Page 27 of Home Ice Advantage

November

Eric fast-walked out of the coach’s office and then down the hall. His palms still felt sweaty and his heart pounded in his chest. He was glad that by this time of night no one was still in the arena, because he also had a pretty inconveniently obvious...well, it was obvious what he had been doing. Even if no one probably would have guessed who he’d been doing it with.

He still couldn’t entirely believe that it had happened. That it had happened the way it had. He almost couldn’t remember exactlyhowit had happened. Only that he had been furious and Sullivan was looking up at him with equally furious eyes and he’d reacted before he could even think about it.

It was always a gamble, with another guy like that. Even if he stared at you a lot, the way Sullivan had done since they started working together, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Even if you thought there was maybe a chance that he waslookingit didn’t necessarily mean that anything physical would be welcome, would start anything except a fight.

Eric had been playing hockey for a long time and he’d known he was queer for almost as long. It was a weird space to exist in, knowing there had to have been other guys like him playing, but not knowing who they were, not wanting to even risk asking the questions that could lead to finding out.

Once, when he’d been drunk and feeling kind of daring, he’d slipped into a gay bar after a game on the road in Los Angeles. Just to see what it was like. Come face-to-face with one of his teammates. They’d both stared at each other, frozen, neither willing to say anything. He’d beaten a hasty retreat and they’d just never mentioned it again.

This wasn’t the past, though. This was the present. This wasn’t his teammate, this wasRyan Sullivan, and he was being just as stupid. It was a risky thing to do. Sullivan could have punched him, could have had him fired, could have done any number of disastrous things.

Instead, Sullivan had just—

Eric could hear his heartbeat in his ears again, thinking about the way Sullivan had melted under the initial onslaught, the way he’d licked his lips when Eric had taken his face in his hands to kiss him again. The way his teeth had felt digging into Eric’s lip. The way his biceps felt under Eric’s grip. The way he’d groaned low in his throat when Eric shoved his tongue in his mouth. The way his solid, sturdy fucking body had fit against Eric’s.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about this still. He should put it entirely out of his fucking head. Sullivan was hisboss, Sullivan was an asshole he had to work with day in and day out, Sullivan was probably his least-favorite person to see in the entire goddamn world. A smiling, overly optimistic jackass who’d had everything just handed to him.

But Sullivan kissed him back like... Eric wasn’t good with metaphors. He couldn’t think of anything to compare it to. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had kissed him like that, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Whatever else Sullivan was, he definitely wasn’t straight. And whatever else Sullivan was, he was definitely fuckingannoying. Just because he kissed Eric like it was some kind of religious revelation didn’t mean that anything was going to change between them.

He absolutely could not, and would not, touch Ryan Sullivan like that again.

He just had to go back to his tiny, quiet apartment, alone, and forget it had ever happened.

Ryan stumbled out to his car. His head still felt like it was spinning, completely off-balance. But he wasn’t sure if he was off-balance or if it was the rest of the world that had been completely knocked off of its axis. Now that he wasn’t in that office, with Aronson so close to him, with the promise of Aronson’s mouth against his and Aronson’s hands on his body, it was like—Jesus fucking Christ, he’d just been lifted up and kissed stupid against his own fucking whiteboard by another man.

There was being kissed by another man and there was being kissed by another man and liking it. Liking it so much that he was still thinking about it, that he could still feel the hot press of Aronson’s mouth against his, a memory like a ghost of a touch.

That was pretty fucking gay.

Washegay?

Ryan tried to think about a time in his life when he’d been attracted to a guy, and he was coming up blank. Sure, he noticed when other men were good-looking, but that was just a normal thing to notice. It was just a general aesthetic acknowledgment, right? Didn’t everyone appreciate a good-looking person? In youth hockey, sometimes guys would mess around, but he’d never even done that. Had never even considered that someone would be interested in doing that with him. Then he’d met Shannon his freshman year and never even thought about hooking up with anyone besides her after.

But there was really no other way to look at it. Aronson had kissed him, and Ryan’s head felt like it was going to implode every time he thought about it, every time he thought about doing it again.

Doing it again?

What the hell was he even thinking about?

His phone buzzed, and because Shannon had impeccable comedic timing, she had written,When do you want to come home to pick up your shit.

Ryan stared at the text message. He thought, again, about Aronson pinning him against the whiteboard. He’d been married for twenty-five years and within the last...god, he couldn’t even remember how long, he had barely felt anything kissing Shannon. It had been familiar and comfortable, but there wasn’t anything behind it. The reason he felt so rattled wasn’t just because Aronson was a man but because kissing him felt—raw. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been missing that feeling until it happened.

I’ll have to wait until we have a day off at home.So probably not until Thanksgiving.

I won’t be in the house. So that’s fine. I’ll text you a temporary code.

Shannon, you know I’m not going to be trying to get into the house if you don’t want me there.

By the time he buckled his seat belt, she still hadn’t written back, and Ryan exhaled. He still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to his marriage. It was clear that somewhere along the line they had lost the passion they’d had in the beginning. And that was even before things had started to gowrongwrong. But he didn’t understand what he had done to earn this kind of treatment. He wondered if Shannon had met someone, if she didn’t want him stumbling across something awkward that would hurt her in the divorce proceedings.

But that was stupid, too. He wasn’t contesting anything. A fair split was what she deserved for supporting his career as long as she had, even if it had been too much in the end. A boyfriend before the papers were final wouldn’t have changed that.

It was weird. He thought he would’ve been more upset at the thought, but he didn’t feel anything. The more time that went by the more Ryan started to realize that the marriage had been over long before he’d realized it. He wondered how long Shannon had known.

---