Coach Stare Down

Chapter 1

Adak Nemaczekk

The pan sizzles and pops as the aroma of curry fills the air. I’m rather impressed that my nephew cooks. I wasn’t sure he knew how to make more than the basics, since he’s never had to cook in his entire life.

He’s quiet tonight. While Rake has never been a loud, rowdy man, he’s usually more talkative when I visit. I take a swallow of my beer and study his profile while I lean against the counter. “How’s work?” I ask.

His head bobs slightly. “Good. Working on a funding stream for a new project to coincide with a mission NASA’s undertaking. It’s nearly secured. Just waiting on formality and paperwork.”

So not work. That seems to be fine.

“Egon doing okay with L.A.?”

As always is the case, Rake’s smile spreads a little wider whenever we talk about Egon. He nods, still looking into the pan as he attends to dinner. “Yep. He and some of the guys are talking about a trip for later this spring—Medieval Company.” He looks at me. “Are you familiar?”

I shake my head.

He chuckles and returns to dinner prep. “It has stadium seating, but there’s the addition of a bar seating of sorts. You eat with your hands while watching an interactive show of jousting, sword fights, and a scripted storyline. There are… six knights? The theater is broken up into six different kingdoms and you cheer for your knight.”

“Ah. Sounds entertaining.”

Rake laughs. “No idea. But we have a date for this spring after the season ends.”

“Oh, you’re going too?”

His smile softens. “Yeah. Egon wants me to go.” Rake shrugs. “There’s a small group going—Hector Atlas, Noah Kain and Elixon Kipler, Hugo Bladen and whatever girlfriend he has at the time, and… Winslow? I think that’s who the last guy is.”

“So he’s settled in and making friends,” I say. He should be. They’ve been here for a couple years, now.

“I don’t think Egon has an issue making friends.”

Unlike my nephew. To my knowledge, he had one friend in college that I’m not sure they stayed in touch. He was always an introvert, preferring books to people.

“Everything okay at home?” I ask, because we still haven’t touched on what’s bothering Rake.

He nods. “Yep.”

“You and Egon are doing well?”

He gives me an amused smile. “Yes, we’re good.”

I take another swallow of my beer and let the silence settle around us for a minute, the only sound being the sizzling of the pan. I suppose if he won’t get it out with me asking about all the basics, we’ll have to try the direct approach.

“Rakesh.” He looks at me. “What’s wrong?”

His sigh is heavy. “Four years and I still don’t know what I’m doing,” he says quietly. “There are days when I don’t feel like I’m enough. Egon, he’s so… pure. So sweet and kind. He deserves someone who knows how to make him happy.”

“I don’t think you have any issues making him happy,” I counter.

Rake shakes his head. “He’s happy, but… he could be happier. If I knew how to be that person. I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of relationship. I keep thinking I’m going to fuck it up again.”

The ‘again’ is new information. I almost ask, but it’s not my business. As far as I know, they haven’t had any issues in their marriage. I’ve always been close with my nephew, so I’ve talked to him regularly over the years.

“There are some things in life when it doesn’t matter whether you’re a so-called certified expert in the field. When you’re in that situation—a relationship, kids—everyone fumbles. It’s as much a game of chance combined with trial and error as it is education and hands-on learning.” I grip his arm so his brown eyes meet mine. “It’s okay to feel that way.”

Rake doesn’t get a chance to respond as the front door opens. He looks over his shoulder as if he could see through the house to where his husband just entered. Egon’s footsteps pad down the hall and then he appears in the door.

Nothing’s changed about him. He’s still big, built like a hockey player with dark hair and gray eyes. His smile is quick, as it always is.

“Hi, Coach,” he says as he steps into the room and heads for Rake.

I wish Rake could see the two of them from where I’m standing. The way Egon looks at him makes me long for someone of my own. Have I ever been looked at that way?

It didn’t take me long to realize that finding a fulfilling relationship as an asexual individual presented challenges on top of those that always come with having a partner. Unless I somehow find an asexual man that can hit all the right buttons as a companion, there’s always going to be an imbalance of physical need and satisfaction.

After continued heartache and disappointment in my twenties, I shifted my focus to my career instead. It’s been a lot more gratifying, even if my home can be a little empty and… lonely. Don’t get me wrong. I tried once, and he was a spoiled nightmare. I’m still convinced, despite his argument to the contrary, that he just wanted to be a spoiled trophy househusband. He enjoyed my bank account more than me, especially when he learned I wasn’t going to compromise myself to perform archaic partner ‘duties’ in bed. 

But watching the way Egon looks at Rake gives my heart pause. They have what I want. I want someone to look at me like that. I want to be the one to put a smile on their face.

“Good day?” Rake asks.

Egon has a good couple inches on Rake and is definitely bulkier, but there’s no doubt who’s holding who right now. Egon might as well curl up into Rake’s arms like a koala.

“Yeah. Atty’s talking about shaving if we don’t win the Stanley Cup,” he says with a laugh.

I frown. That isn’t a name I’m familiar with. “Atty?”

Egon looks at me and grins. “Sorry. Hector? I forget that few people hear that name.”

“Ah,” I say. The man is a caveman. Since he entered the NHL, he’s had a full beard and long hair. He might as well be a Viking.

“Yeah. He hasn’t shaved since he hit puberty,” Egon says, laughter in his eyes. “There are literally no pictures of him anywhere of him clean-shaven and with short hair. Not that I don’t want the Cup, but I’m really kind of hoping he shaves. Just so we can see what he looks like under all that.”

I chuckle. “It’s going to throw off his entire game,” I say. “His center of gravity will shift. He’ll have to learn his aerodynamics all over again.”

Egon laughs. “Yeah, we’ve already been giving him a hard time.”

When he twists back into Rake, burying his face into Rake’s neck, a quiet hum meets my ears. Rake sets down the wooden spoon and pushes his fingers into Egon’s hair. He meets my eyes, giving me a small smile.

I can see how happy he is. How much he loves Egon. But I can also see the worry deep in his eyes. His uncertainty and concern.

Rake turns his attention back to Egon. “Go change. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Egon nods. He flashes me a smile as he leaves the kitchen. Down the hall, we hear him say, “There you are. Have you been a good Puck today, mister?”

Their gray and black cat started out as a tiny fluff of fur. But the thing has grown into a very large house cat. I swear, that thing has some bobcat in him. Or maybe lynx. He’s massive. Thankfully, he’s just as sweet as can be.

Rake often scoffs and says he didn’t buy a mountain lion and yet, there he is. Giant.

It’s good for Rake. Egon has taken him out of his comfort zone without trying. In Rake’s drive to keep his husband smiling, he’d go to the ends of the earth. The very edges of space.

“You’re overthinking,” I tell him after Egon’s footsteps disappear up the stairs. Rake meets my eyes. “That man couldn’t possibly be any happier.”

Rake sighs, turning his attention back to finishing up the meal as I take a swallow of beer.

“Are you happy?”

He nods immediately. A slow, measured bobbing of his head. “I am. It’s unsettling.”

I laugh, clapping him on the shoulder, and help him finish up.

Egon’s footsteps on the stairs sound like he’s racing. As he comes skidding into the dining room, I see that maybe he is racing. Puck is chasing him. When Egon stops, the enormous cat leaps and barrels into Egon, sending them into the wall as Egon catches him, loud with laughter.

“One day, they’re going to go through a wall,” Rake says, but he can’t keep the smile from his face.

“You’ll keep contractors in business,” I say, giving him the upside.

“That damn thing is a beast,” Rake says, pulling out Egon’s chair and waiting.

Egon pries Puck off him, scratches behind his ear, and then gives Rake one of the most adoring smiles I’ve ever seen in real life. Rake kisses him softly before Egon takes his seat, pushing the chair in as he does.

Rake and I take our seats.

Throughout dinner, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever find a relationship like this one. Granted, I’d have to put some effort into looking for one, right? Maybe enough time has moved by, and the era of disappointment has passed. I’m in a new market than I was in my twenties.

We talk about Egon’s old teammates and his new ones. We discuss Rake’s work and I absolutely love that Egon knows enough about what Rake does to keep up with the conversation. I have absolutely no true grasp of my nephew’s job. His vocabulary when he speaks about it is far beyond my understanding.

But Egon understands. He asks questions and with each one, Rake falls that much more in love with him. I can see it as if he were a sun, shining a little brighter with each moment.

I may be biased, but these two are relationship goals. I don’t need someone deep into hockey to fall in love with. Just someone who knows enough and takes an interest to hold a conversation about something so important to me.

Likewise, that means adding to my long list of must-haves in a partner; that someone needs to have a career that I’ll be able to take an interest in. What’s important to them should be important to me.

But the true hurdle is never far from my mind.

When I leave my nephew and nephew-in-law that evening, I’m left thinking about this dream man that I’m beginning to think doesn’t exist. I don’t care what he looks like. Attraction doesn’t work like that for me. There will be something else that draws me to them.

Honestly, hockey seems like the most obvious common ground. And since my world fully revolves around hockey and family, and I’m obviously not going to find the love of my life already a member of my family, hockey seems to be the place.

There lies another obstacle. Basically, every single person working in a hockey position would cause a conflict of interest for a relationship. A player? Big no no. Referee? That could be considered causing a bias. Then there’s management, or other departments within the franchise. Everything could be construed as wrong. I’m not willing to risk my career.

So… hockey’s out too.

What am I supposed to do? A dating app?

I get home, go through my nightly routine, and fall into bed. In the dark room, staring at the ceiling means looking into the vast void of space. There’s nothing to see. Not even a star winks at me.

Rolling over, I grab my phone from the table and flip it on. It takes a while to find the app again. Spark has less of a hookup culture than Thrustr does and supposedly is where I’ll find those looking for something similar to what I am. I don’t even have a Thrustr account because my sex drive is more or less nonexistent.

I’ve had a Spark profile for years, but I haven’t logged in since… I snort. A decade at least has passed since I’ve had the app on my phone. Hell, I feel old!

No, actually. I don’t feel old, I feel good. I feel fit and healthy. And most of all, I feel ready to share my life with someone.

After a quick rewrite of my profile, making sure that it screams loud and clear that I’m looking for a meaningful relationship and that I’m ace, I hit the activate button and put my profile out into the world.

Then I skim profiles until I fall asleep.