by Rachel Reid
“Okay.”
* * *
They took a cab back to Fabian’s apartment. It was twenty below zero outside, and the club was outside of the Village.
Ryan had been uncertain about going to Fabian’s show, but he knew he had to at least try. He literally had nothing left to lose. When he saw Fabian onstage, wearing his necklace, Ryan’s heart had lifted. Fabian couldn’t completely be done with him if he was wearing his present to such an important show.
He’d been planning what he would say, if given the opportunity, for days. It seemed his opportunity had arrived.
He followed Fabian into his apartment, and was overcome with relief. He thought he’d never see this room again.
Fabian was still wearing his stage outfit. He was also still wearing his makeup, though the black liner around his eyes had smudged quite a bit.
“Give me a moment?” Fabian asked. “I want to clean myself up before we talk.”
“Of course.”
Ryan sat on the end of the bed and waited while Fabian did whatever he needed to do in the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, Fabian emerged in a black satin dressing gown with a freshly scrubbed face and wet hair. He was still wearing the necklace.
Ryan laughed. “Do you ever take that off?”
Fabian smiled, and walked to the stove. “When I have to.” He took the kettle that was on one of the burners and filled it with water, then returned it to the stove. “Truthfully, this is the first time I’ve worn it since...well. You know.”
Ryan knew. “I’m glad you wore it tonight.”
“I’m glad you were there to see it.” He pulled two mugs out of a cupboard above the fridge and set them on the tiny counter. “Is mint tea okay?”
“That sounds perfect.”
Fabian prepared their tea while Ryan watched in silence. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them that they would wait until the tea was ready to really get into things.
By the time Fabian handed him a steaming mug of mint tea, Ryan’s nerves were up again. He had planned to speak first, but maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Fabian sat in the chair that was free of discarded clothing tonight, facing Ryan and the end of the bed. His bare toes nearly touched the ends of Ryan’s socked ones.
“I quit hockey,” Ryan blurted out.
Fabian’s eyes widened.
“I mean, I am quitting. I’m in the process of quitting. But I won’t be playing any more games. I’m done.”
“Wow. That...wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do next, but I have money, so I can take some time to figure that out. And...heal.”
“How’s your back?”
“A lot better. I had some days off and I rested it.”
“I’m glad.”
Ryan could tell Fabian was being cautious. He didn’t blame him.
“I haven’t taken a painkiller in over a week. Not even an Advil. Nothing.”
Fabian chewed his lip, then said, “I was too hard on you about that. I could have trusted you to be careful about your pain medication. You’ve been doing this a long time, and you’re not, as far as I can tell, an addict.”
“I’m not. I’ve always been careful. But I think it would be easy to cross that line. Too easy. And you were right about letting myself heal. Hockey is stupid that way.”
Fabian cupped his hands around his mug. “Even if you were developing an addiction, it was heartless of me to walk away like that. You needed help and support. Not...that.”
“You were scared.”
“I was terrified,” Fabian corrected. “But I want you to know...you don’t have to quit hockey. For me, I mean. If that’s why you did it—”
“It’s not the only reason. What you said was true—hockey isn’t good for me.”
Fabian looked relieved. “All right. But if you think quitting is the only way I’ll be with you, it isn’t true. I was being selfish and that was a ridiculous thing to demand of you.”
Ryan’s heart flipped. “You want to be with me?”
Fabian’s lips quirked up. “You caught that, did you?”
Ryan grinned stupidly at him, then snapped out of it and remembered what he’d wanted to say. “Okay. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to say. And I practiced it. So I want to say it.”
“You practiced it?”
“Yes.”
“Well by all means, let’s hear it.”
Ryan stood and set his mug on Fabian’s desk. “The thing is—” He paused, already lost. “These past few months—” Damn it. “I know we haven’t—” He sighed, and then cursed under his breath.
“Ryan.” Fabian stood and placed a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to say anything.”
Ryan shook his head. “I’m in love with you.” He swallowed. “I had to say that. Just that.”
Fabian pressed his lips together, and his eyes glistened. He let out one long shuddering breath, and said, “I think it might be possible that I’ve always been in love with you. I know how absurd that sounds, but it’s the truth.”
Ryan smiled so wide it hurt. “Can I kiss you, then?”
“Yes. One moment.” Fabian climbed onto the chair he’d been sitting in, standing on it this time. He stood a couple of inches taller than Ryan now, which made Ryan laugh.
And then he tilted his head up to kiss the man he loved. Fabian wrapped his arms around Ryan’s neck, and Ryan hooked an arm under Fabian’s ass and hauled him off the chair so he could carry him to the bed.
“Your back really is better,” Fabian said happily.
“Yeah. Let me show you what else it can do.”
Fabian’s eyebrows shot up. “My goodness!”
Ryan laughed and dropped him on the mattress. “You look so sexy in that thing.”
“What?” Fabian asked, gliding a hand over the silky material of his dressing gown. “This? I’m glad you like it because I’m freezing. It’s not at all appropriate for frigid midwinter nights.”
“I’ll warm you up.”
“Of course you will. Get your clothes off.”
* * *
“Ryan,” Fabian murmured later, when they were tangled up in bed together, sleepy and sated, “I have a very important question about your thighs.”
“What’s that?”
“What happens to them after you stop playing hockey?”
Ryan paused a moment from stroking Fabian’s hair. “They’ll probably turn into regular thighs.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Quitting hockey doesn’t sound so great now, does it?” Ryan teased.
“Hm. I suppose I’ll have to learn to live with only your towering height, your gorgeous face, and your enormous cock.”
“And my fun personality.”
Fabian slapped his arm lightly. “You’re plenty of fun.” He rolled on top of Ryan and gazed down at him. “And you’re sweet. And I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I’m playing some shows out of town later this month. Would you like to join me?”
“Flying?”
Fabian laughed. “You greatly overestimate the travel budget of an indie musician. No, I’ll be driving or taking the train.”
“Oh.” Ryan grinned. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll go with you. We can take my car.”
“My label is planning a Canadian tour for me this summer. If spending the summer driving for hours between Canadian cities with a rising star appeals to you, you could come along.”
For a long moment, Ryan didn’t say anything. It sounded perfect, driving across the country with the man he loved. Being there to watch Fabian dazzle audiences in different cities. Being there to kiss Fabian after his shows, and then taking him back to their hotel room and showing him exactly how proud he was to be his bo
yfriend.
“But this isn’t all about me,” Fabian added, breaking Ryan’s giddy fantasy. “We’re going to figure out what you need. What makes you happy, Ryan?”
At the moment, Ryan couldn’t imagine needing more than the man he had in his arms, but he said, “I don’t know. But I can’t wait to find out.”
Epilogue
Fabian: When are you done for the day?
Ryan: Just wrapping up. You at the hotel?
Fabian: I’m at a café.
He sent Ryan a photo of a cappuccino sitting next to a plate with a half-eaten pain au chocolat.
Fabian: I love Montreal.
Ryan smiled. He’d just finished his first day of coaching at Rozanov and Hollander’s charity hockey camp, and it had gone surprisingly well. He’d felt a little awkward standing next to some of the superstars that had agreed to help out, but at least Wyatt was there.
Although, Wyatt was practically a superstar himself these days. Since being traded to Ottawa, he’d played extremely well for the struggling team. Ryan was happy for him.
The first day of camp had been a little chaotic, with everyone trying to figure out how exactly this was going to work, but it had been fun. The kids were great, and Ryan liked that the camp welcomed all genders. He’d ended the day by working one-on-one with a thirteen-year-old girl on improving her pivoting. It was awesome being able to share actual hockey skills with someone. It was awesome to be reminded that he had actual hockey skills.
“Nice work today, Pricey.” Wyatt came up behind him, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Is that Fabian you’re texting?”
“Yeah. He’s eating pastry somewhere.”
“Jesus, and he’s sending you photos of it? That seems cruel. Listen, do know where Roz or Hollander are? I got Owen’s mom to sign the incident report and now I don’t know what to do with it.”
“Incident report? What happened?”
“Aw, nothing much really. Some shoving in the locker room. I think he’s got some old beef with that Harper kid.”
“Oh.” Ryan couldn’t imagine what kind of beef two twelve-year-olds could have. “I can take that for you. I’ll give it to them.”
“Thanks, buddy. Lisa is waiting for me, so I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?” He handed Ryan the paper and jogged away.
Ryan glanced down one end of the hallway he was standing in, and then the other. He was pretty sure there was some sort of office somewhere that Rozanov and Hollander were using. Maybe one of them was in there.
He chose a direction and started walking. He was glad he had decided to accept Rozanov’s offer and coach this camp. It had taken a lot of convincing on Ilya’s part, but after Ryan had some long conversations with Fabian, his parents, Colleen, and his therapist, he had decided that this would be a good way to see if hockey had anything left to offer him.
He was thinking seriously about getting into some sort of childhood education program. Or maybe a physical fitness education program. He liked working with kids, and he liked being active. He really liked the idea of making hockey a positive and inclusive thing for everyone. It was a cause he could be passionate about.
He heard Rozanov’s unmistakable voice—a heavily accented teasing drawl—coming from a room down the hall. He headed toward the sound, and then stopped when he heard a second, angrier voice. It sounded like Hollander.
He moved a little closer and could confirm that it was Shane Hollander, and he seemed to be arguing with Rozanov. Well, that wasn’t really a surprise. Ryan still wasn’t over the fact that they liked each other at all.
The arguing stopped, so Ryan went to the door. He should have knocked before nudging it open because the next thing he saw was Ilya pinning Shane against the wall.
With his mouth on Shane’s.
Shane saw him first, and immediately shoved Ilya away from him. Ilya turned to see who the intruder was, not looking nearly as panicked as Shane was.
“Price,” Ilya said calmly. “What’s up?”
Shane was blushing furiously and smoothing out the front of his camp director polo shirt.
“I have some paperwork. Wyatt gave it to me. For you.”
“Thank you,” Shane said. “You can put it on the desk. And, um, about what you just saw...”
Ilya rolled his eyes and took the paper from Ryan. “He’s not going to tell anyone, Shane. Fucking relax.” He shot Ryan a questioning look that said you’re not going to tell anyone, are you?
“No. I won’t tell anyone. That you’re, um...”
“Making out at work? Yes. That would be bad,” Ilya said with an amused grin. Shane looked like he would never smile again.
“I don’t know what I see in you,” Shane grumbled.
“Yes. You say that every day.”
Ryan couldn’t help but smile at them. Suddenly things made a lot more sense. “Your secret is safe with me,” he promised.
He left in a hurry, feeling embarrassed but also very keen to see his own boyfriend. He and Fabian were here for the week, and then they were heading to Atlantic Canada so Fabian could play some shows and they could both have some family time.
Ryan wasn’t sure how it was going to go with Fabian’s family. The Salahs knew they were dating, but Fabian said he didn’t think they would actually believe it until they saw them in person. Whatever happened, Ryan would be right by Fabian’s side.
He found Fabian sitting on a bench outside their hotel. He looked fucking gorgeous in his blue floral-print romper, enormous black sunglasses, and bright yellow espadrilles. Ryan was wearing track shorts, flip-flops, and a gray camp T-shirt.
Fabian stood when he saw him, and handed him a small white bag. “I got you an almond croissant.”
Ryan looked in the bag. “Weird that they sold it to you with a bite out of it.”
“I know! I should complain.”
Ryan kissed him, right there on the sidewalk. “You smell nice.”
“I may have sampled some fragrances at Holt Renfrew.”
Ryan buried his face in the crook of Fabian’s neck and inhaled. “I like this one. Did you buy it?”
“No, darling. That’s your job.”
Ryan grinned and kissed his neck. “You had a good day, then?”
“I did, but it’s very hot and I was hoping we could retire to our air-conditioned hotel room.”
“Sounds like a plan. You have any ideas about dinner? Besides pastry, I mean.”
“None. But... I do have something to show you.” He handed Ryan his phone. “Tell me what you think.”
Ryan thumbed through the gallery of images. They were all photos of rooms in a small townhouse near the Village. “This is for sale?”
Fabian bit his lip. “It isn’t cheap.”
Ryan closed the gallery and looked at the price. It was almost half of what his sky-rise apartment had cost him. “We could do this.”
“Could we? Vanessa and Tarek said they would check it out for us and let me know if it’s worth pursuing.”
Ryan loved the idea of Fabian filling these rooms with color and ornate knickknacks. He loved the idea of building a home and a life with Fabian. He didn’t care where they lived, but he knew Fabian wanted to stay close to his friends. Close to his community. Ryan was happy to do that, even if it meant ridiculously high real estate prices.
They walked hand in hand through the sliding glass doors into the hotel lobby, Fabian swinging their joined arms playfully.
“Don’t tell Mom and Dad,” he said, “but I am extremely grateful that they took in hockey players when I was growing up.”
Ryan laughed. “I find that hard to believe.”
“I’m sure they didn’t intend to play matchmaker for their son, but it certainly worked out.”
“It did.”
“Maybe I’ll thank them at our wedding.”
As they waited for the elevator, Ryan blatantly ogled Fabian in his cute little romper. His lean bare legs and arms were thoroughly distracting. Fabian must have noticed Ryan’s interest, because he licked his lip and, presumably, locked eyes with him. It was hard to tell with the sunglasses covering most of his face.
When they were alone in the elevator, Fabian scoffed at the obvious erection that was straining the fabric of his romper shorts. “Great. Look what you did.”
Ryan chuckled and thought about all the ways he’d like to alleviate Fabian’s problem.
“I hope you’re happy,” Fabian scolded.
Ryan grinned. “I really am.”
* * *
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Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I would like to thank Mackenzie Walton for making my books so much better. I really lucked into getting the best editor. I would also like to thank the entire Carina Press team for being great to work with.
I would also like to thank my husband, Matt, for being so supportive and encouraging, especially when I was reading the first draft aloud to him.
And finally I want to give a huge shout-out to all of the professional athletes, especially hockey players, who have spoken or written bravely and honestly about their own struggles with mental health, addiction, phobias, and the culture of toxic masculinity that can make team sports so difficult for so many people.
About the Author
Rachel Reid has always lived in Nova Scotia, Canada, and will likely continue to do so. She has two boring degrees and two interesting sons. She has been a hockey fan since childhood, but sadly never made it to the NHL herself. She enjoys books about hot men doing hot things, and cool ladies being awesome.