13. Bennett

Bennett

He left.

Two days after we got home from St. Louis, I found out Xander was called up to the Newark Eagles. It was a wake-up call in more ways than one. The Eagles needed some depth due to roster issues – injuries and a few suspensions had left them shorthanded, and they saw potential in Xander to fill the gap.

In hockey, the only constant was change. There was a revolving door of players getting called up, sent down, traded, and injured. Despite knowing this, Xander's absence hit me hard. He"d only be gone for a week, but the news left me dazed and struggling to process the sudden change.

I was happy for him. Every player's dream is to make it to the NAPH. More often than not, we don't make it past the PHL. Xander was young, undeniably talented, and had heart. It was the right combination to make it in the majors, so his getting this opportunity wasn't a surprise.

But I couldn't shake the conflict raging inside me. While I was thrilled for his success, I also felt an ache, a sense of loss that I couldn't ignore. We hadn't spoken since we'd almost kissed, and now he was gone, leaving me with my unresolved feelings.

I felt a sharp pang of guilt. I'd treated Xander poorly, ignoring him and pushing him away when he tried to reach out. And now, he was gone, even if only temporarily. Being the last to know about his departure stung deeply. I'd been so wrapped up in my own shit that I'd neglected the one person outside of my family who could draw me out of my own head, make me laugh, bring the best out of me.

The truth was, I was terrified. The last thing I needed at 32 was a sexual identity crisis. My existence, up until then, was like a well-organized playbook – everything in its place, no surprises. Then Xander happened, like a sudden hit that sent everything flying off balance.

I'd always known myself – or so I thought. But now? It felt like someone had pulled the rink out from under me while I wasn"t looking. The man staring back seemed to be a stranger.

Each interaction with Xander was like trying to skate through traffic – it just didn't fit into the "me" narrative I"d spent years creating.

Even my body felt different – one moment buzzing with anticipation… desire… and then frozen stiff with fear the next. Thoughts of Xander stirred up emotions within me: excitement laced with apprehension, longing tangled up with denial.

And my heart? It wasn't just pumping blood anymore – it was leading me down paths I never imagined existed. It yearned for something – or someone – I never thought it would want. There I stood, on the brink of redefining who I was, pushed by unforeseen feelings and circumstances to question everything.

When I got home from practice, I watched his first game with the Eagles. Xander looked amazing on the ice, his skills shining through as he adapted seamlessly to the new team. The puck glided across the ice, and Xander"s movements were fluid, each stride powerful and confident. He was in his element, and it showed.

The first period was electric. Xander picked up the puck in the neutral zone, weaving through defenders with ease. His stickhandling was impeccable, and he made a crisp pass to Brandt, the Eagles" captain, who took a quick shot on goal. The goalie deflected it, but Xander was there for the rebound. He flicked the puck into the net, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Commentators were quick to acknowledge the moment. "What a play!" exclaimed the first one, Jamie King, a retired Newark defenseman. "Xander Harrison is showing some incredible skill and awareness on the ice. He's fitting right in with the Eagles."

"Absolutely," added the second commentator, a hockey analyst named Wesley Hall. "And look at the chemistry developing between him and Brandt. They're working together like they've been teammates for years."

Xander skated over to Brandt, who grinned broadly and clapped him on the back. They exchanged a few words, and Xander's face lit up with a smile that sent a pang through my chest. Was he smiling at Brandt the way he used to smile at me? I clenched my fists, caught in a whirlwind of emotions – pride because he was killing it on the ice, and envy because I wished it was me in Brandt's place.

As the game progressed, their chemistry became more apparent. In the second period, Brandt made a sharp pass to Xander, who deftly maneuvered around a defender and sent the puck flying into the top corner of the net. Brandt skated over, grinning widely, and gave Xander a fist bump. The ease and camaraderie between them were undeniable.

"Another beautiful goal by Harrison, assisted by the captain," Hall gushed. "These two are becoming quite the dynamic duo."

"Agreed," King said. "You have to wonder if the Eagles might consider making a more permanent spot for Harrison. He's really bringing something special to the team."

Every time Brandt acknowledged Xander after a good play, I felt a surge of jealousy. Xander's smile was brighter, his eyes more animated. Was I imagining it, or did he really share a special connection with Brandt?

The third period brought more of the same. Xander and Brandt worked together seamlessly, setting up plays and creating scoring opportunities. At one point, Xander made a brilliant defensive play, stealing the puck and passing it to Brandt, who took it up the ice and scored. The two of them celebrated together, their smiles wide.

"What a play! Harrison with the steal and Brandt with the finish," King said. "This pair is unstoppable tonight."

Hall responded, a smile on his face. "It's rare to see such instant chemistry. The Eagles are lucky to have them both on the ice."

My stomach churned as I watched. Was Xander finding something with Brandt that he couldn't find with me? Was I losing him to someone else?

Was he ever yours?

I couldn"t get my brain to stop exaggerating the situation.

The final buzzer sounded, and the Eagles had secured a victory. Xander and Brandt skated off the ice together, still talking and laughing. The sight sent a wave of emotions crashing over me.

I watched the highlights of the second and third games, as well. And like always, Xander was a force to be reckoned with, his talent and determination shining through. But more than that, I saw the joy in his eyes, the pure love he had for the game. It was the same joy I felt when I was on and off the ice with him.

By the end of the week, I'd learned three things: first, I was not as straight as I thought I was; second, I was undeniably attracted to Xander; and third, I liked him. I liked him a lot. More than I'd ever liked anyone before.

I didn"t need to test myself by looking at other men. It was Xander – just Xander – who stirred these feelings within me. It wasn"t just his looks; it was everything about him. His kindness, his passion, his unwavering support. The way he made me feel alive and seen. This wasn"t about questioning my attraction to men in general; it was about acknowledging that Xander was special, that he'd helped to change everything I thought I knew about myself.

I knew I couldn"t keep running from my feelings. No more hiding, no more pretending. I wanted Xander, and it was time to take a leap of faith. I needed to talk to him, to apologize – grovel if I had to – and tell him how I really felt. It was terrifying, but I couldn"t live with myself if I didn"t at least try. I had to know if there was a chance for us to be more than teammates, if he felt the same way.