Page 27 of Next Season
“I’m used to being alone, Riley. I don’t think about the rest. It feels good, and we’re adults who know how to be discreet, and we won’t develop false expectations. So yes…that’s simple. You have my permission to experiment all you want on me.” He flung the cover off and gestured to his flaccid dick.
“Asshole. It’s cold,” I grumbled, fumbling for the covers.
“No one would believe we’re Canadians, complaining about the weather. This is nice where I’m from.”
“I’m only part Canadian. My mom was born in Ottawa, and my dad’s from Rochester…where my sister lives.”
Jean-Claude tilted his head curiously. “I thought you were from Toronto.”
“That’s what my bio says. I was born there, but my family moved to my dad’s hometown in Upstate New York when I was a baby. My dad got a new job in Toronto soon after my last year of high school, and I went with them. My sister, Tara, stayed, though. She and Martin were already a couple and she’s four years older than me, so…I understood, but I was bummed.”
“Why? Toronto is great, and you had hockey.”
“Yeah, but I was seventeen and not naturally gregarious. Making new friends seemed like a chore. Even with hockey. I’ll tell you a secret. I was a late bloomer, and I didn’t become a good player till that move back to Canada. I think I just needed something to keep my head together. When I was on the ice, I didn’t have time to be angry at my folks for dragging me from my friends or to worry about college or…anything.”
He caressed my hip under the covers soothingly. “I understand that. How old were you when you were drafted?”
“Twenty. I couldn’t believe my luck, but then again, I’d spent those three years working my ass off. I became the best benchwarmer in the NHL for four straight seasons. I only got ice time when the game was pretty much in the bag, but when I was traded to the Sharks, things started to change for me. They had a few injuries, and they needed able bodies on the ice.”
“So you got your shot,” he commented, still massaging my hip. Damn, that felt nice.
“Yeah. And another the next game and the one after that. I wasn’t a standout, but I was getting regular playing time, and that made a difference. I could relax and get in a groove and play to win instead of worrying I’d make a mistake and get benched. It helped. I played great hockey in San Jose and I wanted to stay, but…”
“You were traded to Seattle,” Jean-Claude finished.
I nodded. “Six years ago. I wasn’t happy about that trade, but it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Your team is terrible, and it rains every day in Seattle. What’s so good about this?”
I punched his biceps lightly. “It doesn’t raineveryday, and it’s a great city. Besides, the Slammers have a loyal fan base, great owners, and I love my teammates.”
“Okay, maybe it’s not so bad.”
“No, and the few years I played with Vinnie changed my game. I wouldn’t be team captain if it weren’t for him. The guy was a human wrecking ball. He cleared paths on the ice that made me look like a superstar on day one. No kidding. I scored a hat trick the first night we played together. He wanted me on his line after that—and what Vinnie wanted, Vinnie got. We didn’t sniff the Stanley Cup, but we all improved. Unfortunately, it hasn’t gone all that well since he retired. That’s on me.”
Jean-Claude furrowed his brow. “If I remember correctly, hockey is a team sport. How can it be your fault if your team doesn’t make the playoffs?”
“I’m the leader. But I’m not so good at leading. Fuck, I should be on the bench now, cheering my guys on and supporting them, but I’m not even allowed near the ice. I’m like some fragile fucking flower.”
“Who eats a lot of tuna.”
I snorted. “Yeah. I’m down to one sandwich a day, though.”
“Ah, improvement! Your headaches are gone?”
“No, but they’re less intense. I’m still supersensitive to light, and the doctor doesn’t like that. I’m supposed to go to Burlington for a brain scan to get my occipital lobe checked again. I’m hoping like hell the swelling has gone away. I’ve done everything the medical professionals have advised and then some. I don’t know what else I can do to speed my recovery along.”
“Rest,” he said simply.
“Easy to say, but every day I’m not on the ice is a day I’m not proving myself, and I’m running out of time. Everyone assumes I’m retiring, including my coach. No one is pushing for me to hurry back to Seattle. They just assume I’m done, and this is not the way I want to end my career. Maybe I was never destined to go out in a blaze of glory, but to be sidelined by a concussion and fade my way to obscurity is just…depressing.”
“It’s early in the season and—”
“It’s November. I’ve been in Elmwood for three weeks, which means I haven’t been on skates in four weeks. Watching games on television is killing me too. And I’m watching with sunglasses on to avoid the glare so…wow.” I heaved a sigh and melted dramatically onto the pillow. “And now this…us. I haven’t really processed what it means that I’m naked in bed with a man. That’s pretty gay, so I’m probably bisexual. I should have freaked out and booked the next flight home already, but I have to tell you, this ‘experiment’ as you called it, is keeping me sane. When I’m with you like this, I’m living in the moment. I’m not worried about the rest of the year or where I’ll be next season. I’m here.”
He grinned. “Good.”
I gazed at the ceiling to hide my certain blush. “Yeah. That was a few hundred more words than I planned on saying on that subject, but I don’t want you to think I’m using you. It’s not my intention. I like you and I’m attracted to you and I don’t fully understand it, but…that’s all right. In fact, it’s the one uncertainty I’m totally okay with.”