Tough Guy (Game Changers, #3)

by Rachel Reid

“The Guardians are a team, Ryan. On the ice and off. Teams are built on trust and camaraderie.” “I know. I’ll try harder.” “Great to hear,” Coach said, as if the matter was resolved. Ryan didn’t expect to form any particularly strong bonds to any of his teammates. Something about being naturally awkward, shy, clinically anxious, terrified of flying, and, oh yes, gay, didn’t exactly make him a friend magnet in the ol’ locker room. But he would try.

Do you play shows?” “I do. I play here in the Village a lot. But all over town. Sometimes in other cities. I have a show at the Lighthouse next Saturday.” Ryan frowned. “There’s a lighthouse here?” Oh no. Ryan Price is still adorable.

He decided he would let Ryan ask the next question. Instead, Ryan broke the silence by suddenly blurting out, “I’m gay.” Even though Fabian had kind of guessed this might be the case, hearing Ryan say the words was... “Holy shit.” “Surprise,” Ryan said with a shrug. “Are hockey players even allowed to be gay?”

Fabian was struck by how bizarre it was to be sitting at a table in one of his regular bars with his best friends...and Ryan Price. Ryan Price, who was apparently every bit as queer as Fabian, Fabian’s friends, and this bar they were in. But he was still a hockey player, and Fabian had been very glad to eliminate all traces of hockey from his life as soon as he’d moved to Toronto to start university over a decade ago. Having Ryan here, in one of Fabian’s favorite spaces, should have been annoying him more than it was. Ryan was different.

“Ohhhhhh.” Fabian rolled his eyes. “Nope. Just friends. Or whatever.” “Sure.” “As if I’m going to fuck a hockey player.” Instead of laughing, or arguing, Vanessa made a weird face that Fabian interpreted as Ryan the hockey player is standing right behind you. Shit.

They walked another block in silence, and then Ryan said, “I wouldn’t fuck a hockey player either.”

“So we have something in common. Besides being gay Nova Scotians in Toronto.”

out. “Hello, Daddy.” “I know.” “So, is he gay, or...” “Yeah. He told me last night.” “Seriously?” “Weird thing for a hockey player to lie about, so I assume he’s actually gay, yes.”

laughed. Fabian scheduled in the night out at Force on his phone. He could really use a night of dancing. It had been an age. “You should bring your hockey boyfriend,” Marcus teased. “I’m gonna bring your dad.”

“And that,” Wyatt set his phone back on the table, “is my way of telling you that I am totally cool with you being...whatever.” Ryan couldn’t help teasing him a bit. “So cool you can’t even say it.” Wyatt looked outraged. “I can say whatever word you want! I just wasn’t sure which one you preferred. This is me being sensitive and knowledgeable.” Ryan laughed, and then said, “Gay. And thank you for...” He was suddenly at a loss. He’d played on eight NHL teams before this one, and exactly zero of his teammates had openly accepted his sexuality. In fact, most of them had ignored any hint that Ryan may have given them. “It means a lot,” he finished. “I’m a, whatchacallit, an ally!” Wyatt said, beaming. “So if anyone wants to fight you about it, they gotta come through me.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” There wasn’t a trace of scorn in the question, but Ryan flushed anyway. “No,” he said quietly. “Has there ever been one?” Ryan smoothed a hand over the top of the dresser, and followed its path with his eyes. “Not for a while now, but yeah. A couple.” He glanced up to meet Wyatt’s eyes. “Why? You have someone in mind?” Wyatt’s face split into a huge grin. “Is that flirting? Are you flirting with me, Pricey?”

I’m sure you’ll do just fine here in Toronto. Guy like you,” he stood back to eye Ryan critically, “tall, huge arms, got the whole rugged Viking thing going on. Plus the hockey butt. And the NHL salary. And...” He waved his hand around at Ryan’s living room. “The luxury apartment in the middle of the Gay Village. Do you have a Grindr account?”

there’s gotta be a billion guys here looking to score with you!” Ryan slid the contents of the box onto the floor. It appeared to be a bookshelf. “I doubt it.” “Fuck that. You’re a giant, orange teddy bear with deep pockets! And, I couldn’t help but notice, you’re hung like a—” “All right. Enough,”

“I saw Beyoncé there, so...” Ryan laughed, and then said, “I saw her in Boston.” Fabian’s eyes went wide. “You’re a fan?” “Isn’t everyone? And I’m not sure what part of I’m gay you didn’t understand.” “Honestly?” Fabian said. “All parts of it. I’m afraid I’ve developed a bit of a prejudice against hockey players, and it may have caused me to make some false assumptions.” “That we’re all super-straight aggressive jocks?” “Well, yes.” “You don’t have to be straight to be an aggressive jock. Believe me.”

“Are you, like, not into casual sex? Or sex at all? It’s cool if you aren’t. I have friends who—” “I like sex,” Ryan said, this time looking Fabian right in the eyes. There was an intensity there that made his stomach flip. “Oh. So...” “I’m just bad at talking to people.”

Rozanov turned and beamed at Ryan like he was delighted to see him. “Price! Thank god you are here. This goblin is bothering me.” Ryan pressed his lips together. Goblin was an amusingly accurate description of Dallas Kent. “Eat my nuts, Rozanov!” Kent snarled. Rozanov made a face. “No fucking thank you.”

“Don’t encourage Rozanov.” “I think I might love him.”

“Have you tested that vibrator yet, Fabian?” Fabian struggled to swallow his wine, then glared at her. “What is wrong with you?” She spread her hands. “What? Are we shy about vibrators now? Is this a church supper? I need to get a review of that thing on my site.” “We can talk about this later.” She turned to Ryan. “Sorry. Are you an adult who is aware of the existence of sex toys?” “Yes.” “Great. Fabian, have you used the vibrator?”

“He totally disappeared last week. He does that. He’ll be struck with inspiration and go into hermit mode.” “I wasn’t a hermit,” Fabian protested. “I worked two shifts at the drugstore, went to see a show, and I even bought groceries.” Marcus flicked his hand. “Go. Show us the fruits of your labor.”

The music would be too loud. Fabian would be on the dance floor, pressing his lithe body against some other gorgeous man. And then they would start touching, and kissing, and Ryan would be unable to look away. And then Ryan would go home alone to unsuccessfully jerk off. Well, fuck that. Ryan could unsuccessfully jerk off just fine without the trouble of watching Fabian seduce another man on a dance floor.

Ryan could not believe he was trying to describe his perfect man to his perfect man. “Okay. This is it: I like men who sort of look at what men are supposed to be and say ‘fuck you.’ I like men who have the confidence to be themselves, even if it means a lot of people are gonna look at them funny.”

I’d rather struggle to do what I love than devote myself to something I hate.”

Maybe it was absurd of me to throw away a job that so many musicians would kill for, but wouldn’t it be more selfish of me to stay? I figured I should let someone else have that seat.” He shrugged. “That’s what I tell myself anyway.”

jobs. It’s okay to use your talent to create happiness rather than wealth. It’s okay to not use your talent at all! Fuck anyone who says otherwise.”

“Maybe this isn’t obvious,” Ryan said after swallowing, “but I’m a fucking mess.” Fabian rolled his eyes. “God, who isn’t?”

“There’s no chance you’re not going to make a big deal about this, is there?” Ryan grumbled. “What? About the fact that you suddenly look like bearded Captain America instead of, like, the dad in How to Train Your Dragon?” Ryan rolled his eyes, but he secretly appreciated the ridiculous compliment. “I got a bit of a trim.”

“I’ll be going alone. And leaving as soon as possible.” “That’s the spirit!”

He wished he could just wear a sign that said I’m sorry. I am terrible at socializing. Please don’t take it personally.

“My apartment has a view of an alley where raccoons like to fuck. There’s a reason why I keep my curtains closed.”

Fabian wriggled his ass against Ryan’s erection. “I noticed.” He bent down whispered into Ryan’s ear. “Does he want to come out to play?” Ryan huffed out a laugh. “I think so.” “Good. Because I know someone who is dying to meet him.”

“I’ll bet,” he said slowly, “that you’ve imagined a few things you would like to do with me.” Ryan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yeah,” he said. It was barely above a whisper, but Fabian heard it loud and clear. “Why don’t you come over here and tell me about them.” Ryan’s mouth hung open for a moment, as if his brain had short circuited, and then he said, “I don’t know if I can. Tell you, I mean.” “Then show me.”

“Can I—?” “Yes!” Fabian practically yelled. He slapped a hand over his mouth, embarrassed. “I mean, yes. You may. Please.” “It’s been a while, so if I don’t—” “Ry-annnn,” Fabian whined.

“They are quite cozy. I can’t lie.” Ryan chewed his lip, and then turned back to the eggs. “What?” Fabian asked. “I know I look stupid, but—” “No. I, ah.” Ryan’s face heated. “I’m a little turned on. Seeing you in those clothes. I know that’s awful.” Fabian smiled and sauntered over to him, then wrapped his arms around his waist. “Well, in that case, go team go.”

He really couldn’t believe that Fabian was actually here, in his kitchen, after an incredible night and morning of exploring each other’s bodies. It didn’t matter that they’d only fooled around a little, or that Ryan hadn’t gotten off—it had absolutely been the best thing that had ever happened to him. And he was a Stanley Cup champion.

“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?”

“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.

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.”

Ryan opened his mouth and pressed it against Fabian’s rigid shaft. He felt wild with lust. Some fucked-up part of him wished his teammates could see him now, on his knees for a man wearing lace underwear and makeup.

Ryan pressed the vibration button, and a very low-grade buzz tickled Fabian’s ass. “Okay. Go higher. That feels like nothing.” “How about now?” “Did you press the button?” “Yes.” “Press it again. Feels the same.” Fabian drummed his fingers on the mattress, waiting. “Ryan?” “I pressed it.” Fabian let out an exasperated sigh. “This sucks. Press it again. And I swear to god if—aaah!” Fabian arched off the bed as the toy suddenly rattled like a busted washing machine inside him. “Turn it off! What the fuck! Turn it off!” Ryan turned it off, and Fabian could see that he was trying not to laugh. Fabian glared at him. “Next time I’m going to stick weird toys in your ass, Giggles.”

“What on earth is all this?” Fabian asked. “I wasn’t sure what to bring, so I bought a bunch of stuff,” Ryan said sheepishly. “Hopefully some of it is good.” “I should have explained that we are extremely easy to please.”

“So tomorrow night, you are going to beat up a man you have no problem with to protect a man you hate?” Ryan threaded his fingers through Fabian’s hair, which made him sigh happily. “You make it sound stupid.” “It’s very stupid.”

“I wish I could kiss you right now.” Ryan’s heart soared. “Me too.” As a compromise, Fabian retrieved one of his hands from Ryan’s, kissed the tips of his fingers, and pressed them gently to Ryan’s lips. It was one of the sweetest kisses Ryan had ever received.

“You gonna bring him flowers?” Wyatt asked. “Do guys do that?” Ryan hadn’t thought about it. Should he bring flowers? “We can do that,” he said. “Men can like flowers.” Wyatt seemed to consider this. “Y’know? I would love to get flowers. Why don’t men ever get flowers?” “Because the world is stupid.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to Ottawa.” “I know. The enemy, right?” “You’ll get to play with Rozanov. You still have a crush on him?” Wyatt laughed. “Maybe I can get to the bottom of this mystery friendship he has with Shane Hollander.” “Don’t be nosy.”

“I thought it would look good with that black jumpsuit you have.” “God, it will. I can’t believe this. Is this really for me? I own this now?” Ryan laughed. “It’s yours. The lady at the store was really excited about it. She assured me my ‘wife’ would love it.” “She does love it. I want to put it on, but it won’t go with this sweater.” “You could take the sweater off,” Ryan suggested. “And...everything else?”

Someone sat next to Ryan. Not at the end of the same row, but right next to Ryan. He glanced over and was surprised to see who it was. “Hey, Price.” “Rozanov. Shouldn’t you be at the All-Star game?” Ilya shrugged. “There will be others.”

“Was nice of you to come,” Ilya said after he exhaled. “Figured it was the least I could do.” “Yes. Well. Least you could do was too much for most players, it seems.” “Yeah, I noticed that.” Ilya blew out more smoke and said, “This game can be really fucking terrible.”

“We don’t talk about it enough in this sport. Depression. Addiction. Mental health.” Ilya glanced at him. “You know about it.” Ilya had never had a problem with being direct. “Yeah. I know about it.” “How are you doing?”

“You are a private person. I understand that.” He had to smile. “Do you?” There was a funny little twist to Ilya’s lips. “We all have secrets.”

Ilya fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to him. “Give me your number. We are organizing these camps for our charity. Me and Shane. Hollander, I mean.” He looked oddly embarrassed for a moment.