to bed early disappeared completely after the news.

This was the state in which Jordan found me that afternoon. He knocked on the door and entered like it was his room. I could have been naked. Or asleep. Not that he would have noticed either of those things. Instead, he shut the door and looked around the room. "Phoenix?"

"Out," I said. "What's up?" I was lying in bed, wearing my sweatpants and a T-shirt, looking at my big stepbrother over the upper edge of my phone.

"Did you hear?" he asked.

"About Nate? Yeah. It sucks." I returned my attention to the article about Nate Partridge that I was reading. A sports journalist was speculating that Nate's career was over, but there were quite a few sources claiming that players had recovered from bigger injuries and played for years after.

Jordan exhaled. "Beckett's gutted."

Did he come here to gossip? I had stopped expecting to ever have a full conversation with him. "I bet." I wouldn't carry this conversation if that was what he wanted.

Jordan stood in silence for a time, breathing as silently as a cat. When he made a step toward me, something abruptly passed through my body. It was like a zing of joy mixed with fear. It was the kind of sweet, fearful anticipation that I only knew from hints and fantasies. His heavy trod toward me made my groin tingle. I'd dreamed of him towering over me like this, silently watching me with that sharp, brown gaze, then taking me whether I asked for it or not. I know what's best for you, baby boy, he said in my fantasies, and I believed him.

The real Jordan was underwhelming. Perhaps most of my frustration with him came from that discovery. He would never do such a thing. He would never utter such words. Instead, he sucked his teeth, shrugged, and looked down. "Any summer plans?"

"Why?" I demanded. The Jordan I knew would never have cared. What had happened to change that? I plan to get over you once and for all, I thought spitefully. I was looking forward to a life where I no longer hated him. Or cared about him. Or wanted him. I would be at peace once he meant to me all that I meant to him: nothing.

Jordan exhaled and sat on the edge of my bed, uninvited. "It's not a big deal. Obviously, Nate's health matters the most. But this has changed a lot of our plans. Beckett's flying there tomorrow for a visit. Caden's going with him instead of visiting his family first. And I…" He shrugged again.

"You've got nothing to do," I finished. I had almost phrased it in a more venomous way, but I refrained. Not hatred. Just nothing, I reminded myself. And in order to feel nothing, I had to stop picking fights.

Jordan still narrowed his eyes like I wounded his pride. There was no winning with him. He wouldn't believe me if I said I was being nice. "That's true," he said. "So I'm wondering if I should go home or to the lake house. Where are Eileen and Dad going?"

"The lake house," I said, assuming that meant Jordan would head home instead.

He said nothing to that.

After a short while, I dropped my phone and sat up, lifted the pillow against the wall, and leaned back. My right leg was outstretched along the bed and behind Jordan's back, the other was bent at my knee. He wasn't even a little curious to search the way these sweatpants fit me. Not that I had expected him to look at my curves or crotch. I could have been a sentient pile of pillows dressed as a real boy; he would see me the same way.

"I'm going there tomorrow. Mom and George are coming a few days later. They have an appointment they can't reschedule, so I'm on my own. George sent Chuck to fill up the fridge and tidy up the place so I don't have to." I poured out the information I had, then shrugged. He needed to know that it was safe to go home and that he wouldn't cross paths with me. And now he had it.

Jordan frowned. "How will you get there?"

I snorted and shrugged. "I'll catch a bus to town from the airport, then call a cab to take me the rest of the way. Why do you care?"

Jordan's face darkened. He almost rolled his eyes. After a long silence, he cleared his throat. "You don't have to go through all that hassle. I can drive you."

My heart stopped. It was still for way too long. Then it beat again, erratically as if catching up. "What? Why?"

He shook his head like it was obvious. "We're both going there. Why waste money? I hope you got cancellation insurance like I always tell you so you can refund the plane ticket."

I wouldn't tell him I hadn't. He could stuff the ten dollar fee it cost to ensure the refund up his ass. It was a cheap, short flight anyway. "Sure did."

He ticked his eyebrows up for the briefest of moments as if surprised. "Good," he said softly. "You never know when you'll need to cancel a trip. Like tomorrow. You should save your money and carpool when you have the chance."

I swallowed all my complaints that he was being an ass again. "Let me get this straight. You want to drive me to the lake house and be there until Mom and George join us?"

"What else am I gonna do with my summer?" he asked sullenly. He got up, stretched his shoulders, then looked at me. "I'm leaving at six to beat the traffic. Be ready."

I scoffed. "I think I'd rather fly," I muttered, but we both knew it was a done deal. My ticket might go to waste, but at least I wouldn't have to transfer a million times between a million vehicles before getting to the remote house.

Oh, but spending seven hours alone in a car with Jordan is no hassle at all, I thought sarcastically.

Fuck my life. I couldn't catch a break. Despite all my attempts, I couldn't get rid of him. And the worst part was that my heart tripped at the thought of us being alone for days before George and Mom joined us. Anything could happen. But nothing was the most likely to happen.