The crowd was deafening, but Kip still managed to hear Elena when she leaned over and said into his ear, “I think someone is going to have great sex tonight.”
Kip blushed and smiled even wider than he had been already. The Admirals had just won their fourth game in a row in the first round of the playoffs, sweeping the higher-ranked Pittsburgh and moving on to the next round. Kip watched Scott celebrate with his teammates on the ice. He was so proud of him.
Scott had had less and less time for him as the playoffs had grown closer. Though Kip was spending most nights at Scott’s place, Scott was only home for about half of them. Kip had told his parents that he’d been crashing with friends in Manhattan. He’d needed to tell them something.
Their relationship was still new—just two months old, really. Kip reminded himself of that whenever he felt frustrated about it. He did wonder sometimes if Scott would ever be ready to come out. To let them be a real couple.
In private, though, when Scott did have time for him, things were wonderful.
The two teams lined up to shake each other’s hands. Each player on the Pittsburgh team seemed to take a moment to say something to Scott when they had their turn with him. He even received a few quick, manly hugs from some of them. It showed how well respected Scott was, even by his opponents.
Kip loved him. And he was expecting great sex tonight.
* * *
Kip was brushing his teeth in Scott’s apartment when he received a text from him.
Going out with the guys. Will probably be pretty late.
Kip tried to not feel disappointed. The Admirals had just swept Pittsburgh out of the playoffs! Of course Scott would want to celebrate with his team.
He sat on the edge of Scott’s bed and wrote back. Ok. Have fun.
He sighed. The truth was he’d been spending a lot of time alone lately. It wasn’t like he didn’t have friends; he just didn’t have friends who knew about Scott, besides Elena. His family didn’t know about Scott. His family that he technically lived with.
It was getting harder.
As nice as Scott’s penthouse was, it was also empty and lonely. Plus, it didn’t belong to Kip. He’d moved some clothing and basic toiletries in, and his laptop spent most of its time here, but he was still a guest.
Any sexy thrill of having a secret relationship that had once existed had definitely faded. The disastrous museum outing had probably killed the last of it. Kip had grown tired of being careful when he spoke to his friends and family. He was tired of the lies and half-truths. Mostly he was tired of avoiding everyone because he didn’t want to lie. He had always been a very social guy. He didn’t like this.
Scott seemed to be a lot more comfortable than Kip was with their weird relationship. He very obviously loved coming home to Kip, always greeting him with a warm smile and a kiss. Even the most basic domestic activities like preparing food or watching television appeared to make him very happy. They made Kip happy too, but he’d been feeling very...compartmentalized. He fit into Scott’s life at home, and it was definitely important to Scott that Kip attend the games, but beyond that there was nothing. Kip wasn’t telling his friends about Scott, and Scott sure as hell wasn’t telling his friends about Kip.
Not that their relationship was bad. Kip was in love. Totally and completely in love. And he had no doubt that Scott loved him too. Plus, their sex life was still amazing. For a guy with limited prior experience, Scott sure found new ways to surprise Kip in bed.
It would be ridiculous for Kip to say that he felt like a prisoner in Scott’s apartment. It wasn’t that. It was just that their relationship really only existed within the walls of Scott’s home. It was the most important thing in Kip’s life, and he couldn’t carry it beyond the front door. Now that the playoffs had started, Kip had given up hope that Scott might make their relationship public anytime soon. And when the playoffs ended, Scott’s plan was to sneak off to Europe with him.
And then what? The next hockey season would start and Scott would get busy and maybe Kip would start school...or worse, maybe he’d just continue working his shitty job and continue pretending to not be dating anyone. Pretending he wasn’t sharing his life with a man he loved. Letting his parents think that he was couch surfing in Manhattan, or sleeping with an endless parade of random men.
Kip threw his phone down on the mattress. He was being selfish. The city was celebrating the Admirals’ victory tonight. He should be nothing but proud, and grateful that Scott gave him whatever he could.
Scott loved him. He knew that. He just wished it didn’t have to be so complicated.
* * *
Kip heard the unmistakable thud of Scott bumping into the dresser, followed by the sound of him swearing under his breath. Kip turned on the bedside lamp.
“Hey,” he said, his voice scratchy.
“Hi,” Scott whispered. “Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep. Jus’ gettin’ undressed.”
“You’re a little drunk, huh?” Kip asked with a slight grin.
Kip sat up, grinning wider now. “I’ve never seen you drunk before.”
“Not that drunk,” Scott muttered. “Just...had a good time.”
“Mm.”
Scott pulled off his shirt and pants, and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Kip watched the door, waiting for him.
“Go back to sleep,” Scott said again when he returned. “You have work tomorrow.”
It was true. Kip had to get up for work way too soon.
Scott got into bed and quickly kissed Kip on the cheek before turning off the light. Kip frowned into the darkness, wanting to say something but not knowing what. And the middle of night when your boyfriend is at least a little drunk and you have to go to work in a couple of hours probably wasn’t the best time.
“Congratulations on the win,” he said finally. “I’m really proud of you.”
But Scott was already asleep.
* * *
It hadn’t helped that a couple of weeks ago there had been an Admirals team dinner where wives and girlfriends were invited to attend. Part of Kip had wanted to argue that a private event like that, where Scott would be amongst the people he considered to be his family, could be a perfect opportunity to introduce him. Maybe coming out didn’t need to be a big deal. Maybe Scott could just...show up with Kip. Let his teammates draw their own conclusions.
He didn’t bring this up with Scott, and Scott never even hinted that he might bring Kip along. Instead, he’d only apologized when he told him about the dinner. He had told him he wished he could bring him, but that was it.
Kip had been a little low ever since.
A customer had left one of the free newspapers they give out in subway stations on a table at work. A photo of Scott, jubilant after one of the two goals he’d scored last night, filled the front page. When Kip glanced at it, he felt both guilty and emotional. He was an asshole. His boyfriend was a fucking hero and he was an ungrateful jerk who expected Scott to jeopardize everything he had worked for his whole life? For him?
He looked at Scott’s exuberant face on the cover of the newspaper and was filled with the gut-wrenching truth that there was no way this thing with Scott would possibly last. How could it?
This was the exact headspace that Kip was in when Maria said, “So... I have to tell you something.”
“Oh?”
“I put in my notice.”
It took Kip a moment to register what she had said. “Shit. Really?”
“Yeah. Um, my friend got promoted to manager at one of the Starbucks in Midtown, and they were hiring...”
“Oh.”
“I’ll still have to get up at ass o’clock, but the pay is better and there are benefits, you know? Health insurance.”
“Yeah. No, yeah. That’s great. Good for you.” His enthusiasm was beyond forced.
“Aw, Kip. I’m sorry. I should have given you a heads-up. I just didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure.”
“No, it’s fine. Don’t be. It’s fine! I’m happy for you. Really.”
“Hey,” she said brightly, “if they’re ever hiring again, I’ll put in a good word for you. If you want.”
“Oh, sure. Yeah. Maybe. Thanks.”
“I probably won’t work there for too long,” Maria said. “I’ve been thinking about...police academy.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s probably dumb...”
“No! Maria, you’d be great! And we could use more good cops, y’know?”
Kip worked the rest of his shift in a daze. He couldn’t tell what was truly bothering him: that he would miss working with Maria, or that he resented her leaving while he was stuck here.
You could quit too, dummy.
When he went back to Scott’s apartment after work, Scott wasn’t there. He hadn’t received any texts from him all day.
Resigned to endure another lonely evening, Kip dragged himself into the shower and came out feeling a little better. He wondered if Scott would be home for dinner.
It wasn’t unusual for Scott to not keep in touch. Not lately, anyway. The playoffs and everything leading up to them had understandably consumed him. He had apologized to Kip in advance for how little time he’d be able to give him, which was ridiculous. It was the Stanley Cup playoffs and Scott was the biggest star in the league, for chrissakes. Adding to that was the fact that Scott, despite his many achievements, had never actually won the Stanley Cup.
Yeah, it was important that Kip be cool about this.
When Scott got home later that evening, he looked exhausted.
“Hey,” Kip said, kissing him quickly. “What were you up to today?”
“Oh, just... ESPN asked me and a couple of the guys to record some promos for round two of the playoffs. Took longer than I thought it would.”
“Ah.”
“I’m gonna—” Scott gestured toward the bedroom. “Long day. And I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
“Sure. Yeah.” My day sucked, thanks for asking.
Scott disappeared into the bedroom, and Kip sank onto the sofa. He knew he was probably overreacting because he had been in a bad mood to begin with, but in that moment he felt like Scott’s fucking pet.
And then he became angry with himself, because why the fuck had he been waiting for Scott to come home? Why was this his life now? He used to go to the Kingfisher all the time—at least once a week. And he went out to clubs. And dinner with friends. And lunch with friends. And brunch with friends. Now he just left work and went to Scott’s apartment and waited for him to come home. And if Scott was away, he went to Scott’s apartment and watched television alone until he fell asleep.
He loved Scott. Absolutely. But this could not be his life long-term. He was twenty-six!
For the past few weeks, Kip had been bracing himself for Scott’s inevitable realization that he was too good for Kip. Or, at least, that Kip was not worth risking his whole career for. But maybe he shouldn’t be waiting for that moment. Maybe he should initiate the conversation. Because the painful truth was that if Scott had no plans to change things, then Kip couldn’t stay in this relationship.
Kip almost wanted to march into the bedroom right then and just ask Scott, point-blank, “Are you ever going to come out? Am I worth it?” but the timing would be terrible. Scott was obviously drained.
And what was the answer Kip was expecting to hear? Yes. Absolutely. I will come out publicly tomorrow. Let me get on the phone so I can call a press conference?
So Kip didn’t say anything. He just watched television for a while, then slipped into the bed next to Scott’s sleeping body. He stared into the darkness for hours, worrying.
* * *
Scott wrapped black hockey tape around the blade of his stick using the exact same method he’d perfected when he was a teenager. It was two hours before game time in Boston.
“Hey,” Carter said, testing the blade sharpness on his own skates with his thumb, “did you hear what your boyfriend was saying?”
Scott nearly dropped his stick. “What?”
“Rozanov. Mouthing off again.”
“Oh.” He relaxed, feeling stupid.
“Said he’ll feel bad about taking away your first Stanley Cup victory.”
He rolled his eyes. “All right.”
“Said he’d be nice and give you one of his rings.”
“Charitable.”
“I don’t know about you,” Carter said, “but I’m looking forward to shutting him up.”
Scott ripped the tape off the roll with his teeth. “Hell yes.”
Besides wanting to beat Rozanov, round two was the point when the Admirals had been eliminated from the playoffs last year, so it was important to Scott that they make it to the third round.
Huff walked into the dressing room, eating an apple. He sat and pulled out his phone. “Who wants to see a cute picture of my kids?”
“Do we have a choice?” Carter asked.
“Nope! Check it out!” Huff passed his phone to Carter, who glanced at it and handed it over to Scott.
“Nice,” Scott said, looking at the smiling faces of Huff’s son and daughter, chocolate smeared all over their mouths. “They’re getting so big!”
“I know. I miss so much,” Huff sighed. “I feel like I have at least another season in me after this, but then I gotta think seriously about getting Laura that ranch she’s always wanted.” He smiled. “You can take the girl out of Alberta...”
“Well, let’s get you another Stanley Cup ring first,” Scott said. “Then you can think about retirement.”
“How many will this be?” Carter asked. “Four?”
Huff waved a hand. “Who the hell can keep track?”
Carter chuckled. “Fuck you, old man.”
Scott knew for a fact that Huff had already won four Stanley Cups with three different teams. None with New York. It was four more than either Carter or Scott.
Scott sat and pulled out his own phone. He brought up a couple of recent photos of Kip that he’d taken. It was probably a risk even having these on his phone, but he had to give himself something, for fuck’s sake.
He let himself look at Kip’s sexy grin for a minute, enjoying the warmth that flooded him every time he saw it. Then he pocketed the phone and went back to pretending that part of his life didn’t exist.