5. Benny

FIVE

BENNY

I stand staring at the closed door of my apartment for about fifteen minutes after Chris leaves. He was different this morning, and I guess the light of day made him realize what a mess I am.

A mess he understandably wanted to get away from as fast as possible.

I didn't blame him when he told me he needed to leave right away, but then he went ahead and told me to go by Lure any time I wanted. He said it like an invitation—I didn't imagine that—and it's fucking with my head.

My head's already fucked up enough, thank you very much, kind sir.

With that, I shake my head and go to the kitchen to grab a protein bar. I need to go to the gym, since I've skipped any type of exercise since Wednesday when we won the Cup. There's only been celebrations since, and yesterday... Well yesterday was the weirdest day of my life, that's for sure.

Thankfully, and unlike all of my previous seasons in the NHL, I didn't have any injuries to deal with during playoffs and I have no bruised ribs whatsoever, so hitting the gym and getting a grueling workout in is no problem.

As I get ten miles on the bike before going to the weights, I start to do some of that thinking I told Chris about.

Norman has a girlfriend. One that's gorgeous and looked like a kind person for the few seconds I managed to keep my eyes on her. She looked at him like she really cared for him. And for some reason, their relationship has reached a serious enough point that he brought her to a team celebration event.

As far as I know, she wasn't present at any of the playoff games. We've spent the last two months practically glued to each other, since we're roommates on roadies and we've been training like crazy.

So why didn't he tell me anything about seeing someone?

About being in a relationship?

Does he know about my feelings for him?

God, the thought alone is the most mortifying thing that's ever happened to me. I don't know how I'll ever face him again.

My eyes go to my phone—sitting in a cup holder of the bike—by their own volition, and I swallow hard just looking at it. I remember all the texts I read this morning.

Norman

Hey, I just got to Gab's, where are you?

Are you not coming?

Spiderman just said you were here earlier, why did you leave?

I'm getting worried now, Benny. Please answer me.

I'm about to call the police.

That last text was sent just a few minutes before Chris and I woke up, and since I didn't want him to call the police for no reason, I answered simply.

Benny

I'm fine.

Yeah, I was there, but decided to come back home after the big announcement.

I didn't give any more explanations, didn't know how. A reply came right away, but Chris distracted me from reading it and I haven't been able to since.

I really don't want to have to think about what to tell my best friend. Besides the truly embarrassing fact that—at least in matters of the heart—I may be just as helpless as everyone thinks, I'm also pretty hurt.

Because it doesn't make any sense for Norman not to tell his best friend—he's called me that a million times—that he's dating someone. And okay, dating isn't a topic we've ever discussed with too much detail, mostly because I always steered the conversation away from it, but come the fuck on .

I know him well enough to know he's crazy about whoever that woman is. I could tell from the way he looked at her. So what's the deal?

I haven't come to any logical conclusions by the time I've finished my workout, and I have to say I enjoyed getting sweaty way more last night than I did in the gym, but it still feels good to get my muscles working.

I go back up to my apartment, get a protein shake, get in the shower, and then think, what the hell, and get back into bed. I take the mother of all naps, and wake up groggy and confused at what time it is.

Four in the afternoon, and my stomach knows it.

I change into some linen shorts and a thin T-shirt, and brave the heat so I can get my favorite steak from my favorite restaurant.

I thank the hostess when she seats me in a corner of the air-conditioned room, and scroll mindlessly through social media while I eat. I get a second order to go because I really have nothing at my place, and go back home after paying.

That's when the reminder pings. Fuck.

Jules's daughter, Ava, turns three on Tuesday and they're throwing her a huge birthday party. I really don't feel like going. I'm not ready to face anyone.

Not when I'm still so fucking confused as to why sleeping with Chris was so easy when I've been sure I'm in love with Norman for years.

How can I know how to act with Norman when I don't know what I feel for him?

How can I face my friends, who have known about my feelings for him for so long, when he brings a date to yet another team event?

There's just no way.

I go to sleep without canceling, without reading Norman's messages, and without having a clue what to do.

I feel lost, alone, and stupid.

It's a true low point, and so naturally, I sleep like shit.

That's how I know I really can't go. So without thinking about it any more, as soon as the sun comes up on Monday, I text Jules to cancel.

Benny

Hey, Picard.

I'm sorry to cancel but I won't be able to go to the party tomorrow.

I debate whether to give an excuse or any sort of explanation, but I really don't feel like lying and I really don't want to put the truth in writing, so I leave it like that.

Jules

Are you okay?

Anything I can help with?

His quick replies make me feel like even more of a piece of shit, but I persist.

Benny

I don't know how to answer the first question, but there's nothing you can do, Captain. Thanks though, and I'll give Ava her present as soon as I get back from Toronto.

Jules

I'm here if you need me, and don't worry about the party.

I let out a sigh of relief and lock my phone. I lie back down and close my eyes, hoping that maybe now I'll be able to rest.

That night, feeling like a caged lion, I leave my apartment to go for a walk. I don't have a destination in mind, but as soon as I see the Winner resort in the distance, I know what I need to do to calm down at least one restless part of my brain.

It may be stupid as hell—oh, who am I kidding?

I know for a fact it's stupid, but I just need to do it. This time I'm not wearing a cap, and even though the lobby of the hotel is a lot emptier than it was just two days ago, I realize I should've worn one. Oh well.

No one pays me any mind when I walk into the empty elevator, or when I get out at the thirtieth floor and walk out into an empty hallway. I remember how different it all looked Saturday night as I peek into the main part of the club through the closed curtains. I didn't even remember there was a curtain separating the hallway and the club.

There's no one around—it looks completely deserted—but I walk up to the dance floor and stand in the same spot where I danced with Chris. At least I think it's this spot. It probably isn't, but the memories still flood my brain.

I scrub my hands down my face. Seriously, what the hell am I doing?

"Can I help you?" The voice of a man has me jumping about a foot in the air. I swivel around and am faced with the bartender.

"Hey, uhm," I say super awkwardly.

"Oh, it's you!" he says excitedly before I can get lost in my thoughts again. "Chris isn't here, we're closed tonight," he explains with a wave of his hand.

I wince. "Yeah, I figured. I just, uh—" I interrupt myself with a sharp intake of air and then square my shoulders. Just fucking do it already, I tell myself. "I came by to give him my number, do you think you could pass it on to him when you have a chance?"

"Yeah, man," he says with a weirdly wide smile that I recognize from when people know who I am and are trying to tamp down their excitement. I let out a measured breath when he doesn't ask for an autograph. "Of course. Let me just get a piece of paper."

"Thanks." He sets down the box he was carrying behind the bar, then disappears through the same door Chris dragged me to. My heartbeat accelerates just thinking about him receiving the piece of paper, or him thinking about our night together.

Was it as uniquely mind blowing for him as it was for me?

The sex must've been at least good, there's no way it wasn't. But maybe that's just the way he rolls.

The bartender comes back right then, saving me from going down that spiral—I don't think it'd be fun to think of how much experience Chris has.

"Sorry, I didn't ask your name," I think to say. The dude's been more than nice to me, the least I should know about him is his name.

"I'm Drake," he says, and gives me that wide smile again, then hands me a Post It and a pen. "Here you go."

I debate on what else to write as I jot down my phone number, and settle on BB, just to be funny, I guess.

A terrible thought occurs to me as the elevator descends to street level again. What if he doesn't remember me? Or that he called me baby Benny? What if he calls everyone baby and just happened to fuck another guy with a name starting with B this weekend?

I seriously need to stop thinking about this so much. It's getting pathetic.

I spend all of Tuesday cleaning my apartment, packing for two weeks at home, and waiting for my phone to buzz with a text or call from an unknown number.

Neither of those happen, and I go to sleep dejected and with a headache, since I spent the second half of the day playing mindless games on my Switch after everything was ready for my late flight tomorrow.

When there's still no text on Wednesday morning, I tell myself to face reality. He's not going to text.

Who the hell knows why Chris bothered to tell me I'd be welcome back at Lure. Maybe he's a hockey fan and thinks it'd be good business to have us go to his gay club.

We are the only team in the NHL with publicly queer players, after all.

At ten in the morning I'm faced with the sad truth that I have two hours to kill, and I'm seriously contemplating driving to the airport early when my phone finally buzzes.

I scramble to pick it up and feel like shit when the screen shows a picture of me and my captain holding up the Stanley Cup over our heads.

"Hey, Picard," I answer with more than a little trepidation. I'm expecting him to demand answers for why I didn't go to Ava's birthday party yesterday, and I still don't know... anything .

"Benny," Jules says in a choked whisper that has me sitting up in alert.

"What's wrong?" I demand.

"Nothing's wrong. Absolutely nothing." I hear him sniffle then take a deep breath. He lets out a wry chuckle before he speaks again. "Adam was born this morning. Do you want to come meet him?"

"I—" I'm speechless. The first real smile in two days stretches my cheeks. "Of course, Jules. Where are you guys?" I ask excitedly as I stand, ready to go wherever he tells me.

"We're still at the hospital, use the fifth-floor entrance to get in here."

"You got it," I say, and nod even though he can't see me. "Congratulations, Jules," I say in a whisper. "I'm so happy for you guys." No other words have ever been truer.

Adam Michel Sterling is beautiful. He has his mother's blond hair, and I just bet he'll have Jules's green eyes. I hold him—more than a little terrified—for about twenty minutes. He wakes only for a second when they pass him to me, but then closes his eyes calmly.

I don't take my eyes away from him for even a single second of those twenty minutes, but when it's time for the next guy to come in to meet him, I mourn the loss.

Jules called all of our teammates to come meet him, and now that I can focus on real life again and not only on tantalizing baby smell and the softest skin to ever exist, I remember the thought I had when I realized everyone would be here.

I need to leave before Bates gets here.

"He's amazing guys," I tell them, trying to still express my genuine happiness for them while also moving to the door to leave. "I'm really happy for all of you." I lock eyes with a still tired-looking Jamie, with Sterling who looks like he just won the lottery, and finally with Jules.

One of the men I admire most in this world, and there are only four who fit that bill, he's more important to me, as a friend and as a leader, than he'll probably ever know. Mostly because I don't think I'll ever find the words to describe to him what his support and friendship mean to me now, and what they meant when I was just a seventeen-year-old kid arriving to the most intimidating city in the world. At least, that's what Las Vegas was to me back then.

He looks like his cheeks hurt from how much he's been smiling and like he knows who he is, what he wants, what he has, and what he has to do to keep it.

So, the total opposite of me.

Still, I lean in to give him a long, strong hug. He hugs me back just as fiercely.

"Thanks for coming," he whispers in my ear.

"Of course," I say, choked up, and lean back. "Anything for you. Always." I look him straight in the eyes, hoping he understands that I'm saying it as a vow.

"You're gonna be okay?" he asks quietly, his eyes quickly shifting to worry.

"I'll be fine." I nod and swallow hard. "I should get back out there though, and let Santa come in and meet the little man. He's gonna riot if I don't." I snort .

"Send him in, then." His smile is back.

I walk out and find Santa right next to the double doors that lead from the waiting room to the hallway where their room is.

He grunts and walks past me without a word. I shake my head at him then turn to walk to the bank of elevators. And there he is.

Perfectly shiny black hair, and bright blue eyes that shine like beacons in contrast to his olive skin. All sharp angles and long muscles.

Norman.

His eyes freeze me on the spot, and he frowns right before walking hurriedly to me.

"What the hell, Benny?" he whispers through clenched teeth.

"Hey," I whisper back. What the fuck else am I supposed to say?

"I've been worried sick. Why aren't you answering my texts? Why?—"

"Babe," a feminine voice comes from two steps away. The gorgeous woman. I look down at her and have to swallow hard. Then I offer a tight smile, and I'm about to make excuses to leave when Bates reaches over and takes the hand she offers him.

"Benny, this is Caroline. I'd hoped you two would meet at Gab's celebration lunch, but today is just as good." Any irritation, worry, or any other feeling linked to me seems to vanish from my best friend's face.

Is he still my best friend? I wonder dramatically if he ever will be again.

Still smiling tightly, I nod at her. I can't look at him anymore. "Very nice to meet you, Caroline. I'm sure we'll meet again, but I have a flight to catch. Adam's amazing," I think to say as I take a step to the side. "See you again soon." I nod again and then just turn and walk to the bank of elevators that will take me to the fifth floor.

Holy motherfucking shit .

Yeah, maybe I'm really as immature as everyone thinks I am, because my chest hurts with every word I'm trying not to say. I have no idea what to think, how to act. I have absolutely no idea what I'm feeling, and I don't know how the fuck two weeks away will be enough for me to get everything in my head straight.