28. CONNOR
TWENTY-EIGHT
CONNOR
Sex is awesome, but I’m quickly realizing that cuddling is the best. It turns out I’m a real cuddle whore. I can’t get enough. Even if it fills my head with even more questions than before. Because if I’d known this about myself years ago, would I have done it with those random, empty hookups I had before Parker? Would the intimacy of it have made me want to be like this with them?
Waking up on a day off, wrapped around each other, after the best sex ever, without a care in the world?
Parker stirs, which only makes me hold him tighter. I haven’t opened my eyes yet, just basked in the warmth of him pressed against me all night. “Five more minutes,” I beg.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
His voice lulls me back to sleep until I wake up at who knows what time, spooning a pillow.
That bastard.
I slip out of bed and trudge around his apartment looking for him. He’s not in his bathroom, the kitchen, living room, or dining room, and I’m about to call out to him when I hear his murmurs from down the hall. He’s probably talking to himself about gadgets and whatchamacallits, ideas for his latest tech venture. I haven’t been into his office before, but I’m pretty sure I remember drunkenly stumbling past it when I was here with the guys.
I burst in there, naked as the day I was born, and put my hands on my hips. “You left me in bed—oh fuck.”
His desk faces the opposite wall, and on his computer screen is the red face of an older, graying man. I didn’t realize tomatoes could grow hair.
Now would be a great time for me to turn around and run, but instead, I’m frozen. With my bits out. Fuck . My hands at least fly to my junk to cover myself.
“I’m so sorry, Gary,” Parker says and turns to me and mouths, “What are you doing?”
Finally, my feet listen to my brain, and I back out of the room real fast.
I should’ve known when I heard him talking that he might have been on a call. I just didn’t think it would be over video . And now, I’m the dumbass who overstepped boundaries, and I have no idea who he was talking to, but I’m really hoping it was no one important.
Because now someone else knows about us, and it’s my fault.
I go find my sweats and put them on, then land my ass on his couch and run my hand through my hair, trying to think of how to do damage control.
I was so good at this when it came to Easton, but saving my own ass? I’m blank. I’ve got nothing. Other than quitting hockey, changing my identity and how I look through cosmetic surgery, and then starting over as anyone but me.
Dramatic? Me?
Parker finds me only a minute later, and I can’t think of anything else to do but slink to my knees and apologize.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think, and now whoever that guy was knows, and if we’re hoping to keep this thing quiet, I really shouldn’t be allowed out of your apartment. Or in your office. You should chain me up to your bed and leave me there forever.”
“Now, there’s a nice idea. Will you be naked too?” Parker’s face breaks into a wide smile before a laugh escapes. “Come on, get up.” He helps me to my feet, and then he wraps me in one of his hugs that has a hold on my heart. “He didn’t see anything.”
I pull back. “What?”
“He saw your cock but not your face. To him, you were a random hookup, and it’s not news that I’m gay. I do feel like I might need to look for a new financial advisor though. Gary was so flustered he either ended the call in disgust or accidentally hit the disconnect button when he saw how big your dick is.”
I bury my head in his shoulder. “Can I go die of embarrassment now?”
“Nope.” Parker rubs my back. “Because you’re way too cute to die.”
“Cute?” I exclaim and pull away again. “I am not cute. I’m big and strong and?—”
“Impulsive?”
“That too. I really am sorry. I don’t think I can be trusted with our secret. All I want to do is tell everyone you belong to me, but that comes with big consequences, so I understand not doing it, but I’m finding ways to fuck it up anyway. Telling Tripp your name, walking in on a business meeting naked ?—”
“I agree your stealth needs some work, but you want to know why I’m not mad?”
“Because you secretly want me to ruin your life for a second time so you can hate me forever?”
Parker laughs some more. “Because the worst that could happen to me if it got out was I’d be forced to sell the team. I don’t want to do that, but it’s not like hockey’s my life. Not in the same way it is yours. ”
My brain trips over that assumption because … I’m not even sure of that anymore.
“Tech is my life,” he adds. “And I want to show you something.” Parker goes to lead me back down the big, scary hallway toward his office.
I stop in my tracks before we get anywhere near the room. “Is it a replay of my dick all up in your financial advisor’s face? Because I don’t want to see that.”
“I wish I was recording that.”
“You’re going to have fun with this, aren’t you?”
“Oh, you have no idea. Seeing Connor Kikishkin’s humility is rather … cathartic. High school Parker is very smug.”
“Does that mean we’re even? I get a pass on the high school asshole thing?”
“Not even close. I’m just not holding it against you anymore.”
Fair enough. If I were him, I’m not so sure I would’ve let me off the hook so easily.
“I want to show you what I’m working on.” I’m not sure I’ve seen Parker this excited. Other than maybe right before we have sex.
“What is it?”
We walk back into the scene of the crime, and I push that image out of my head because Parker is endearingly animated as he sits in his ergonomic chair and brings up some program that looks like a whole bunch of letters, symbols, and numbers thrown together in random order.
“A few weeks ago, I kind of got the bug to start designing again. I’ve been at the rink so much lately, watching how it’s run, how you do things, and I came up with an idea.”
It’s great he’s getting his mojo back.
“Sounds like you’re getting over that bitterness you had toward the tech industry.”
He deflates slightly. “I will always hate that I was too late to help my dad, but that wasn’t the industry’s fault. It was cancer’s fault. Fuck cancer. I’m happy to be getting ideas again. I thought I only had that one good one in me.”
“So what’s this new idea?”
“You know how you all watch hours of game tape so your coaches can try to point out what you did wrong, what other teams’ weaknesses are, and how to use all the data to your advantage?”
I snort. “Yeah?”
“What if a program could do it all for you? It would be essentially the same thing but wouldn’t take hours of studying the tape to figure it out. Like here …” He types something into his computer, and a simulation pops up.
It’s a cartoon overlay of footage of me where I fell because I changed directions too quickly and didn’t have control of my skates.
I slow down, and the cartoonish me shows the path of how I should’ve moved. “That’s cool.” And it is … But I bite my lip.
“You don’t sound too enthusiastic.” A worry line appears above Parker’s brow.
I kiss it away. “It’s amazing. And a great idea. But what about our game tape coaches? What would happen to their jobs?”
“Wait, you have coaches dedicated to game tape? Is that why there’s so many coaches on this team?”
Now he’s the one being cute.
“This won’t replace their jobs, but it could assist them. I don’t want to make programs that will take real humans’ jobs. Just make it easier. And there are still kinks to work out anyway. Look.” He hits some more keys, and when he hits Enter, the cartoon hockey player bends completely backward like he’s in the Matrix or possessed by a demon or some shit. “I don’t think that’s a realistic maneuver.”
“I’ll try it for you next time I’m on the ice.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather you not have a back injury.” Parker stares at the screen a little longer, and I can smell the dejection .
I fall to my knees again so I’m at least his height. “Hey. This is an amazing idea, and I mean that. You should pursue it.”
His smile is weak. “You really think so? I don’t want to put anyone out?—”
“I didn’t mean it that way. Well, I did, but if there was a way to use this as a tool for coaching instead of replacing it, you could sell it to every single coach in the country. Just not … any other NHL teams.” I wink.
“I would never. I still want to win that Stanley Cup. For Dad.” The fire in his eyes, the excitement … I should be reflecting the same thing.
But I’m not.
Because as he says the one thing I’ve been telling myself for years—that the only thing that matters is the Stanley Cup—I realize something about myself I never saw coming. This is even bigger than my sexuality. Bigger than Easton pointing out I was an asshole. It’s the biggest shock of all.
I don’t give a shit about winning a Stanley Cup.