Crack In The Ice - Chapter 20: Chapter 20
You are reading Crack In The Ice, Chapter 20: Chapter 20. Read more chapters of Crack In The Ice.
That makes me smile down at my phone.
Dean pops out of his room, in a loud flurry of gear and unpacked clothes as he moves to the bathroom.
"I'm almost ready, I swear," he calls out from inside.
"No problem," I call back.
It's only been a few weeks since Olie and Nat came to visit and we're mostly back to our normal. Dean's morning chaos is definitely part of the normal.
I always calculate our time to leave the house with some margin for him to run around with his stuff in his hands and only a shoe on. We usually miss a bit of pre-practice banter and hang-out time with the rest of the team, but I don't mind. Especially on game days, I like my morning skate and practice to be the first thing I focus on.
Of course, lately, that isn't so true anymore. I've been starting most of my mornings by checking my phone for texts from Liam. He almost always beats me to it, but when he doesn't I text him first. It wasn't something I was aware was becoming part of my daily routine until it suddenly already was and I didn't feel like changing it.
"I'm ready! I'm ready!"
I stand from the couch to look at Dean. He has his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, jacket hanging off only one sleeved arm, two pieces of buttered toast between his teeth, and only one skate hanging from his jacket hand.
"You sure you got everything? Is the second skate in the bag?"
Dean looks down at his single skate in hand and his eyes widen. "Shit."
He drops his bag, jacket and lone skate on the floor, and runs inside. I check the time.
We're good.
Our apartment is near the subway, followed by a twenty-five minute trip to the rink.
When we finally get there, I get on the ice for some alone skating time before I run some drills with Dean. He tries to smile at me through his helmet and I look away.
Since Olie's visit - and our conversation - I've been feeling a little weird around Dean.
I never thought I'd ever be saying this, but coming out to Olie was easier than I expected.
Like with everything between us, from dead parents to a failed kissed, she made it feel okay. She stripped the situation of any awkwardness with a smile, a joke and a reassuring look. Then she left. And some mornings I wake up wondering if I dreamed it.
There is someone in this world right now, who isn't Liam Astor, that knows who I am. All of me. And she's okay with it. Nothing changed. We're the same.
And it's great. Of course it is.
I should feel great too.
But I don't.
Every once in a while, I look at Dean and I feel a little queasy. Because Olie knows, and he doesn't. One of my closest friends knows me and everything is fine, so now all the people that don't know are officially in the dark.
When it was just me, keeping it all safely locked in, it felt like a non-factor. Liam finding out didn't change much, because everything between us always seems to happen in a different plane of existence somehow. It was never about him knowing I was gay, but knowing all of it. A side of me my friends never will because it's reserved just for Liam. Too intimate to share with anyone else.
But Olie knows. And Dean doesn't.
"Come on, Blake! Where's your head?" Our coach yells when I miss a pass that should've been in my muscle memory.
I look down at the ice. "Sorry."
"It's fine. Let's just do that again," Dean says mildly, trying to meet my eyes with an encouraging smile.
He knows.
Dean knows something's off, he always does. I can never keep anything from him. It was different when I wasn't even thinking about ever coming out, but now that I feel like I'm keeping a secret he'll know it too.
We leave the ice to meet with the team and the coaches. There's a speech for the whole team, the usual thing about focus and goals. Then there's a speech just for us two, when Coach calls us to the side in the end.
"I need a tight defense tonight, boys. I need you two to be a unit, one brain and two bodies. That's why we got you both, and that's what we're counting on tonight." He looks straight at me. "I need the Brunson wonder duo as tight as ever. No hesitations, full trust. Okay?"
"Yes, sir."
Coach arches an eyebrow at me. He knows too.
"Yes, sir," Dean says, drawing Coach's focus to him.
The man nods his head once and lets us go.
We have lunch with the guys, but I sit in silence thinking about 'full trust'. Dean sits next to me, engaging in a conversation I can't focus on long enough to catch what it's even about.
When we're done, he stares at me until I meet his gaze.
I give in.
He frowns. "You okay?"
He knows.
"Yeah. Just trying to get in my game head space," I say.
Dean gives me a tentative smile. "Wanna go to Ramirez's place with the guys before the game?"
"Uh, no. I think I'll try to sneak some extra skating time before the game actually."
Dean's eyebrows drop back into a concerned frown.
"You should go, though." I try a sort of reassuring smile. "See you later."
I don't wait for his reply before bidding the group goodbye.
Skating is usually a sure way for me to get my mind off whatever needs to get off it, and I need to be focused tonight. I came to Calgary to play hockey, I need to play hockey tonight.
I'm aware of Coach's presence when he drops in to watch for a while, but he leaves without saying anything. The guys arrive around four-thirty and I join them. Dean seems to stay away from me a bit. Even during the pre-game meetings.
He doesn't talk to me as we gear up, and I get the feeling he's avoiding eye contact during the warm-up. That means it's one of the worst warm-ups we ever have. I look at Coach after, and I can see him thinking the same even if he chooses not to say anything.
The game itself is fine. Not great, not terrible, just fine. Dean and I are definitely not at our best, but most of the other guys are. We score some, lose more, and the game does not end to our favor. Coach still doesn't say anything, even though I can read his expression as one of tame disappointment.
After we shower and change, Dean and I go home in silence. We still swing by the diner down our street to get burgers, fries, onion rings, milkshakes and two slices of apple pie. I'm usually fine just laying down to dose off after a game, but Dean needs to eat coma-inducing amounts of food and watch something bright, colorful and fast-moving on TV to wind down.
I eat next to him, but we don't talk. I must fall asleep at some point after I'm done eating, because I wake with a start after a particularly bright flash, around eleven.
Dean's no longer there. So. I turn off the TV and go to bed.
Dean pops out of his room, in a loud flurry of gear and unpacked clothes as he moves to the bathroom.
"I'm almost ready, I swear," he calls out from inside.
"No problem," I call back.
It's only been a few weeks since Olie and Nat came to visit and we're mostly back to our normal. Dean's morning chaos is definitely part of the normal.
I always calculate our time to leave the house with some margin for him to run around with his stuff in his hands and only a shoe on. We usually miss a bit of pre-practice banter and hang-out time with the rest of the team, but I don't mind. Especially on game days, I like my morning skate and practice to be the first thing I focus on.
Of course, lately, that isn't so true anymore. I've been starting most of my mornings by checking my phone for texts from Liam. He almost always beats me to it, but when he doesn't I text him first. It wasn't something I was aware was becoming part of my daily routine until it suddenly already was and I didn't feel like changing it.
"I'm ready! I'm ready!"
I stand from the couch to look at Dean. He has his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, jacket hanging off only one sleeved arm, two pieces of buttered toast between his teeth, and only one skate hanging from his jacket hand.
"You sure you got everything? Is the second skate in the bag?"
Dean looks down at his single skate in hand and his eyes widen. "Shit."
He drops his bag, jacket and lone skate on the floor, and runs inside. I check the time.
We're good.
Our apartment is near the subway, followed by a twenty-five minute trip to the rink.
When we finally get there, I get on the ice for some alone skating time before I run some drills with Dean. He tries to smile at me through his helmet and I look away.
Since Olie's visit - and our conversation - I've been feeling a little weird around Dean.
I never thought I'd ever be saying this, but coming out to Olie was easier than I expected.
Like with everything between us, from dead parents to a failed kissed, she made it feel okay. She stripped the situation of any awkwardness with a smile, a joke and a reassuring look. Then she left. And some mornings I wake up wondering if I dreamed it.
There is someone in this world right now, who isn't Liam Astor, that knows who I am. All of me. And she's okay with it. Nothing changed. We're the same.
And it's great. Of course it is.
I should feel great too.
But I don't.
Every once in a while, I look at Dean and I feel a little queasy. Because Olie knows, and he doesn't. One of my closest friends knows me and everything is fine, so now all the people that don't know are officially in the dark.
When it was just me, keeping it all safely locked in, it felt like a non-factor. Liam finding out didn't change much, because everything between us always seems to happen in a different plane of existence somehow. It was never about him knowing I was gay, but knowing all of it. A side of me my friends never will because it's reserved just for Liam. Too intimate to share with anyone else.
But Olie knows. And Dean doesn't.
"Come on, Blake! Where's your head?" Our coach yells when I miss a pass that should've been in my muscle memory.
I look down at the ice. "Sorry."
"It's fine. Let's just do that again," Dean says mildly, trying to meet my eyes with an encouraging smile.
He knows.
Dean knows something's off, he always does. I can never keep anything from him. It was different when I wasn't even thinking about ever coming out, but now that I feel like I'm keeping a secret he'll know it too.
We leave the ice to meet with the team and the coaches. There's a speech for the whole team, the usual thing about focus and goals. Then there's a speech just for us two, when Coach calls us to the side in the end.
"I need a tight defense tonight, boys. I need you two to be a unit, one brain and two bodies. That's why we got you both, and that's what we're counting on tonight." He looks straight at me. "I need the Brunson wonder duo as tight as ever. No hesitations, full trust. Okay?"
"Yes, sir."
Coach arches an eyebrow at me. He knows too.
"Yes, sir," Dean says, drawing Coach's focus to him.
The man nods his head once and lets us go.
We have lunch with the guys, but I sit in silence thinking about 'full trust'. Dean sits next to me, engaging in a conversation I can't focus on long enough to catch what it's even about.
When we're done, he stares at me until I meet his gaze.
I give in.
He frowns. "You okay?"
He knows.
"Yeah. Just trying to get in my game head space," I say.
Dean gives me a tentative smile. "Wanna go to Ramirez's place with the guys before the game?"
"Uh, no. I think I'll try to sneak some extra skating time before the game actually."
Dean's eyebrows drop back into a concerned frown.
"You should go, though." I try a sort of reassuring smile. "See you later."
I don't wait for his reply before bidding the group goodbye.
Skating is usually a sure way for me to get my mind off whatever needs to get off it, and I need to be focused tonight. I came to Calgary to play hockey, I need to play hockey tonight.
I'm aware of Coach's presence when he drops in to watch for a while, but he leaves without saying anything. The guys arrive around four-thirty and I join them. Dean seems to stay away from me a bit. Even during the pre-game meetings.
He doesn't talk to me as we gear up, and I get the feeling he's avoiding eye contact during the warm-up. That means it's one of the worst warm-ups we ever have. I look at Coach after, and I can see him thinking the same even if he chooses not to say anything.
The game itself is fine. Not great, not terrible, just fine. Dean and I are definitely not at our best, but most of the other guys are. We score some, lose more, and the game does not end to our favor. Coach still doesn't say anything, even though I can read his expression as one of tame disappointment.
After we shower and change, Dean and I go home in silence. We still swing by the diner down our street to get burgers, fries, onion rings, milkshakes and two slices of apple pie. I'm usually fine just laying down to dose off after a game, but Dean needs to eat coma-inducing amounts of food and watch something bright, colorful and fast-moving on TV to wind down.
I eat next to him, but we don't talk. I must fall asleep at some point after I'm done eating, because I wake with a start after a particularly bright flash, around eleven.
Dean's no longer there. So. I turn off the TV and go to bed.
End of Crack In The Ice Chapter 20. Continue reading Chapter 21 or return to Crack In The Ice book page.