Page 86 of Tough Guy and the Show Off

A few weeks later, I’m at the bar with some of my teammates. The Magic game is on and even just a few minutes in, I can tell Trav has his groove back.

The last game he played, he scored a hat trick—his second this season—and he played really well. Right now, he’s got the puck, outskating New York’s defense easily. I hope his rough patch is behind him now.

“Damn, Show is on fire tonight,” Diego says, lifting his beer for a sip.

His man, Callan, is right next to him, looking at Diego more than the TV screen and slipping their farty little pug pretzels. I didn’t even know they let dogs in here, but I guess Diego Ferguson can do pretty much whatever he wants in this city. They had me over for dinner last week, and seeing them together, out and coupled, made me miss Trav that much more.

Could that be us someday?

“Yes, he is,” Gagnon says. “Asshole. He’s going to be pain in my ass, yes?”

“He’s always a pain in the ass.” Mercier chuckles. “But he’s got his fire back.”

“Ever since they played us,” Gagnon notes. “Did you rub off on him, Beau?”

Chuckling, I shrug. “He’s always been a strong player.”

“Stronger lately,” Diego says. “He’s a free agent at the end of this season, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he’ll re-sign with Boston,” I say. “He loves Boston. It’s his hometown.”

“Things change,” Diego says. “Maybe he’d like to head west.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Join us. Become a Husky. Haven’t you seen the fans on both teams lobbying to get you guys back together?”

My heart flutters and I know my cheeks are burning. I’ve imagined it a thousand times. I can’t go back to Boston, so the only hope I can cling to is Trav coming here. Which is ridiculous.

“I doubt we could afford him.”

Diego leans in and drops his voice conspiratorially. “Except that Lavoie’s contract is also up.”

Gagnon nods. “Yes, and he’s been having trouble with his left knee again. He’s been on the bench more than he’s played this season. He might retire.”

I don’t want to get my hopes up. There’s no way Trav would leave Boston willingly, and I can’t imagine they’d choose to part with his star power. He’s been playing extremely well the past few weeks too, proving his worth that much more.

“He won’t leave Boston, guys. And it’s not like they’d be stupid enough to let him go.”

“A few months ago, the same would be said about you,” Gagnon says. “Look at you now. You are, how you say, killing it.”

“Thanks, man.”

“You like it here, don’t you?” Diego asks.

“Yeah, a lot. The city is cool. I love Boston too, but… I don’t know, this feels more like me. Maybe because I’m a Midwest boy at heart.”

“We are glad you came,” Gagnon says. “I admit I worried because you and Show were so tight. I worried it would hurt your game to be separated, but you are still you.”

Maybe on the ice. Outside of that, not so much.

I fall silent for a few minutes, watching Trav dominate. He passes the puck to Harlson, who then passes it back. Trav dekes left, easily slicing the puck across the ice, right into New York’s net, scoring another freaking goal.

We quietly cheer for him, and I’d swear my heart swells in my chest. I glance around the table at Gagnon, Diego and his man, Dimitrov and Moreau, Cooper, and Mercier. These guys have been nothing but cool and accepting since I got here, extending friendship and making me feel like one of them.

Maybe that’s what makes me blurt out the words.

“Guys. I’m, um, I’m bi.” I clear my throat. “Bisexual.”