“Okay,” Natalie says and comes over, pulls off his shoe and then gently helps him up and maneuvers him into their bedroom, gets him out of his clothes, and pulls him into bed with her.
The next morning, Elliot stumbles over Blake’s text again.
He doesn’t reply.
#
Blake gets to start in net at their home opener.
Part of him knew this was coming, knew he’d be getting more starts now, but it still takes him by surprise. He did well last season, had a good save percentage, and he knows that Mattie’s contract runs out at the end of this season, and he’s sort of torn about it, because he loves Mattie and he never ever wants him to leave, but being the starting goalie for an NHL team has been his dream for as long as he can remember.
And… he’s getting there.
The boys don’t let him down, they win, and win, and win, holding the top spot in their division until Christmas, then a few lost games put them into the second spot, but they’re still okay, as long as they don’t lose ten in a row.
Everything’s going well.
His grandma adopts a ginormous orange kitten and the next time Blake is on the same ice as Elliot, he almost wants to skate to the center line and wave him over to tell him, but then he remembers that Elliot didn’t reply to his text at the beginning of the season, which either means that Elliot changed his number and didn’t tell Blake, or Elliot saw his text and decided not to reply. Either way, Elliot has made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want to talk to him.
Okay, so, the hockey part of his life is going well.
Now that Blake has his own place, Noah can actually come over every once in a while, and they still work pretty well together. They don’t fight. They have sex and then go their separate ways. Sometimes they order food. Sometimes they’ll even manage to get halfway through a movie.
Noah still chirps him whenever he sets foot into Blake’s apartment, but Blake can deal.
“You know,” Noah says, wearing a Santa hat he found fuck-knows-where, prancing into Blake’s kitchen, “if I was your boyfriend, I’d judge you for all the dishes in your sink. But I’m not your boyfriend.”
“So you’re not judging me?”
“No, I mean, I am, I’m just not saying it out loud.”
“I think you just did,” Blake says.
Noah shakes his head. “Nah.”
Blake only now realizes that the Santa hat is the only thing Noah is wearing. He wordlessly hands Noah the glass of water he came to the kitchen for and then heads back to his bedroom, Noah at his heels, laughing when Blake pulls the Santa hat off his head.
So the Noah part of his life is going well, too.
He drives to Norwalk for Christmas, picks up Evan on the way and he spends two nights in his childhood bedroom before they get back to work. He spends New Year’s Eve on the road with the team, then it’s back to New York for one game, and then it’s Blake’s least favorite time of the year.
The Knights and their fans love the annual dads’ trip, love the stories that come to the surface, the footage of their dads celebrating on the road. Like last year, Blake’s dad won’t join them on the dads’ trip. Of course not, because Blake’s dad is dead. Maybe it’s a little easier this year, because he knows that this is coming, not like last year, when it felt like running into a brick wall when he was asked if his dad would be joining them for the trip.
The Knights tell him that he can invite an uncle, any mentor, really, they’re kind about it, but Blake says no, he won’t have anyone on the trip. Last year, Michelson’s dad wasn’t on the trip either, so Blake wasn’t on his own, but this year, with Michelson getting traded in the summer, Blake is the only one who doesn’t have his dad on the plane.
After last year, the guys know that Blake’s dad is dead, don’t ask any questions when he gets on the plane on his own and tucks himself away in a seat in the back.
He doesn’t have to speak to the media once during the entire trip, because their media relations guy knows what’s going on and he’s merciful. Even after Blake’s shutout in DC, Blake gets to hit the showers and doesn’t have to say a word to anyone.
Sometimes he gets caught up in how unfair it is that his parents never got to watch him play in an NHL game, that they never got to see how far he made it. It’s so obvious now, with all the dads talking to the Knights’ camera crew, saying how proud they are, sharing stories about taking the boys to hockey practice, about buying them their first skates, their first stick. He wishes the Knights had a moms’ trip, because then he could have at least invited his grandma. She was the one who drove him to practices, who bought his gear, who sat with him until midnight, making him hot cocoa, when he was sad about a loss.
He makes it through the trip, like he did last year, talks to the guys’ dads when they start a conversation, and breathes out a sigh of relief when they’re back in Newark and he can finally go home.
“Hey, kid,” Mattie says, hand on Blake’s shoulder as they head to their cars. “You wanna come over for dinner?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”
“You sure? Wouldn’t be a problem. The girls would love it.”
“I…” Blake shakes his hands. He knows that Noah is already
