“Daniel’s lost games before, though, right?” Micah asked.
“Oh, sure. And he’s usually pretty chill about it, but this is a whole new sort of losing.” She glanced around the arena. “He was so excited to come play here, but I’m wondering if he should have stayed on the Venom another year.” She seemed to realize what she was saying and winced. “Sorry. Now I sound like a hockey analyst, but I just feel bad since I know this isn’t the season he wanted after the Cup win.”
Micah made a noncommittal noise and turned back to the game, because as awful as it was to watch, it was less unsettling than his sudden nerves. Because while Micah really wanted to believe this was all going to end up great, this thing with him and Daniel, he couldn’t help the anxiety or the doubts that occasionally crept in.
I think I’m falling in love with you, too.
That moment from Christmas played itself over and over in Micah’s head like a movie. He thought about it every time he saw the walkie-talkie on his bedside table. He thought about it at work, and even when he was watching hockey at home with his brand-new Bellamy jersey, though he was sort of convinced it was bad luck since they lost every time he wore it.
It wasn’t that Micah didn’t believe Daniel; he did. He just wasn’t sure that love was enough, because it never really was, was it? Daniel might love him, but he also loved hockey, and it had taken Daniel away once—and Micah couldn’t help but think if the Thunder kept losing, it was going to do it again. Daniel wasn’t happy with his team, with losing, and Micah knew his contract was only for one year.
Tabby had been willing to pick up and move for him, even when they were divorced and co-parenting as best friends instead of a couple. Micah absolutely couldn’t do that. Not that Daniel would want him to, but what would happen if Daniel elected to play for a different team, or was traded? The uncertainty of it bothered Micah, who liked a little more stability in his relationships. He wanted a future with Daniel, and if he couldn’t have that...would it be easier to end it before he got hurt?
Except he was so happy with Daniel. As new as their relationship was, it seemed so natural and easy given they had a strong foundation of friendship on which to build it. But he also knew they were jumping in feet first and heart first, leaving the head to follow...however that was possible in his convoluted and nonsensical metaphor. The truth was that if love was enough, Daniel would still be married to Tabby. They clearly loved each other, and while Micah was happy about that and didn’t feel threatened or anything...he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t cut out to be a hockey spouse, and it had nothing to do with his occasional confusion over what was and was not offside. It was that Daniel’s career couldn’t come first, not for Micah, and he had an awful premonition that they were existing on borrowed time. Selfishly he wanted to enjoy this and ignore the warning bells, but as he was faced with the inescapable evidence of just how badly Daniel’s season with the Thunder was going...
“Daniel’s seasons with the Venom weren’t always great, either,” Tabby assured him, as if she were reading his mind. “Sometimes it just takes a few seasons to work out a team dynamic.”
Micah smiled and nodded, telling himself it was only January and there was still time for the Thunder to turn the season around. Maybe they wouldn’t make the playoffs and win the Cup, but a winning season wasn’t quite off the table, was it? Micah didn’t know how to work that out, but it seemed like more math than he wanted to attempt.
The Thunder scored, but the reception to the goal was lukewarm at best. It was much better when they scored again at the beginning of the third, cutting the lead to two goals instead of three. But then the goal was called back for goaltender interference, and the crowd groaned as the score was once again 4–1. Another bad penalty sent the Venom up by another goal, and the arena emptied even more—enough for Micah to make out the let’s go Venom cheer resounding through the Thunder’s arena.
The final death knell happened near the end of the game. The Thunder got a power play, but as they tried to set up a play, one of the Venom stole the puck, skated down the ice on a breakaway and scored a short-handed goal.
There was another sound audible in the arena, now, and it wasn’t a cheer for the visitors—it was an angry and vicious booing, and it was directed at the Thunder by their own fans.
“I’ve had root canals that were more fun than this game,” Tabby said. “I hope my parents put the kids to bed before they saw this one.”
Micah didn’t even know what to say. The booing died down until the game ended with a score of 7–1, thanks to an empty-net goal that seemed to be adding insult to injury. The Venom player who’d scored it didn’t even look that happy about it, with his on-ice celebration relegated to a few fist bumps as he skated by his team’s bench.
When the clock mercifully ran out, the Venom fans cheered their team while the Thunder skated off toward the tunnel with their own fans once again peppering them with their displeasure and booing. It really had been an abysmal game. He had to agree with Tabby about the root canals.
“The thing that’s going to make Daniel so mad is that it wasn’t even that the Venom were so much better,” Tabby said, as they headed toward the exit. The arena was dead silent and mostly empty. “It’s that we were so bad. All those penalties, miscommunication, that sort of thing.”
Micah noticed the we in that statement, which was something he hadn’t yet picked up as a sports fan. “I can’t believe the fans were booing their own team.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty bad, but maybe it’ll help.” Tabby made a face. “I can’t imagine how, but you never know.”
Micah tried to imagine if it would help if he got booed at work, and couldn’t think of a single situation in which it would do anything positive. But he wasn’t a sports player, so maybe the rules were different? Still, constructive criticism was one thing. Visceral, verbal displeasure was another.
Tabby hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, and Micah went down to wait with the other friends and families of the players. They were a somber group, and the players came out one by one, freshly showered and half dressed, and looking as if they were heading toward a funeral. Daniel was one of the last to appear, wearing his suit pants and his dress shirt, but sans jacket and tie. He smiled tiredly when he saw Micah.
Micah immediately wanted to kiss him, or tell him a joke, but he didn’t want to do the wrong thing. He took his cues from the others and fell into step with him, thinking of what to say. He’d never in his life had feelings about the result of a sporting event before. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Game sucked, but it’s over.” Daniel glanced down at him. “Sometimes that’s all you can really say, you know? We played like shit and I can’t even blame the fans for booing. That’s basically what the coach said. He said he was booing us, too.”