My first practice is brutal, but that’s how I like it. Coach Harvey starts us off with a crossover drill designed to strengthen our ability to accelerate on curves, and it only takes five seconds for me to fully grasp that I’m in the big leagues now. Nope, you’re not in college anymore, Dorothy.
This is a whole new level of intensity, and I’m sweating my balls off as I weave in and out of traffic, changing directions on Coach’s whim. Pushing myself to keep up with players who’ve trained together for much longer than the five minutes I’ve been with them.
And it just picks up in intensity from there, but I’m cool with that. This is all I have. This is the choice I’ve made. Playing the best hockey I can will be the focus of my life for the next several years.
By the time we’re done, I’m so sweaty there’s steam rising from the inside of my helmet when I finally pull it off. My legs are like jelly as I walk down the chute into the locker room.
“Good hustle out there¸ man. You’re gonna make a good addition,” my teammate Tomkins says. He’s three seasons in and doing well, so I’m pleased to hear him say it.
“Thanks. I’m happy to be here.”
And I am. Mostly.
After a shower, I get dressed and leave the rink. I’m tired, and I don’t need to be social anyway, because there’s a team dinner starting in two hours.
I check my phone for calls, but there aren’t any. The Brandr app has a new notification, though. That’s weird, because I haven’t messaged a soul since I came to Toronto. I’ve been a good boy. In fact, I should really just delete the fucking app. Lead me not into temptation, and all that.
But I read the notification anyway, just in case it’s from someone I actually know. There’s a message from a brand new profile, with a thumbnail picture I don’t recognize. My thumb hovers over the delete button when the sender’s name sinks in.
The message is from PurpleSkittle. And when I open it, his location is clocked at 3.3 km away.
There’s an instant shimmy in my chest. Jamie Canning is in Toronto.
I steel myself as I open the message, because he’s got to be so angry at me. But it’s for the best.
Wes—I need fifteen minutes of your time. I’m going to take this coaching job, and there’s something I want to say. We’re going to share a city. It’s a big one, but still. Tell me where we can meet. I don’t care where—Starbucks or whatever the Canadian equivalent is.
Do me this favor.
J.
I am responding before I even think it through. I tell him yes. Not because it’s the right thing to do, but because I’m powerless to say no. A coffee shop isn’t the best idea, though. Too public. So I ask him to meet me at the empty apartment I’ve agreed to rent.
The real estate agent had asked me if I wanted to get in there to take measurements. That’s a thing, apparently. I’d told her yes, and she’d left me a key at the front desk.
Now I’m racing there.
The concierge gives me the key and I tell him I’m expecting someone to look at the place with me. He promises to send him right up.
I ride the elevator with a hammering heart, and when I open the door to the apartment, I look at it with new eyes. It’s too much space for one guy. I should have looked for a one-bedroom. Jamie is going to look at this place and think I walked away from him so that I could have a big NHL lifestyle. As if I give a fuck about the perks.
But the granite countertop and the cherry wood floors laugh at me. This is what you wanted.
I’m supposed to be here taking measurements, but I haven’t even brought a measuring tape. And it’s not the apartment I need to measure—it’s the size of my balls. Jamie is on his way here to tell me I’m a fearful asshole, and I really can’t argue the point.
When the knock comes, I’m not ready.
But I man up and open the door, and he walks through in a fucking suit and tie, looking hot enough to scorch me. I back up instinctively, because I cannot touch him. I’ve never had any willpower where Jamie Canning is concerned. And I’m done sending him mixed signals. I can’t do that to him anymore.
“Hi,” he says cautiously. “Nice place.”
I shrug because my mouth is too dry to speak. His big brown eyes take in the room, which gives me a minute to admire this man I love, maybe for the last time. His face is tan, and his hair has been trimmed. I know exactly how soft it feels sifting through my fingers. And I know it’s really a million different colors up close.
My ass hits the kitchen counter, and I almost stumble.
“You okay there?” he asks.
I nod, helpless. This is so hard. But I brought it on myself. I rest a hand on the granite countertop, and its cool temperature steadies me.
“Well, there’s something I came here to say, even though I know you don’t want to hear it.”
Jamie’s eyes search me, but I don’t know for what. I’m done being a jerk to him, and I can’t show him how I really feel. That leaves me mute. That’s the best I can do.
“I don’t know what you think happened this summer,” he continues, fitting his hands into his trouser pockets. If this coaching thing doesn’t work out, he should try becoming the CEO of a company somewhere. Because he really rocks the look. “In fact, I’m sure you’ve invented a lot of bullshit in that stubborn head of yours. You think you’ve corrupted me, or manipulated me, or some shit.”
My face is hot now. Because I do think that.
“You think that I was just playing around. Taking a walk on the wild side. You think I’m just going to—” He brushes his hands together as if dusting them off. “—go back to girls. Chalk this up as an experiment.”
Yeah, I think that, too.
“That’s not what happened, Ryan. Not for me. What happened is that I got my best friend back for a little while, and I also fell for him.” His voice thickens. “I’m not just saying that. I fucking love you, and I know that’s inconvenient. But I didn’t get a chance to tell you in Lake Placid, so I’m telling you right now. Just in case we can ever get more than a summer. I love you, and I wish things were different.”
There’s pressure in my ears, and the world goes a little blurry. I find myself sinking down toward the floor, my back sliding along the expensive wood cabinet, my ass hitting polished cherry. My eyes are wet, so I look out the window. I see blue. That fucking view. It’s beautiful, and I just don’t care.
Because nothing is as beautiful as the man who just told me he loves my fucked-up self.
“Wes.” The voice is soft, and it’s coming closer. I hear the rustle of a suit jacket being removed. A few seconds later, Jamie seats himself on the floor beside me.
In my peripheral vision I see muscular forearms jutting from rolled-up shirtsleeves. He links his hands around his knees and sighs. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says quietly. “But it needed to be said.”
He’s right there. The clean scent of his shampoo and the warmth of his elbow against mine are overwhelming. I’ve missed him. So fucking much I’ve been walking around with a hollow chasm in my chest where my heart used to be.
But that gaping hole is full again. My heart is back, because Jamie is here.
And he fucking loves me.
My next breath escapes as a shudder. “I can’t choose,” I grind out.
“You’ve already chosen, and I understand why…”
I give my head a violent shake. “No. I mean it—I can’t choose. I won’t choose between you and hockey. I want both. Even if it’s a disaster.” I look at Jamie again, finally, just in time to see him wince.
“I do not want to be the reason your NHL career doesn’t work out,” he says vehemently. “I get it, Wes. I really do.”
There’s a tear running down my face and I don’t even care. I scoop Jamie’s hand off his knee and kiss it. He feels so fucking good.
“Sorry,” I choke out. “We’re going to have to work something out. I love you, goddamn it.”
His breath hitches. “Yeah?”
“Fuck yeah. And I’m not letting you walk out of here.”
“Ever?” he teases, squeezing my hand. “That’s one way to prevent gossip.”
I sigh. “We need a strategy. I have to stay out of the newspapers as long as I can.”
“But, see, that’s why—”
“Quiet, baby,” I murmur. “Let me think for a second.”
We can’t lie forever to save my career—that isn’t fair to Jamie. Maybe he hasn’t thought it through, but I’ve been gay a long time and I know how much the closet sucks.
“I need to be sneaky until next June,” I finally decide. “But that’s it. And that’s only if Toronto gets pretty far in the playoffs. Just one season.”
“And then what?”
I shrug. “Then you can be my date at the next team barbecue or what-the-fuck-ever.”
Jamie chuckles, but I’m dead serious. It only took one look at him today to realize I can’t keep the parts of myself in separate drawers. It was never going to work.
“What if something happens before June? I mean…” He sighs again. “I can’t lie to my family. I can ask them to be discreet, and they’ll try. But I’m not kidding when I say that I don’t want to be your downfall. Think hard about how much risk you’re willing to take.”
“You’re worth it,” I whisper. Fuck, I’m worth it. My change of heart isn’t pure generosity. If Jamie is brave enough to walk in here and tell me he loves me, I’ve got to take some chances, too. “I’m going to have a talk with the PR department. I’m going to warn them.”
His hand tightens on mine. “You can’t be serious.”
I turn my head against the little wooden wall where we’re sitting. “I’m dead serious. It’s my life, and yours. I’ve loved you for years, babe. If the NHL can’t deal with it, then that’s just the way it is.”
Jamie’s expression softens. “That will be a really bad day, though.”
“No. A bad day is you giving up on me.” I rake one hand through my hair, and he suddenly captures my wrist, his brown eyes narrowing.
“When did you get this done?”
He’s looking at my new tat, and I feel sheepish as I answer, “Couple days after I left camp.”
Rough fingertips skim the line of black ink. “What are these coordinates for?” I’m not surprised he’s figured it out. My man is smart.
“Lake Placid,” I tell him.
His eyes lock with mine. “I see.” He clears his throat, but when he speaks again, his voice is still lined with gravel. “You really do love me, huh?”
“Always have.” I swallow hard. “Always will.”
It’s not clear who moves first. But a second later our lips brush, then press together. I moan even before Jamie’s tongue parts my lips. I kiss him hard, and he gives as good as he gets.
Time slips. Once we start kissing we don’t stop. My lips are swollen and I’m so hard it’s painful. But this isn’t about sex. Each kiss is a promise of more to come. I know we need to stop. There are plans to make, and there’s a dinner I have to get to, but each time I tell myself that this is the last kiss, I go back for one more. And then one more.
I pull back eventually. “You have to live here,” I blurt out.
“Wha?” Jamie says, looking dazed. His cheeks are flushed and I’ve tousled his hair.
“A twenty-two-year-old rookie might have a roommate, especially an old hockey friend. It would actually be weirder if you were coming and going all the time.”
He smiles, and I think he’s going to make a joke about coming and going. “Did you just ask me to move in with you?”
“Well…yeah. Would you?”
Jamie’s eyes sweep the room. “I can’t afford this place.”
I’m already shaking my head. “That is not going to be an issue. You can pay the utilities or some shit.”
“I can’t…”
“Yeah, you can. Consider it a gift for putting up with ten months of hiding.”
“I can’t pay nothing.”
“Fine. Contribute what you would otherwise budget for rent money.” I stand, offering him a hand. “Come on, let’s have a tour.” I don’t want to talk about money. Fuck that.
Jamie takes my hand and follows me to the little hallway off the kitchen.
“We’ll put a bed in this room, but it’s not going to be our room. You can have a desk in here, though, if you need one for your job. It will give you a place to work.”
This all seems so easy now. Toronto just became a place I really want to be. “And this is our bedroom.” I walk him into the big room, which is slotted into a corner of the building. “See how private? When we fuck, nobody can hear us.” I risk a look at Jamie, and his eyes are molten.
Fucking hell. Shouldn’t have said that. I’m hard, and there’s no time to do anything about it. “Wait. What time is it, anyway?”
He checks his watch. “Six.”
Shit! “I have to be at this restaurant in a half hour. And my hotel is on the other side of town…” I look down at what I’m wearing. Track pants and flip-flops. Great. I’m going to be late for my first team event. Goddamn it. I chuckle, because it’s either that or cry. And I’ve already done the latter today.
“Babe, do you want to wear this?” Jamie indicates his suit.
“Really?”
He shrugs. “You don’t have to, but…”
“Let’s try it.” I laugh, because this is crazy. But that’s what happens when he and I are together. Crazy happens.
And we are just about the same size. Jamie’s waist might be a little wider than mine, but he’s wearing a belt.
He’s looking down at himself, doing the same math. “What size are your feet?”
“Ten and a half.”
“I’m eleven,” he says. “Close enough.”
We’re grinning like idiots as we strip off our clothes in the big empty bedroom. Jamie is down to only his dress socks, and I groan at the view. “I hope this dinner doesn’t last too long. Will you stay with me tonight at the hotel?”
He licks his lips. “Sure. But you’ll have to tell me where that is.” He passes me his shirt and I put it on. It smells like him. I’m going to be horny all evening. The best kind of torture.
We make the switch and I don’t look half bad. The jacket shoulders are a little wider than I’d wear them, but fuck, who cares. “I forgot something.”
“What?”
I work on tying Jamie’s tie, but there’s no mirror, so it’s slow going. “That night we were making the list of benefits of being gay? Borrowing your boyfriend’s clothes.”
Clucking his tongue, he pushes my hands out of the way and straightens the knot. “You look hot in my suit.”
“You look hot in anything.”
He reaches down and squeezes my dick through the wool trousers. “You get a blowjob later, just for saying that.”
I groan. Then I have a thought so evil I almost can’t say it with a straight face. “Tonight, I want you in nothing but my Toronto jersey.”
Jamie sputters with laughter and gives my cheek a fake slap. “You ass. I’m not your puck bunny.”
“Please? I’ve never fucked a puck bunny. This is my only chance.”
He wraps his arms around my body and squeezes my ass. I receive a single, bruising kiss before he steps back. “Now give me your hotel key and go to your dinner already. No more lip.”
When I step out onto the sidewalk a few minutes later, I’m a little dazed and walking carefully in shoes that are slightly too big.
And I’ve never felt better in my life.
