Gavin growls and shakes his head. “I take it back. You win. This shit is way more fucked up than my cereal trauma.”
There’s a lump in my throat that I try to swallow down as I offer him a sad smile. “That’s only because I can’t claim to have been eating Cap’n Crunch while my father wrote the asshole his check.”
This makes his expression soften slightly and he takes a deep breath. “I’m guessing it’s safe to say that there’s no boyfriend waiting for you in Chicago.”
“Definitely not,” I say with a laugh that brings some lightness back into the room and causes him to relax again.
Even still, his statement causes my heart rate to kick up. Maybe I’m not the only one whose stomach inexplicably drops at the thought of one of us being attached. His phone call is suddenly more intriguing. My lips twist to the side.
He nods his chin at me. “What’s that look for?”
I tilt my head towards my shoulder as I continue to look at him. Now I have to know. Who was he assuring he wasn’t embarrassed by them? Is it another man? Does he have a boyfriend that no one knows about that he’s not afraid to claim? It’s eating at me worse now than it was when I thought he was talking to a woman. “Can I ask you something else?”
“We’ve gone this far. Shoot.”
I rub my hands on my pants. They’ve gotten clammy. “I didn’t mean to listen in earlier, but I couldn’t help it.”
He leans back and crosses his foot over his thigh. “I guess that’s to be expected when we’re living in tight quarters. Not a lot of privacy here.”
“No, there’s not,” I say and take a breath, steadying myself for his answer. He looks at me expectantly. “Was that your boyfriend you were trying to convince to come to Milan?”
He bursts out laughing again. “God, no,” he says. “I was talking to my dad.”
“Oh!” My eyebrows lift and my cheeks grow red again.
He reaches across the table and presses my right cheek with his big, calloused finger. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. You know that, right?”
No, sir. I did not know that.
SIX
Gavin
Waking up the next morning, I allow myself a few minutes to gaze at Connor sleeping. This feels like an indulgence. Something I shouldn’t make a habit of enjoying, but I can already tell it’s going to be a regular thing while we’re sharing a room together. If I’m smart, I’ll be the one to request a roommate change in Milan. Unfortunately, I can already tell you I’m not that smart. I also worry about him sharing a room with someone else.
This is a strange thing to think about and it wouldn’t have crossed my mind before our talk last night. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say it worries me what some of our other teammates might say or do if they found out Connor’s not straight. I don’t care what they’d say about me. It’s always been the higher ups in the league I’m more worried about. The ones who can slam the door on my career. The people like Kennedy Sr who are always looking for an angle to have me removed. But team bullying? Yeah. Not a problem for me. It would almost be fun to see them try. They’d get an immediate demonstration of the phrase “fuck around, find out.”
That’s not to say they wouldn’t get the same demonstration if they fucked with Connor. Plus the “find out” portionthey’d find themselves on the receiving end of would consist of disproportionate punishment.
This has always been my problem. A damn over-developed sense of vengeance. A need to right wrongs I can’t control. It boils my blood. But it’s also what makes me the number one enforcer in the league. I like sticking up for my team. It brings me pride. It’s not my title as king of penalty minutes that makes me feel that way. It’s what those minutes represent. Time spent protecting my teammates, enforcing the code of hockey. And sure, it helps release some of the rage within me that’s always underneath the surface.
Connor has awakened that instinct in me here. It’s strong, brewing within me and I have yet to feel it towards the rest of the team. They haven’t earned it yet. Except for Bouchard, who’s been grandfathered in, due to being a member of the Blizzards.
“I can feel you staring,” Connor says from across the room with his eyes closed.
I roll onto my back and rub my eyes. “No, you can’t,” I say, my lips pulling up into a smile.
“Are you going to the gym?” His voice is quiet and sleepy.
“I am.”
“Mind if I join you?”
My smile inexplicably grows larger. I turn my head to look at him. Now he’s the one staring, but his eyes are half closed, still heavy from sleep. “I don’t mind. But just so you know, being cute won’t make me go easy on you.”
The darkness of the room can’t hide how red his cheeks get. “Don’t be a dick.”
“I complimented you.” I laugh. “How does that make me a dick?”
