“And there’s something wrong with me texting a friend?” Etienne snapped as he pulled off his other skate.
“Just the opposite, actually.”
Etienne glanced up. Rudy’s eyes were sincere.
“He makes you laugh. You never laugh, Tenny. Ever since you guys started talking, you’ve been… lighter.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means,” Johnny said, dropping onto the bench on Etienne’s other side, “you’re skating better and smiling more. Both things we like and want to keep happening.”
“I wasn’t skating well before?” Etienne asked, bristling.
Johnny rolled his eyes. “Brewski’s already got the ‘prickly asshole’ award, so don’t bother trying. All we’re saying is… we want you to be happy.”
Etienne looked at his hands, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.
“Are you guys dating?” Johnny asked, nudging him gently.
Etienne shook his head. “No. He doesn’t—it’s not like that.”
“Seemed like that at the bar,” Johnny said, almost under his breath. Etienne shot him a dirty look and Johnny gave him an innocent one right back. “I’m just saying.”
“Johnny, go check on Liam before he gets us into trouble. He’s trying to talk to Kendricks.”
“Shit.” Johnny bolted.
Rudy laughed.
“Is he actually talking to Kendricks?” Etienne asked.
“Nah,” Rudy said. “I just wanted to say, without witnesses because I know you hate showing emotion, that if you need anything at all, we’ve got your back.”
Etienne nodded, the lump in his throat returned with a vengeance. “I—thanks.”
And so it went for another month, until the pre-season officially started. Texts and calls from Adam dropped sharply after that, which made sense, even though Etienne hated checking his phone and finding nothing there, but they still talked at least once a day.
When the Wolverines lost against the Senators, Adam sent one thing. :(
You’ll get them next time, Etienne told him. That was a dirty fucking hit Eckhart made on you.
Hurts like hell, Adam admitted. Banged up my knee, I’m icing it but can’t get up to get food or piss or do anything, it sucks.
Etienne stifled the urge to head for Adam’s place. You’re a Leaf, can’t you afford to hire someone to help?
But then stranger in my house :(
So?
Adam’s reply was quick. Gives me heebie-jeebies. Can’t stand it.
Etienne snorted to himself. You took me home after knowing me five minutes.
You’re different, Adam replied.
Etienne stared at his phone, and after a minute, it buzzed again.
Feel like I’ve known you forever.
Me too, Etienne admitted. His heart was in his throat as he pressed Send, but Adam just replied with a smiley face, and Etienne laughed, relaxing.
The Thunder were busy too. Their first few games were on home ice and they won two and lost the other by a narrow margin. Adam texted Etienne confetti and streamers after the first two, and a line of sad faces after the third.
Ref should have ruled that goal good, he said.
Etienne, sitting in the locker room sweaty and dejected, was inclined to agree.
Will you do some drills with me? Adam asked.
Etienne tensed.
Not now, Adam clarified. Things are crazy for both of us. But when the season slows down? I’ve never seen footwork like yours. Like… you’re not as fast as Rudy on a breakaway, maybe, but you SMOKE him when it comes to getting the puck and keeping it away. Do you think you could teach me?
Could he? Etienne considered. Could he get face to face with Adam, risk Adam rejecting him? He wouldn’t, Etienne thought. He wouldn’t. After nearly three months of talking to him, he knew that much. Adam wouldn’t push him away just because Etienne was ugly. But he also wouldn’t want him.
Etienne suddenly didn’t care, though. He wanted to get on the ice with Adam, face off against him and see who’d emerge victorious. He wanted to see Adam smile at him, goddammit.
Yeah, he sent back. Once things settle down, sure.
Adam sent him a string of happy face emojis and Etienne laughed, clutching his phone in the locker room, sitting there in all his gear, exhausted and drained but somehow lighter than ever.
5
Three days later, his phone rang with a number he didn’t recognize. Etienne answered, and a polite female voice asked for Etienne Brideau.
“Speaking.”
“Mr. Brideau, this is Toronto General.”
Etienne blinked. “General what?”
“Hospital,” the woman said. “Toronto General Hospital. My name is Alice, and you’re listed as Adam Caron’s emergency contact.”
“His what? What happened?” Etienne demanded, already scrambling off the couch for his shoes.
“He’s suffered a concussion,” Alice said briskly. “It’s not too serious, but we’d like you to come down to the hospital. He can’t be released on his own recognizance yet and he says he has no other family in the area.”
No other family. Etienne didn’t look at that statement too closely as he dragged his shoes and a jacket on and bolted out the door.
He decided on a taxi, flagging down the first he saw and nearly falling into the back.
“Toronto General,” he gasped. “Hurry.”
He tipped the driver extra when they made it there in record time and then charged through the hospital’s sliding glass doors, making for the first official-looking person he saw, an older woman behind a desk.
“Adam Caron,” he said, still out of breath. “Please, where is he?”
“Are you family?”
“I’m his emergency contact, they called me.” Etienne showed her his ID, shifting his weight impatiently.
The woman typed for a minute. “Room 203, second floor, turn right out of the elev—”
But Etienne was already gone, running for the elevators. On the second floor, he found room 203 almost immediately. There were several men clustered outside, all of whom looked up at Etienne’s approach. Etienne recognized several of them vaguely, but he didn’t stop to talk. He pushed past, knocked, and shoved the door open.
Inside, a nurse gave him a dirty look, but Etienne’s attention was on the bed. He approached, suddenly apprehensive. Adam looked pale and there was dried blood on his temple, stark rust against the whiteness of his skin. His eyelids fluttered as Etienne got close.
“Go ‘way,” he complained, batting ineffectually at the nurse’s hands. “Where’s Tenny? Want Tenny.”
Etienne leaned over the hospital bed, fighting the temptation to take Adam’s free hand. “I’m here, Cary. I’m right here. Let the nurse do her job, okay?”
Adam turned toward him, eyes unfocused. The dried blood streaking his temple made Etienne’s chest ache.
“Tens,” Adam mumbled.
“Yeah,” Etienne said, bending closer to hear him. “What is it?”
“Saw a butterfly today.”
Etienne shot the nurse a panicked glance. Was he hallucinating? Disassociating, or whatever they called it? But she smiled and shook her head.