“Angus is here,” Blake says, because Elliot loved Angus more than anyone else in the world.
“Aw, Angus,” Elliot coos. “Pet him for me, yeah?”
Blake scratches Angus’s head. “Sure.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah.” Blake takes a deep breath. He should hang up, because he’s out of things to say and he still can’t figure out why he called in the first place. Definitely not to tell Elliot that he misses him, because that wouldn’t be fair.
A few summers ago, Elliot was sitting in this very backyard with him, and he told him a secret that changed everything. Blake can’t quite bring himself to wish that Elliot had never told him, had never said, “I think I like boys, sometimes,” but it cost him a friend in the long run.
“Blake?” Elliot says eventually.
“Yeah?”
“Why’d you really call?”
Blake sighs. “I was just… thinking about you.”
He can hear the breath Elliot draws in at the other end of the line. He shouldn’t have said that. It sounded too much like I miss you.
Again, there’s silence.
Angus meows at Blake when he does a terrible job at petting him and eventually wanders off to murder a mouse or a bird or whatever it is that cats do when their humans fail them.
“I’m sorry, Blake, I gotta…” Elliot trails off. “We can’t do this.”
“Call each other?” Blake asks.
“No, you just can’t…”
He just can’t call and say something that sounds too much like I miss you. It’s been a year. How does this still hurt?
“I’m sorry,” Blake says. “I shouldn’t have called.”
“It’s fine,” Elliot mutters, even though they left fine behind in a stairwell in Ottawa. “I’m glad you’re okay, Blake.”
Blake doesn’t know how to say goodbye.
“Say hi to your grandma from me, okay?” Elliot says.
“I will.”
“And good luck next season.”
“You, too.”
“And…” Elliot pauses again, apparently out of things to say now, too. “Blake?”
“Yeah?”
“I need some time to…” Elliot clears his throat. “We’re still friends.”
“We are.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Blake echoes. “Bye, Elliot.”
“Bye.”
Blake doesn’t hang up right away, waits until the line goes dead, except it doesn’t, because Elliot isn’t hanging up either and so Blake stares down at his phone and wonders if Elliot is doing the same, until his battery decides that it’s had enough two minutes later and his phone dies.
Should have charged it last night.
So he could sit in his grandma’s backyard and not talk to Elliot on the phone a little while longer.
He’s a fucking idiot.
Chapter Three
Blake doesn’t get to play his first NHL game until the end of his second season with the franchise.
The season flew by, game after game, some of which he spent on the bench, some of which he missed because of a groin injury. When he was in net, he won more games than he lost, had a pretty nice streak going for a while, and then it’s April all of a sudden. Blake gets called up for the last game of the regular season because the Knights’ backup goalie is sick, and since the Knights have already clinched their playoff spot and can’t move up or down in the standings, they put Blake in goal.
He’s in goal. For his NHL team.
When they first called him up last season, he couldn’t wear his usual 31, because that one’s taken by the Knights’ backup, so Blake wears 33. He only thought of Elliot for a second when he made his choice and doesn’t think of him now that he’s pulling on the jersey, doesn’t think of Elliot wearing number three, or of Elliot kissing him before games, always three times, because three is the luckiest number. It’s not about Elliot, it’s about the numbers. He thought it might help if he felt like the universe was on his side.
They’re playing against the Minnesota Bears, who could definitely use two points, so Blake will be facing their regular roster. He’d lie if he said he wasn’t scared shitless, even though all that’s being asked of him is that he’ll do his very best. In the standings, nothing will happen if they lose and nothing will happen if they win.
Things aren’t looking so great when he gets scored on 35 seconds into the game.
Renwick skates over after and gives him a tap with his stick. It’s an apology, because the D sort of left him hanging there, and it’s an encouragement at the same time. They have over 59 minutes left on the clock, that’s plenty of time for the Knights to score. Blake does what he can, keeps the door shut for another ten minutes, then the Bears strike again on a breakaway.
Blake glances at the bench to see if Coach is going to pull him. Nope. It’s only two goals after all. He takes a deep breath and fiddles with his water bottle. The goals don’t matter. The saves matter. The game matters. He’s here right now, in his crease. All he has to do is make the next save.
That’s all there is.
The next save.
They make it to the first intermission without any more pucks getting past Blake.
Mattie shoots Blake a look across the locker room, nodding at Blake when he catches his eye. Tonight, this is Blake’s place. He belongs here, he belongs in that net. When he was a kid, everyone said he was too small and scrawny to be a goalie and then he somehow ended up being over six feet tall anyway. He grew out of spite.
Maybe he’ll win out of spite, too.
Three minutes into the second period, Paulie scores a goal and after that the rest of the guys seem to remember how to score, too. Three more Knights goals in the second, then the Bears get one back early in the third, but
