Save of the Game by Avon Gale Page A

as Vazov made his way up the aisle toward Ethan’s seat. He leaned his head against the glass, closed his eyes, and let the music wash over him.
    Except it was Russian techno music, so it pelted over him instead.

Chapter Five
     
     
    ETHAN FELT horrible.
    Horrible.
    He should have known better. This wasn’t his first hockey team, for fuck’s sake. Goalies were superstitious, every single one of them. What was he thinking? Riley was his goalie . Riley was his friend, and Riley—
    Riley was a good kisser. Ethan kept remembering that, being flipped on his back and do you feel better now?
    Ethan was always yelling at everyone to stay the fuck away from his goalie, and what had he done? Fucked up Riley’s pregame ritual.
    He’d been on edge during the game, and it translated into him playing like a moron. And after he tried to jumpstart the bench with a fight in the second, it ended with him getting his ass kicked.
    “Man, I expected better after yesterday,” Jace Wynn said. “That was barely worth the fucking effort.”
    It wasn’t, and Ethan knew it.
    Then he got a very serious, well-meaning, and utterly incomprehensible lecture from the Storm’s backup goalie on the way back to Jacksonville. For three hours.
    And Riley, by himself in the back of the bus, was quietly listening to headphones with his eyes closed.
    “You heading home?” Riley asked him when Ethan packed up his gear and went out into the cool, October evening.
    “Do you mind giving me a ride?” Ethan winced, aware he sounded like an idiot. They lived together, and Riley might be mad, but he wasn’t so much of an asshole that he’d leave Ethan stranded in the arena parking lot. “Riley, look—”
    “Could you be quiet on the way home, please?” Riley sounded eerily calm, almost too polite. “I would really appreciate it.”
    Ethan nodded miserably. He tapped his fingers on the door, he shifted in his seat, and he was glad the ride wasn’t longer than it was because he could tell Riley wasn’t in a good mood.
    When they got to the apartment, Ethan put his gear away, had a smoke, and then went inside to shower. Then he pulled on jeans and a shirt and went to find Riley.
    As Riley stretched in the living room, Ethan went into the kitchen, opened the fridge and got him a coconut water. He held it out like a peace offering. “Here.”
    “No, thank you,” Riley said, politely.
    Ethan peered at him. “Uh, Riles? We’re not at the game, you know. Right? I mean. You can yell at me for being a moron.” He leaned down and put the coconut water on the floor.
    “I don’t want to yell at you.” Riley sank gracefully down in a stretch.
    “What can I do?” Ethan asked, still down on his haunches. “I feel really bad about what happened.”
    “You don’t have to.” Riley turned his head. “I let in five goals. Not you.”
    “But I messed up your goalie thing.” Ethan watched as Riley smoothly moved through his stretches. He wanted to shake him or punch him. Anything to make him angry… like Ethan deserved.
    “All right.”
    Ethan stood up. “So that’s it?”
    Riley looked up at him. “That’s it, what? You don’t have to do anything, Ethan. You can’t . I should have had my head in the game, and I didn’t.”
    “Because I wouldn’t let you get it there to start with,” Ethan muttered, arms crossed. “You can say it.”
    “Ethan, yeah. You messed up my goal marks. Maybe that didn’t help. And fine, maybe it did make me let that first goal in. But the other four? Those were all my fault. I need to be able to get my shit together after that happens. And tonight I couldn’t.” Riley rose gracefully from the floor. “This is what it’s like to be a goalie. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
    “Cool.” Ethan watched him as he started toward his bedroom. “But what about right now?”
    “What?” Riley turned around and sighed. “What do you mean, right now? Right now I feel like shit, and I’ll get over it.”
    “How?” Ethan