Page 65 of Ethan

“Whatwereyou talking about?” Ethan asked innocently.

Hank rolled his eyes. “You are such a little shit. Why do I even like you?”

“I think the most important part of that statement is that youdolike me,” Ethan said.

“That’s the best part?” Hank scoffed, beginning to walk again towards the parking garage.

“Well,duh,” Ethan said, grinning. “Andduh, obviously I’m stoked that you scored a goal not just because you needed to stop stressing about it, but also because that means you won the bet.”

“So did you.” Hank had shoved his hands in his pockets and his stride was easy, but there was a line of tension in his back.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to bring you a breakfast sandwich.” Ethan was already thinking of a way he could convince Hank to sleep over tomorrow night. Take him to the deli himself the next morning. One date sliding right into the next. Two dates and they weren’t just going on a date, they weredating.

Ethan could already imagine them at one of those small tables at the deli, his ankle hooked around Hank’s, their heads tipped together. Hank’s bed head rivaling his own. Ethan wearingHank’s sweatshirt. The unfocused sleepy look in Hank’s pretty eyes before he got his first sip of caffeine.

“I’m thinking I should have come up with something better for you,” Hank complained.

“Those sandwiches are lit and you know it,” Ethan said, though the sandwiches weren’t the only thing lighting him up inside. His vision was pretty fucking killer, too.

“Maybe,” Hank conceded.

“You’ll see,” Ethan said.

Chapter 8

Adayoffwasalways good. A chance to sleep in, get a really restful night without setting an alarm in the midst of the insane schedule of the NHL and a chance to catch up on the mundane shit that fell by the wayside because of the aforementioned schedule.

Hank slept in. Took his time getting his laundry together. Hauled it to the laundromat down the street. Grabbed lunch while it spun in the machines. On his way home, if he’d been back in Syracuse, he’d have stopped by the grocery store, stocked up on the essentials, too, to supplement his meal service. But he was still unsure if he was staying up here—less sure than he’d ever been, despite the goal last night—and the bare little kitchenette in his long-term hotel was not really set up for actual cooking.

So instead, he headed back to his room with his laundry basket overflowing, with every intention of folding it, but instead flopped down on the couch and let the softness and a sleepy midafternoon of nothing better to do carry him off into sleep.

It was honestly surprising that he drifted off, because all day Hank had been carrying an anticipatory buzz under his skin.

Tonight, it crooned to him, nonstop.Tonight tonight tonight.

Yeah, he was taking Ethan out. Maybe it was a date, maybe it wasn’t, though Hank was pretty sure Ethan thought it was, and the only reason he wouldn’t classify it like that in his head was the remnants of his fear.

Though Hank wasn’t sure it was reallyfearanymore, not exactly. It was just so different, feeling this way about Ethan, about aguy. It wasn’t like he’d dated a lot of girls, either, but he’d done it enough that he knew how it was supposed to go. The pattern he was supposed to follow. But he and Ethan were already diverging, had already done that, from the very beginning, and it made the ground under his feet uncertain and a little wobbly. What if he stepped wrong? Ethanprobablywouldn’t care. Wouldn’t judge. But Hank was too used to wanting to do things right. Wanted to dothisright, and not just because he always had. But because Ethan was important. So fucking important that it made nerves crawl up his spine.

Still, despite all that—the circular conversation he kept having with himself, theit’s just dinner, it’s no big dealreminders—Hank actually did manage to fall asleep.

His phone ringing jolted him awake suddenly, and from the way the sun had dipped down below his blinds, he was pretty sure he’d been out at least a few hours.

Hank’s first instinct was panic. Maybe he’d be late for his date, but no, he wasn’t picking up Ethan until six. A glance at his phone told him it was only five.

Still plenty of time to take a shower.

His second instinct was to glance at who was calling, and it took a moment for the name to register.

And then for his stomach to fall, right to the fucking floor.

“Hey,” Hank answered, trying really hard to keep the inevitable dread out of his voice. To swallow hard around the sudden lump in his throat.Give me more time, I can be better, I can be as good as Niko, I swear to God, he wanted to beg Inverness, but he already knew it wouldn’t matter what he said.

He’d been doomed to this by his own slightly slow start and Niko’s white-hot one.

“Hank,” Inverness said kindly. “Glad I got you on a day off.”

Hank supposed he should be grateful that Inverness was doing this over the phone and not in person. Didn’t wait until tomorrow, when he came in for practice and Inverness pulled him into his office, instead.