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“Come on, guys. Rozanov, stop being a dick. Hunter, stop listening to Rozanov.” “How many minutes would I get if I just killed him?” Scott grumbled as he watched Rozanov skate away. “I’d have to give you at least ten,” Hal said dryly. “Not worth it in the playoffs.”
He had never focused on his own happiness. And having someone else’s happiness be affected by him was just…terrifying. Probably a recipe for disaster.
Just…don’t do anything without telling me, all right? Preferably, don’t do anything at all. Ever.” “Stay in the closet forever. Got it.” “What’s wrong with the closet? It’s a wonderful place crammed full of professional athletes.” “Goodnight, Todd.”
“Hey,” Bennett said, after they separated, “what’s his name?” Scott grinned. “Kip.” Carter looked suddenly delighted. “Kip!” he said. “That is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard! Are you kidding me with that shit?” “Thank god,” Huff said. “I thought you were gonna say you were secretly dating Rozanov.” “Rozanov wishes,” Scott said.
“I’m gay.” Murdock froze, and stared at Scott like he’d just told him he was a wizard.
“This is the problem with taking you anywhere,” Scott said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I’m talking about how you have exactly three minutes to eat that dessert because I am getting you back to my place as soon as fucking possible.” “What, no coffee?” “I’ll make you coffee in the goddamn morning.”
“After tonight, you might be dating a Stanley Cup champion,” Elena said. “Finally, a reason to be impressed by him!”
Shawn: You. Fucking. Bitch. You lying fucking bitch. We’re getting lunch together. SOON.
“When you have a secret that you work as hard to protect as I did,” Scott said, “it’s exhausting. It’s a nonstop effort, trying to keep it hidden, and the fear of people finding out consumes you. It also makes you lonely.”
I met someone. I met that person. The person who changes everything. And he gave me the confidence, and the strength, and the need, to be honest about who I am. Fear is a powerful thing, but this year I found the thing that is more powerful.”
“Did you really come to a gay bar in Vegas just to make fun of me?”
A year ago—hell, a month ago—Scott would never have imagined this scenario. Out at a gay club with his best friends—his teammates—and his boyfriend and, uh, Ilya Rozanov. Dancing. Laughing. Celebrating his sexuality instead of hiding it. It was surreal and wonderful.
