Shit. They all know.

Matty drew a deep breath as he skated around the ice idly to warm up, stretching his legs and arms out before the practice game.

Kevin had been trying to play it cool, but he was more tense than he probably realized, and Matty didn’t want to tell him he had good reason to be.

That conversation on Sunday night at the bar? That hadn’t come from nowhere. Over the weekend, Hans had been gossiping in everyone’s ear about Kevin—maybe about Kevin and Matty, even.

Why? That wasn’t fully clear yet, but Matty had his suspicions. If Kevin was right about it, Hans just wanted a spot on the team. He was feeling threatened, which was understandable. But now Kevin was living with the guy.

That worried him.

He cast a quick, sharp look across the ice as they assembled into practice teams. Hans wasn’t looking right at him, and he hadn’t all day. Now he knew why.

“We’re playing a quick, clean game. No stunts. Show me your basic skills,” Coach Walker was calling out as the guys skated closer to him, assembling for the pre-game talk. “We’ll be trying out a few combinations of lines, so stay on your toes. If we need to pause, we’ll do it, but we’ll try to play straight through and do a breakdown later. If we break, don’t wander off. The sooner we finish, the better. Once we’re done, stick around and we’ll assign you to massages, physio, whatever you need done, or send you home.”

There was a murmur of agreement.

“I didn’t hear you,” Coach Walker told them.

“Yeah!” Matty called out, brandishing his stick in both hands above his head to a ripple of laughter.

“Thanks, Matty. Glad you’re on top of your game. Okay, pay attention. First lines, everyone…”

Matty wasn’t surprised to find himself on the first line, along with Fisher. Just like old days. Only difference was a couple of the new guys were joining them. Coach Walker and the others—their manager, the trainers, and so on—were definitely running field tests.

The first couple minutes of play were more about figuring out each other’s styles, and everyone played a careful, defensive game rather than making bold moves without knowing who would back them up. That style didn’t suit Matty at all. He chafed without knowing who had his back when he went deep.

It was a relief to be yanked a couple minutes later so he could watch the other guys intently and get more a feeling for the ones he didn’t already know. He tried to ignore the chatting from other guys who weren’t taking this opportunity as seriously as him.

He only had a couple minutes’ rest at a time, though, since Coach Walker kept sending him back out in different lines—several times with major league players who might actually be on his line, and other times with minor league players.

Including, most recently, Kevin. Kevin was a joy to play with—sharp and attentive, ballsy, but not as bold as Matty. He was too easily squeezed out, but he could work on that. He was lightning-fast and seemed to read Matty’s mind more than once, though. Those were major advantages.

When Coach Walker called Kevin off the ice to swap him, Matty caught the flash of frustration on Kevin’s face and hid his smile. Yeah, it sucked, but the newbies had to earn their minutes one play at a time. Kevin hadn’t been the top of the draft. Not the bottom, but not the kind of guy who got into the first line first thing.

Just like Matty, he’d have to work his way up, but Matty was certain Kevin had a chance.

As long as that asshole didn’t try to bring media attention down on him.

“Hey, don’t touch me.”

“You touched me.”

Chris and CJ were mock-shoving each other, chest-bumping and pushing each other up against the boards, pretending to fight.

Then a couple other guys joined in. They were all taking playshots at each other, but the punches and shoves and elbows were relatively light and a couple of them were laughing. Matty stayed out until Hans skated towards the fight, then approached. Matty got his arm around CJ to try to yank him back out of the fray, but Hans broke between them and took a playshot at his shoulder with a grin.

Matty counted him as a friend before. This wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for a couple guys horsing around, but now he wondered.

“Fuck off,” he told Hans and shoved him right back.

Hans grabbed Matty’s jersey to haul him close, then punched his side a couple times, his hits still light enough to be playful.

Then Matty was almost off-balance, shoved up against the board as Hans rubbed the palm of his glove—a sweaty and gross insult, at best—down his face.

Matty gritted his teeth and took a swing at Hans, not holding back this time, but Hans laughed and sidestepped him nimbly, giving him one more hip check back into the boards. “Missed me.” Then Hans shoved him, grabbing his arm and leg to try to pull him off-balance—an even bigger dick move.

That’s it.

Matty grabbed Hans’s helmet strap to keep him in place, then sucker-punched him so fast Hans almost didn’t see it coming.

Arms were around him, hands pulling both of them apart, but Matty still saw red. If he hadn’t been yanked back, he would have been breaking Hans’s face right about now, and from the way Hans worked his mouthguard around as he stared back at him, Hans felt just the same.

But nobody stepped in to back Hans up, and Hans knew it. He was glancing around, his expression deepening into a scowl. He’d lost, and he knew it.

“Hey, hey.” That was Fisher, squeezing between them and shoving him roughly towards the bench. “Go sit down for a couple. Take a breather.”

“I’m fine.” Matty sucked his mouth guard back into place and cracked his neck. “Ready to play.”

He didn’t want to look over at Kevin. From the bench, Kevin’s eyes were boring into him, and Matty had the distinct feeling Kevin was pissed at him for taking matters into his own hands.

Whatever. Hans had always had it coming.

* * *

Matty managed to avoid Kevin until after their massages and physio appointments, but they were both wrapped up with that at the same time.

“Kevin, Matty, you guys wanna do autographs together?” Fisher asked. “Watch out for him, Matty,” he added with a smirk. “There’s a bunch of women that’d like to eat him alive…”

Kevin’s cheeks flushed, which made them both laugh along with a couple of other guys.

“Sure,” Matty laughed. “Come on.”

Just before they approached the arena door, though, Kevin pulled him aside, his smile vanishing. “Dude. Hans is out there right now. You gotta tell me. What the fuck was Hans’s problem?”

“He was itching for a fight, that’s all.” Matty shrugged. “It happens.”

“Even teammates?”

“Dude, fights go from haha, you loser to fuck you and your mom in ten seconds sometimes. It happens,” Matty repeated firmly, but Kevin’s eyes were still crinkled with worry.

“He knows.”

Matty shook his head slightly. He couldn’t deny it, though—Hans had been watching Matty head off to the gym with him every day, and now he was certain Hans had come to watch them train together.

Eugh. It left him feeling almost slimy, having that gross asshole watching them for signs of more than friendship.

“Fine, but he can’t do shit,” Matty murmured, catching Kevin’s eyes. “He’s just jealous of what you and I have.”

Kevin’s eyes flickered between Matty’s, his brow furrowing with the question. Matty could already read it: you and I each, or… you-and-I, like both of us? Then, the answer, as Kevin’s face cleared up. Ohhh. Both. And then, a blush.

Fuck, he was adorable. However good he was at a stony expression on the ice, he was so easy to read the rest of the time. Matty tried not to laugh.

“Right,” Kevin said, clapping his hands together and rubbing. He turned for the arena door. “Let’s do this.”

Matty followed Kevin out of the arena, grinning at the burst of cheers as they emerged. He had been expecting a couple dozen people at most, but there had to be fifty or sixty here, and it was the end of a training day. Holy shit, these fans had patience.

“Hey, guys,” Matty greeted. “Weather been all right?”

“Gorgeous out here,” someone answered as Matty approached, holding out a pen for him to sign his autograph. “How’s training?”

“I love it,” Matty answered honestly. He knew his face was lighting up with enthusiasm. “Been here a few times. Kevin here’s new, though.”

“Kevin?” someone called out.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Kevin answered, looking startled.

Oh, man, Kev. People knowing your name is the least of it. Matty laughed. “Yeah, he’s doing great too. Loving it. Coach Walker’s great as always. And it’s good to see old buddies again.” He signed his name almost unconsciously now, pleased to notice a few people looking for Kevin’s autograph, too.

Kevin hardly seemed to know what to do, but he got faster after a couple signatures and chatted briefly with a couple fans who asked him what it was like so far.

Soon, they’d all be getting training in how to handle the media, what to say and what not to do, that kind of stuff. For now, this was Kevin’s first exposure to a taste of fame.

Some guys played for a love of the sport, others for a love of money, and for those who fit neither camp, this was the moment that cemented their determination to succeed. Fame was a powerful draw.

Still, Kevin stayed humble. Every time someone asked him to sign an autograph, he looked surprised, then pleased.

They hardly noticed Hans head back inside. Once they’d been out there for fifteen minutes or so, another couple guys came out. There were louder cheers for Fisher, and Matty laughed.

“Hey, man,” Fisher greeted, coming up between them and putting one arm around each of them, then posing for a couple photos as they all grinned. Then he clapped their shoulders. “You guys heading home?”

“Yeah, I’m wiped,” Matty admitted. “Kev?”

“Yeah, me too.” Kevin slapped Fisher’s back lightly. “I think your fans are waiting.” There were people calling Fisher’s name to try to get his attention, after all.

Matty smirked. “Go strut your stuff,” he teased his buddy, who shoved him. “You gonna be home later?”

“Yep,” Fisher promised. “Maybe supper. Kevin, you wanna come over too?” Matty’s chest swelled with gratitude that he hadn’t had to be the one to make that offer in public.

Kevin looked startled for a moment, and Matty tensed slightly. Come on, man. Don’t go home to Hans. Then Kevin obviously realized why Fisher had offered and nodded quickly. “Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll catch a ride home with you?”

“Of course,” Matty answered and pulled back from Fisher. “See you in a couple.”

“See you, man.”

They raised their hands to wave again, and then they were stepping back inside, changing and waiting for the cab ride home. Leaving in a taxi was a little safer than trying to get home on the bus after a higher-profile day like this, and Matty hadn’t driven. He probably would tomorrow.

“You don’t mind me coming over?” Kevin asked as they leaned in the side hall, waiting for the text message from the taxi.

Matty shook his head. “Course not.” He tried not to flush with heat. Fuck, his roommates wouldn’t be much longer before they got home, and then Jasmine had to be walked… Besides, he hadn’t been acting out there when he said he was exhausted.

But Kevin was leaning just a couple feet away from him, his bangs in his eyes, those wide eyes so sweet and hopeful as they locked on Matty’s.

Matty jolted with relief when the phone vibrated in his hand, giving them both a distraction. “Oh, taxi’s here.”

They kept a little personal space when they headed through the crowd and found their way to the taxi, then climbed in with another wave each before they pulled off.

Matty leaned forward and gave his address, then closed his eyes to rest them for the quick drive home.

It turned out Kevin was feeling pretty low-key himself. He ambled up the sidewalk after Matty once the taxi dropped them off outside Matty’s house, hands tucked in his hoodie pockets. If only that didn’t look so cute, too.

Ugh. Matty really needed to stop thinking of him that way.

In the end, Matty barely remembered the evening—letting Jasmine run around the yard for a while as they all ordered in pizza, watching some shitty movie with their group all half-asleep and aching from head to toe.

“Wanna crash here for the night?” Matty finally offered around a yawn as he stretched, realizing he couldn’t keep his eyes open if he tried.

Kevin grimaced. “If you wouldn’t mind. I don’t wanna face him again yet.”

“Don’t,” Matty agreed. “Come on.”

He’d expected more tension when he led Kevin upstairs to his bedroom, but instead, they both quietly stripped off to their boxers and crashed into the bed. Kevin did scoot over to the unused side of the bed, arranging pillows under his head before he breathed out a long sigh.

Matty pushed his face into the pillow and moaned his relief as he started to drift off almost instantly.

“Thanks, man.” The voice was just loud enough to get his attention.

Matty’s chest warmed as he turned his cheek and squinted at Kevin through the darkness. Then, he reached out, groping carefully under the sheets until he made contact with a firm shoulder. “Course.” He squeezed it.

Kevin offered him a smile, his eyes fluttering closed as he breathed out slowly.

Matty didn’t even remember letting go of Kevin.