Page 31 of Ethan

Hank thought this was in the top ten dumbest things he’d ever heard, and he spent his life around hockey players, which was saying something.

“That’s bullshit,” Hank said, but Bo just gave him a shrug and slipped his earbuds in, like he was going to meditate himself to some Zen place where blue balls didn’t exist.

But speaking of blue balls, Hank’s hand tightened around his phone as he flicked open his convo with Ethan again.

you need someone to kiss it better

Hank swallowed hard. Knew what Ethan was trying to do—or at least he’dguessedwhat Ethan was trying to do; he’d neverbeen blatant enough for Hank to be one hundred percent sure—and he still wasn’t sure about it.

No, that was not true. He was sure he’d be into it if he let himself.

The problem was theletting himself.

just bo here, listening to his stupid meditations,Hank typed back,and apparently those are to keep his dick in checkso not sure he’d be willing to help

Reading back the message, Hank thought he’d done a good job of maybe meeting Ethan’s flirtatious energy without encouraging it too much. Without giving himself the hope of something that wasn’t happening now, or anytime soon, or maybe ever.

Totally possible that by the time they both made it to New York, this fizziness in the base of his stomach whenever Ethan reached out would eventually fade. Maybe Ethan would get bored or tired or find someone else.

And maybe, on top of all that, this was such a bad fucking idea, because Hank—and Ethan, too—was supposed to be all-in on hockey. Both figuring out how to make the Bandits’ roster.

wait whaaaaaat

I know. he’s so fucking weird. weirder now that I know why he’s blasting these into his ears.

you,Ethan sent,are a fucking saint

Hank told himself not to. Told himself not to and did it anyway.except i’m not always good,he texted back.

god i hope not *smiling devil emoji*

He knew he should pull back. Pull them both back. But it was hard, because so much of his life felt like a slog. The constant rotation of different cities, different arenas, the never-ending travel, but the sameness of it all. Ethan was a breath of fresh air that made Hankwantto keep doing it all, a reason completely apart from his usual motivations.

They were usually plenty good enough—he’d worked for too many fucking years to make it—but there was something about Ethan that sharpened his edge, that little bit of extra.

But before Hankcouldpull them back, Ethan sent another text.

well if bo’s not gonna kiss it better, keep icing it, ok?

Hank sent a thumbs-up and then leaned over, plugging his phone in before getting up to get more ice and then pull out his tablet so he could watch some tape of their next opponent.

There was no rest for the weary. Not for the guys in the AHL who were still trying to make it.

Chapter 4

February

“I thought it was bad enough when hewasn’ttexting you back,” Wally complained as he leaned over, untying his skates after practice.

Ethan hadn’t even tried to pretend he was going to do anything else but head right to his stall and check his phone. See if Hank had messaged him.

“You’re just jealous,” Ethan retorted. Even though technically, Wally hadnothingto be jealous of, other than a whole ream of text messages. Months and months of texts. Not evensexytexts. Just regular, PG-rated texts.

If anyone had asked Ethan three months ago if he’d be tired of just texting, if he’d have gotten bored and moved on, he’d have said, almost probably. Certainly, maybe.

But he wasn’t even close to bored. And he wasn’t moving on, either.

“What would I even be jealous of?” Wally wondered, annoyingly. “All you do is text. You’re not even sexting. All you’redoing is mid-level flirting, like you’re both playing gay chicken and afraid of crossing the point of no return.”