The Nature of the Game (Stick Side Book 2), page 26
When he pointed that out to Alex, Alex just shrugged and smiled softly. “What’s the alternative? Breaking up?” He shook his head. “I’m sure I could live the rest of my life without him. But I don’t want to.”
Ash didn’t want a long-distance relationship. He’d do it for Dan, no question. But he had a feeling it was something Dan didn’t want either.
Alex elbowed him. “You’re grinning again.”
“And you’re annoying again.” Ash elbowed him back. “I’m gonna go pick up lunch.” He did a quick scan of the lobby, but Dan wasn’t where he’d been a few minutes ago talking to Teri. “Can you find Dan and tell him I’ll be back in twenty minutes?”
“No problem.”
It was more like thirty minutes by the time he got back from the restaurant. Apparently, it took a while to put together two-dozen BBQ chicken lunches and associated sides. It also took a while to haul the entire load inside from his SUV. Four trips to be exact. It was a humid day and he was hauling hot chickens. By the time he finished distributing everyone’s orders in the air conditionless building, he was sweaty and cranky and ready to chow down on his own meal and gulp his ice tea in one sip . . . but he couldn’t find the guy he wanted to have lunch with.
“Yo, Greer. Where’s Dan?”
“Huh? Who?” Sitting against the wall in the lobby with two of their teammates, Greer was already digging into his BBQ chicken with a side of fries and a house salad.
“Dan. About yay high, curly blond hair.”
“Oh, he went to find a measuring tape.”
“Where? Did he walk to the hardware store down the street?”
“Nah, man, the equipment room in the gym.”
Ash left his and Dan’s meals with Greer with a pointed Don’t touch my food and went in search of his boyfriend.
The caution signs in the gym had been removed and the light fixtures that had previously been dangling from the ceiling were now fixed. Everything appeared to be back in working order in this room, except that it smelled a bit mildewy. With the lights off, shadows cast an eerie pallor across the walls, reeking of decay and places best left undisturbed.
No Dan. In fact, the gym was eerily silent. The light was on in the equipment room in the corner. Ash headed toward it, his sandals flapping against his heels the only sound in the room.
“Dan?”
Dan poked his head out of the equipment room. “Hey!” He disappeared again. “Just a sec,” he called from inside. “I’m looking for a measuring tape so I can measure the sign outside.”
“Wanna leave it for later?” Ash called back across the cavernous space. “Food’s here. Get it while it’s—” hot, he meant to say, but a loud screech from outside interrupted him. Panicked shouts reached his ears, the sound of tires squealing on pavement, metal grinding against metal.
“The hell?”
A groan made him freeze. Sounded a bit like a rollercoaster reaching the crest of that first big hill. And then a sound not unlike the rollercoaster plunging down that same hill.
The earth shook, throwing him off balance and onto the floor. Dust rained down from the ceiling above him, followed by tiles and wood and whatever else held up a roof. Ash covered his head, the crash echoing in his ears, rubble hitting his back and arms. When everything settled, there were shouts from the lobby, dust swirled in the air, Ash was covered in detritus . . .
“Yo, Yager! You okay?”
And the back end of an eighteen-wheeler lay on its side through the equipment room, smoking and belching crates of whatever it’d been transporting.
“Oh my god.” Pulse skyrocketing, Ash shot forward, half crawling, half running, his heartbeat thrashing in his ears. Oh god, oh shit. He scrambled over and under piles of debris, shoving things out of his way, uncaring of the nicks and cuts he was surely giving himself. When he reached what he thought was the front of the equipment room—it was hard to tell with everything in ruins—it was to find a sheet of metal and wood blocking the entrance.
“Dan?”
Nothing.
“Dan!”
Dan sneezed, shooting dust into the air from where it had settled over every available inch of space, including his person. What the hell had happened? He’d been reaching for the box of tools on an upper shelf when something had hit him in the back, shoving him forward, and then it had felt like every shelf in the room had toppled on top of him, including various pieces of equipment.
It was dark. His ears rang. He couldn’t move. At first he thought some part of his body must be pinned, but when he looked up, he found that he was trapped in a small bubble of empty space just large enough to sit in without hitting anything in any direction.
Oh god.
His throat closed off. The walls were pressing in.
An elephant sat on his chest. He couldn’t move.
His vision went cloudy, and every muscle locked.
He was back in that stupid playground in California. No way out. No room to move. No one to hear him. Alone and terrified.
A keening sound reached his ears, and he imagined the rest of the room falling on top of him. Took him a minute to realize that it was him sounding like a lost animal.
He unburied his face from where it was pressed into his knees, loosened his arms from where they were wrapped around his legs. His limbs were trembling as he took in his surroundings.
Behind him, a shelf upon which—miraculously—still sat a dozen basketballs. To his left, a shelf that had collapsed; baseball gloves and helmets were scattered around him. To his right and front, wooden beams, metal piping, destroyed shelving, tree branches, shattered light fixtures. He had about two and a half feet to move around in.
Taking a deep breath, he took stock of himself. No missing body parts. A few cuts on his arms. Somehow he’d lost a shoe. He was covered in bits of wood and water and grime. The dust was dense, making it hard to breathe. His back hurt where something had crashed into him. There was nowhere to go and the semi-darkness was cloying.
But he was alive.
Sound started to reach his ears as he shoved the panic and claustrophobia aside. Dripping water. Settling debris. His harsh breathing.
The loudest of all? Ash’s voice.
“ . . .and you’re going to be fine. Dan? Okay? You’re going to be fine. I know there’s probably not a lot of room in there, but I’m right here. We’re all right here. And the fire department’s here too. Okay?”
Holy shit, was that Ash? Sounding wheezy and shaky and like he was the one with claustrophobia?
Wait, fire department? They were here already? Fuck, how long had Dan been on the brink of a panic attack?
“Ash . . .,” he choked out.
“ . . .said to stay out of the way, okay? If there’s a corner you can hide in . . .”
“Ash.”
“ . . .make yourself as small as possible. Okay? Dan?”
“Ash!”
“Dan?” And then with relief so profound Dan could’ve swam in it, “Oh, thank god. Are you okay?”
“I’m stuck.”
“I know. The fire department’s here. They’re going to get you out safely, okay?”
“I can . . .” Dan pressed against whatever was blocking his way. It was grainy; some type of wood perhaps. It shifted a little bit, but something fell with a smash where he couldn’t see.
Frantic shouting ensued.
“No, no, no,” Ash said, sounding hysterical. “Dan, no. Whatever you’re doing, stop. One wrong move and the entire corner of this building is going to fall on top of you.”
Dan froze, his lungs hardening. The very air he breathed was thick and soupy.
“Dan? Did you hear me?”
“Yeah,” Dan whispered.
“Dan!”
“Yes,” he said, louder.
Oh god, he didn’t want the building to fall on top of him. He stayed as still as possible, tense with worry that one exhale too hard might . . . might . . .
Fuck, he was gonna die in here. In some dark room full of used equipment that smelled like someone’s ass. All he’d wanted was the damn measuring tape. Ash had only asked one thing of him, one stupid, easy thing since he’d been here . . . and Dan was going to die before he had a chance to build the damn sign.
“Dan? You still with me? Dan! You’ve gotta get him out of there; he’s claustrophobic.”
Another voice answered Ash.
Okay, okay. They couldn’t both freak out. One of them needed to stay relatively calm, and no matter how much his mind wanted to cower, Dan had to keep it together for the both of them.
“Ash?”
“Dan! You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m moving into the corner against the shelves on my left. Your right.” He did so, very slowly, careful not to touch anything or bonk his head.
“Okay. Okay, good.” Ash’s voice was gravel. “Stay there. I’ve gotta get out of the way so the firefighters can work—”
Dan moaned.
“—but I’m still here, all right? I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna keep talking to you.”
And he did. About nothing in particular—how he regretted buying his SUV in silver because “every fucking car on the road is fucking silver,” and how impossible it was for someone with his ass and thighs and calves to find jeans that fit properly, and how his tailor was a gift from the heavens, and how the girl at the order counter at the restaurant had asked him to sign a napkin, and how, according to Mitch, scientists knew more about space than they did about Earth’s oceans and “how does that even make sense? Why wouldn’t you explore your own world first,” and how he’d read something about the government putting together a secret space army to fight the aliens that would eventually come visit for “nefarious purposes.” Mundane things, as though he knew Dan just needed to hear his voice to stay in the present.
“Are you kidding?” Dan murmured loud enough for Ash to hear. “We’re the assholes with words like queue—it uses five letters when one would do. Aliens are gonna fly right fucking past us.”
Laughter outside of his bubble made his lips twitch, and he reached out, palm flat, as if Ash was right there waiting for him.
There were other voices too, shouting instructions and observations. The firefighters, no doubt. Underneath the voices were loud clatters and softer tinklings as materials were carefully moved and discarded.
Finally, what felt like hours later, a small opening near his feet cleared, letting in light and fresh air. Dan took a deep breath and sobbed it back out.
“Sir? Dan?” a foreign voice said. “Is this a big enough crawl space or do you need us to make it bigger?”
Fuck bigger. Dan wasn’t spending another second in this dank shithole.
He crawled out slowly, conscious of his every extremity. Don’t touch anything. It’ll fall on you. He didn’t want to die by heaps of metal.
Emerging from his cocoon into a sunlit-yet-messy world was like walking outside after seeing a movie at the theater. He blinked against the brightness and let the firefighter guide him out and then away from the equipment room.
“Ash?”
“Right here.” And then there he was, sinking to his knees in front of Dan, tugging Dan into his enormous arms. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” He ran his hands over every inch of Dan, assuring himself that he was unhurt.
Dan’s heart cracked and broke and put itself back together. “I’m fine,” he tried to reassure, but Ash kept muttering, “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” over and over. His eyes widened at the blood on Dan’s arm. “You’re bleeding. He’s bleeding! I need an ambulance!”
“I’m fine,” Dan told the hovering firefighter. “Just cuts and bruises.”
“We’ll get you checked out anyway, sir.”
“You’re not fine, are you kidding?” Ash’s hands hovered over Dan’s arm. “Your arm is bleeding, and your hand, and there’s a scratch on your forehead, and, and, and you’re missing a shoe. Where’s his shoe!”
“Ash. Hey.” Dan cupped Ash’s face and forcibly turned his head toward him. Ash’s pupils were so huge they took up half his clammy face. His entire body shook. “I’m fine. Look at me.” Ash’s eyes snapped to his. “I’m fine. See?” Dan took Ash’s trembling hands and brought them up to his face.
Gently, oh so gently, Ash ran his fingertips over Dan’s jaw, his cheeks, his eyebrow, the scrape on his forehead he hadn’t known about, couldn’t feel. His choppy panting ghosted over Dan’s lips.
Dan latched onto Ash’s T-shirt, right above his heart, which was beating madly, and tried not to cry. “See? I’m fine.”
“You’re fine,” Ash said, as if he really believed it this time. He sagged against Dan, touching their foreheads together. “You’re fine.” He kissed Dan’s lips, the corner of his mouth, his cheek, frantic little kisses until he buried his head in Dan’s neck, arms banding steel-like around Dan’s back.
Dan let him take what he needed and held on.
There were too many thoughts in Ash’s head, keeping him awake in the middle of the night. He was getting on a flight in a few hours for two back-to-back games in Orlando, but he couldn’t make himself sleep.
He lay on his side in bed, facing Dan. On his stomach with one arm tucked under his pillow, Dan looked like a sleeping cherub. Ash couldn’t stop staring at him, memorizing the way he breathed in sleep, the curve of his nose, the pout of his lips, the angle of his cheekbones.
Ash could’ve lost him today.
Closing his eyes, he sucked in a lungful of air and forced himself to make like Wendy, John, and Michael and think happy thoughts to settle his heart rate. Dan was fine. Other than a scratch on his forehead, a cut on his arm, and some bruising on his lower back, he was fine. Hell, Ash had injuries of his own—his hands were all beat to shit with nicks and cuts from shoving debris out of his way. They stung, but it was nothing compared to the sheer terror that had overtaken him when he’d reached the equipment room and found a twelve-foot long section of roof hovering precariously right above it, heavy enough to crush a person to death. And when Dan had done whatever he’d done on his side that had made it slide down?
Sitting up with a gasp, Ash folded himself in half, sticking his head between his knees. Shit, he was going to throw up. Swallowing hard past the bile, he clutched the bedcovers in one hand and his hair with the other.
Not in a million years would he ever tell Dan how close he’d been to death. The man was already terrified of small spaces.
But Ash would never get that image out of his head.
Alex’s words floated around in his skull. I’m sure I could live the rest of my life without him. But I don’t want to. Ash knew he could live without Dan—the last six years proved that. But he really, really didn’t want to.
Arms came around him and a bare chest pressed against his back. “I’m fine,” Dan whispered in his ear.
“I know.” Grasping Dan’s arms, Ash leaned against him. “I don’t know why I’m still so scared hours later.”
“Imagining all of the possible scenarios? Things that could’ve gone wrong?”
Ash swallowed, the sound clicking loudly in the silent bedroom. “Yeah.” Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to the underside of Dan’s jaw. “Why aren’t you more afraid?”
“I was.” Dan kissed Ash’s temple. “But it was okay because you were there.”
All of the tension in Ash’s body released. He lay back down, face-to-face with Dan, sharing a pillow. Dan ran a thumb over the corner of Ash’s eye. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Ash whispered back, just gone over this man.
“I love you.”
Ash went breathless. “Dan—”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it back.” Dan ran a hand over Ash’s chest, soothing him. “I know I said it before and you didn’t say it back, and that’s okay. I just wanted you to know. I love you. Always have. It’s always been you.”
Ash kissed him, slow and sweet. A tangling of tongues, a savoring of moans, a brief clash of teeth. “I love you, Dan.”
Dan’s smile was quick and easy, but then he bit his lip. “You don’t have to say that because I almost died today.”
“I wouldn’t say it unless I meant it.”
Grinning, Dan nuzzled Ash’s chest. “I wanna tell you something,” he told Ash’s pecs. “But I’m afraid it’ll make you sad.”
Ash played with his curls. “Tell me anyway.”
“A few months after I . . . after you . . .” Pulling back, Dan stared at Ash’s collarbone, his eyes pools of black in the darkened room. “Once I started realizing I’d been an idiot and acted rashly, I was going to call you. But then I saw a picture of you somewhere . . . online or in a sports magazine, I can’t remember . . . and you were with Laura. I didn’t think anything of it, but then there were more pictures of you and Laura turning up, and you looked . . . happy. And so I didn’t call you, but I wanted you to know that I was going to.”
Dan was right, it did make Ash sad. Regretful too. But also happy that Dan hadn’t forgotten about him.
“I just wanted you to be happy, Ash. Were you?”
“I was, for a little while. But then . . .” Laura cheated on me. “There was the divorce. And frankly, that was a pretty shitty time.”
“Did she ever tell you why she cheated?”
“She felt . . . neglected, I guess? Said I loved hockey more than her, which—” Ash jerked a shoulder. “—is true. Part of me doesn’t blame her. Who’d want to come second to a job?”
Crazy thing was, even six years ago, Dan had never come second.
“But after the divorce was behind me,” Ash continued, “I was happy, sure. I’m playing for my hometown team, and I like my teammates. They’re family. Except Kinsey.”
Dan chuckled. “I was talking to Kinsey while you left to get lunch, and he’s not the asshole you make him out to be.”
“That’s ’cause you saw him without all the hardware. He’s less intimidating that way.”
“Hardware?”
