Page 26 of Tough Guy (Game Changers #3)

“There’s something different about Fabian,” Marcus mused.

“Hmm, new haircut?” Tarek suggested.

“No. Oh! I know! He’s just had a mind-blowing sex marathon with an NHL player.”

Fabian stuck his tongue out at Marcus. “I did not. We talked more than anything. Is there more coffee?”

“I’ll make some,” Tarek offered. “But then I want to hear everything.”

“You didn’t just talk, did you, Fabe?” Vanessa asked. “That would be tragic.”

Fabian couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips, which made Vanessa shriek. “You totally banged him! Was it amazing?”

“I didn’t actually. Technically. Depends on how you define such things.”

Vanessa set her waffle plate on the coffee table and sat back in her armchair. “You know I don’t think sex only counts if there’s penetration.”

“So we’re not being subtle, I guess,” Marcus muttered.

“Then by your definition,” Fabian said, “yes. We had sex. But...”

“Wait! Wait for me!” Tarek said, hustling back from the kitchen to join Marcus and Fabian on the futon. “The kettle is boiling. Spill.”

“Okay, so, he’s kind of anxious about sex. He has some...difficulty...getting off.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” Marcus joked.

Fabian narrowed his eyes at him, even though he had sort of thought the exact same thing.

“It’s not a challenge,” Vanessa scolded. “Lots of people have difficulty with orgasms, for lots of different reasons. Sex doesn’t have to be all about coming, you know.”

“That’s right,” Fabian agreed primly. “We had a great time. He was...very sweet. He’s an incredible kisser. And so strong and sexy.” He sighed. “I’m smitten.”

Vanessa clapped her hands together. “I love him!”

“I thought you’d bring him to brunch,” Tarek said.

“I considered it, but he had a practice or something this morning, and besides. I wanted to gush about him with you guys.”

“So are you two a couple now?” Marcus asked. “Are you actually dating an NHL player?”

Fabian’s smile faded. “I don’t exactly know.”

“You didn’t talk about it?” Vanessa asked.

“No. But we’re going to see each other tomorrow night before he leaves for his road trip.”

“Road trip? Boo.”

“Yeah, it sucks, but...” Fabian shrugged. “I’ll be busy. I have an album to finish, a launch to book, and a mini-tour to plan.”

“When are you touring?” Vanessa asked.

“There’s a middle-of-winter music festival in Kingston that I’ve been invited to play. I thought I’d build a little tour around it. I could just take trains instead driving myself around Ontario in February.”

“Um, you’re not going alone,” she said.

“I can be careful!”

“Fabian,” Tarek warned, “at least find another musician to tour with.”

Fabian wanted to argue, but he knew his friends were right to worry. “I’ll ask around,” he promised. “Maybe my label wants to pair me up with someone.”

“Maybe Ryan wants to be your roadie,” Marcus said.

“Except he’ll be playing hockey in February. Because that’s his job.”

Marcus threw up his hands. “How the fuck am I supposed to know when hockey is?”

Fabian wanted to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t hate how much his friends loved him. Or how much they immediately trusted Ryan. Despite his size, his job, and the fact that he seemingly had nothing in common with them, Fabian’s friends had accepted him.

“Thanks,” Fabian said. “I’ll bring him to brunch soon. If he wants to come, I mean.” If we’re actually dating, or whatever.

“Awesome,” Tarek said. “Now can we talk about literally anyone besides Fabian for a change?”

When Ryan arrived at the practice facility on Sunday, he was surprised to find most of his teammates gathered around the television in the lounge.

“What’s going on?” he asked Wyatt.

“Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov are hosting a press conference. They just announced this new charity thing they are starting.”

“What, together?”

Wyatt laughed. “Wild, right? I guess anyone can put their differences aside if those two can.”

Hollander and Rozanov were famously bitter rivals and had been for years. They were two of the biggest stars in the league—Hollander for Montreal, and Rozanov for Boston before he signed with Ottawa over the summer—and, as far as Ryan or anyone else knew, were not friendly off the ice.

“I guess they’re friends or something,” Wyatt said. “That’s what Hollander said today anyway. That’s going to blow some minds.”

“Yeah.”

They watched as Rozanov shared some heartfelt words about his mother losing her battle with depression.

“God, I didn’t know his mother killed herself,” Wyatt said bluntly.

“I don’t think anyone did.” Ryan had played with him for an entire season and he’d had no idea.

“Except Hollander, I guess. I wonder how long they’ve been friends.”

Ryan couldn’t even begin to guess. When would they even have spent time together off the ice?

It was none of his business, really, so he stopped trying to figure it out. Besides, he was too busy floating on the memories of the past twenty-four hours. His brain was basically useless. He didn’t even have the mental capacity to panic about having to get on a plane on Tuesday.

“They’re probably fucking,” Troy Barrett sneered, which made the group around him laugh.

“Gross,” said Dallas Kent. “Rozanov would never. But I’ll bet Hollander is a fucking homo.”

That launched a debate about Shane Hollander’s sexuality that Ryan walked away from. He could remind them that he was a “fucking homo,” but he just didn’t have the energy.

Wyatt found him in the dressing room. “I told those guys to grow the fuck up,” he said. “Just so you know.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Uh, yes I did. I’m not putting up with that shit and you shouldn’t either.”

Ryan knew that. He should be doing what he could to shut down that sort of bullshit, but he’d spent so many years just trying to escape everyone’s attention, to not cause problems, that the idea of confronting his teammates was intimidating.

Which was ridiculous because his job was fighting.

But there was a huge difference between dropping the gloves and trading punches on the ice—that was rarely personal—and getting in your teammate’s face in the locker room.

He should say something. He would say something. He waited until everyone was in the dressing room, then he swallowed his nerves and said, “Hey, Kent.”

The room went silent. It was weird. Ryan supposed that’s what happens when someone who doesn’t talk much finally uses his voice.

“What?” Kent asked. Ryan could tell he was trying not to look nervous. Ryan had seen that look on a lot of guys’ faces on the ice.

He rolled his shoulders back and raised his chin so every inch of his height was on display. “Just so you know, I’m gay.”

For a moment, no one said anything. Ryan didn’t think anyone in the room even breathed. And then Kent said, “Okay.”

“Keep that in mind,” Ryan said. Judging by the way Kent’s eyes widened, he hadn’t missed the threat in Ryan’s tone. Not that Ryan would ever beat up a teammate, but Kent didn’t know that.

Kent put his hands up. “Whatever, man. That’s your business. I don’t have a problem with you.”

“I have a problem with you saying homophobic shit about anyone. I don’t want to hear it again.” Ryan felt oddly calm. Almost like he did when he was fighting during a game.

Someone behind Ryan whispered, “Holy shit.”

Kent looked around the room for support, but everyone looked away. “Sure. Fine. I’ll watch what I say, all right?” he finally said.

“Glad to hear it.” Ryan gave him one last hard look, then turned away and sat back down in his stall. The rest of the team went back to whatever they’d been doing before, and the room filled with chatter.

Wyatt elbowed Ryan. “I wish I had a video of that.”

“Should have done that a long time ago.” Ryan’s heart was racing now, but he felt good. It was more like adrenaline and less like fear or panic.

“That shit isn’t going to fly for much longer in this league. Not when one of the biggest stars in the game is out.”

It was true that Scott Hunter coming out the same season he had won the Stanley Cup, the Conn Smythe Trophy for playoff MVP, and the Hart Trophy for regular season MVP had taken a lot of the wind out of the sails of the argument that hockey was a sport for straight men only.

But obviously there was still work to be done.

It was time for Ryan to step up and do some of it.