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Maybe he should ask Ilya for Shane Hollander’s number. Shane was a fucking babe.
“Thank fucking god,” Ilya said as soon as he spotted Harris and Chiron. “Bring him here.”
“I know he did. Look at him.” Chiron was already licking Ilya’s face. “Were they good to you at the dog school?” Ilya asked the puppy. “Did you get to have fun?” “He gets treated well at the facility. I promise. His trainer, Hannah, is awesome.” “I would like to meet this Hannah,” Ilya said grimly, then softened when Chiron nuzzled his chin.
“He said I am his favorite,” Ilya insisted.
“Has anyone ever said anything to you? About being gay?” Troy asked out of nowhere.
“Of course. But no one I care about. Why?” Troy didn’t reply, seemingly as interested in a soggy McDonald’s straw wrapper as Chiron was. Then he said, to the straw wrapper, “Anyone on the team? Or in the organization?” “No one,” Harris said. “Like I said, this is a good group. I’ve never hidden being gay, and no one here has ever made me feel like I needed to.” “That’s good.”
“Do you hate it here?” “Not as much as I thought I would.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Troy signed the next postcard. He wasn’t sure if he should write anything else. He wanted to write a whole essay telling Greg he was a great father, and Troy was in awe of him. And he wasn’t jealous of a hospitalized kid, but he couldn’t imagine his own father looking at him so lovingly.
“Oh yeah. I’ll introduce you to Theo sometime. He’s great.” “Theo?” “The guy in the suit.” Harris narrowed his eyes playfully. “You do know there’s someone in that suit, right?” “Shut up.” “We tried to hire a seven-foot beaver for the job but, let me tell you, it did not go well.”
“I have a present for you, Barrett,” Ilya said. “F—” Troy cut himself off. “I don’t want it, Rozanov.” “It’s red.” “Shoot it at a computer player!” “Nah. It’s for you.” Everyone laughed as a red Koopa shell slammed into Troy’s car. Mario went ass over teakettle and Troy, again, struggled not to swear.
“Didn’t I hit you like that last year?” Ilya teased. “In Toronto. You did the same thing Mario just did.” He rolled one hand in a tumbling motion, then quickly returned it to the controller.
“Thank you, Grayson,” Ilya said. “See, Barrett? Just like Mario.”
Troy was really glad he’d agreed to come. He felt better already, listening to Harris say stupid, adorable things.
Harris hummed along to “Winter Wonderland” while Troy sipped his cider and tried not to find everything about Harris painfully charming.
Troy couldn’t wait to see what that meant. So he drank his cider and let a jolly bearded man take him to Christmas wonderland. Taffy Lane was hideous. But also, kind of great.
But as he watched the absolute goofball in the driver’s seat cheerfully dueting with Mariah Carey, he couldn’t deny how badly he wanted him. For his own. More than Harris could ever, ever, ever know.
“You didn’t need to do that,” he said. “But thanks.” “I loved it. Why play hockey if you can’t enjoy it, right?”
There were a lot of handsome men in the bar tonight. Tall, fit men. Distinguished-looking older men. Young pretty men. Big burly men. It was a tantalizing buffet.
Kip
“You’re new.” His gaze traveled over Troy in a blatantly assessing way. “Damn. How do you play hockey and stay that pretty?” “Hey!” Scott said with mock offense.
“Oh shit! You’re Troy Barrett, right? You’re my new hero.” “Same,” Scott said,
there was a small enamel pin in the shape of an apple with a rainbow flag heart in the middle. Holy shit.
“I know someone who would love it.”
“No problem. Tell your gay apple farmer to come visit the Kingfisher the next time he’s in Manhattan.” “I will.”
“Time for bed. Game tomorrow.”
“You should have been in bed hours ago, old man,” Ilya said. “You’ll feel it tomorrow on the ice.”
“People like Kent stand in the way of other people being happy. For no reason. I am always glad to punch people like that.” Troy wanted to throw his arms around him. It was a wild, ridiculous impulse, like when he’d wanted to kiss Harris in his truck the other night. Why had Troy wasted so much energy on the worst people? “Can you keep a secret?”
Ilya’s lips curved into a wry smile. “Yes. Very well.”
Ilya brightened and said, “Was that your first gay bar?” “Yeah, it was.” Ilya burst out laughing. “Incredible.”
Ilya said, “Is very normal for an NHL player to spend most of his free time in the social media guy’s office.”
NOT ILYA CLOCKING TROYS TEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“I like him.” “I know. We all like Harris. But you want to kiss him.” Troy didn’t bother denying it. “I won’t. He deserves better, and there’s probably a work conflict thing that makes it wrong.” “Yes. Maybe the social media guy will give you a Twitter advantage if you blow him.” Troy let out an uncharacteristic yelp of shocked laughter. “Oh my god.” “You will get all the good GIFs.”
Jesus, Troy had just come out to his team captain. And his team captain had...sort of come out to him? “So, you’re not straight?” Troy asked carefully. “I am bisexual. It is not anyone’s business, but, yes.”
Ilya Rozanov was wearing a Santa hat and a snowman sweater, and was holding a puppy. Harris loved his job.
Chiron had a festive bandanna tied around his neck and looked adorable as he nuzzled Ilya’s face. Harris hadn’t needed to twist Ilya’s arm at all to agree to this photo shoot.
“Ah. Looking good, Ilya.” “I know.”
“There are other sweaters,” Ilya said, then nodded at the table loaded with Christmas costume pieces. “You should get in here.”
“The fans will like you more,” Ilya said bluntly. “You, me, puppy, Christmas shit. No one can resist that.”
“How do I look?” he asked quietly. Harris didn’t see anything but those eyes. And those lips. “Perfect.”
“I’ll send you the best Troy photos.” “Yeah. Because it’s your job.” “And your job is to walk a puppy with Troy Barrett. Go.”
It wasn’t fucking fair that this was how Troy felt he had to live. To love in secret, to feel everything in secret.
“When you think you are going to die, there is...what is it? Important things. In your head.” “Like a clarity,” Troy said. “Yeah.” Ilya nodded slowly. “Makes you think about things. What is important. What is not.”
“I think,” Ilya said, “that what you think in that moment...it is correct, yes?”
“Maybe.” “I think so.” Ilya downed the rest of his whiskey, then clapped Troy on the shoulder. “What you wanted on that plane. Go for it.”
He took the bag from Troy, and when he looked in it, nearly burst into tears.
Troy Barrett was going to kill him. “Cookie dough ice cream,”
Troy was straight, as far as Harris knew, and even if he wasn’t, he was the most beautiful man Harris had ever seen. He could do better than an apple farmer with a busted heart.
BUT HE WANTS YOU AS HIS LITTLE APPLE FARMER
Troy was a monster. Harris was so good and sweet, and Troy kept feeding from him like a vampire.
YOUR BOTH GOOD FOR EACH OTHER!!!!STOP IT!!
“I texted Barrett but didn’t hear back,”
“He probably is tired,” Ilya said mildly. He glanced quickly at Harris with raised eyebrows. Harris blushed into his coffee mug. How did Ilya always know everything?
