Chapter Thirteen

“HEY, COACH. Got a minute?”

Troy looked up from his desk and saw Quinn standing with his easy slouch and his hands in his pockets. It was nearing the middle of March, and they’d never managed to quite gel as coaches. Troy was determined to have Shane coach with him next year and was thinking how to bring that up with Gabe—and also tell Gabe he was maybe also dating Shane—when Quinn decided to come for a chat.

“Sure, Quinn. Have a seat.” Troy tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, but maybe it just wasn’t possible.

“I think I’ll stand.”

Troy’s metaphorical hackles rose at the unusual tone in Quinn’s voice. Oh, God. “Up to you. What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk a bit about next year.”

Maybe he was going to go ahead and resign. The thought cheered Troy up considerably, but he kept his expression neutral. “All right.”

“More specifically how you’ll be resigning and I’ll be taking over your job duties.”

There was a moment where Troy thought he hadn’t heard correctly, because he understood the words but not the sentence in which Quinn had used them. “Excuse me?”

“I said you’d be resigning and recommending I take over,” said Quinn, as though that were extremely reasonable and hadn’t just come out of left field.

“Very fucking funny.” Damn if Quinn didn’t look dead serious, though. And as far as Troy knew, Quinn had never made a joke before—at least not on purpose.

“I’m not joking, Troy. Let me explain to you how this is going to work,” Quinn continued. “You’re going to tell Bow that you appreciate the opportunity and that you’re satisfied you’ve turned things around in the locker room. Then you’re going to express your desire to return to the AHL or take that job with the NHL. I don’t care which. And you’re going to tell him that I’m fully equipped and capable to take over as head coach.”

Fully equipped and capable? What was he, a robot? Or delusional? “Oh yeah? Or what?” Troy leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “What happens if I don’t do that, Brian?”

Quinn smiled at him, and that was the second Troy realized he’d completely and utterly misjudged Brian Quinn—and that it was going to be a major fucking pain in his ass that he had. “Or I’m going to tell Bow how you’re fucking a player. And make sure everyone else knows it too.” Quinn held up a hand. “And before you deny it, don’t bother. I saw you—well, I heard you once, and I saw you once, and that’s enough.”

Well, Troy had noticed Quinn’s car that night he’d fucked Shane over his desk, hadn’t he? “You do know I’ve never been shy about the fact I’m gay, right?”

“It’s not about you being gay, Troy. It’s about you having an inappropriate relationship with a player and hiding it.” Quinn shrugged. “Actually it’s not about that at all. It’s about me getting the head coach’s job, the one I should have had when they canned St. Savoy.”

“With all that experience you don’t have?” Troy laughed. “Quinn, you can’t be serious.”

Unfortunately Quinn appeared to be very serious. “What’s it matter to you, anyway? North isn’t staying here after this season, so he can go wherever you get hired. And you will, unless I start talking. How many teams want to hire a gay coach who sleeps with a player? Especially in the NHL. I’m not a homophobe, but plenty of people are.”

Troy gave an incredulous shake of his head. Who got blackmailed not once, but twice? “Unbelievable. I’m almost impressed, Quinn. I guess you really did learn something from St. Savoy. It just wasn’t anything about how to coach hockey.”

“Spare me the lectures, Cally. Look, this isn’t personal. If it matters at all, I’ve learned a lot more from you about being a coach than St. Savoy. Basically he just taught me to keep my mouth shut and my head down.”

That, right there, told Troy that Quinn had known exactly what was going on last year in the Ravens’ locker room, and he was so mad he wanted to punch something. Preferably Quinn. “Okay. First of all? Don’t fucking call me Cally ever again, you lying sack of shit. Just the fact you knew what St. Savoy was doing and didn’t try and stop it, that’s enough for me to want you the fuck out of my office and away from my goddamn team.”

“Oh, and what should I have done, huh? The old GM was in St. Savoy’s pocket. He bought that motherfucker a Ferrari. What was he going to do about anything? And it didn’t matter anyway. St. Savoy’s freak son went ahead and got rid of him for me.”

“It mattered,” said Troy quietly. He thought about Laurent St. Savoy, sitting with a book in the stands instead of dressed in his gear between the pipes. The video of Isaac Drake when Tyler Simon ran him in the goal and almost broke his ankle, how Isaac had been escorted off the ice amidst the eerie quiet. “You asshole. It mattered a lot.”

“It’s over and done with, Troy. And look. I’m not saying you can’t be proud of turning the team identity around. Hell, it’ll get you a job a lot quicker than being known as the coach who fucks his players will. Listen, this isn’t a hard choice. You leave, get a better job, take your boyfriend with you, and forget about this team. It’s what you’d do eventually. I just want you to do it now.”

“Why? You could just wait out my tenure, you know. I’ve only got a three-year contract.”

“I’ve waited long enough, and besides, don’t fuck with me. You were gonna tell Bow I wasn’t cut out to be here next year, and you know it.”

“Because you aren’t.” Troy went around his desk and approached Quinn without caring that his height was an intimidation tactic. It never would work on Shane, but on guys like Brian Quinn? Different story. “You’re not qualified to be the assistant coach, much less the head coach. Why the hell would I want you to take over the team I’ve spent all season rebuilding? Huh? I don’t even want you here now.”

Quinn smirked at him. “You know you’re going to do what I want. So bluster all you want, Callahan. I’m not blackmailing you. I’m just telling you how it’s going to be. You can choose to go the easy or the hard way. That’s up to you.”

“You don’t get to do this to me,” Troy said very carefully. “I did not work this hard to have some cowardly, lazy little fuck threaten me into giving up my career. You are never going to intimidate me into doing what you want, so go resign and save yourself the embarrassment.”

“Shane’s not out, is he?” Quinn asked, nonchalantly, as though he hadn’t heard any of that. He met Troy’s eyes and smiled. “Yet.”

The implication was clear, and it made Troy want to reach out and strangle Quinn in his knock-off-brand polo shirt. “You want to ruin someone’s career. Is that it? Does it make you feel powerful? Well, don’t worry. Someone’s career is going to be ruined, but it’s not mine, and it isn’t Shane’s.” He paused. “It’s yours, Brian. I know you’re not good at subtlety, so I’ll just go ahead and spare you the mental fucking mathematics it’d take for you to figure out what I mean.”

There was nothing in Quinn’s expression that suggested he was anything but confident his stupid scheme would work, which showed just how delusional he really was. “Oh, Troy. I know you like to think you’re the big bad, but listen to me when I tell you no one will touch you or your boyfriend after this. You’ll be finished. And for what? An ECHL team? You could have been the assistant coach for the Rangers. You still could. Why don’t you think of it this way. I’m doing you a favor, giving you a reason to leave that won’t weigh on your conscience. And think about Shane. What’s he going to do? Everyone already knows the kid is a failure. Is this going to help him? They’ll say he was fucking an ECHL coach to get playing time. How depressing.”

Goddammit. The only thing—the only thing—that kept Troy from calling Gabriel Bow right then and recounting the whole conversation, word-for-word, was what it would mean for Shane. He knew how much pride Shane had and how much it meant to him to end his career on his own terms. He could very easily tell Quinn to go fuck himself—and would in fact love to do just that—but he couldn’t make that decision for Shane. Troy would be damned if Brian fucking Quinn, of all people, forced Shane to come out before he was ready.

Clearly Quinn took Troy’s silence as a sign that he’d found—and hit—his mark. “I have the upper hand here, Troy. I’m shooting at a wide-open net, and you know it. Why don’t you take a few days and think about it? I’m sure once you spend some more time with your boyfriend, you’ll realize he’s more important than this job. But I’ll want this to be handled as soon as possible, so the official announcement can be made before the season ends.” Quinn pulled his phone out of his pocket and examined it. “Shall we say, I’ll check back in a week?”

“Sure,” said Troy. “And feel free to give this up entirely before then, Quinn. It’s not going to end well for you.”

“We’ll see,” said Quinn as he pocketed his phone. He gave a cheery fake smile and a wave. “Have a great weekend, Coach.”

Fuck you, asshole. Troy stared at him without responding, and Quinn left Troy’s office humming under his breath. He really thought he was going to get away with it.

Troy shook his head and pulled his phone out to call Shane. Quinn was convinced that Troy would go along with his plan to keep Shane’s secret—and he absolutely would, if it came to that.

But Troy knew it wouldn’t. It wasn’t just him that Quinn had severely underestimated, it was Shane. By the time Quinn figured out just how much, it’d be too late.

“WAIT, WAIT,” Shane said once he stopped laughing. “Let me get this straight. Brian Quinn, ineffectual assistant coach, whose greatest team contribution is holding a dry-erase board, thinks he can blackmail you?”

“Yeah,” said Troy. “Well, and you too. Don’t forget that.” He eyed Shane suspiciously. Troy hadn’t known exactly how Shane would react when he told him the news, but he’d erred more on the pissed-off side than the amused.

“My favorite is how I’m so lame, I’d fuck a coach for playing time. I mean, just because it worked, doesn’t mean it was my goal. Ow.” He rubbed his hand over the top of his head where Troy had reached over and hit him. “Wow. I fuck you for playing time, and I let you hit me. What happened to all my self-esteem? I guess I lost it with all my potential.”

“You liked it last night when I smacked your smart mouth while I fucked you,” Troy pointed out. He also hated when Shane said that about his potential, because it was bullshit. Nothing about Shane North was lost or wasted. He was exactly who he was supposed to be, and that’s how Troy knew he’d never let that little pissant, Quinn, blackmail either of them.

“Wait. That was supposed to be a smack?” Shane’s eyes glinted. “Do better, Coach.”

“Would you be fucking serious for a second?” Troy snapped, but he did file away that little nugget of information for later. “We really do have to come up with some way to address this situation, you know.”

That did make Shane stop laughing, at least. “I know. I’m just shocked, I guess. I never thought I’d be used as blackmail. And how the fuck did you get so unlucky to have this happen twice?”

Troy didn’t bother to mention that he’d wondered the exact same thing. “Because you gave me head on the team bus, you moron. Really this is all your fault.”

“You’re the one who fucked me over a desk in your doorless office,” Shane pointed out. He gave a low laugh. “I bet he jacked off watching. Or at least got a hard-on. I don’t see how anyone couldn’t, with you bending me over in that suit and—hey!”

Troy straddled Shane on the couch and gave Shane’s shoulders a slight shake. “I know you hate taking anything seriously, Shane, but you’re going to have to. We have to figure out what to do about this.”

“What do you mean, what to do about this? We tell him to fuck himself. That’s what we do about this.”

“And then you get outed,” Troy reminded him. “You okay with that?”

“Does it really matter?” Shane asked—which was what Troy hated, that Shane wouldn’t have a choice. “There’s no way you’re going to let him do this to you. So, whatever. I’ll deal with it.”

Troy stared down at him. “You’re not getting what I’m saying, Shane. If you don’t want to be out, tell me.”

“And what, you’ll just walk away and let him have the job?”

“Yes,” Troy said without hesitation. “I know what it’s like to have to come out before you’re ready. I won’t let that happen to you if I can stop it.”

That got Shane to stop laughing. In fact it seemed like Shane stopped breathing. His eyes went very wide. “I—what? No. You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t like it, but I’d do it.” Troy stared down at him. Shane’s body was warm and firm beneath him. He noticed how at home Shane was in his condo, how easily they fit together. Like puzzle pieces.

“Troy, you know there’s no way in fucking hell I’d ever, in a million years, be okay with someone using me like that, don’t you?”

“I figured. But it’s still the sort of thing you want to run by a guy,” said Troy. “It’s not just about me. Not this time.”

“Yeah. I can’t believe you’d… I mean, dude, if you’d really just up and let that jerkoff blackmail you for me? Troy, I don’t know if that makes you romantic or pathetic.”

Troy stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know why I like you.”

“You know exactly why.” Shane tugged at his arm. “Because you know I’d sooner come out with a fucking ticker-tape parade than let that asshole win. Jesus, Troy. You have to know that.”

“I was pretty sure.” Troy let Shane pull him into a kiss, but he pushed away before they got distracted. “But Shane, you need to think about what you’re doing. You’re done with your career this season. I know that. But what about whatever comes next?”

“Could you get off my lap? I can’t fucking think about the future with your dick pressing into my thigh.”

“That’s my cell phone. Fucking amateur.” Troy climbed off him and sat on the couch. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Here’s the thing, Shane.” Of all the conversations he had to have—including the one where he was going to tell his boss and best friend that he was sleeping with a player—this one was perhaps the hardest. “I don’t want you to go back to San Diego. I want you to stick around. And not just so we can get caught fucking in my office either.”

“This is the most romantic moment of my whole life,” said Shane. Then he made a face. “Jesus Christ, I think I actually mean that.”

Troy crossed his arms, exposed and vulnerable and hating every goddamn second of it. “If you’re just in this for my amazing skills in the sack, then say so.”

“I like you for more than your admittedly awesome dick and lack of a gag reflex,” said Shane. He patted Troy on the back. “Don’t worry.”

“Maybe your dick’s just not big enough to make me choke,” Troy retorted.

Shane laughed. “I like you because you say this shit when you’re trying to say you want to have a relationship, so you’d like it if I stuck around.”

“I changed my mind. Cancel the parade.” Troy smiled. It felt right, and for once, he didn’t have a single urge to be contrary about it. “Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”

“Okay.” Shane reached out and took Troy’s hand in his own. “If you tell me you were just kidding about my dick.”

Troy snorted, but he noticed they were still holding hands. He squeezed. “Your cock tests my limitless gag reflex. How’s that?”

“It’ll do until you can show me exactly how that works.” Shane looked down, but he didn’t take his hand away. “I’m going to be honest. Being in a relationship scares the shit out of me, way more than the fact you’re a guy and that people will know I’m gay.”

“Well, the only significant relationship I’ve ever had is the one between my credit card and Gangbangparty.com.” Troy went serious, though that wasn’t actually a joke. “We’ve been in this relationship longer than we even admitted, so I don’t think we’re that bad at it.”

“Aw.” Shane briefly put his head on Troy’s shoulder. “Sweet-talker. Good thing you already got me in bed.” He lifted his head but stayed pressed against Troy’s side. “I hate that this happened, but I really am ready to come out. I was in the closet for a lot of reasons, and I know some of them—okay, a lot of them—were because I hated the goddamn personal narrative about how big of a failure I was. But I’m tired of not being honest about who I am.”

“Yeah, while we’re on that subject of you being a failure.” Troy’s thumb rubbed over Shane’s. “It’s bullshit. You went in the first round of the draft, you played in the NHL, and you’ve played for sixteen years in all three professional leagues. Did you win a Stanley Cup? No. Neither did I. Shit, Shane, you played almost twice as long as I did. Even when they didn’t want to sign you in San Diego, you got in your stupid death trap of a car and drove to Asheville. Late, but you got here. If that isn’t living up to your potential, I don’t know what is.” Troy was quiet for a long moment. “And when someone tried to blackmail you to end your career, you laughed. Because there’s no goddamn way you’d ever go along with it. That’s living up to your potential, Shane. Believe me. I know.”

There was a long moment of quiet, and Shane gripped Troy’s hand so hard it hurt. He was also staring down at his lap and breathing strangely. Too quickly, maybe.

“Shane? What the hell’s the matter with you?” Troy bumped him with his shoulder. “That piss you off? You can tell me. Jesus, wait. Why am I even saying that? You can, and you would, so… what is it?”

“Umm,” Shane said, his voice suspiciously choked. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Troy leaned in closer and poked at Shane’s shoulder. “Are you being emotional?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Shane still wouldn’t look up at him. “That… thanks, Troy. I’ll blow you later for that.”

“You’d do that anyway.” Troy turned Shane’s face up to his. Shane’s dark eyes were tear bright, and Troy’s own vision was a little watery. “It’s true. And I’m sorry I thought so little of you when you first got here. It wasn’t fair of me, and I was wrong.”

Shane’s eyes went wide. “You just said that so I wouldn’t cry, didn’t you?”

“It’s the truth. Also, if you’re about to cry, you won’t try and make fun of me for admitting I was wrong.”

“I’ll make fun of you the next time.” Shane gave one single sniff and then disentangled his hand to wipe surreptitiously at his eyes.

“Oh, like I’m ever going to say it again.” Troy reached out to gently massage the back of Shane’s neck. “We have to talk to Gabe. As soon as possible, before Quinn decides to just go ahead and start talking.”

“Is he gonna—I mean, is this going to get us both canned?” Shane asked. “I don’t want this to end up with us unemployed and Quinn the head coach.”

“I know Gabe Bow,” Troy assured him. “He was a goalie for a long time, and you don’t just turn that off when you get to be the GM. One reason he puts up with me is that I never try and sneak anything by him. They hate that, you know. Goalies.”