Page 23

“Hey.” Cross caught up with Scott as they left the arena after morning practice. “You going anywhere right now?”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Home to eat lunch and nap.”

“Oh, right.” Because duh, where else would a teammate be going between practice and the game? But he’d geared himself up to talk to Scott and he didn’t want to wait. “You want to catch lunch together?”

“Sure, okay. Where?”

This was the tricky part, because Cross knew he couldn’t say one word of the important stuff if they were in public. “My place? I can order some chicken parm from that great Italian restaurant, and pick it up on the way.”

Scott eyed him, his head tilted, then smiled. “Hell yeah, I’d commit several illegal sex acts for that chicken.”

Cross flushed. “I didn’t mean anything like that.”

Scott’s tone gentled. “I know, just teasing. Can I bring anything?”

“No, we’re good. You remember how to get there?”

Scott laughed. “It’s only been three weeks since we painted Rusty’s truck. I think I can find it.”

“Right. Of course.” Only three weeks. Cross felt like his whole life had imploded in those few weeks. Or maybe expanded. He wasn’t sure which. “Let me know when you get to the gate and I’ll open it remotely for you.”

“Fancy. I’ll see you there.”

Scott strode off across the player parking lot and Cross watched him go.

He wore tight jeans that had to be tailored for him, to fit that ass and those thighs.

Scott was a great guy, and objectively scorching hot, and Cross felt nothing special about him.

If it’d been Rusty walking ahead… well, he’d have hurried to catch up, for one thing.

He got into his SUV and headed toward the restaurant. Am I really going to tell Scott about Rusty? He still wasn’t sure. Maybe he could talk in more general terms.

He and Rusty had texted quite a lot since that FaceTime session.

No more video though. That had been an interesting experience.

Cross had been surprised how much he loved watching Rusty all hot and bothered, and then coming.

Coming because Cross asked him to. Or told him to.

God, that had made Cross feel amazing, although not enough for his dick to get fully into the act.

But he’d wanted to be there to kiss Rusty in the panting, red-faced aftermath.

Cross had looked up some BDSM stuff after that night, but he didn’t think he was really into Dom-sub or Daddy-boy.

Nothing against it for other people, but he didn’t want to boss Rusty around.

Much. But he’d believed Rusty when he said he got off harder when Cross was telling him how to jerk off and watching.

That long, hard, messy orgasm and Rusty’s blissed-out expression afterward had been a whole other world from what Cross experienced when he jerked off.

Although maybe that was more about how bad Cross was at masturbation than how awesome that video call had been. He wavered between pride and embarrassment.

Rusty said it was hotter. Said it was awesome. Had Rusty just been flattering him?

He realized he’d driven past the restaurant and went around the block.

Heading to his place with boxes of fragrant Italian food on the other seat, he resolved not to wimp out.

He’d ask Scott his questions. Well, some of them.

He wanted a relationship with Rusty, and he wasn’t going to hide from that fact, but he had been hiding things about himself and he wanted to be smart about this.

Scott texted that he was at the gate, and Cross used the app on his smart watch to turn off the alarm and open the barrier for him. He was only five minutes behind and when he arrived, Scott swung down out of his SUV in front of the house.

“Hey,” Scott called. “Can I carry anything?”

“I didn’t get that much food.” Except maybe he had. “You can grab that big box. It’s the breadsticks. Pregame carbs, right?”

Scott leaned in to grab the container. “Smells great.”

“Come on.” Cross led them inside to the kitchen and set the food on the counter. “Pull up a stool. Let me get some silverware and waters.”

The first ten minutes were spent replenishing the calories they’d expended that morning, even though game-day practices were light. They slowed the chowing down once the chicken was gone.

Scott bit the end off another breadstick, chewed, and eyed Cross. “Okay. Spit it out.”

“What?” Cross stared down at his own bread.

“Hah. Not the food. You invited me here for a reason, but you haven’t said one word.”

“The food’s better hot.”

“The hot stuff’s gone now. What’s up?”

Cross had spent a bunch of his spare time today trying to figure out his approach. He’d come up with a lot of options, but none of them were great. He blurted, “Was it hard, coming out in the League?” Heat flushed through him. “I mean, of course it was, sorry.”

Scott shrugged. “Hard and not at the same time. It hasn’t been a picnic, having some fans burning my jersey and some players turning into bigger assholes than they used to be.

Or the League having shitfits about the example I was setting as a poly gay man.

But at the same time, keeping that secret was so much work and stress.

Hiding Will and Casey, pretending to be into dating women, flipping pronouns.

I can focus on hockey now, like I couldn’t before.

And there is nothing like having my guys watching me at a game and being able to kiss them afterward for everyone to see. ” Scott grinned widely.

“Yeah. I suppose. I can see that.” He couldn’t imagine kissing Rusty in public, but he could imagine skating up to where Rusty stood behind the glass and flipping him a puck.

Putting his hand on the glass and having Rusty match him on the other side, their palms aligned.

Playing a Rafters game with Rusty watching and not having to care who knew about them.

He realized he’d been silent for a while. Scott was watching him, his grin faded to something gentle. “Hey, Cross, something you want to tell me?”

“I think I might be gay. Or bisexual. Bi-romantic, anyhow.” Because loving Willow had never been enough to get past his demi brain, but sex with Rusty had come closer. He hadn’t jerked off after their FaceTime session, but he’d felt warm and content, and he’d thought about it.

“That’s cool,” Scott told him. “I won’t say anything, of course, but if you wanted to come out to the team, I’d have your back and so would most of the guys.”

“Not all of them.”

“No, not all. But you and me versus some third line winger? You know who management would trade in a heartbeat if need be, and it wouldn’t be us.”

“True.” There were some advantages to being the core of the team’s success. “Was that third line winger thing just an example?” Cross didn’t socialize in the same circles as O’Donnell or Vikken.

Scott wrinkled his nose. “Odie’s a nasty little creep, but he’s smart enough not to be blatant.

He’s all about the icky jokes and then pretending to remember and saying, ‘Oh, sorry Edzie, you’re probably sensitive about that.

’ I thought Nate was going to smear him across the boards in practice last month. ”

“Is that what the hit was about?” Goldie had checked Odie up against the boards hard enough that Odie had to go home and apply some ice for the rest of the day.

Scott grinned. “Yeah. My guys have my back. They’d have yours too, if you came out.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Dating a guy was one thing. Dating a player ten years younger— a goddamned teenager even if Rusty didn’t seem like one— was another.

“You can ask me questions, too. Anything. I promise I won’t get offended or whatever.” Scott nudged Cross’s foot with his. “Gay sex is awesome, right? And having a guy there to hold you when you need a hug? Even more awesome.”

“You prefer a hug to sex?” He hadn’t got that impression from Scott.

“Well, not prefer , but you can get sex anywhere, right? A guy who really cares about you is a hell of a lot harder to find.”

“You found one.”

“I found two. And I would do anything— I mean anything — to keep them. I’d have quit hockey before I gave up Casey and Will.”

Cross nodded slowly. He didn’t think he felt like that about Rusty. If someone said Cross was being too inappropriate for the NHL and he had to quit if he wanted to stay with Rusty, would he? No. Probably not… Not yet, anyway.

He rubbed his face. He had other questions, and if he didn’t ask them now, he probably never would. “Have you ever done phone sex? Like, video?”

Scott barked a laugh. “All the time. Like, all the time. I’m here or travelling around the country, while Casey and Will are back home in Kansas, too busy to travel much. If we didn’t FaceTime, I’d never get laid.”

“Do you, like, come when you do that? Or watch them?” Cross could tell his face was on fire, but he forged on. “Do you ever tell them what to do, you know, together or to themselves?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Scott said, as if that wasn’t a stupid question. “I’m a bossy shit, so I like to order them around and it’s fucking hot to watch.”

“But that’s not BDSM, right?”

“Not between the three of us. Casey’s bossy too, so sometimes he tells me what to do. I like that too. Will’s more laid back, but he’s nobody’s sub.” Scott paused. “Are you into BDSM? Because I don’t have any expertise there, but Casey probably knows somebody.”

“No!” Cross modulated his tone. “I mean, I don’t think so. Just trying to figure stuff out.”

“At the risk of sounding like a know-it-all, sex is about what feels good. To you and your partner or partners, not someone else. There’s stuff I like that Will doesn’t, and that doesn’t make it right or wrong.

Will might watch Casey do it to me, and get off on how much I enjoy it.

” Scott cleared his throat. “Is that TMI?”

“No, that’s… that’s perfect, actually. So sometimes one of you just watches?”

“Sure. Although we almost always end up jerking off, because the other two are so freaking hot.” Scott grinned. “And we’re all so modest.”