Page 32 of Hard Check
What can I say? That was one hell of a kiss. But even without that, I think you’ve been hiding for so long you’re scared to be honest. That’s no way to live.
Before putting his phone away, he couldn’t help pushing just a bit more. There was a crack in Dawson’s wall and Leo could almost see light through it.
You don’t have to make some huge proclamation. I don’t need to make out in public or hold hands walking down the street, but I would like to get to know you better. If that’s something you want, too, you know where to find me.
He slid the phone back into the jacket and grabbed his helmet. The buzz he felt had nothing to do with the cold rink air filtering through the doorway.
On the ice, Deluca ran them through breakout drills, and Leo’s feet were fast, but his head was somewhere else. He caught Carter’s pass along the boards and held it a half-second too long before moving it to Novo, and the timing was off enough that Novo had to reach back for it.
“Wake up, Vargas.” Carter’s voice carried, not sharp but not gentle either. His linemate had every reason to be irritated with him.
Leo reset. Pushed harder on the next rep, drove wide, hit the seam pass that Novo buried in the top corner. Better. He could feel the rhythm trying to lock in, the way it did when he stoppedthinking and let his body take over. On the ice was the one place the mask dropped. No polish, no audience, just instinct and speed and the puck doing what he told it.
Deluca blew the whistle. “Line rushes, three-on-two. Vargas, you’re with Walsh and Novak.”
They set up at center ice. Carter won the draw and fed Leo at the hash marks, and Leo saw the lane, the gap between the D-men where a quick release would hit Ford glove side. But Novo was cutting backdoor, and Carter was banging his stick on the ice, and for once, Leo held the puck long enough to find the better play. Slid it across to Novo. Tape-to-tape. Novo one-timed it past Marshy’s blocker, and the net rippled.
Carter tapped his shin pads with his stick as they circled back. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to.
During the water break, Jonesy skated up and bumped Leo’s shoulder. “Who is she?”
Leo squirted water into his mouth. “What?”
“You’ve been smiling like an idiot. You’ve had that look since you walked in.” Jonesy pointed his water bottle at Leo. “That’s an ‘I’m gonna get laid’ glow.”
“There’s no girl.” It annoyed Leo that even though he was out, the default in the locker room was still to think there was a woman involved.
“Uh-huh.” Jonesy was already skating backward, loud enough for half the team. “Vargas has got agirl, boys. Look at him. Must be hot if she’s left him flustered.”
“That’s not— Jonesy, shut up.”
“I will not shut up. This is the most personality you’ve shown since you got here. I’m celebrating.”
Ski drifted over, interested. “Who’s the girl?”
“There’s no girl.” He wanted to crawl in a hole just to escape this conversation.
“Then why are you still smiling?” Jonesy said, and Leo realized his face had betrayed him because the corner of his mouth was twitching, and there was nothing he could do about it that wouldn’t make it worse.
“I’m smiling because your defensive coverage is bad enough to be funny,” Leo said, and Jonesy clutched his chest and called him a monster. “And for the record, if I was going to get laid, it wouldn’t be awoman.”
The locker room didn’t stop. Jonesy blinked, shrugged as if Leo hadn’t just come out to his teammates, and poked him in the chest. “Noted. Who’s the guy?”
“There’s no guy.”
“Uh-huh,” Jonesy said, already skating off, and the moment passed. Just like that. Maybe he’d heard through the grapevine that Leo was queer and this had been his way of trying to verify the rumors without asking him outright. Or maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal here as it was with other teams. Either way, the lack of reaction left Leo feeling off-kilter.
The rest of practice came in pieces. A give-and-go with Novo that clicked, a board battle with Sully that Leo lost because Sully outweighed him by forty pounds and didn’t believe in going easy just because this wasn’t an actual game, a breakaway drill wherehe went five-hole on Ford and heard the veteran goalie swear as the whacked the post with his stick.
In the locker room after, Leo sat in his stall peeling tape off his shins and half-listening to the noise around him. Jonesy had the speaker going again. Riggs was busy explaining something about investments to one of the rookies. Sully sat in the corner with his eyes closed. Leo’d asked about it once, and Carter had explained that Sully meditated after every practice, saying it helped him commit what he’d worked on to memory. Weird, but not the weirdest ritual he’d seen from a player.
“Hey, Vargas.” Carter, from two stalls down, low and unhurried, the way Carter said everything.
Leo glanced over.
“Good pass on that three-on-two. You see the ice well.” Carter pulled his jersey over his head, folded it with the precision of someone who’d done it ten thousand times. “Keep finding Novo. He knows how to get the puck through insane traffic.”
“Yeah.” Leo nodded. “I’m figuring that out.”
