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This would be it, Kyle decided as he hurried down the stairs to the subway. Tonight he would stop pining for Kip and maybe have fun making straight hockey players uncomfortable by flirting with them. And then he would focus his efforts on finding a nice, available, and, most importantly, appropriate man to live happily ever after with. Or a cute guy with a tight ass. Whichever.
“Is this hard for you?” Eric took a moment to consider his question. He liked to consider every question before answering. “A little. Maybe. Not that I’m not happy for Scott, but I’ve been thinking about my own wedding, I guess.” The teasing sparkle was back in Carter’s eyes. “You can remember back that far?” “Shut it.” “I forget. Was Holly a war bride? Was she your nurse after the Germans shot you?” “All right, I’m going home.”
“I saw you talking to Eric ‘Dream Daddy’ Bennett last night.” “Oh, you mean the straight man with a wedding ring on his finger? Yes, it was very promising. I expect him to call on me any moment now.” “Straight, old, and married. Isn’t that exactly your type?” Kyle flicked a sesame seed at her. “I also like them gay, young, and engaged. I’m very open-minded.”
“Nice save,” Rozanov said calmly as he skated by. “Plenty more where that came from.” Rozanov turned back and grinned. “I doubt it. You are a hundred years old. I could hear your bones creak.” “That’s not what your girlfriend said.” Eric was instantly embarrassed by his immature comeback. But Rozanov was laughing. “I’ll have to ask her about it,” he said, then skated away, still laughing.
Ilya pointed at a chalkboard beside the bar that advertised the drink special that hadn’t changed in over two years. “I would like a Scott Hunter. Please.” Scott groaned. “Just bring him a beer, Kyle. He’s being an asshole.” “Have you had it?” Ilya asked Eric. “No.” “I want to try it. And bring one for Bennett.” Eric caught Kyle’s gaze and shook his head. “I don’t—” “I can make one without alcohol,” Kyle offered. Ilya looked delighted. “Yes! A virgin Scott Hunter.” “Jesus fucking Christ,” Scott grumbled.
“Well, what should have happened was that he spotted you across the room, and then parted the crowd with his massive shoulders and thighs so he could get to you. Then he should have swept you off your feet and carried you back to his place for six days and seven nights of lovemaking.” “Like, would that have been so hard? Men. Honestly.” She sighed. “I’m going to die alone.” “You’re not. You’re going to die during a threesome with Oscar Isaac and Michael B. Jordan.” “That’s really nice of you to say.”
“Do I whistle or something to announce my presence?” “Yes. Or, if you can do one of those hog calls?” “Oh god,” Eric said, laughing. “Yuck.” “I mean, you asked how to pick up men. Don’t blame me if you don’t like how it works.”
Rozanov and Hollander. The two rivals’ names still sounded weird next to each other. “Who knew Rozanov had such a big heart?” Eric said. Scott smiled. “I had a hunch. I think he might secretly be a big softy.”
omg you have NO IDEAAAAAAAA
Eric had wanted to text him yesterday when he’d gotten back into town. Maybe see if he wanted to come over. But he didn’t want to seem too eager, and he also didn’t like how unmanageable his feelings had become. Kyle was forcing his way into Eric’s heart like a puck sailing into the top corner of the net while Eric was sprawled helplessly on the ice. He couldn’t control what was happening, and he hated things he couldn’t control. Usually.
“Yes or no?” Kyle asked, holding the cuffs up. The answer left Eric’s lips before he’d had a chance to think about it. “Yes.” “You trust me?” Kyle asked as he moved back onto the bed, straddling Eric’s waist. Again, no hesitation. “Yes.” Kyle inhaled sharply. “Fuck, Eric.”
“You might be ruining me,” Kyle murmured finally. “Might not want anyone else after this.” Well, that was a dangerous admission, and the way Kyle tensed in his arms told Eric that he knew it.
“We could use more goalie help, at the camps.” “I could probably do that. I like that you’ve made an effort to be inclusive at your camps. I assume that’s why you asked Scott.” “Yes. He is also not bad at hockey.” “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about him.” “Don’t tell him.”
“Not that it matters, really, but I’m bisexual. I mean, it seems like you already guessed that, but if you want that kind of rep at your camps...” Rozanov’s face lit up. “Bisexual! This is great. Did you fuck that blond teenager yet?” “He’s not a—” Eric bit his tongue. “He’s twenty-five.” “Twenty-five was a long time ago for you. Do you remember twenty-five?”
“You should talk to him,” Kip said sleepily. “Who?” Kyle asked, as if he didn’t know. “Eric. If you have feelings for him, you should find out if he shares them.” “And what if he doesn’t?” Kyle asked, instead of denying the feelings he knew he had for Eric. “Then at least you tried. Because what if he does?”
“Come on, boys,” he joked. “I’m forty-one. You had to see this coming.” There was silence, and then someone—Prentice, it sounded like—said, “You’re only forty-one?” Everyone laughed, and that opened the floodgates. “I thought you were at least sixty.” “Goalies didn’t even wear masks when you were a rookie.” “My grandpa grew up watching you.” Eric shook his head. “Fuck all of you. I can’t wait to never see you again.”
“I’ll never forgive myself if I let you waste your time on me. Your youth.” “Fuck my youth!” It tore out of Kyle, louder than he’d meant it to. “And fuck you for thinking I can’t make my own decisions.” Eric lowered his head. “I was twenty-four when I married Holly. And sixteen years later we realized we weren’t right for each other.” “So what? So you shouldn’t try in case one day you change your mind? You think falling in love isn’t worth the risk?”
He needed to be fearless, one more time. This time with no masks, and no armor. He needed to go to Kyle with his heart in his hands and apologize for not giving him a chance. For not giving them a chance. And god, he hoped he wasn’t too late.
They held hands as they walked together onto the dance floor. The song was a wedding staple—Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love”—but wrapped in the arms of the man he loved, Kyle felt like the first time he had ever heard it. He brushed his lips against Eric’s ear and murmured, “Do you remember when this song came out?” Eric snorted. “Fuck you.”
