I waved my blocker at him. “It’s all about the focus.” Which was truer than I’d realized. I’d had no idea how much effort I put into acting straight until I didn’t need to anymore. I felt like I’d ditched a backpack full of rocks.
A week of practices and two wins against the Cardinals had helped settle me in my hockey skin after coming out. I hadn’t heard from my agent again, or from the Foxes’ management, and I was fine with that. A couple of the guys gave me wide berth in the locker room, but they were the same guys who were shitty to Docker, so no surprise. They didn’t hate the rainbow enough to screw up in our games, which was all I cared about.
So far, my queerness hadn’t made it into the press, but the big reveal was a matter of time. The next game that Zeke made it to—fucking shift work—I was going to kiss him in the arena parking lot. For now, I could just be me without any announcements or fanfare.
“Fitzpatrick, you want to put thatfocusto work here?” Coach asked. “We’re running two-on-ones, not gossiping, remember?” He waved to where the next trio of players were waiting.
“Sorry, Coach.” I positioned myself, determined that Yabby wouldn’t get the puck past me. I hadn’t let him score on me all week even on penalty shot drills, and while he was a defenseman, that still pissed him off. I gave him an evil-eye glare he couldn’t see behind my mask, and when he and his partner failed to score, I flipped the puck at his backside. Hard.Oops.
Coach sighed. “What did I do to get saddled with you, Fitzpatrick? Quit abusing your teammates.”
We finished a good, loose practice and the mood in the locker room was cheerful. A couple of the guys began talking about meeting up for drinks, since we had the evening off. I thought about joining them, because Zeke was working from five o’clock on, but when I got my phone out of my locker, I saw that I had a missed call from Iverson at the GREC. I pulled up the voicemail.
“Please meet me at my office at three p.m. sharp, so we can discuss some developments in the case against your uncle.”
I glared at my phone. “What if I can’t make it at three?” I muttered. I had a bad feeling about this.
“Can’t what?” Sully asked, coming up to me half-dressed with his shirt in his hands. “Who are you trying to incinerate through the phone with those laser-beam eyes?”
“You read too many comic books.”
“No such thing. What’s up?”
I made an effort to shrug casually and stuck my phone away. “Just an appointment rescheduled. Message me if you guys do go out tonight.”
“I probably won’t join in. Hannah has a thing she wants me to take her to. How’s Jos doing? He and his friend seemed to get a kick out of the comicstore.”
“He did. I owe you a big one.”
Sully grinned at me. “Hannah figured you and Zeke needed some alone time.”
“Yeah. I owe you for that too.” I slipped on my jacket. “Hey, if we ever go axe throwing, you think Hannah would like to come?”
“Are you kidding? Throwing sharp objects around? Hell, yeah, she’d be into it.”
“I’ll let you know.” I clapped him on the shoulder and headed outside.
Once I was clear of the building I called Zeke. I wasn’t sure if he’d be awake yet, but I needed to talk to him. The clearness of his voice when he answered suggested I hadn’t woken him.
“Hey,” I said. “Are you up?”
“I am now.” When I didn’t snort, he added, “Have been for about fifteen minutes. Are you done with practice? Heading home?” He lowered his tone. “Jos is in school.”
“Damn, I like the sound of that, but I just got a text from Iverson ordering me to come in and talk to him. Did you get one too?”
“Let me check my phone… nope, not seeing anything. What did he say?”
“Just that it was about my uncle and to be at his office at three.”
“Could be anything. Follow-up questions.”
“I don’t like it.” I was pouting but couldn’t help it. I so wanted to be done with Uncle Wayne. “Will you come with me?”
“Iverson didn’t ask for me.”
“He didn’t say not to bring you, either.”
Zeke hesitated a moment. “Okay. Sure. Come on home and have your lunch and we’ll go together.”
