But he couldn’t stand there and make this all about him and his feelings. This was the culmination of Gabe’s career. This was a huge thing, something he’d been wrestling with for months, alone. He cleared his throat and ruthlessly blinked his eyes clear. “That’s what all the doctors’ appointments were about?”

And the hours locked up in his office—researching different treatment options? Prognoses?

Gabe nodded before Dante could finish putting the pieces together. “I wanted to be sure I was making the right decision.” To his credit, his voice hardly broke. Dante didn’t know anyone who’d managed to make the retirement announcement without losing their composure. It made him feel… fiercely proud and sick with resignation at the same time.

It meant Gabe was sure.

Still, he had to confirm it, hear it out loud one more time. “You really want to—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t imagine stepping out onto the ice with Gabe for the last time.Fuck.

Now Gabe laced their fingers together. He didn’t look Dante in the eye. Fair. This was hard enough as it was. “No. But I need surgery again.”

Dante winced. It wasn’t like he hadn’t suspected.

“And I just wonder, you know? How well will it hold up before I need it again? Or before something else breaks?” He shrugged with an asymmetrical lift of his shoulders. “I don’t want to be in pain all the time.”

Dante let out a shaky breath. There was no way to argue with that, and he didn’t want to. A little part of him felt relieved too, knowing Gabe wouldn’t have to hurt so much anymore. “Okay. I get it.” He squeezed Gabe’s hand. “I’m glad you told me, even if I… am definitely going to be a little bit of a baby about it.”

Gabe laughed, but it was mangled. God. Time for the emotions. He tugged Dante closer and leaned their heads together. For a minute they just swayed in the kitchen, existing in each other’s space. “I’ll stick out the rest of the season unless my shoulder gets worse. I hate leaving things unfinished.”

Dante hated that he’d be leaving the game on a season this mediocre, when they didn’t have a prayer at another Cup run. They might make playoffs, if they were lucky. He couldn’t envision them doing much better than a second-round exit, but he’d been wrong before. “You’re taking this really well,” he accused.

Now Gabe snorted. When he pulled back, his eyes were just slightly red. “I’ve had time to get used to the idea. The bruises and aches never used to bother me. They were just part of the job I loved. But the past few months, it’s not the same. It hurts differently. I’m tired of being in pain, and I’ve seen too many guys struggle with painkillers.”

Dante swallowed. Yeah. He’d seen that too.

But Gabe’s tone lightened, and he rubbed his thumb over Dante’s gold wedding band. He never had gotten around to buying a silicone one for game days. “Besides, I have this sugar-baby husband a couple years younger than me. I want to be able to enjoy my retirement without pain. And his too, one day.”

Dante opened his mouth, filled with the need to saysomething. Gabe didn’t do big speeches like this. It was definitely more Dante’s territory, and the speeches were usually filled with more colorful language. But he didn’t get very far, because Gabe brought a finger to his lips, forestalling further words.

“Just let me get this out, okay? I need you to understand.” His blue eyes were very serious. “Until you, life after hockey was an abstract concept.” He shrugged like that wasn’t one of the most romantic things anyone had ever said. Their wedding vows hadn’t been this damn intimate. “I couldn’t picture it, so I never thought about it. Now I can see it clearly.”

Dante was not allowed to get choked up. This was Gabe’s big emotional moment, not his. Unfortunately his dumb face hadn’t gotten the memo and his throat was swelling closed. If he said too much, he’d crack. So he just said, “You fucking sap.”

Gabe laughed, loud and sharp, and the tension broke. He cradled Dante’s face in his hands and kissed him—forehead, nose, mouth. The last kiss lingered, the sweet with the bitter. Dante found himself holding Gabe’s wrists close to his face.

But as the kiss broke, the stress of the moment flowed away. Dante wasn’t done having feelings about it, but he wasn’t going to dwell on purpose. Unlikesomepeople, he wasn’t a brooder by nature.

Determined to move on from the subject, he summoned a self-deprecating head shake and said, “You want to know something funny?”

Gabe smacked a kiss on his nose and reached for the next dish to load into the dishwasher. “Hmm?”

“I thought you were going to say you wanted a baby.”

Gabe loaded the plate, looked at the dishwasher as though it had done something deeply incomprehensible, and then closedit and turned to Dante, face serious but again, very fond. “Youwant a baby.”

Dante frowned. “No,” he said reflexively. He was pretty sure it was Gabe. He thought about Canadian Thanksgiving, watching Gabe with Olie’s youngest, the way Gabe had smiled at him and made baby voices, the way he looked so comfortable and happy with a kid in one hand, the way he soothed him when he fussed, the way Dante’s chest had suddenly felt too tight—

“Oh.” He fumbled behind himself for a kitchen chair and abruptly sat down. Because of course this was what did it. Gabe’s surprise early retirement, sure, he could handle that standing up.

His own desires blindsiding him in the kitchen two days before Christmas, not so much.

It never used to be like this. Once upon a time, Gabe had been the unsure one and Dante the one pushing for next steps. Marriage took longer; Gabe was all twisted up in his head about it. But Dante was patient.

The point was, it had taken time for Gabe to get used to the idea that it was okay to want to get married. Okay to have a family now, during his career, not only once it was over.

Maybe that had rubbed off on Dante.

Suddenly his eyes stung. Damn it. He’d been doing so well. “How did you know?”