Page 40 of Tough Guy (Game Changers #3)

Fabian: When are you done for the day?

Ryan: Just wrapping up. You at the hotel?

Fabian: I’m at a café.

He sent Ryan a photo of a cappuccino sitting next to a plate with a half-eaten pain au chocolat.

Fabian: I love Montreal.

Ryan smiled. He’d just finished his first day of coaching at Rozanov and Hollander’s charity hockey camp, and it had gone surprisingly well. He’d felt a little awkward standing next to some of the superstars that had agreed to help out, but at least Wyatt was there.

Although, Wyatt was practically a superstar himself these days. Since being traded to Ottawa, he’d played extremely well for the struggling team. Ryan was happy for him.

The first day of camp had been a little chaotic, with everyone trying to figure out how exactly this was going to work, but it had been fun.

The kids were great, and Ryan liked that the camp welcomed all genders.

He’d ended the day by working one-on-one with a thirteen-year-old girl on improving her pivoting.

It was awesome being able to share actual hockey skills with someone.

It was awesome to be reminded that he had actual hockey skills.

“Nice work today, Pricey.” Wyatt came up behind him, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Is that Fabian you’re texting?”

“Yeah. He’s eating pastry somewhere.”

“Jesus, and he’s sending you photos of it? That seems cruel. Listen, do you know where Roz or Hollander are? I got Owen’s mom to sign the incident report and now I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Incident report? What happened?”

“Aw, nothing much really. Some shoving in the locker room. I think he’s got some old beef with that Harper kid.”

“Oh.” Ryan couldn’t imagine what kind of beef two twelve-year-olds could have. “I can take that for you. I’ll give it to them.”

“Thanks, buddy. Lisa is waiting for me, so I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?” He handed Ryan the paper and jogged away.

Ryan glanced down one end of the hallway he was standing in, and then the other. He was pretty sure there was some sort of office somewhere that Rozanov and Hollander were using. Maybe one of them was in there.

He chose a direction and started walking.

He was glad he had decided to accept Rozanov’s offer and coach this camp.

It had taken a lot of convincing on Ilya’s part, but after Ryan had some long conversations with Fabian, his parents, Colleen, and his therapist, he had decided that this would be a good way to see if hockey had anything left to offer him.

He was thinking seriously about getting into some sort of childhood education program.

Or maybe a physical fitness education program.

He liked working with kids, and he liked being active.

He really liked the idea of making hockey a positive and inclusive thing for everyone.

It was a cause he could be passionate about.

He heard Rozanov’s unmistakable voice—a heavily accented teasing drawl—coming from a room down the hall. He headed toward the sound, and then stopped when he heard a second, angrier voice. It sounded like Hollander.

He moved a little closer and could confirm that it was Shane Hollander, and he seemed to be arguing with Rozanov. Well, that wasn’t really a surprise. Ryan still wasn’t over the fact that they liked each other at all.

The arguing stopped, so Ryan went to the door. He should have knocked before nudging it open because the next thing he saw was Ilya pinning Shane against the wall.

With his mouth on Shane’s.

Shane saw him first, and immediately shoved Ilya away from him. Ilya turned to see who the intruder was, not looking nearly as panicked as Shane was.

“Price,” Ilya said calmly. “What’s up?”

Shane was blushing furiously and smoothing out the front of his camp director polo shirt.

“I have some paperwork. Wyatt gave it to me. For you.”

“Thank you,” Shane said. “You can put it on the desk. And, um, about what you just saw...”

Ilya rolled his eyes and took the paper from Ryan. “He’s not going to tell anyone, Shane. Fucking relax.” He shot Ryan a questioning look that said you’re not going to tell anyone, are you?

“No. I won’t tell anyone. That you’re, um...”

“Making out at work? Yes. That would be bad,” Ilya said with an amused grin. Shane looked like he would never smile again.

“I don’t know what I see in you,” Shane grumbled.

“Yes. You say that every day.”

Ryan couldn’t help but smile at them. Suddenly things made a lot more sense. “Your secret is safe with me,” he promised.

He left in a hurry, feeling embarrassed but also very keen to see his own boyfriend. He and Fabian were here for the week, and then they were heading to Atlantic Canada so Fabian could play some shows and they could both have some family time.

Ryan wasn’t sure how it was going to go with Fabian’s family. The Salahs knew they were dating, but Fabian said he didn’t think they would actually believe it until they saw them in person. Whatever happened, Ryan would be right by Fabian’s side.

He found Fabian sitting on a bench outside their hotel. He looked fucking gorgeous in his blue floral-print romper, enormous black sunglasses, and bright yellow espadrilles. Ryan was wearing track shorts, flip-flops, and a gray camp T-shirt.

Fabian stood when he saw him, and handed him a small white bag. “I got you an almond croissant.”

Ryan looked in the bag. “Weird that they sold it to you with a bite out of it.”

“I know! I should complain.”

Ryan kissed him, right there on the sidewalk. “You smell nice.”

“I may have sampled some fragrances at Holt Renfrew.”

Ryan buried his face in the crook of Fabian’s neck and inhaled. “I like this one. Did you buy it?”

“No, darling. That’s your job.”

Ryan grinned and kissed his neck. “You had a good day, then?”

“I did, but it’s very hot and I was hoping we could retire to our air-conditioned hotel room.”

“Sounds like a plan. You have any ideas about dinner? Besides pastry, I mean.”

“None. But... I do have something to show you.” He handed Ryan his phone. “Tell me what you think.”

Ryan thumbed through the gallery of images. They were all photos of rooms in a small townhouse near the Village. “This is for sale?”

Fabian bit his lip. “It isn’t cheap.”

Ryan closed the gallery and looked at the price. It was almost half of what his sky-rise apartment had cost him. “We could do this.”

“Could we? Vanessa and Tarek said they would check it out for us and let me know if it’s worth pursuing.”

Ryan loved the idea of Fabian filling these rooms with color and ornate knickknacks.

He loved the idea of building a home and a life with Fabian.

He didn’t care where they lived, but he knew Fabian wanted to stay close to his friends.

Close to his community. Ryan was happy to do that, even if it meant ridiculously high real estate prices.

They walked hand in hand through the sliding glass doors into the hotel lobby, Fabian swinging their joined arms playfully.

“Don’t tell Mom and Dad,” he said, “but I am extremely grateful that they took in hockey players when I was growing up.”

Ryan laughed. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m sure they didn’t intend to play matchmaker for their son, but it certainly worked out.”

“It did.”

“Maybe I’ll thank them at our wedding.”

Ryan snorted, dismissing the idea as if it were ridiculous. As if he hadn’t been thinking about proposing since the moment Fabian wrapped his arms around him after his album release show.

As they waited for the elevator, Ryan blatantly ogled Fabian in his cute little romper.

His lean bare legs and arms were thoroughly distracting.

Fabian must have noticed Ryan’s interest, because he licked his lip and, presumably, locked eyes with him.

It was hard to tell with the sunglasses covering most of his face.

When they were alone in the elevator, Fabian scoffed at the obvious erection that was straining the fabric of his romper shorts. “Great. Look what you did.”

Ryan chuckled and thought about all the ways he’d like to alleviate Fabian’s problem.

“I hope you’re happy,” Fabian scolded.

Ryan grinned. “I really am.”