Chapter Nineteen

THINGS CHANGED ONCE the shock wore off that the captain of the hockey team was gay. And had a boyfriend. For the most part, no one bothered them, at least overtly. But he knew some people weren’t happy about it. One guy had stopped showing up for practice, and Jordan Roberts had been forced by his parents to quit the team. Jordie made sure to tell him it wasn’t his choice, and while Ben appreciated that, he still felt incredibly guilty. The other guy could go screw himself.

John Richards, who’d once found himself on the receiving end of Marcus’s fist, had tried to start crap with Marcus again, but this time, it put him on the wrong side of two defensemen. Ben managed to put a stop to it before it got ugly, but he was more than a little pleased that Richards wouldn’t even dare be in the same room as Marcus anymore.

It helped that the hockey team had practically adopted Marcus. It was something he found endlessly amusing and a little odd.

“So, I have a question,” Marcus said, and Ben glanced over at him, their joined hands swinging between them. Marcus had a perplexed look on his face that Ben found cuter than he probably should. He also had a feeling he might know what Marcus was about to ask.

“Shoot.”

They were walking through the parking lot, post-game, after Marcus had waited for Ben to shower and change. They’d lost, but it had been a close one, both teams fighting hard for the winning goal. Ben had taken a little bit longer than usual to get out of the locker room, taking the time to reassure Espy that he’d done his best—that last goal wasn’t his fault.

“What’s up with Smithy and his helmet?” Marcus asked, and when Ben laughed, he bumped his shoulder. “Seriously! Why are you laughing?”

Ben was laughing so hard he had to stop in the middle of the parking lot. He took a deep breath to try to get it together but made the mistake of looking at Marcus, which sent him off giggling again. Marcus pulled his hand away and crossed his arms over his chest, a smile at Ben’s hysterics attempting to fight its way through the scowl.

Ben stepped over to him and wrapped his arms around Marcus’s stiff shoulders, pressing his face into his hair. “Did Smithy put his helmet on you?”

“Yes.” The pout was evident in his voice. Marcus relented and unfolded his arms, putting a hand on Ben’s hip and playing with the hem of his T-shirt. He hesitated and then pulled back far enough so he could look up into Ben’s face. “Why?”

“It means he likes you.” The skepticism on Marcus’s face was almost enough to set Ben off again. “He’s weird about his helmet.”

“Weird?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.” He hurried to follow up with, “Nothing bad, promise. He means well, and now you won’t be able to get rid of him.” Ben shrugged, steering them toward the car again, his arm slung around Marcus’s neck. “Hockey players are superstitious freaks.”

Marcus pressed a quick kiss to Ben’s cheek. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Ben’s stomach fluttered at the simple fondness in Marcus’s voice, and he didn’t try to hide the goofy smile that spread across his face.

 

AS FOR THE other teams, word had gotten around, as expected. Ben was shocked the first time he’d lined up to go out onto the ice at an opposing team’s rink, only to have Coach Jordan come storming up to him and say, “Don’t look at the stands. I’m taking care of it.”

He looked at the stands. At the signs. He looked and immediately wished he hadn’t. The worst part was he couldn’t tell if they were the work of some dumb kids or if adults had looked at them and thought, Yeah, that’s right. Fags need to just die.

He stared until Smithy grabbed him by the arm and steered him back toward the locker room. “Let Coach take care of it.”

Ben was trying to take the high road. He was the captain and had to set an example. He should have known better.

It was just after the start of the second period when it happened.

He chased the puck where it had been dumped into the corner by Holtsy and was completely focused on beating the other player to it when he was hit by what felt like a small truck. Ben heard Smithy’s shout, but it was too late to get out of the way. The other player, a defensemen who probably outweighed him by about thirty pounds, checked him against the boards so hard it knocked the breath out of him.

“Fucking queer” was spat at Ben, low enough for the ref not to hear, and he gave the other boy an elbow to get him to back off. The other boy, his name still a mystery, pushed him again. “You can run but you can’t hide.”

Smithy got between them, his greater height making the other player back down for the moment, and Ben skated away, head held high. He could do that; he didn’t have to stoop to their level.

A few minutes later and it happened again. The player didn’t even wait to crush him against the boards. He waited until Ben had the puck and hit him with a low shoulder that was almost a tackle, and very illegal. Ben went down, stunned for a second, when the other player spit on him. That was more than enough.

Ben pulled himself up, and before he knew what was happening, his gloves were on the ice, and he grabbed a double handful of the other player’s jersey. His name was Wilson from the letters Ben had in his hands. He’d never, ever gotten into a fight on the ice, or off of it for that matter, but it felt good to spin Wilson around—to see the surprise in his eyes for a split second before he dragged him down onto the ice.

It was more of a wrestling match at that point, but in the end, Ben’s helmet was knocked off, and he’d managed to get a hit or two in on Wilson’s ribs. Wilson smacked him in the nose in his desperation to get Ben off him, but Ben wasn’t going to let up, even as blood ran down his chin.

Smithy got there before the ref and dragged Ben up by the back of his jersey, wrapping his arms around him as soon as he got him up on his feet. “Enough, man. Enough.”

Ben had never felt that much rage at another human being before, and it scared him a little. He ended up getting a major penalty, as did Wilson.

Coach raised holy hell about everything from the signs in the stands to his player being spit on and ended up getting most of the opposing team placed under review by the discipline committee. After a few suspensions, and one outright banning, the signs and comments at games stopped.

There were some players who were either too brave or too stupid on the ice for their own good, but the other guys made it a point to make sure they knew it wouldn’t be tolerated.

 

THE NAME-CALLING and dirty hits had been expected. What Ben hadn’t expected were the silent indications of “Me too,” told to him through eye contact or grim smiles.

It had been a good game. It was the second of two away games, and Ben was exhausted but happy because they’d managed a close win. He’d just finished packing up his gear and was walking out of the visitor’s locker room when he almost ran into one of the opposing players.

“Sorry.” Ben tugged the strap back onto his shoulder where it had slipped off and started to step around the other guy.

Who shuffled awkwardly in the exact same direction as Ben, effectively blocking his way. They both laughed and Ben tried again. This time, he moved to the side, only to have the other boy stop him with a hand on his elbow. Ben fought the urge to tense up, not wanting to seem like he was afraid. He was definitely on guard. He looked down at where the boy was holding him, and the hand was snatched back as though he hadn’t meant to touch him.

“Um.” The guy shuffled his feet, not quite making eye contact. He glanced back at Ben, and Ben suddenly realized who he was.

“Kinkaid, right?” Ben recognized the ice-blue eyes that had been glaring at him through a goalie mask all evening. He was tall and deceptively slim without his goalie gear on. He’d been a brick wall the entire game, only letting through two goals.

Kinkaid smiled, a little shyly. “Yeah, Corey.” He shuffled his feet again, and Ben looked over to check on where the rest of the team was. He wasn’t sure what was going on, and he didn’t want to get in trouble for being late for the bus. “You’re Ben Lewis.”

“That’s me.” Ben was trying not to seem impatient, but he really needed to get going. “Look, I really need to—”

“That was a sweet wrister.”

“Thanks?” Ben hefted his bag onto his shoulder again, the strap starting to cut in a little bit.

Corey glanced around before leaning a little closer. “You want to go out sometime?” It was blurted out all in a rush. Ben barely had time to register what he’d been asked when Corey said, “With me, I mean.”

Ben blinked at him. He’d never actually been asked out before, at least by a guy. Was that flirting?

He opened his mouth and what came out was “I have a boyfriend.”

Corey sighed and studied his shoes. “That’s what I thought.”

He looked so disappointed Ben couldn’t help but feel bad.

“I’m sorry.” Ben hesitated. He knew how hard it was, and he wondered if Corey’s team knew. From the way he kept looking around, probably not. “I’m not interested, but—”

Faltering for a second as he dug his phone out of the side pocket of his gear bag, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. He unlocked it and clicked on a new contact.

“My boyfriend’s the president of the GSA at our school, and if you ever wanted to talk to anyone or whatever.” Ben was aware that he sounded awkward as hell. “I mean, if you want.”

Corey huffed out a breath, and Ben was sure he was going to say no when he rattled off his phone number.

“Thanks,” Ben said, entering it in his phone. Corey ran his hand through his hair, and they were both probably the same shade of red. “I’ve got to go.” Ben turned around and walked off quickly enough that it could be considered fleeing.

As he walked to where the rest of the team was waiting to get on the bus, Ben shot off a quick text to Corey.

Ben: Hi. It’s Ben.

He waited until he was settled on the bus before texting Marcus.

Ben: Leaving now.

Ben: Got asked out on a date.

The reply was immediate.

Marcus: were they cute?

Ben: He was kind of shy.

Marcus: so I have competition now?

Ben laughed and sent a text back.

Ben: It was the other team’s goalie.

Marcus: i’m going to have to learn how to skate

Marcus: j/k he can have you

Marcus: no he can’t. changed my mind

Ben: I gave him my number.

Ben: In case he wanted to talk.

Ben: I don’t think his team knows.

Marcus: awwww :)

Marcus: but you told him no right?

Ben snorted so loudly Holtsy turned around and looked at him. He just shook his head.

Ben: Yes, I told him no.

Marcus: good :)

 

GRAN HAD MOVED to Florida. It was difficult to see her go, even harder than Ben had expected. But before leaving, Ben and Marcus were able to spend an afternoon with her, so Marcus could read the letters. Ben held him when he cried over the last letter, and Gran hugged him tight to her just like she had Ben.

Will and Eddie had been separated by war and death, but their final resting places were as close together as the family had been able to manage. They all went to see the graves and left flowers, daisies, which were Gran’s favorite. It had been a little surreal, the dates on a headstone as final proof that Eddie had lived out his long life without the man he loved. Ben had gripped Marcus’s hand tightly, and that time, he’d been the one who had sobbed into Marcus’s shoulder.

He still wore Will’s dog tag close to his heart.

 

“YOU GOT THIS.” Marcus pressed a kiss to Ben’s forehead, chuckling as Ben wrapped himself tighter around him. It had become their ritual over the last few months leading up to the playoffs, Marcus making himself comfortable on Ben’s bed, and Ben snuggling in close to him, becoming what Marcus called a “pregame octopus.” He was fine with that.

“Maybe.”

The team had managed to make it to the finals. It was amazing that they’d made it so far, and if they won the game that was looming over them today, then that would be it. They’d win their regional tournament. It would be a miracle if they won and an even bigger one if they moved on, but Ben was happy with how far they’d gone. It was his senior year, and it had been a wild ride from start to finish.

Ben couldn’t help but think he’d survived something special and come out the other side better than he was before. A lot of that was due to the person in his arms. Marcus had been a rock the entire time, including all through the playoffs, and had taught Ben to have a thicker skin.

“What time is it?” Ben was almost too comfortable, but he should probably start getting ready.

“You’ve got about ten minutes.” Marcus ran his fingers through Ben’s hair, and that definitely wasn’t helping to inspire him to get up. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind of surprise?” Ben grinned against Marcus’s shoulder and pressed a kiss there, getting a smack on the back of the head for his trouble.

“Not that kind. Hang on a second.” Marcus shifted and reached over the side of the bed, digging in his bag. “It was the guys’ idea, I just pointed them in the right direction.” He produced a roll of rainbow stick tape, holding it front of Ben’s face. “Coach Jordan okayed it for tonight, since it might be—”

“Don’t jinx it.” Ben untangled himself and sat up, taking the roll of brightly colored tape from Marcus’s hand. “They’re going to use this? All of them?”

Marcus nodded, grinning. “They want to support their Captain. It’s kind of sweet.”

Ben looked at him, a little bit in awe of how a boy with bright-blue hair had changed his life. Marcus had dyed it that color for the first game of the finals, and it made Ben’s day to see it. He told him the whole story. About seeing him and how he felt at that moment.

“There you were.” He’d said it quietly, but Marcus had heard him.

“What?”

Ben cleared his throat. “I was just thinking.” He brushed his fingers through the soft blue strands of Marcus’s hair. “Don’t worry about it. Thanks for this.” He held up the stick tape. “I can’t wait to see the other team’s faces.” He leaned in and stole a kiss. “How much more time do I have?” He heard beeping and rolled his eyes while Marcus laughed at him.

“Not enough.” He was already wearing Ben’s jersey, and it was easy to take in how good it looked on him, something Ben never got tired of. He stood and stretched, gathered up his stuff. “I’m riding with Ryan, but I’ll come back here after, all right?”

“Sounds good to me.” A final lingering kiss and Marcus was gone.

Ben picked up the roll of tape and smiled at it before tucking it away in his bag, the bright colors contrasting against the dark pads.

“There you were.”