Chapter 25
AVERY
I stopped at a small bakery on the way to Peyton’s and picked up a fruit tart. Then I continued to his apartment in Cranberry.
I was a little surprised when I pulled into the complex, because this was where the team set up newly acquired players. I’d lived here myself for a season before I bought the place I lived in now.
It made perfect sense that Peyton was here, of course. Somehow, I’d just forgotten that he was a new arrival. He’d only been with the Whiskey Rebels since the start of this season, but it felt like he’d been here all along. Like he’d become as much a fixture as Coach or Ziggy.
I wasn’t sure what that was all about, but whatever. I pulled into a parking space, grabbed my phone and the dessert, and headed upstairs.
When he opened his door, my heart did a little flutter. I did know what that was all about. And now I was going into his place? Just the two of us?
Not something I needed to think about right now. Not at all.
“I picked up a tart,” I told him after I’d taken off my shoes. “It has fruit on it, so we can gaslight ourselves into thinking we’re eating healthy.”
“Gaslight, hell.” Peyton waved that away. He took the tart and led me into the kitchen. “I practiced twice today. I would video myself eating an entire half gallon of ice cream, send it to Coach, and dare him to bitch about it.”
I laughed. “I mean, I can video that if you want.” I held up my phone. “If you really think—”
“Yeah, no. I don’t need his disappointed dad look at practice.” Peyton rolled his eyes. “He’s weaponized that look, I swear.”
“Don’t most head coaches?”
“Yeah, but Tabakov is just…” He whistled, shaking his head.
I chuckled. He wasn’t wrong. At his invitation, I took a seat in one of the barstools at his kitchen island while he went around the other side, presumably to continue cooking.
“If you think that dad look is brutal,” I said, “wait until we get blown out. One of those really bad losses where we’re all fucking up and the internet goes nuts that we’re a disaster?
” I grimaced. “Every team has at least one a season, and Coach’s ‘I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed’ face is legendary after those. ”
“Oh God.” He opened the fridge and slid the tart box onto a shelf. “I’m not looking forward to seeing that.”
“Neither am I. Mostly because it means we had a blowout loss. Those are the worst.”
“Aren’t they?” He started to shut the fridge. “Do you want a beer or some—” He stiffened. “Shit. Sorry. Habit. Do you, uh… I have coffee, soda, water…”
“I’m good, thanks. And, um… don’t worry about it.” I absently turned my phone between my fingers just to give my hands something to do. “I really don’t want people acting different around me.”
“No, I get that.” Peyton rubbed the back of his neck. “I just… I know you’re trying to…”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” I gestured around us. “So they’re still putting new players up here, eh? I used to live two units over, one floor down.”
“Apparently, yeah.” He rolled his shoulders, seeming relieved by the subject change. “I can see why they use it. It’s not bad. Quiet. Nice units.”
“You thinking of getting another place? Or staying here?”
“Don’t know yet.” Peyton looked around, then shrugged. “It’s small, but I like it. And I mean, it’s just me. I would kind of like to get a dog at some point, but only when I have a yard.”
“Oh man, me too. I have the yard, but I’m gone too much, so it doesn’t really seem fair, you know?”
“Exactly. That’s why I didn’t get one in Detroit. I had a housemate for a while, and I thought about it, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“A housemate?” I asked. “Or…?”
Peyton was entirely too cute when he blushed. Shaking his head, he laughed. “Just a housemate. I know, I know, I heard all the rumors too, but it wasn’t anything like that.”
“So everyone was convinced it was because the only reason a gay man would live with another man is if they’re banging.”
“Exactly.” Then he flashed me a wicked grin. “You want to hear something the press never figured out?”
I sat up a little. “Do tell.”
“The whole time they thought Baldwin and I were screwing because we lived together?” Peyton laughed. “I was actually dating Dan Carter.”
“You—are you serious?”
“Mmhmm.” He turned and rattled around in the fridge before coming back to the island with a Pepsi in hand. As he popped the tab, he said, “I still don’t know how we managed to keep it under everybody’s radar.”
“No kidding. Weren’t you guys flying back and forth? Oh, wait, he was in…” I quirked my lips. “Was that while he was still playing for Chicago?”
Peyton took a swig of soda, then nodded. “The long-distance thing wasn’t too bad. Chicago to Detroit…” He shrugged. “We drove to see each other. Sometimes we’d meet halfway if it was a short trip, like if one of us had a game the next day or something.”
I grimaced. “What about morning skates?”
He groaned. “God, those were some early morning drives. We’d spend the night together in a hotel, then be on the road by six to get back to our respective cities in time to practice. My pregame naps were lifesavers on those days.”
“Yeah, I bet.” I studied him. “How long did you guys… uh, date? Hook up?”
“We dated.” Peyton leaned under the island and pulled out a metal pan. As he started taking stuff out of the fridge, he said, “It was serious for a while. We talked about coming out as a couple. Getting a place to live during the off season. Then he hit free agency, and Detroit made him an offer.”
“No shit?”
He nodded. “At first, it sounded perfect. We’d finally be in the same city, and we could actually spend more time together.
” His face fell as he started cutting some cherry tomatoes, and he shook his head.
“But then we realized… we’d be in the same city.
We’d actually spend more time together. And that’s kind of when we figured out we weren’t in it for the long haul. ”
“Oh. That sounds tough.”
Peyton half-shrugged. “It wasn’t fun, that’s for sure. But it worked out all right. He got a better offer in Vancouver anyway, and we’re still friendly. We talk all the time, and we usually grab a beer or something when our teams play against each other.”
“That’s good. He always seemed like good people.”
Peyton’s soft little smile had no business turning my insides to liquid, but there it was. “Yeah, he’s a good guy.” He groaned. “I hate playing against him, though. Jesus Christ.”
I burst out laughing. “Okay, I’m glad you said it, not me. I’m sure he’s a nice enough dude, but he is a brick fucking wall.”
“Ugh. Right?” He rolled his eyes. “He shut us out like three times when we played against them.” Bringing his drink to his lips, he muttered, “Dick.”
I snorted. “Yeah. God. What a jerk, playing lights out for his own team.”
“Seriously.” Peyton huffed. “Anyway, we’re good now. It wasn’t a bad breakup or anything, and we make better friends than boyfriends.” He paused, looking a little sheepish. “Friends with occasional benefits, anyway.”
“Oh really?” I grinned. “So you guys still hook up?”
“We… Well, not recently. But for a while, we’d go on the odd ‘let’s go on vacation together during the off season and get laid’ trip.”
“So, all the fun of going on a trip with a boyfriend, but without all the potential drama?”
“Basically.” He winked. “Plus it means we’re two-thirds of the way to a threesome if we decide we want to have one, so…”
I barked a laugh. “Ahh, so slutty travel buddies.” I raised my drink in a mock toast. “I can respect that.”
I could. I really, honestly could.
And I was absolutely not…
Not at all…
Not in the least fucking bit…
…jealous.
Peyton turned out to be a fantastic cook. I could hold my own in the kitchen, but no salmon I’d ever prepared came out as perfect as this one. He’d also made salad and risotto to go with it, both of which were amazing as well.
I suspected he’d intended to have some wine with dinner, too. There’d been a bottle of white on the counter, but at some point while he’d been cooking, the bottle disappeared.
As we ate, I gestured with my fork at his glass, which was three-quarters full of Pepsi. “If you’d rather have wine, it really doesn’t bother me.”
“I…” Peyton chewed his lip. “That’s good to know, I just… I don’t know.” He picked up some salad on his fork. “It didn’t feel right, drinking in front of you while you’re still going through the program.”
My face heated as I picked at my salmon.
“I appreciate it. I do. But… really. It’s fine.
” I sighed. “Honestly, the alcohol hasn’t been that much of a problem.
I was self-medicating, yes, but… Well, it’s like you said—I’m not an alcoholic, but if I’d gone on like that much longer, I would’ve been one. ”
He swallowed. “I’m glad you’re doing it, then. The program, I mean.”
“Me too.”
We held each other’s gazes, and the moment threatened to get painfully awkward.
“So, um.” I cleared my throat and focused on my food. “How has practice been going?” Not the smoothest change of subject ever, but thank God, Peyton ran with it.
“Good. It’s good. The penalty kill isn’t doing so hot, so Coach has us doing a ton of special teams work.”
My head snapped up. “What’s going on with them?” I paused, then sheepishly added, “I, um… I haven’t been watching the games much.” Much? More like “at all.” Being away from hockey and my teammates hurt, and I was afraid to hear what the commentators were saying about me.
Peyton cut off a piece of salmon with his fork. “It’s hard to say what the issue is. They’ve been doing exactly what they’re supposed to do, so—I don’t know, maybe the other teams have just figured them out? Whatever the problem is, they’ve allowed six power play goals in the last four games.”
I winced. “Ouch.”