Chapter Eight

 

Todd’s car was a sleek fire-engine-red Mercedes. He clicked it to life from the other side of the lot and it greeted him with a display of flashes and beeps.

“You eaten?” he asked.

“Yeah, I got a hot dog second period.”

“Is that enough?” His jaw had relaxed and his usual casual swagger was almost back.

“I’ll grab something when I get home.”

“Want company?” He opened the passenger door and grinned.

“Your company, any time.” I brushed my lips over his.

“Ey, Carty.”

We both turned and my heart sank. Zhirov was striding over the lot with his big shoulders hunched and his arms swinging. He reminded me of a gorilla about to charge. If he started thumping his chest, then he would have me convinced.

“Yeah?” Todd said, quickly stepping away from me and up to meet his teammate.

“You fucking gay or what?” Zhirov spoke with a thick accent that clipped his vowels. There was a serious amount of menace in his voice and it made the hairs on the back of my neck spike in warning.

“What’s it to you?” Todd said, squaring up to him.

“I don’t want no fucking goluboy in my team.”

I moved next to Todd but he turned, nodded at the car. “I can handle this, Matthew.”

His face was grim and so I did as he’d asked, but I kept myself ready to fly into action if this big idiot started throwing his weight around.

“You have a problem with me all of a sudden, Zhirov? I was your best buddy in the locker room an hour ago.”

“That was when you scored goals, now I see you standing with a man like you love him.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Todd snapped. “I score goals and you’re real fucking happy about that, so you may as well get it into your head that what I do off the ice is no concern of yours.”

Zhirov snarled, baring his teeth. “It is when I have to shower with a gay. I don’t want you seeing my dick.”

Todd laughed, but it wasn’t his usual soft, treacle laugh, it was brittle and hard. “As if I’d be interested in your dick.”

Zhirov pointed his finger in Todd’s face, waggled it about. “I didn’t come here to play with gays, I—”

“What the fuck is going on?” Jake appeared through the darkness.

I felt a rush of relief. Too many times I’d seen situations like this go wrong. Horribly wrong.

“Nothing.” Todd folded his arms and stepped back from Zhirov, but he didn’t take his attention off of him.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Jake eyed the two players and then glanced at me.

I shrugged, leaned back on the car and shoved my hands into my pockets. I sensed he could defuse the situation and was happy to watch.

“You really want this?” Zhirov said, gesturing between Todd and me. “Them? Together. Fucking gays?”

“If that’s what this situation is I have no fucking problem with it,” Jake said. “And you’ll find you’re in the minority on this team if you do.” Jake tilted his chin. “You’re in New York now, Zhirov, this is how we roll. It’s what Carty does on the ice that’s important, not off it.”

Zhirov huffed, rubbed his practically bald head. “Fucking unbelievable.”

“I haven’t got time for this shit,” Todd said, once again throwing his keys in the air and snapping his hand around them as they fell. “I’m too fucking tired.”

“Yeah, get outta here, buddy,” Jake said to Todd. “We’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

Zhirov turned, muttering something I didn’t catch.

“Not you, Zhirov,” Jake said. “Me and you need to get a few things straight.”

I climbed into the car and sat down. Todd did the same and slammed the door.

“Shit,” I said. “I knew something like that would happen.”

“Ah, he’s a fucking dim-brained moron.”

“A big, mean-looking moron who could stir up a shitload of trouble if he shouts to the press.”

“He could, yeah.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

“About the press, yeah, a bit. But I figure if some players are supportive, like Jake back there, then there are a few who’ll be shitty with me.”

“Will Jake be all right with him? I mean, Zhirov’s a big bastard.”

“Jake’s a fucking incredible hockey player but he’s also a black belt. So yep, he’ll be fine.”

Todd pulled out on to the main road. Once in the traffic I said, “Maybe I shouldn’t have been in the players’ lounge tonight.”

“Hell, no, don’t say that. It was okay and it’s all done now.”

“I guess.” I sighed, relieved we were alone again and away from all the curious eyes.

As we crossed through an intersection, Todd’s cell rang.

“Hey, Raven, how you doing?” he said, flicking a switch to activate hands free.

Tension swirled straight back into me. Raven Starr. The man Todd had harbored so many feelings for, had shared women with and touched intimately.

“Yeah, I’m all good, still on the mend. What about you?” Raven’s drawling voice was deep and rasping through the car speaker.

“Going home. We kicked butt tonight against the Capitals.”

There was a low-pitched chuckle. “Yeah, I saw. Fucking awesome last goal.

“Thanks, it was a risk but it paid off.”

“I bet those pansies up in New York are so fucking relieved to have you.”

“Ah, are you missing me?”

“Missing your goals. Against the Penguins yesterday. Phoenix had two back-of-the-nets but the ref called offside on one. I swear the son of a bitch was blind, and Reed had to work his ass off in goal to stave off Butler. That man is not only an ugly motherfucker, he’s also a pain in the ass when it comes to dirty shots.”

“I missed that one, went to the movies.”

“Yeah, see anything good?”

Todd looked at me and smiled. “Some soppy French film.”

“Sounds like you were dragged there.”

Todd laughed. “No, I went willingly and just because you’re uncultured doesn’t mean I am.”

“That’s not fair. I’m plenty cultured, aren’t I, Fiona?”

There was a girly giggle. “Sure you are, since you met me.”

“Hey, sugar. How you doing?” Todd said.

“Great, missing your pretty face, but listen, we’re coming to New York next weekend. Bit of sightseeing, shopping, that sort of thing, I haven’t been to the Big Apple before and Raven will be playing full-time in a few weeks so we won’t get the chance. But while we’re there we’d love to catch up with you.”

“Sounds cool.”

“So how about I book us somewhere nice to eat?” Fiona said. “Saturday.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a game in the afternoon but I can meet you for dinner, unless of course you want to come see me in action.”

“Ah, sorry, we’re not arriving until late in the day so we’ll have to rain check that,” Fiona said. “But the evening is a date, I’ll text you the details.”

Todd glanced over at me. “You free?” he mouthed.

I nodded and gave a shrug. As far as I could remember I had nothing planned. The big weekend was the one after—the exhibition weekend.

“Make the table for four,” Todd said.

“Why? Are you bringing someone?” Fiona asked, a note of excitement in her tone.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Will you still be with her by next weekend?” Raven asked with a gruff laugh.

“Shut it, asshole,” Todd said as he reached across and placed his hand on my thigh. “Just book the table for four, okay? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Todd Carty, don’t you dare leave me hanging like this. What’s her name, how did you hook up? What does she do? I need details,” Fiona demanded.

“We met when I was having those Armani shots done, okay, and that’s all I’m gonna say. See you next weekend.”

“Spoilsport,” Fiona huffed.

“Make sure you hit the Sharks hard on Thursday,” Raven said.

“Don’t worry. I intend to.”

The line clicked, signaling the end of the call. The car fell silent and I stared at the glow of headlights traveling in the opposite direction, sliding over Todd’s face.

“You cool with that?” Todd asked.

“What?”

“Coming to dinner. I should have asked you.” He lifted his hand from my thigh and gripped the steering wheel. “Shit, I’m such a dork. I just go rushing off on an idea. I’m really sorry, Matthew, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I’ll make your excuses. You heard them, they don’t even expect me to be with the same person next week.” He shrugged. “They think I’m a player.”

I continued to study his profile. Every few seconds a car light slipped down his face, smoothing over his strong, straight nose and brushing his lips and chin before rolling down his jacket. “You keep telling me those days are over for you.”

“They are, believe me.”

“I do. But it will take others longer to understand that. Just like it will take them time to understand you want a man in your bed and not a woman.”

He glanced at me then back at the road. “I hope you don’t think I’m using you.”

I was surprised by his sudden statement. “Are you?”

“No.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel and the veins on the backs of his hands bulged.

“So why would I think that?”

“Me taking you to the players’ lounge and out to dinner with my friends.” He hesitated and shrugged. “I dunno, I’d just hate it if you thought I needed a guy on my arm to come out to my friends with and I’d picked you to serve a purpose.”

“That hadn’t crossed my mind.”

“Good.” He reached over and lifted my hand. Drew it to his mouth and pressed a kiss over my knuckles. “Because that couldn’t be further from the truth and I want to prove that to you.”

I smiled. Despite the complications us being together created for the rest of the world, everything Todd did and said felt right in my world. Every moment we spent together was perfect. If he was using me to find happiness, passion and contentment in life, then that was only what I was doing, too.

We were in this together.

 

*****

 

After Todd admitted he had only beer and a jar of pickles in his refrigerator, we headed to my flat, where I had eggs and smoked ham lurking in the cooler.

The damn elevator had an out of order sign on it yet again and I worried about Todd as we climbed the stairs. He’d given his all during the game and then had to walk from the lot beneath his building to mine. He’d yawned a total of five times on that short walk and I could see his eyes were heavy. But he didn’t utter a word of complaint, nor did he get out of breath.

“Go put your feet up,” I said, bolting the door behind us. “I’ll make supper.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah, you’ve done enough.”

I paused as he used the hall wall to stretch out his Achilles, pressing his palms flat, dropping his neck and angling his body so his calves went long.

After several seconds he straightened, lifted his hands above his head and pushed them upward, fingers locked and pressed out. He screwed up his eyes and yawned again.

I laughed. “Go get in bed, we’ll have supper on trays.”

“Okay,” he said with a sleepy smile as he hung up his jacket.

Humming a gentle tune I’d heard on the radio earlier, I set about whipping up Eggs Benedict. While it was cooking I set two trays, made chamomile tea and even added neatly folded napkins and salt and pepper pots.

Balancing one tray per hand, I took our supper into the bedroom.

I stopped in the doorway.

Todd was stretched on the bed, the duvet at his waist, his head nestled in the pillows and his eyes shut. His mouth was slightly open and I could hear, even over the hockey commentary that was on the TV, that he was snoring.

I looked at the supper and sighed, then walked over and put a tray down on the bedside table next to him. “Todd,” I whispered.

No response.

“Todd.” I spoke a little louder.

Still nothing.

“Todd, you want to eat?”

He murmured, closed his mouth and seemed, if anything, to bury a little deeper into the pillows.

I looked at his chest, at the steady rise and fall of his pectoral muscles. The way light from the bedside lamps slanted shadows over his angled pecs and smooth sternum. His breaths were slow and deep and I realized there would be no waking him, not this evening.

Still holding my tray, I clicked off his bedside lamp and went to the other side of the bed. I placed my supper down, stripped to my boxers and carefully sat next to him.

He didn’t stir.

I adjusted the pillows at my back and reached for the remote that was partially balanced in his right hand, turned down the volume and started on my food.

The commentator on TV was reviewing the Rangers’ match against the Capitals. I speared a chunk of ham coated in rich, buttery sauce and popped it into my mouth.

“And the Rangers had it in the bag right from the first period,” the commentator was saying. “Carty playing hard and fast from the outset. Sinclair hardly got a look in, only three shots on goal in the third period. He’s gotta wonder if he’s even needed.”

Another commentator, with a drooping gray moustache, laughed. “I agree. The Rangers paid megabucks for their new forward, and it seems he’s worth every cent. Not such a good investment in Zhirov, though. They’ve gotta be hoping he’ll prove himself soon and justify that expensive decision.”

The screen flicked to an image of Todd scoring his first goal of the evening—sliding around two hulking Capital defenders and flicking in the shot as if he were playing against eleven-year-olds.

I glanced down at him. He looked even more beautiful when he was asleep—if that was possible.

“Randall and Carty seem to have hit it off as the new dream team of forwards,” the first commentator said.

“Yeah, sometimes it happens, two players can feed the puck backward and forward like they have telepathy going on. The rest of the league have just gotta be scared right now.”

A replay of Randall scoring his one and only goal of the evening flashed on the screen. Todd had set the shot up perfectly for an assist, and the pair celebrated afterward by knocking their helmets together.

“And this one is a beauty, Carty’s last goal. This will surely be the most replayed shot of the season. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Damn right, from that angle, with all those sticks to get past. Are we sure he’s not a robot designed to look human but with superhuman abilities?”

Both commentators laughed.

I looked down at Todd again. He was completely oblivious to the stir his skills caused. To the hours of conversation his one hour on the ice sparked, the endless scrutiny, detailed analysis of every move, scrape and hit.

If only they could see him now. Todd “Pretty” Carty was deep asleep, worn out, drained. He’d given as much as he could give.

I felt privileged to be the one taking care of him.

Suddenly his eyelids flickered. What was he was dreaming of? Was he thinking of me?

No.

Perhaps? He had confessed to a sexy dream about me on the plane, so the possibility that I was the star of the star-of-the-moment’s dreams was not completely unrealistic.

A sudden tremor of both anticipation and longing attacked my spine. I set my tray aside, flicked off my light and slouched down on the pillows. Let my leg stretch against his and allowed the raw feeling in my heart to just be what it was—a combination of lust and love, as well as bare-boned terror that was hard to admit to, let alone experience.

What if he leaves me now?

My stomach tensed and a heavy feeling grew in my chest. A dull ache set in, one that I knew would stay like the most unwelcome of visitors.

I lowered the volume some more, anxious not to wake Todd. The commentator was going over a familiar profile of his. Shots of him wearing several different jerseys, including the Vipers’ and the Rangers’, and snapping the puck into the net so fast it was impossible to see the flying disk until the net burst backward.

“Mmm,” Todd groaned, shifting and creasing his brow.

I hit stand-by and set the remote next to the tray on my bedside table. Reached for the lamp and turned it off. The room succumbed to blackness and I settled down into the bed.

Todd’s body was warm and solid and that freshly showered scent of his drifted up my nostrils as the duvet shifted. The heat radiating from his skin soaked into my flesh and I curled my arm around his waist, snuggled close and shut my eyes.

This was where I wanted to be, and luckily, it seemed this was where he wanted to be too.

So how come fear was the last emotion running through my veins as sleep claimed me?

 

*****

 

I had to travel the next day, to Washington for a series of shoots with Vogue magazine. Todd and I lingered over our goodbye kiss and there was something very calming about just holding each other, tangling tongues and knowing it wasn’t going any further.

“I’ll miss you,” he said when he finally stopped kissing me.

“I’ll call.”

He pressed his lips to my cheek. “This is crazy, but without you in New York, I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

I laughed. “You know full well why you’re here. You’re putting the Rangers to the top of the league. You should have heard the commentary about last night’s match. It was Carty this, Carty that, is he a robot?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, let’s hope if it hits the news that I’m in a gay relationship they still make time to discuss my hockey abilities.”

I smoothed his hair from his temple. “You having second thoughts about going public?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I mean no, not at all. I’ve made up my mind that I don’t want to live a lie.” He pulled me close, wrapped his strong forearms around my waist and squeezed.

I leaned into him. “I understand that, but you’ll leave it a while, though, won’t you? There’s no need to rush. We should have some time just being us, without the press interest.”

“Yeah, but it will come out eventually and when it does I want to be in control. I spoke to Max at length about it.”

“What did he say?”

“We either keep our relationship an absolute secret or I go to the press, put my hand up and say, hey, I like guys. That way I get to decide the where and when and I can tell the people close to me first.” He paused and shook his head. “I hate that feeling of not being in control. I hate how the press think they know everything when they don’t and manipulate facts.”

“People understand the press spout crap most of the time.”

“Yeah, but when it’s crap about me, I don’t like it. I’d rather just say it in my words, let them be shocked and then they’ll move on to the next story.”

“You mean without a buildup of speculation beforehand.”

“Yeah, I guess. That way it’s just news for one day.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well, news for a few weeks then. I can’t stand the thought of is he, isn’t he gossip.” He brushed his lips over mine. “I have to go, but make sure you call. I’ll be waiting to hear your voice.”