In Every Universe

21. Zacky

TWENTY-ONE

ZACKY

The team knew the memory situation Zacky was working with. The ones he was missing. They let him sit in the stall next to Cameron as the boys suited up for the game, and he got to call the starting lineup. Millsy was back in, hip all good now, but Gustav Farthing— call me Gus— was out with a separated shoulder, so he led Zacky up to the press box with him.

Gus was a big boy , as announcers would say, and while he never declared that he’d be Zacky’s bodyguard for the night, that was the role he was playing, putting himself between Zacky and anyone who looked interested in him. Zacky had bright orange earplugs in and kept his head down.

The vantage point they had above the game was crazy. He hated that he had to be in the press box, but if he had to watch the game from anywhere, this was the best spot. They got through two anthems (they were playing Winnipeg), and then it was puck drop.

As much of a mess as the past couple months of his life had been, he was a hockey fan at his most basic level, and even more foundational than that, he was a Cameron Vesper fan. It was easy to find Cameron on the ice, skating with Elliott and Millsy. A clean zone entry, a solid pass, a bit of a deke.

Zacky never regretted quitting hockey for Cameron. But this was his life now. He had this Cameron, the hockey player. And he had another chance at the life he’d always dreamed of. It took seeing Cameron in person on NHL ice for him to realize that this was where he belonged. His recovery had been him going through the motions. Now, he had a goal. He had to get back out there with Cam.

He spent half of the game with Gus talking about his new baby, but Zacky’s eyes never left Cameron. The dedication paid off. Zacky knew Cameron’s shot was good long before the puck left his stick. He could see the entire trajectory of the play before it happened, the sequence playing out perfectly. Elliott’s shot hit Winnipeg’s goalie in the chest, and as he dropped to cover it, Cameron swept the rebound five-hole.

Zacky leapt out of his seat with the rest of the arena. He didn’t care that he was expected to have a different level of decorum in the press box than he was allowed to have on the bench, but he couldn’t help himself. Cameron scored a goal. His Cameron scored a goal.

Everyone dreamed of being the star winger, slinging pucks into the net night after night. Always on a point streak. But not everyone who made it into this league could be the best. Cameron and Zacky were always realistic about their position on the ice. Fourth liners. Better than most other hockey players in the world, but not better than the other guys they played with. It helped to go through that together. But it made nights like this important. Big.

He collected himself and sat back down, praying that no one got his reaction on camera because it was embarrassing. But Cameron was worth it.

The game was 2–1, with Cameron’s goal winning the game.

By the end of the game, Zacky’s head wasn’t feeling great, but he made it back to the locker room to celebrate the win with the boys. They had a ritual involving a specific playlist, a motorcycle vest that got passed to the guy who did something memorable during the game—Cameron got it from Marshall that night, and he couldn’t stop smiling about it—and every bit of it was a story Cameron had told him about to prep him for what he’d see. None of it rattled any memories free in his mind.

A few reporters found him sitting in the empty stall next to Cameron, and he gave a sound bite about getting back to it, happy to be healthy enough now to be at games again. He modeled it after every NHL post-game he’d ever seen on Twitter and hoped that it was sufficient. One of the reporters told him it was good to see him bouncing back, and Zacky thanked her, even though he had no idea who she was.

“We going out?” Shane asked, sitting so close to Zacky he was practically in his lap. “Gotta celebrate that game winner, Ves.”

Cameron took one look at Zacky and shook his head. He put a hand on Zacky’s shoulder, warm and heavy. “Nah, I think we’re going home.” Zacky hated being the wet blanket. He would love to go out to celebrate Cameron’s NHL game-winning goal. But he was at his limit, and Cameron saw that without having to be told.

“I hear ya. Next time?” Shane knocked his knee against Zacky’s and reached across him to pat Cameron on the cheek before going back to his stall to keep removing his gear.

“Maybe we could have our own celebration at home,” Cameron whispered, the words themselves sending a zing through Zacky, the heat of Cameron’s breath on his ear going straight to his dick. Jesus, he was not getting hard in the fucking locker room.

“Uh, yeah,” he managed. Cameron was proud of how flustered he’d made him, and now he’d have to deal with that and the high from the goal.

Historically, that was a good combination.

At least with husband Cameron, in his other universe. What was happening in his brain was exhausting .