See the Light (12 page)

The coaches called the team together during a break in their short workout the next day. Jason waited, along with his teammates, to hear what Marty would say. The man didn’t mince words.

“Look, you all know what happened during the game last night. Though we’re not happy Stevie got thrown out of the game, we want it clear we don’t condone any sort of homophobic comments, either in the locker room or during a game, or anywhere else, for that matter. Same obviously goes for racial slurs and the like, but we particularly wanted to address gay slurs after last night.”

Jason knew several of his teammates had worked with the You Can Play project, an organization whose aim was to show that athletes, both professional and amateur, supported their LGBT teammates. As his gaze traveled through the guys, most of them shrugged, remarking they didn’t care if a teammate was gay and that Vladimov was out of line. Jason’s heart felt like it would beat right out of his chest, and he caught Patrick’s eye. Despite what his teammates were saying, though, Jason wasn’t willing to out himself, and since Patrick too stayed silent, apparently he wasn’t either.

Practice continued, but Jason kept coming back to the reactions of his teammates to Marty’s pronouncement. Would it really not be that big a deal if he came out? Could he even imagine living in a world where he didn’t have to keep such a big part of himself hidden? By the time he hit the showers, his mind was a tangled mess.

It only got worse as word spread throughout the Olympic village. The Russian Olympic committee, feeling intense pressure from all angles, sent Vladimov home. But still the press wouldn’t leave Stephen alone, continuing to speculate about his sexuality and why he had reacted so violently.

Jason’s own emotions were blowing hot and cold, and finally he called Patrick. He needed to talk to someone who knew what he was going through and how he felt. They met in the same place, and after they sat and exchanged a brief kiss, Patrick spoke.

Picking at an imaginary thread on his parka, Jason let out a breath. “Yes. No.”

Patrick pulled Jason’s hand away from his coat and enclosed it between both of his. “Talk to me, man. Tell me what’s going on.”

“With all this talk about the Vlad thing, I’m wondering if things will ever change for us.”

“You mean you wonder if you could come out as gay?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know the answer to that question. I would like to think you could, one day. But even with recent events, I’m not sure that day is today.”
“I know, and that’s what’s got me tied in knots. It’s like with the reaction of the players when Marty was talking to us, when they all said they’d be cool with a gay teammate. I can’t help feeling like they gave us something and then took it away again, you know?”
The older man smiled sadly. “I do.”
Turning, Jason pulled Patrick’s arms around him and put his head in Patrick’s lap, staring up at the gray sky. “This sucks.”
“The always succinct Jason Monroe strikes again,” Patrick teased, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on his lips.
“Ha-ha. I can’t think of a better way to express it. Can you?”
Patrick shrugged. “Not really.” Pulling his arms tighter around Jason, he continued. “But I like this. Sitting here with you in my arms, quiet.”
“Me too. I just wish—”
“I know, kid, I know.”
“God, I wish you could fuck me. I feel like I need it.”
“Well, there is something we can do that we couldn’t do last time.”
“What’s that?”
Patrick produced hand warmers from his pocket. “If we let these bad boys warm up for a bit, we could give each other handjobs.”
“Sweet!” Jason responded, pushing one into the glove covering his right hand.
“I thought you’d like the idea.”
“I do. But I want to stay here like this for a little while first.”
“Well, like I said, they need some time to get our hands warm. Don’t want you yelping like you did last time. That’s tough on a guy’s ego.”
“Your hands were freezing.” “And they won’t be this time.”
“Could you see us in one of the lounges, doing this?” Patrick chuckled, and Jason elbowed him. “I don’t mean jerking each other off. I meant—”
“I know what you meant. I was just fucking with you. And yeah, I could see it. I’d love it.”
“Even though…”
“What?”
Why am I bringing this up?
“Even though you’re an advisor and I’m a player?” Jason craned his neck, studying the older man’s expression.
“That’s certainly not ideal and almost definitely straddling the line of ethical, but I resigned myself to that a long time ago.”
“So it doesn’t bother you?”
“Of course it does. I think about it every day. It bothers the hell out of me, but not enough to end this.”
Turning back around and looking out over the snowy landscape, Jason whispered, “Good.”
Patrick leaned down and whispered back, “You’re not getting away from me that easy.”
Warmth suffused him, and Jason smiled. “Think our hands are warm enough yet?”
With a chuckle, Patrick said, “Probably. We need to get back anyway.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jason turned so they were facing each other once more. Urging Patrick onto his side, Jason then opened his jeans before unzipping his own. When his hand snaked into Patrick’s underwear and closed around his cock, he let out a groan. “You’re so hot. I don’t even need the hand warmer.”
“I do.”
They began to jerk each other off, using long, hard pulls. Patrick dragged Jason’s face to his and kissed him. Their coupling was wild, almost angry, and Jason knew they were probably both thinking about recent events. He certainly was. At this point he’d give just about anything to not have to skulk around and do this outside next to a Dumpster. No matter how good it felt to have Patrick’s hand on him, Jason couldn’t help but feel a little dirty, and he hated that feeling.
Despite the cold, it didn’t take long for either of them to come, and Jason was glad he’d thought to tuck a wad of tissues in his pocket. They separated, both breathing hard, and cleaned themselves up. Patrick sat up and ran his fingertip down the side of Jason’s face.
“This is more than just two guys getting off.”
“I know.”
“And you’re good with that?”
“Yeah. I’ve never felt like this before.” Jason hoped he wasn’t the only one putting his heart on the line. Patrick’s demeanor and words seemed to hint at some heavy feelings, but Jason didn’t want to assume.
“When we get back home, we need to talk about where this is going.”
“Fair enough. Kiss me?”
“Anytime, baby, anytime.”
I wish.

Two days later, they were on their way back to the Olympic village after their third game. The mood was jubilant, as the win that night had secured them a spot in the medal round. The guys were singing “Another One Bites the Dust,” and though Jason wasn’t participating, he laughed as he watched his teammates goof off. Good thing they didn’t serve alcohol in the athletes’ village; otherwise he was pretty sure the guys would’ve been tempted to imbibe.

One of the goaltenders, Rob, bumped against him as he swayed from side to side in time with the singing, and Jason shoved him back into his own seat. “Get off me, man.”

Rob grinned. “That’s not what she said.”
Jason was about to issue a scathing retort when everything went to hell. The bus tipped, careening wildly on the icy road after being hit by something. People and equipment flew everywhere, and Jason clutched the headrest in front of him, trying to stay in his seat. His efforts were wasted when the bus lost the battle with gravity and landed on its side, continuing to slide on the road before finally coming to a stop. Jason had been thrown across the aisle and now lay in a tangled heap of limbs.
His head ached, and in the back of his mind, he knew he might have a concussion. People were screaming, some in pain and some trying to help, and he knew without looking he’d been lucky compared to others. Feeling inside his jacket, he was able to pull out his cell phone. He stared at it for a minute, wondering how to call for help. Did they use 911 here?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Rob grabbing his leg. “Can you move?”

“I was gonna call for help,” Jason explained, holding up the phone. “But I have no idea how.”

“Doesn’t matter. Are you okay enough that you can hoist me through the window up there?”

He pointed to what was now the top of the bus, and where Jason and Rob had originally been seated.

“Then we can start pulling people out.” Rob looked around. “Looks like there are some guys well enough to help.”

Jason glanced around and saw some of the guys assisting others, while some players and staff weren’t moving as much. Then his heart stopped. He didn’t see Patrick. The crash had happened less than a minute ago, and he’d been so focused on that he hadn’t thought to look for the man, but now that he had…

God, where is he?
It was difficult to see through the smoky wreckage. Every cell in his body was pushing him toward the front of the bus where the staff had been seated. The front portion was what had been hit originally, and Jason coughed as he struggled forward, trying not to step on anyone. He knew he should be helping evacuate, but until he knew Patrick was okay, he only had one thought in his head.
Please let him be alive. Let him live.
The twisted metal remains of the bus were all around him. He spied Marty, conscious but bleeding. “Where’s Patrick?”
And what is that roaring noise?
Marty yelled back, “Who?”
“Patrick. Where is he?”
“Don’t know.”
The roaring noise got closer, and Jason recognized it as sirens.
Help.
Continuing to push through the wreckage slowly and carefully while still keeping his eyes peeled for his lover, Jason’s gaze snagged on a gruesome sight. The bus driver was slumped over what was left of the steering well, his dead eyes staring at nothing and blood running out of his ear. Jason retched but managed to keep from vomiting. He had to find Patrick.
There was no way to tell where in the wreckage Patrick would be. Everyone had been tossed around like lottery balls in a hopper, but Jason knew he had been on the opposite side of the bus from Jason, which would’ve put him perilously close to the point of impact.
I love him. Don’t take him from me.

Through the noise he heard moaning and began to search frantically, convinced it was Patrick. Throwing the remains of a window toward the front of the bus and the already dead driver and cutting himself in the process, Jason ignored the blood now flowing from his hand. Blinking away the irritation from the smoke, he called, “Patrick?” He heard the moaning again. “Patrick!” he yelled.

“Help me…”
“Oh God, you’re here. Where are you?” Jason pulled another piece of who-knew-what away, searching for the source of the moaning. Finally he saw an arm. The arm was wearing Patrick’s watch, and a surge of adrenaline rushed through Jason. Tracing it with his hand, he found a shoulder and gently squeezed. “I’m gonna get you out.”
A bunch of stuff was piled on top of where Patrick lay, but the man was in there somewhere, and he was alive. That was all he was focused on.
“Hurts. Legs trapped.”
“I know, baby. I’m coming.” Jason heaved what looked like a seat aside, and Patrick’s pale face appeared. By this time emergency workers were shouting instructions and helping people out of the wreckage, and one of them grabbed his shoulder from above.
“Sir, we need you to move away.”
“Not without him.” Jason pointed to Patrick.
“We’ll get him out, but you need to move and let us do our jobs.”
Panic seized Jason. “I can’t leave him.”
“Go,” he heard Patrick say.
Jason reached down, gently caressing the side of Patrick’s face. “I love you.”
“Love you.” Patrick’s eyes betrayed the pain he was in, but Jason saw a lot of other emotions as well, and his heart ached.
He knew the best thing he could do for Patrick was get the hell out of the way, so he let the emergency workers help him through a broken window and then down off what was now the roof of the bus. When he reached the ground, he noticed a ton of emergency vehicles and hoped it wasn’t as bad as it had looked to him, that most of the people would make it out.
Several teammates stood huddled together as paramedics checked them over, and he was led over to the group. He let the medical technicians look at him, even as his gaze remained glued on the wreckage as firefighters cut a large hole in the side of the bus to facilitate the rescue efforts. The paramedic told him he’d need stitches, and he nodded, not concerned with his own injury.
“Get him out… God, please get him out.” A tear trickled down his face, but he paid it no heed, keeping his gaze firmly on the twisted wreckage.
Rob put his arm around Jason. “They’re doing everything they can. Who are you worried about?”
“Patrick.”
“You guys know each other that well? I mean, like, are you guys…” Rob bit his lip.
“I’m in love with him.” Jason realized he was outing both of them, but he just didn’t care anymore.
“Oh,” Rob said. “Ohhh.”
“Yeah, I’m gay. Surprise.” Jason tried to smile, but as time continued to tick away with no sign of Patrick, his blood pressure spiked. “He has to be okay.”
“I’m sure he will be.” Rob eyed Jason’s hand. “That looks bad, dude.”
Jason looked down. “It doesn’t matter.”
The paramedic reappeared and wrapped his hand. “That will need stitches,” he repeated in broken English, and Jason nodded wordlessly.
Rob’s hold on him tightened, and he realized tears were coursing down his face.
“Hey, calm down, bud. You’re not doing him any good if you freak out.”
“Why haven’t they gotten him out?”
“I don’t know, but we need to let them do their work.”
Jason looked around at the multitude of lights from the rescue vehicles as they played off the buildings around them. He’d never seen anything like this. A crowd, including members of the press who seemed to turn up like a horde of bad pennies, had already gathered, and the police were trying to keep them back.
A stretcher appeared out of the hole cut by the firefighters, and Jason rushed forward. As the whole of it was raised, Jason saw it was Patrick. “Oh thank God.” He looked at the paramedics handling the stretcher. “I need to go with him.”
The men appeared to be too harried to disagree, and Jason hurried along behind the stretcher. Patrick’s eyes were glassy, but he must have recognized Jason.
“Baby. You’re here.”
“Where else would I be? Now lie quietly and let these guys do their jobs.”
The paramedics reached an ambulance and began to load Patrick into it. Jason scrambled inside and then looked back at the wreckage. Two sheets were on the ground, covering what were obviously two bodies. How many more were there? His stomach roiled, but he forced it down, knowing he needed to be strong right now.
With the ambulance speeding to the hospital and the paramedic busy putting in an IV line, Jason felt helpless and useless. He could tell Patrick had sustained serious injuries, but was afraid to ask the paramedic about them in front of Patrick, so he bit his lip and held Patrick’s hand.
Patrick squeezed, and Jason raised his head to look into his eyes. Smoothing the hair away from Patrick’s too-pale face, he tried to smile. “You’re going to be okay.” An oxygen mask covered Patrick’s mouth and nose, but Jason knew he was trying to say something. “Don’t talk, honey.”
A little bit later, Patrick’s eyes drifted closed, and Jason turned to look at the paramedic, who must’ve sensed Jason’s alarm.
“He sleeps from drug.” The man indicated the IV line, and Jason nodded.
The ambulance stopped, and the doors opened a few seconds later. Jason saw a man wearing full scrubs standing next to two other men and a woman. Patrick was hustled out of the ambulance, and the man in scrubs took over, barking orders in French. In the time it took for Jason to allow the paramedic to exit the ambulance, the gurney was already fifteen feet ahead and almost through the doors of the hospital. Jason climbed out as quickly as possible, given how sore he was and his damaged hand, and followed, but everyone had disappeared behind a set of double doors. They were gone.
Jason went directly to the desk right beside the doors. “My friend…
mon ami
…
il est
…” He struggled for the words in French.
Luckily the woman seemed to understand him. “He is there?” She pointed to the doors, and Jason nodded. “Please sit. Doctors will help him.”
Head down, Jason trudged to the nearest chair and fell into it. Putting his head in his good hand, he began to pray. He wasn’t a real religious guy, but the occasion seemed to warrant it.
A short time later he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was Marty, who was holding a bandage to his head. “You okay, kid?”
Jason let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”
“Rob told me you were pretty upset, and that you’d gone with Patrick.”
Jason wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond, so he remained silent.
“Remember what we said, Roney. We don’t discriminate, and we won’t allow anyone else to either.”
The woman at the desk called out to Marty, and with a faint smile at Jason, he said, “I need to get this sewn up. It’s not deep, but it’s bleeding like a son of a bitch.”
“Go ahead.”
“When I’m done, I’ll come back.” Marty paused. “Other people will no doubt be here too. What you tell them is your business.”
“Thanks.” Jason’s gaze darted to the double doors. “I just want him to be all right.”
“Me too, kid, me too.”
Marty walked away and was led down a hallway. Jason fought back tears.
He has to be okay.
Several moments later Marty was back, and Jason was taken to have his hand stitched up. He was antsy the entire time, his less sore leg bouncing as the man worked. As soon as it was done and covered with a clean bandage, Jason bolted for the waiting room again.
“Any word?”
Marty shook his head. A couple other players and team personnel had straggled into the hospital.
“I, um, saw the driver. Everybody else okay?” He knew damn well they weren’t—he’d seen two bodies covered by sheets but had no idea who was actually underneath them.
“Carl didn’t make it,” Marty responded, his face tight with emotion. “A couple of others are in surgery, some in better shape than others. I wouldn’t let them take me away from the scene until they’d gotten everybody out.”
Jason settled down in a chair next to the head coach. “All we can do now is hope and pray, I guess.” It sounded so…inadequate.
Several teammates and staff swarmed around them at different times, many seemingly knowing the source of Jason’s distress, but none showing any outward signs of homophobia. To the contrary, actually. Guys would come by and squeeze his shoulder or sit next to him and pull him into a one-armed hug. It took every ounce of strength Jason had not to break down like a blubbering baby.
What seemed like hours later, the doctor came out and addressed Marty. Fortunately, in addition to his native language, he spoke excellent English.
“Monsieur Parker will recover. His leg was badly broken, and he had several deep cuts around it, but that was the most serious injury. He also has a cracked rib and numerous cuts and abrasions.”
As the man spoke, it was hard to sit there and not ask questions, but Jason knew Marty should be taking the lead in this, so he forced himself to stay silent. The doctor spoke about giving them further updates as other people came out of surgery, and then Jason couldn’t remain quiet anymore.
“Can I see Patrick, er, Monsieur Parker?”
“Yes, for a short time. Follow me.”
Jason glanced at Marty, who made a shooing motion, and Jason hurried after the doctor. The doctor stopped in front of the double doors leading to the patient area.
“Please, only stay for a few moments. He needs sleep.”
“I promise.” The doctor walked down the hall with him and indicated a door. With a deep breath, Jason opened it. Patrick looked deathly pale against the stark white of the pillow, and Jason swallowed thickly.
“Hey.”
Patrick briefly held up a hand. “Hi.”
Jason approached the bed and took the hand in his. “Everyone’s out in the waiting room. We’ve been worried about you.”
“Cat’s out of the bag.”
“Yeah,” Jason admitted, “but I don’t give a shit. And really, the guys have been cool about it.”
“For now.”
“Don’t worry about that. You need your rest. I can only stay for a minute, but I needed to see you.” Reaching down with his free hand, he stroked the side of Patrick’s face. “I was so scared.”
“Shhh…”
A tear fell, and Jason swiped his forearm over his face. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.” His voice broke on the last word. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“I feel like I can’t say it enough.”
“I know. Me too.”
“We’re gonna figure out a way to be together. I don’t care who knows about us. I’m done hiding how I feel.”
“You say that now.”
“I mean it,” Jason insisted. “I’m done. Let them call me whatever they want. I’m going to be with you. It’s not like I’m going to fuck your ass in a luxury box or something, so what business is it of anybody’s?”
Patrick gave him a tired smile. “Nice visual.”
Jason grinned. A huge weight was slowly lifting, and he wanted to tell everyone that he loved this wonderful man. But he knew he’d have to tread carefully. And was Patrick ready to come out? He guessed it didn’t matter now.
“You need your rest. I don’t know how long they’ll let us stay. It’s already after midnight. Of course, our Olympics are over. There’s no way we can play after stuff like this.” He vaguely indicated the injury to his hand. “And I got off easy. Some of the other guys are worse. Even with the reserve guys— who were also on the bus—we don’t have enough healthy guys left to fill the bench.” Letting out a loud breath, he leaned down to Patrick. “I’m telling you again. I love you.”
The older man smiled. “You better.”
Pressing his lips to Patrick’s, Jason let himself get lost in the touch of his lover, allowing Patrick to dictate the pace of the kiss. Patrick’s mouth opened and he pushed his tongue inside Jason’s mouth, and Jason moaned. Before he got too carried away, though, he forced himself to pull away.
“Get some sleep, lover.”
Patrick’s eyes were already starting to close, and with a little smile, Jason released his hand and left the room. Back in the waiting room, he found an empty chair, and before he could stop them, the tears were flowing. He knew Patrick was going to be okay, but he couldn’t seem to get that through to his brain, and soon he was racked with sobs. He bent at the waist, his hands clutching his stomach, and helplessly gave in to his misery. Stephen approached him and sat down.
“Hey, Roney, it’s all right. Let it out. He’s okay.” He put his arm around Jason and rubbed his shoulder. “Shh. Let it out.”
Unable to think straight, Jason turned into the man’s embrace, and Stephen’s other arm came around him. “I’m s-sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You love him. We get that.”
“But—”
“But nothing. You’re our teammate, and we support you.”
The man was speaking quietly, but Jason could feel the gaze of some of the other guys on him, and his face flamed. “I’m making a fool of myself.”
“No, you’re not. You’re reacting exactly like anybody would in this situation. Don’t be ashamed.” Continuing to rub Jason’s back, Stephen asked, “So I take it this is a mutual thing?”
“Yeah.”
“Good for you guys. I like Patrick, and I like you. I’m sure you’ll be great together.”
Jason drew back and looked at Stephen. “You really think so? You’re not freaked out?”
“I have gay friends. It doesn’t bother me. And it’s really none of my business. It’s not anyone’s business.”
Jason saw a flash go off and looked up. “Shit.”
Stephen turned. “What?”
“Somebody just took a picture of us.”
Rob piped up. “Where?”
Jason pointed down a hall. “He’s running.”
“Bastard.” Rob took off after the man, and Jason and Stephen watched him go. A couple of the other guys remarked they should make sure Rob didn’t kill the guy and followed them.
“I caused so much trouble.”
“You did nothing. The press is a bunch of assholes looking for a story. They’ve been all over me since I punched Vladimov. Apparently I wasn’t allowed to be offended when somebody used a homophobic slur unless
I
was gay. What a crock.”
“This is just going to fuel them.”
Stephen’s expression turned thunderous. “Fuck ’em. Let everybody think whatever they want to.”
Marty sighed. “I’m starting to hate the press. Once they think about how Jason is a player and Patrick’s an advisor—something I’m not thrilled about, by the way—they’re going to go after both of you like a starving dog to a bone.” Both Jason and Stephen regarded him, and he continued. “This whole mess with the slur is ridiculous and takes the focus off where it should be—on the great hockey being played.” He frowned. “Of course, our tournament’s done. Thank God it wasn’t worse, though.”
The remaining guys murmured their agreement, and Jason pulled away from Stephen and settled himself back in his seat. Stephen handed him a bunch of tissues from the box next to him, and Jason thanked him before wiping his eyes and nose. No one was avoiding his gaze, which was a positive sign. He hoped Rob didn’t get himself in trouble if he caught up with that photographer, though. He had a bright future ahead of him in the NHL, and Jason would hate to see that sullied just because the guy was sticking up for his teammates.