Role Model (Game Changers, #5)

by Rachel Reid

Rozanov studied him another moment, then finally extended his hand. “Welcome to Ottawa. I hope you like boring museums.”

Mom: Sometimes bad things happen so better things can happen.

Ilya didn’t used to use it, but now he’s super into taking photos of random stuff in different cities.” Harris laughed. “I wish he’d turn the camera around sometimes. The fans would probably rather see their hero than a weird fire hydrant, right?”

He noticed a second tattoo, less famous and probably more recent, on Ilya’s arm, near his shoulder. It was a bird of some sort. A loon, maybe. Kind of a weird choice.

Maybe he should ask Ilya for Shane Hollander’s number. Shane was a fucking babe.

“Probably not everyone. Ilya won’t be there.” “He won’t?” “Nah. He’s almost never around on days off.” “Where does he go?” Harris shrugged. “No idea. If there’s a team hospital visit or a community outreach thing, Ilya is always available. If not, no one can ever reach him on a day off. I figure it’s his own time, so it’s no one’s business anyway. But the guys like to invent theories.” “You’re right,” Troy said after a moment. “It’s no one’s business.”

Over the next week, Harris was visited by Troy three times. He felt like Ebenezer Scrooge, except instead of spirits, he got a sullen hockey player who was, like, the Ghost of Christmas Mixed Messages.

“People like Kent stand in the way of other people being happy. For no reason. I am always glad to punch people like that.”

“So, you’re not straight?” Troy asked carefully. “I am bisexual. It is not anyone’s business, but, yes.” “I heard the rumor that Shane Hollander is gay. I don’t know if it’s true, but...that’s what I heard.” “Did you.” Something clicked in Troy’s head. “You guys are close, huh?” Ilya started walking faster. “That is enough sharing for tonight, Barrett.”

Shane Hollander shoved Ilya hard against the glass, and Troy almost laughed at the way Ilya was grinning about it. Ilya shoved Hollander back, which made Hollander’s linemate, Hayden Pike, step in.

Troy spread his arms out on the bed, and found Harris’s stuffed giraffe in one corner. He grabbed the toy and held it over his face. “I think I’m in love with him, Mr. Neck-Neck.”

“I love you,” Troy said. It was terrible timing; he had red eyes, a snotty nose, a hoarse voice, and they were both at work, but he couldn’t help it. He loved Harris, and he needed him to know.

“Better already. I love you, too. And you can thank me by kicking Toronto’s ass tonight. Don’t make me have to post about losing after all this!”