Page 76 of Game Misconduct

“I mean... I’m not really sure. I’m not good at much that’s not hockey.”

“What are you talking about?”

This wasn’t how Mike thought the night was going to end. His body still felt relaxed and loose and like he could just fucking roll his muscles like a lazy cat. But there was something going on in this conversation that he couldn’t quite follow. Like they’d started talking about one thing and now Danny’s focus was on him for something completely different, and he felt blindsided, a little.

“I’m not like, you know. Smart or anything.”

“The fuck do you mean you’re not?”

Mike shrugged. This wasn’t a great conversation to have, like, at any time, but particularly when you should’ve been either enjoying the afterglow or gearing up to go again. “You know. All of my siblings have advanced degrees and shit. I barely finished my GED. I only managed it because Mom said she’d make me stop playing if I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t mean shit.”

“Dude, it’s cool. I know what I’m capable of doing.”

Danny, whatever weird mood he’d been in earlier, seemed to have softened a little. His hand was stroking a line down Mike’s thigh. “I don’t think you do, babe.”

“Well, I mean, I almost didn’t graduate high school and I didn’t go to college, so.”

“Youcoulddo it.”

“But I don’t—what—Danny, where the fuck is this coming from?”

Danny stared up at him with this weird look, like if he thought the things hard enough at Mike, he’d be able to read between the lines. Even though Mike had just been telling him he was kind of dumb. “Just think about it, okay? You’re pretty young. Youaresmart, and I think you could, you know. Get a degree if you wanted to. You already turned your game around in sort of a record amount of time, I just think you shouldn’t sell yourself short.”

“But...hockey’s one thing and college is...? I don’t think it’s really, like. The same. I don’t think that’s something I could do.”

“Tell me you’ll think about it,” Danny said, and that soft, commanding tone was so similar to his sex voice that Mike shuddered on instinct, his brain shorting out a little.

But Danny was kissing him again, and Mike let it go.

Danny thought a lot about that conversation after he went home. Of course Mike hadn’t thought about what he was going to do after hockey. Danny certainly hadn’t. But Mike was a decade younger than he was, and his body wasn’t a fucked-up death trap. It hadn’t been too late for him to change his game and maybe when he was nearing the end of his career, he wouldn’t feel like Danny felt now. Maybe that was something else Danny could do for him, before Mike decided shit was too much trouble to hang around for.

He didn’t bring it up again, though, because every time Mike seemed to suspect that he was going to, he’d change the subject and wouldn’t look Danny in the eye for the rest of the call. That was fine: they both had shit they didn’t want to talk about.

Danny went to the gym, he went home, he played with Buddy. He took pills, he drank, he got on planes and flew across the country. He played hockey, he took punches, and he doled out punches.

He drank.

And he drank.

And he drank.

Somehow, without meaning to, being with Mike had just yanked the seal off of a decade of bad memories. He was dreaming about the accident again, and he hadn’t dreamed about it in years. Getting fucked up helped with that, but not entirely. Sometimes it just brought it back in more vivid relief.

Maybe it was just that Mike reminded him so much of himself when he’d been younger. Maybe it was just that watching Mike fixing his game and letting himself be as fucking amazing as Danny’d always known he was just served as a reminder of his own failures. Maybe it was just that Mike had become another crutch, a comfort Danny didn’t deserve.

Something had broken in Vegas and he couldn’t put it back together. Wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

There were two games left that he’d play against Mike before the season ended. One on the twenty-third and one in the middle of March. He thought about it a lot, on the road.

In Toronto, Gears cornered him before he could get into his hotel room. Usually easygoing and a little shy, he looked unusually determined. He had his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets.

“What’s up, kid?” Danny asked.

“Can we talk?”

“Uh...yes? You okay?”