“That shot must have been a hundred miles an hour!” Kip’s father said.
“Fuck, Scott, come on. Get up.”
Scott lay crumpled on the ice in the fetal position, one leg slowly moving in and out. Kip felt sick. He wanted to run down and jump over the glass.
“Did it get him in the face?” someone behind him asked loudly.
No... Kip mouthed.
“Nah. Maybe the ribs,” someone else said.
God.
Scott rolled, and Kip could see his face. His eyes were wide and his mouth was open and gasping.
“He can’t breathe!” Kip said to no one and anyone. “He can’t breathe! He needs...”
Scott put a gloved hand down on the ice, bracing himself before he slowly pushed himself up to his knees. He was wincing, with his eyes squeezed shut, but he seemed to be breathing. He wrapped an arm around himself, holding his side. One of his teammates hooked their arm under his and helped him up. Another picked up his stick for him.
Scott skated slowly off the ice, supported by his teammate, while the crowd applauded.
Kip slumped back into his seat with relief. He’s all right. He’s all right.
Dad put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “He’s a tough one.”
“Yeah.” Kip exhaled. He watched as Scott was escorted by the team doctor down the hall behind the bench.
The game continued, but Kip was no longer paying attention. He kept his eyes on the bench, watching for any sign of Scott’s return.
The final seconds ticked down, and the match ended 3–2 for the Admirals. Scott never came back from the dressing room. Kip wasn’t sure what he could do. He was supposed to go to Scott’s tonight, but...
As he and his father were leaving the arena, Kip sent Scott a text: Just tell me you’re ok.
There was no reply, which Kip had expected. Scott probably wasn’t anywhere near his phone right now.
On the subway, his father said, “Hunter’s got heart, that’s for sure. That act of self-sacrifice may have won them the game.”
They trudged along the slushy sidewalks from the subway station to their house. He felt bad that he couldn’t enjoy his dad’s company right now. He’d been having a great afternoon, but now he was completely preoccupied with worry.
They had been home for almost an hour before Kip got a reply from Scott. I’m ok. Nasty bruise, but ok. Heading home now.
Kip sat on his bed, hard, and wrote back, Good. You scared me.
Scott: Sorry. Looked worse than it was, probably.
Kip frowned. You still want me to come over?
His phone rang a second later.
“Yes,” Scott said.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. I mean... I don’t know if I’ll be able to...do much.”
“I knew it! You are hurt!”
“It’s not that bad. It’s just a bruise. I put ice on it, and I’ll put more ice on it when I get home. No fractures. No bruised ribs.”
“You got an X-ray?”
“Yes, of course. They gave me an X-ray right in the arena. No fractures. Please come over.”
“All right. You’d better have an ice pack on that when I get there.”
“I will,” Scott said. “And I like that you’re so worried about me. It’s really...sweet.”
Kip blushed, because what was he doing? Telling an NHL superstar how to care for his injuries? “I just—I’m glad you’re all right. I’ll be right over. And I’m serious about the ice pack.”
Scott chuckled. “I’ll see you soon.”
* * *
“All right, let’s see it,” Kip said. Scott had been unable to keep himself from grimacing as he walked Kip back up to his apartment. Kip, of course, had noticed.
Now Scott was laid out on the couch, and Kip was carefully lifting his shirt up.
“It looks worse than it is,” Scott said. “Really.”
“Oh my god!”
Scott glanced down and saw the massive black-and-purple welt that covered most of his right side. The puck had hit him just under his rib cage, just above the thick padding at the top of his hockey pants.
“It’s not that bad.” It had hurt like hell, and had completely knocked the wind out of him, but there were no internal injuries.
“Bullshit it’s not! You’re staying right there. I hope you have an ice pack ready to go on that,” Kip said as he walked to the kitchen.
“I have several,” Scott said, “always. I barely keep food in that freezer. It’s all injury treatment stuff.”
Kip returned with a fresh ice pack and pressed it gently to Scott’s skin. Scott sucked in a breath at the initial contact, then relaxed and placed his hand over Kip’s, helping him hold the pack in place.
“It’s been a long time since anyone’s fussed over me like this,” he said. “It’s nice.”
Kip gave him a smile that was a little sad, and Scott squeezed his hand.
“Sorry I scared you,” he said. “Hazard of dating me, I guess.”
“Acceptable hazard.” Kip slipped his hand out from under Scott’s and stood. “I’m gonna make you some dinner. You have any food?”
“I have the stuff I bought to make you breakfast the other day. Bacon and eggs. It’s still in there. Here, let me help—”
“No way. You’re benched, Hunter. Stay there.”
Scott rolled his eyes and stood up, slowly. “I’m at least going to move over to the kitchen so I can see you.”
He made his way (with some discomfort) to the stools that lined the high counter separating the kitchen from the living/dining area. He sat and offered Kip helpful instructions about where to find things, and how to use his fancy gas range.
It was nice, having Kip here in his kitchen. Watching him prepare food for the two of them, and hearing him talk about his day.
“Over easy? Sunny-side up?” Kip asked. “I’m an egg expert.”
“Over easy. It’s okay if you fuck them up, though. I drown them in hot sauce anyway.”
“I will not fuck them up!” Kip said as he carefully flipped the eggs. “You know, I used to do this professionally and... Aw, dammit! I broke a yolk!”
Scott laughed. “It’s fine. I’ll eat it, believe me. I’ll eat just about anything.”
Kip raised an eyebrow and pressed his lips together.
They sat next to each other at the kitchen counter and ate their bacon, eggs, and toast. Kip looked so happy and cute, and Scott lamented that he wouldn’t be able to do much more than kiss him tonight.
Which reminded him of another annoyance.
“I should warn you,” Scott said, “I’m going to be stressed out and distracted this week.”
“Why’s that?”
“The trade deadline is next Monday. Probably the most stressful day of the year for every player.”
“But you’re not...you’re not gonna be traded, right?” Kip looked horrified at the thought.
“No, I don’t think so. I mean, there’s always a chance, but we’re making a run for the cup this year, so I doubt they’ll get rid of me. I’d be worried if the team needed to cut some costs.”
“So why are you nervous?”
“Because someone will be leaving. With Zullo gone, we have a hole to fill in our defense, and to fill it we’re going to have to lose a guy or two. We’re like family, so it’s hard.”
“Right, yeah. I guess it would be like that.”
They talked and ate, and Scott tried, but failed, to keep himself from visibly leaning on the counter for support.
“Come on,” Kip said, after Scott wasn’t able to conceal a wince. “You must be hurting. Let’s go back to the couch.”
Scott didn’t argue. Kip helped Scott lower himself onto the couch, letting him stretch out on his back. Kip sat at one end so Scott could rest his head in his lap. They watched an action movie on television, and Kip brushed his fingers through Scott’s hair.
And soon, Scott forgot all about trade deadlines and Zullo and nasty bruises.
* * *
Kip watched the credits roll on Scott’s massive television screen. “Man, how much do you think it cost to make that dumb movie?”
Scott didn’t answer. Upon closer inspection, Scott Hunter was, in fact, asleep in his lap.
Kip smiled to himself, and admired Scott’s profile. He looked so peaceful and young. His long eyelashes brushed his cheekbones, and his full, pink lips were parted slightly. All of the tension Scott usually carried with him had left his face.
Kip reached and took Scott’s hand in his. He didn’t want to wake him, but his legs were asleep. “Hey,” he whispered. “Come on, Scott. Time for bed.”
“Mrmff,” Scott said. Then his eyes fluttered open, and he gazed up at Kip and smiled shyly. “Sorry,” he said. “Always pretty exhausted after games.”
“S’okay. We should go to bed. I have to get up early.” Kip helped him up, and kissed him. “I had a nice time tonight.”
Scott lit up. “Me too.”
They stripped down to their underwear and then crawled into bed. Scott needed to lie on his back because of his injury, and Kip lay beside him with a hand on his chest.
“G’night,” Kip said.
Scott placed a hand over Kip’s. “Will you come here tomorrow night?”
“You want me to?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“I’ll have to go home after work first. Get some clothes and stuff.”
“You should keep stuff here,” Scott murmured sleepily.
“Seriously?”
Scott seemed to wake up a bit, obviously realizing what he had just suggested. “Well...yeah. I mean...it would make sense, right? I live close to your work and—” he smiled shyly “—I like having you here.”
Kip raised himself up so he could kiss Scott.
“I feel bad,” Scott said. “Couldn’t do much with you tonight. Want to make it up to you.”
“You’re not going to be healed by tomorrow night!”
“I know...but maybe—”
“Tomorrow night,” Kip said, “we’ll see. I’m not letting you do anything that might hurt you.”
Scott sighed but smiled affectionately at him.
“Besides,” Kip said, “I like talking to you.”
Scott lifted Kip’s palm to his mouth and kissed it. “Me too.”
* * *
It was still dark when Kip’s alarm went off. Scott was confused at first, then remembered that Kip had to go to work. Kip shifted next to him, slowly sitting up and grumbling quietly.
“Morning,” Scott mumbled.
“Fuck, yeah. I guess so.”
Kip got out of the bed and went into the bathroom, while Scott rubbed his eyes and tried to wake up. He was by no means a late sleeper, but it wasn’t even five o’clock yet.
He finally forced himself to sit up, wincing when the pain reminded him of his injury. After a few minutes, Kip came out of the bathroom and started putting on his clothes.
“I’ll make us some coffee,” Scott said. “At least stay for that.”
“Okay. How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a puck. But other than that... I’m very happy.”
Kip smiled and finished getting dressed. Scott went into the bathroom, stopping to kiss him on the cheek on his way past.
“Yikes,” Kip said, making a face. “That bruise does not look great.”
“Doesn’t feel great either. But I’ll live.”
In the bathroom, Scott splashed water on his face, and stood back to examine his bruise in the mirror. Kip hadn’t been lying: It had definitely darkened overnight into an angry midnight blue color.
When Scott had thrown on some sweats, he headed to the kitchen to make coffee. He paused when he saw Kip standing in front of the living room windows.
“You get this view every morning, huh?” Kip asked.
“More or less.”
“It’s not bad.”
The first hint of light was showing itself over the Brooklyn skyline, softly illuminating Kip’s lean frame. He stood with one arm stretched over his head, his hand on the glass.
“It’s better now,” Scott said. He wrapped his arms around Kip from behind, and kissed his neck. Kip sighed and turned to kiss him properly.
In that moment, Scott could imagine all of it. Being with Kip. Living with him. Going to bed and waking up together. Preparing meals and going to restaurants and traveling together. Not hiding anymore, just being happy and complete with a man he...cared about. Being brave enough to let the world know who he really was.
But even if he was brave enough, it was a lot to ask of Kip, who may not realize what he was getting himself into with Scott. It would be a big deal if Scott came out. It was unheard of in the NHL, and the media would want so much of them. Scott was used to being scrutinized by the public; he didn’t want to drag Kip into all of that.
Besides, they had only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks. It was ridiculous to even think...
They broke apart, and Scott brushed a strand of Kip’s hair aside and ran his palm over the light stubble on Kip’s jaw. “I’d love to have a whole day with you.”
“You will.”
“Uninjured. Really take my time with you.”
He could see the change in Kip’s eyes. Dark lust creeping in.
Scott leaned in for another kiss, but Kip pulled back and shook his head. “I have to get going,” he sighed.
“Coffee first.”
As Scott fumbled with the fancy coffee machine that he rarely used, Kip lifted Scott’s T-shirt and inspected the bruise.
“You aren’t going to practice today, are you?” he asked.
Scott stepped away from him and tugged the hem of his shirt back down. “Of course I am.”
“What? But you’re hurt!”
Scott waved a hand dismissively. “I want to see how it feels to skate. I have a game on Wednesday, so I need to figure out how to play with this injury.”
“You’re going to play on Wednesday?” Kip looked horrified.
“Yes.”
“Are all hockey players stubborn idiots?”
“Pretty much.”
“God, if I had a bruise like that I would stay in bed for a month.”
Scott laughed. “I’ve played with broken ribs before. I can play with this.”
Kip looked like he had something to say about that, but Scott kissed him and pressed a travel mug full of coffee into his hand. “You need to go to work,” he reminded him.
“Fine,” Kip sighed. “I’ll be here as soon as I can tonight, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And please take it easy at practice today.”
Scott smiled, touched once again by his concern. “I will.”
They kissed one more time, and Kip was gone.
Scott ran his tongue over his bottom lip, trying to capture any lingering remains of their farewell kiss. Then he felt the heaviness that always landed on him whenever he and Kip parted.
He wanted more time.
In his head, Scott fast-forwarded to a time where Kip maybe didn’t need to work. Maybe he could just...
Just what? Be Scott’s stay-at-home boyfriend? Here whenever Scott needed him? As bored as some of his teammates’ wives were? If Scott never gathered the courage to come out, Kip would basically be a prisoner. They’d never be able to go on proper dates.
“Dammit,” Scott said to no one. He was already fucking this up.
* * *
Fucking Jeff had worked the day before, so absolutely nothing was prepped when Kip got to work.
“I hate him,” Maria said. “I’m going to murder him.”
“He sucks,” Kip agreed with a yawn.
“Good. I went to the Scouts game with my dad.”
“Oh, you mean the Scouts vs. Admirals game?”
“Yeah...”
“Such a fanboy. So cute.”
Kip shrugged. “He’s hot. Sue me.”
“Can you imagine actually dating him?” Maria asked. “It would be amazing. Like Cinderella.”
“Come on. My life isn’t that shitty!”
“Well, it would be wild, anyway.”
“Mm.”
“You know, I was working on Saturday and he didn’t come in. I wonder if he’s found another silly superstition.”
“Well, there goes my entire love life,” Kip joked.
“I mean, all that shit went down with Zullo that day. He would have been distracted.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“When’s the next home game?”
“Wednesday,” Kip said, way too quickly.
Maria smirked. “So fucking cute. You ready for that interview today?”
“Nope. But I’m gonna do my best.”
“You think Scott Hunter will start going to the museum all the time if you start working there?”
“No. Shut up.”
“What if he did? Oh my god. That would be incredible.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
Maria lowered her voice and did a truly terrible impression of Scott Hunter. “Oh, hey, um, I just like to keep things the same when my game is going well, so I’m gonna need Kip Grady to give me another private tour of the whole museum.”
Kip couldn’t help but laugh.
* * *
“Hunter, let’s go. Lunch is on me,” Carter said. They were the last two players in the locker room.
Scott had gritted his teeth through the practice. It hurt to bend. It hurt to shoot the puck. And it really hurt when anyone so much as brushed him. “I might have to freeze it on Wednesday,” he said. “It’s not a serious injury, but it’s slowing me down.”
“I mean, you could take a night off and actually let it heal, but hey...”
“Would you?”
Carter grinned at him. “No chance.”
They went to a nearby sushi place that Carter liked.
“So,” Carter said as they waited for the way-too-many maki rolls they’d ordered, “who’s being traded, do you think?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t.”
“They’re gonna make a play for someone big. I figure we’ll lose some young talent in exchange for an experienced defenseman.”
“Well,” Scott said, “that means we’re off the hook.”
“I was thinking Burke. He’s not that young, but he’s a good winger and we’re rich with talent on the front lines right now.”
“Who knows? Anyway, did you see? The paparazzi got us the other night. Me and Gloria. We were getting dinner at the new Nobu—have you been there yet?”
“No.”
“Well, you have to. Anyway. We were leaving Nobu and the paps fucking got us. So our little secret is blown.” Carter shrugged. “Matter of time, I guess. Turned out to not be a big deal because one of the Kardashians announced she was pregnant yesterday, so no one gives a shit about us anymore.”
“Right...”
Carter launched into a detailed description of his Nobu meal, and Scott tried to listen, but mostly he thought about what Carter had just said. Carter had been trying to keep his new relationship a secret, but when that secret had come out it had just been another gossip column item. Just two celebrities who had started seeing each other. People said “huh” and moved on.
That would not happen if the paparazzi caught Scott and Kip together. Sure, they could go to dinner maybe. Once. If it started to be a regular thing, it would attract attention. And what if they were caught...touching? Holding hands? Kissing? There’d be no way Scott could deny—
“They have this miso caramel sauce that—You listening, Hunter?”
“Huh? Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I’m just...hungry. Kinda hard to hear about food right now.”
“Well, we’ve talked about hockey, we’ve talked about food, we’ve talked about my love life. How about your love life?”
“No.”
“Seems like there might actually be something to talk about there.”
“There isn’t.”
Carter studied him, and probably didn’t miss the color in Scott’s face, or the way Scott couldn’t look him in the eye. “You’re the worst liar in the world, Scott.”
“I know.”
“You don’t want to tell me? Fine. I only want you to be happy. Guy like you should be with someone special.”
Scott smiled to himself. “I’m happy.”
“You bringing her to the Equinox Gala?”
“Are you going to the gala?”
“Yes, I’m going! Did you forget who I’m dating? Also, I am very famous and beloved.”
Scott laughed, but inside he fretted. He hadn’t been expecting any of his teammates to be there. That would only make things more complicated.
And, god, it wasn’t fair. He wanted to tell Carter—his best friend—that he was bringing his boyfriend to the gala. His wonderful, gorgeous boyfriend who made him feel lighter and happier than he could ever remember feeling in his life. He wanted to dance with Kip, and kiss him, and introduce him to everyone so they would know how lucky Scott was.
Instead, Scott said, “Maybe. We’ll see.”
Carter smiled. “I hope so. I can’t wait to meet her, man.”