21. Theo

Theo

Christian was in the hotel's banquet hall when I arrived for breakfast, but he wouldn't even look at me.

At first, I thought it was just part of maintaining our cover. We had to do that sometimes—avoid eye contact, pass in the halls without acknowledging each other—so it wasn't alarming in and of itself.

The moment I realized something was off was when I went to refill my coffee and he was already there. I stepped up next to him, smiled, and said, "Hey. Good morning."

He flicked his eyes toward me, but quickly cut them away as he put the coffeepot down. "It's all yours."

And then he was gone.

I stood there stupidly for a moment, wondering if I was missing something. Was he mad? Had I done something wrong? Shit, was he actually salty that we hadn't been able to fool around last night?

Well, I wasn't going to be able to get it out of him here. I swore under my breath, topped off my coffee, and returned to the table, where Rusanov was regaling Grekov with tales of pranks in the hotel last season. I usually loved hearing those stories, but I just couldn't get into it this morning. I picked at my food. Sipped my coffee without tasting it. Wished I could walk over, ask Christian to step out into the hall with me, and find out what the problem was.

But I couldn't do that, because then someone might notice us. Even texting him ran the risk of someone looking over one of our shoulders. Then they might figure out there was more going on here than a player talking to an equipment manager

Was that the issue? Was he suddenly extra paranoid about us being found out? I had no idea.

"Hey, Mathis." Rusanov kicked me under the table just hard enough to get my attention. "You awake?"

I shook myself, wincing a little as my ribs and neck objected. It wasn't bad this morning—just stiff and sore. "Sorry. What?"

Both my teammates peered at me curiously.

Rusanov tilted his head. "I asked if you remembered what we did to the rookie's room last season."

I searched my foggy brain, then landed on the memory, and I chuckled halfheartedly. "I wasn't there for it, but I saw the videos." I turned to Grekov. "They got into his room when they were in Pittsburgh, and they zip tied his suitcase to the luggage rack." I looked at Rusanov. "Wasn't it like fifty zip ties, too? And the ones that are really hard to break?"

Nodding, Rusanov snickered. "We also told him the bus was leaving an hour earlier than it was, so he was freaking, trying to break all the zip ties and get downstairs." He reached for his coffee. "Then he comes down, and we're all relaxing in the lobby with almost forty-five minutes before we had to be on the buses."

Grekov laughed as he loaded some eggs onto his fork. "You guys are dicks."

"Welcome to the Rainiers," I said.

He grunted and kept eating, and Rusanov kept regaling us with other pranks. At least, I thought he did. I started zoning out again, my ears searching the murmur of conversation in the room for one voice in particular. Most mornings, Christian's voice or his laugh would cut through the generic hum, and though it would distract the hell out of me, I lived for those moments. For that little reminder that he was here. That musical sound of him laughing.

This morning… I didn't hear him at all.

At one point, I got up under the pretense of getting some more bacon, and I stole a glance at the table where the equipment managers had been sitting.

Christian was gone.

Suddenly, so was my appetite, along with any shred of concentration I might've had left.

I left my plate in the bin for dirty dishes, returned to the table, and picked up my paper cup of coffee. "Hey, guys. I'm going to head up and start packing. See you on the buses."

They both looked at me curiously but didn't argue.

On the way to my room, it occurred to me that I knew exactly which room was Christian's. We'd been lying in that bed last night, talking and cuddling; I could find it again without any issue.

But I didn't know if I'd be welcome this time. Not like I was last night. Christian was acting distant and weird, and I wanted to respect his boundaries. We needed to talk, yes, but I needed to feel him out first.

Good thing modern technology had made that easy.

Theo:Hey, is everything ok?

I didn't like how many times he started and stopped typing before a response finally came through.

Christian:We should really do this face to face.

My heart dropped. Oh, that didn't sound good.

Theo:Ok. My roommate will be back soon. Can I come to your room?

Again, he started and stopped a few times, then finally said yes. I was out of my room and halfway down the hall in seconds. Of course, now some of my teammates were coming back from breakfast, milling around between rooms and talking in the hall.

Fortunately, the soda machine was in the direction of Christian's room, so I didn't raise any suspicions by walking this way. As I got closer to his room, I casually glanced back, confirmed no one was looking in my direction, and then tapped on the door.

He opened it, and I slipped inside.

As soon as the door was closed, I exhaled with relief that we were now out of sight, but that relief was short-lived. Christian still wouldn't look at me. Leaning against the door, arms folded loosely across his hoodie, he chewed his lip and stared at the carpet.

"Talk to me," I whispered. "Did I do something wrong?"

Christian winced and let his head fall back against the door, shifting his gaze to the ceiling instead of the carpet. "No. No, you—I mean, I think we both did."

My heart dropped again. "We both did… what?"

His Adam's apple bobbed. "We shouldn't be doing this. Seeing each other. Sleeping together. It's…" He closed his eyes and pushed out a long breath. "This has been the best thing I've had in a long time, but it's such a bad fucking idea."

"Oh." Goddammit. I knew he was right. We'd been gambling with a lot since the start, and nothing had changed that for the better. But still… "I don't want to stop, though."

"I don't either." He opened his eyes again, and this time he did meet my gaze, his expression full of hurt and pleading. "I want you. I don't want to let you go, and everything we're doing, it's—" He threw up a hand, then let it fall to his thigh as he said, "It's amazing. I don't want to lose that. Or you."

"Then don't." I took a cautious step closer. When he didn't back away, I tugged him into a gentle embrace, and I was relieved when he sighed and leaned into me. Stroking his hair, I whispered, "It's stressful. I get it. But that doesn't mean we have to stop."

"It means we should stop," he whispered. "But… I'm too selfish to let you go."

I laughed softly and kissed his temple. "Well, if you are, then so am I."

He drew back and gazed up at me.

"I really do get it," I whispered. "I don't want to put your job at risk either. But I don't want to let you go."

He sighed, shoulders sagging. "I'm just afraid… I mean, the way my dad was threatening you yesterday—that's a shot across the bow. He's letting you know that if you step out of line, you're done. As a Rainier, but probably also in the NAPH." He swallowed hard and shook his head. "I don't want to cost you the career you've worked so hard for."

"We've talked about this, though," I pleaded. "I know the risks. That's why we're keeping it quiet. I don't want to fuck up your career or mine either, but I also don't want to give you up."

Christian winced. "I'm worried, though. What if we can't keep it as quiet as we need to? What if someone finds out?" He flailed a hand. "What if my dad finds out?"

"He won't." I reeled him back in. "Christian. This isn't just sex for me."

His eyes widened.

Heart absolutely slamming into my ribs, I took a deep breath. "I don't know what it is. I really don't. But I'm not gambling with my career because the sex is hot. It is hot, but we can both find good sex anywhere, you know? What I want is you. And… whatever the fuck it is we're doing. Yeah, keeping it on the DL is hard and it's stressful. Maybe we don't have to do that forever, though."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, step one—decide if this is something we want to go public with." I let my fingertips brush his cheek, and he closed his eyes and shivered. "When the off season gets here, we can take some time away. Go on a vacation or something, you know? Just the two of us. Disappear for a little while and decide what we're doing. After that, we can come up with a strategy if we want to come out. But between now and then, we just keep it quiet, keep enjoying it, and keep letting it happen, you know?"

Swallowing hard, he nodded. "There will be blowback if we come out, though."

"There will. But we'll know if we've got enough staying power to face that music. Right now, I don't know where we'll land. What we'll do." I shook my head. "The only thing I know is that giving you up isn't an option."

Christian stared at me, his forehead creased. "Really?"

"Yes. Like I said, I don't know what we're doing. I just know I don't want to stop. I didn't want to at the beginning, and now I really don't want to."

He held my gaze, silently asking me to connect the last two wires.

Don't make me say it, Christian. I'm too scared to say it. You know what I'm saying. Please don't make me spell it out.

After a painfully long moment, he sighed. Then he wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me in close. "I don't want to stop, either," he whispered, and before I could respond, his lips were against mine.

I held him tight as we let the kiss go on. The relief… oh God, it was right up there with that moment on the ice when my breath had finally started moving. When I'd been overwhelmed with panic, absolutely sure I'd never be able to inhale again, and then… I did. I could breathe.

Here in this hotel room, holding Christian, kissing him as he held me just as fiercely, I could, once again, finally breathe.

And I realized this hadn't just started at breakfast. The uncertainty had been hanging over us for a while. The "what are doing?" and the "what are we risking?" had been dangling in the back of my mind for a while now, even after we'd talked about it a few times.

Not like this, though. Christian's moment of panic had given us a reason to get that all out on the table and admit that—holy fuck—neither of us was in this for the sex anymore.

We'd figure out the future. We'd figure out how to deal with Jack Hayes and if coming out was on the table.

For right now, though, we were both in this, and not just to get laid.

We'd find a way to iron out the rest during the off season.

I couldn't waitto get somewhere alone with Christian. We'd been exchanging smoldering looks ever since we'd ironed things out in his hotel room, and I'd been counting down the minutes until we could finally land in his bed again.

Unfortunately, we still had one more game on the road. At least I made it through that one without getting myself banged up. Though at this point, I could get a concussion and a broken leg and I'd still find a way to ride Christian into his mattress once we got home. I was way too horny—not to mention relieved after his short-lived panic over us—to let something as inconsequential as a serious injury keep me from plowing him.

Or maybe I'd just had a couple too many beers in the hotel bar as my teammates and I celebrated a decisive win over Minneapolis. The powers that be had mercifully scheduled our flight for tomorrow, so we were chilling down here while we wound down from an exciting game. Condit had score his four hundredth goal, Wilcox had notched his five hundredth point, and Easton had his third shutout of the season. Games like that deserved celebrating.

The night was finally starting to wind down, though. We were down to about eight of us in the bar, most of us finishing up our last drinks. Grekov and I were probably going to head to our room in a few; my beer was almost gone, and his was empty. Condit and Rusanov had already paid their tabs and were just hanging out, probably waiting for the rest of us to call it a night.

Christian pushed himself to his feet. "I'm going to go close my tab. Back in a minute."

We all mumbled and nodded in agreement, and he left the table while the conversation continued.

"So we were at the airport in Dallas," Condit was saying. "And Sorenson gets all the way to the gate and realizes he left his laptop in the lounge. But there's no way he's going to get back in time to—" He suddenly straightened, looking past us as his expression shifted to one of intense concern.

Grekov and I twisted around, and my heart jumped into my throat. A bulky dude in a baseball cap was right in Christian's face, snarling something at him while Christian showed his palms and tried not to make eye contact.

"Oh, fuck that," I muttered, and shoved my chair back to get up.

Before I was even on my feet, Condit, Sorenson, Rusanov, and Abrahamsson had come around the table, and they made it to the bar in seconds.

Condit put an arm between Christian and the guy. "Hey. Hey. Enough."

"Mind your own fucking business," the guy snapped, obviously inebriated.

"He is our business," Sorenson snarled. "Step off."

The guy looked around, suddenly realizing half a dozen of us had gathered around. Most of us were relatively small without our gear and skates—aside from Grekov and Rusanov, who were big motherfuckers—so we weren't the most intimidating bunch on our own. But we had strength in numbers, and even drunk as he was, the idiot seemed to be rethinking his life choices.

Another pair of big dudes appeared behind him, and I cringed inwardly. This was going to become a brawl, wasn't it? Just what we all needed.

But one took the guy's arm. "C'mon. I think it's time for you to sober up a bit."

The guy protested, trying and failing to pull his arm free. "I'm fine. This little queer was just feeling me up."

"Oh, don't fucking flatter yourself," Christian spat. "I bumped you with my elbow."

"Don't lie! You were feeling me up!"

Christian's reply was a sharp bark of laughter. He looked the guy up and down, sneered, and shook his head. "Oh, honey. Honey, no. Just… no."

That pissed the guy off, but his buddies just muttered apologies to us and herded him away from the bar.

As soon as they were gone, Christian exhaled, his bravado vanishing.

Condit turned him. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine." Christian rolled his shoulders. "Thanks for stepping in."

"Any time, man. You know that." Condit gave his shoulder a squeeze, and then he and our teammates returned to the table.

I hung back. "You sure you're good? What was that guy's problem, anyway?"

"Just a drunk homophobe." Christian shook his head, turning his attention to signing his credit card receipt. I pretended not to notice the slight tremor in his hand.

God, it was so hard not to put a reassuring arm around him. "What a dick."

"I know, right?" He pushed the receipt toward the bartender, and as he slid his copy into his wallet, he added, "I'm okay, though." With a smile, he nodded toward our teammates. "They're all like the big brothers I never had. Well, except most of them are younger than me, but still."

I smiled, too. "Yeah, they definitely don't let you take shit."

"There's a reason why I haven't left this team." He pocketed his wallet. "My dad can eat a dick, but I'm sticking with these guys."

"I don't blame you at all."

We headed out of the bar with our teammates sticking close.

I was admittedly rattled myself from watching that whole exchange go down. As much as I was willing to drop gloves on the ice, I wasn't interested in fighting outside of hockey. I didn't want to catch a charge, and I didn't think I could hold my own against a guy that size anyway. But if someone was going to harass or threaten Christian, I'd have been more than happy to throw down.

Fortunately, Condit had noticed the situation before I had, and we'd collectively scared the man off without anyone needing to go hands on.

On the way up to our floor, it occurred to me that I wasn't the only one gambling with my place on this team. Christian had an amazing rapport with all of them, and they were clearly protective of him. He really was the whole team's little brother, age notwithstanding.

If we got caught, Christian would get fired as surely as I'd be sent down to languish in the minors.

I wanted to believe what we had was worth what we were risking. I wanted to believe we could find a way to make this work.

But how would all the men in this elevator feel if they knew Christian and I were together?

And what would it even matter if we were both cut loose from the Rainiers?

Yeah, there was a lot on the line. Way too much to be risking for a man.

Every time I looked at him, though, my resolve intensified.

Christian, I firmly believed, was worth everything I was risking.