Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Connor
In retrospect, kissing Gavin at center ice was a terrible idea. He never came back. He missed the medal ceremony. And I know as I sit here on the jet my father chartered, flying back to Chicago, that he’s the reason why.
“Where is he?” I ask. My jaw is set and tense from clenching it for the last eight hours.
My phone was gone by the time I made it back to the locker room and I have no other way to reach Gavin.
Especially considering my father hasn’t let me out of his sight or near enough to anyone else to ask for a favor in reaching him.
I couldn’t even sneak away to find a payphone.
“I’ve already told you,” my father says. “He’s back in Buffalo. And as long as you both pretend this never happened, he’ll stay there and even get to keep his career.”
I throw up my hands in frustration. “How can you expect this to work? The entire world saw me kiss him. There’s no way to deny it.
Just deal with it. I’m gay and I’m in love with Gavin Marshal.
” My cheeks flush when I realize what I just said.
I’ve never voiced it aloud, but it’s true.
I’m hopelessly in love with Gavin and have been for quite some time.
“No. You’re not.” He stares at me cold and hard. “What you are is confused.”
I roll my eyes at him. “I’ve been gay my whole life, Dad. I’m not confused.”
His nostrils flare. “You are not gay. Bisexual maybe, but by the start of next season it won’t matter anymore as I will have remade your image. This summer you will announce your engagement. I’ll send a shortlist of options for you to choose from.”
“I will do nothing of the sort,” I scoff.
“You will if you want Gavin Marshal to keep his career.”
“Just do as he says,” my mother says, sounding tired from where she’s sitting beside my father, flicking through a magazine.
She hasn’t spoken once since we got on the plane and she’s still wearing her sunglasses despite it being the middle of the night.
I have no idea how she’s even reading right now.
Anger courses through me, and I look back at him. “So this is your big plan? Threatening Gavin’s career. You’re getting desperate and it’s showing.”
He changes the cross of his legs in his seat as he narrows his eyes at me. The look on his face is smug, like he knows something I don’t. Which, knowing him, is probably true.
“This is just my backup plan to keep the two of you in line,” he says.
“My main idea is already in motion and has been since I figured the two of you out. By the time this plane lands, the paperwork for the Marshal Rule will be filed with the NHL for review and once it’s unanimously approved, put into immediate effect.
Had you not kissed him on live TV like an absolute moron, you wouldn’t even have to worry about how this will affect you. ”
My face pales and my heart rate picks up. “What exactly is the Marshal Rule?”
“The rule that will lead to the immediate removal from the NHL of all players who engage in romantic relationships with each other.”
“But that would mean I’d be kicked out of the NHL!”
“Only if you and Gavin try to continue to see each other. If you remain broken up once the rule is in place, you can both continue to play in the league.” The way he sneers when he says both has me thinking he only means me.
Gavin
I hate him. I absolutely hate him. Connor Kennedy Sr is the biggest prick I’ve ever encountered in my life.
I’m still sick with rage over the shit he’s trying to pull as I pace around my apartment.
My dad eyes me warily but is staying silent; he flew to Buffalo with me instead of getting on a flight to Anchorage.
He’s sitting on my couch, the only piece of furniture I have in my one-bedroom apartment here in Buffalo, icing his fat lip, and watching ESPN, waiting to hear the latest speculation about my sudden disappearance from the Olympics before the medal ceremony.
There’s a knock on my door and I rush to it, pulling it open so fast the doorknob smashes into the nearby wall, punching a hole through the drywall.
“Nice place,” Bouchard says as he walks in.
“Love what you’ve done with it.” He walks to the kitchen and places a six-pack of root beer along with a case of bottled beer into my fridge.
He takes a beer out of the case and pops it open off the edge of my countertop, then takes a swig. “I have a surprise for you.”
“If it’s not Connor’s father’s head on a spike, I don’t want it,” I growl and grab two root beers, one for me and one for my dad.
“Slow down, Game of Thrones,” Bouchard says. “That would clash with your decor.”
“I think it would spruce up the place,” my dad says as I hand him his drink.
Bouchard sits on the other end of the couch. Which is fine as I’m still too wound up to sit and need to continue my pacing. He looks at me expectantly and asks, “What exactly is going on?”
“Connor Kennedy Sr is real fucking prick is what’s going on.”
“Yeah.” Bouchard sips his beer. “We knew that already. Can I get some new information? Maybe an explanation as to why you fled Milan.”
“I didn’t flee Milan. We were forcibly removed,” I say as there’s another knock on my door, taking me by surprise. My heart rate kicks up. Maybe it’s Connor coming to deliver his father’s head personally.
“Let me get that.” Bouchard stands and walks to the door like he knows who’s on the other side. “Don’t need you putting any more holes in these pristine walls.” He opens the door and Alexander Tavish comes walking through.
“Nice neighborhood,” he says to me as he walks past. “Did they give you a gun when you signed the lease?” He pauses and looks around. “Forget what I said. This place is stunning. You need to give me your realtor’s number.”
I glare at him. “What are you doing here?”
He points at Bouchard. “He invited me when I called him, because you weren’t answering and I was freaking out that you disappeared.”
“It’s true,” Bouchard says, then informs him there’s beer in the fridge. He grabs one, looks for a bottle opener, then makes the same assessment Bouchard did and pops it open using the edge of my Formica countertop. There is no way I’ll be getting my security deposit back on this shitty apartment.
Not that I care. I signed the lease here years ago specifically because it is shitty.
The landlord is discreet and accepts month-to-month rental agreements.
At the time I had no idea how long I was going to be in the league, or whether or not I was going to be traded, shipped off somewhere else to be someone else’s problem.
Hockey teams, same as fishing crews in Alaska, can be temporary.
Besides, it’s cheap. Which has meant I can put away more of my money for such an occasion as to where I find myself now.
In serious danger of losing access to my NHL paycheck.
Tavish sips his beer and takes a seat on the couch.
Bouchard gestures for him to shove over, then he plops down in the middle.
My couch groans under the weight of the three giant men, all looking at me to begin talking.
If it didn’t feel like my life was falling apart, the sight of them crammed together would be hilarious.
I put my drink down on the counter, then rub my head between my hands as I try to grasp everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours.
Taking a deep breath, I drop my hands and look back towards the men on my couch.
The three of them sip their drinks in unison.
My dad is watching me intently, even though none of this will be news to him as he’s been with me since the moment this nightmare began.
“So Connor kissed me—”
“Yeah, we got that part,” Bouchard says.
“The entire world got that part,” Tavish says. He lifts his forearm up and Bouchard bumps it with his. “I can’t believe I’ve been replaced by the golden boy of hockey.”
“Try giving Gavin a kiss,” Bouchard says. “See if that boosts you up the rankings.”
“No thanks,” Tavish and I say together.
“But seriously,” Tavish says. “What the fuck is going on? Everyone’s freaking out and no one is giving any answers. Coach Matthews isn’t even answering his phone.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I suspect he’s a bit busy at the moment.
Seeing as how Connor Kennedy Sr has convinced the commissioner of the league to suspend me until I deny that Connor and I were ever in a relationship.
If not, he’s using us being together to finally get rid of me on the basis of his so-called Marshal Rule. ”
“How can he ask you to deny that!” Bouchard exclaims.
“It’s bullshit,” my dad grumbles.
“It’s total bullshit,” I say.
“Why isn’t Connor suspended?” Tavish asks. “It takes two to tango, doesn’t it?”
Bouchard looks over his shoulder at him. “There’s a reason this is called the Marshal Rule.”
“Fair point,” Tavish concedes. “But I still don’t understand. Is he forcing you two to break up? Or is it enough for you two to deny you were ever together?”
I turn my gaze to him. “What do you think?”
Tavish crosses his arms and slumps in his seat. “What a prick.”
“The prickiest of pricks,” Bouchard says. He looks straight at me. “You’re not gonna do it, are you?”
“Does it seem like I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice, son,” my dad says.
“Sure,” I say. “But punching his lights out isn’t going to reinstate me for our first game back on Tuesday night.”
“It would feel great, though,” Bouchard says while wearing a devilish grin.
Internally, I agree with him.
“So what now, then?” Tavish asks.
“Unfortunately, I’m suspended until Connor Sr gets what he wants.”
“Which is what?” Tavish asks.
“For me to forget about mine and Connor’s relationship. For us to pretend like it never happened at all.” I hang my head and sigh.
“More bullshit,” my dad continues to grumble.
I point at him because he’s right. “But unfortunately, he’s made it clear it’s the only choice I have if I want to continue to play in the league.”
“Wait a minute, though,” Bouchard says. “How does he even expect this to work? Everyone saw Connor kiss you. It’s been everywhere. There’s already fanfic being written about you two.”
My eyebrows lift up. “I’m sorry. What?”
“You know what? Never mind.” Bouchard traps his beer between his knees, then holds up his hands. “Forget I said anything. You don’t want to travel down that rabbit hole. I regret traveling down that rabbit hole.”
Tavish looks at him. “Do I want to travel down that rabbit hole?”
Bouchard twitters his head. “No. I have seen and read some shit I cannot unsee or unread. Traumatizing.”
I start pacing again in front of them. “Can we focus, please?”
“Sorry. Continue,” Bouchard says.
“What’s the Marshal Rule?” Tavish asks.
“The Marshal Rule is something he’s about to get approved by the league that would make it against the NHL’s rules for players to date.”
“But that’s a ridiculous rule!” Bouchard exclaims.
“Is it?” I ask. “Because I’ve spent the last seven years in the closet worried about something exactly like this being put into place. It’s no secret that every other team would like to get rid of me and now I’ve handed them a clear-cut way to make it happen.”
I bring my hands to my head and thread my fingers through my hair, tugging harshly at the strands. “I love hockey, and I have no other options for me in life but to play. It’s not like I have any other career opportunities open to me. Without hockey, it’s back to the fishing boats for me.”
“Not gonna happen,” my dad says.
I clink his root beer bottle with mine.
“You have support, though,” Tavish says. “Coach Matthews and the rest of the Blizzards organization aren’t about to let them excommunicate you.”
“That’s one team out of thirty-two,” I say. “I’m largely outnumbered here.”
“Okay, but…” Bouchard says. “If they put this rule into effect, it’s not just you who gets kicked out of the league. It’s Connor too.”
“I know!” I bellow. “Which is why I have to do what he says. I have to forget about Connor if I want to protect him.”
“Sure,” Bouchard says. “But that’s never going to work. You and Connor are in love, which is obvious to everyone…” Bouchard holds out his hands in wait.
“It’s not obvious,” I say as my heart rises into my throat. I hate that I’m being laid so bare right now. That other people are speaking aloud the thing I have yet to be able to say myself.
“It is,” Tavish says.
I turn away from them and take a deep breath.
“Look,” I say in a steadying tone when I turn back around. “The damage is done. I’ll never be able to live with myself if I’m the reason Connor loses his place in the league. He loves hockey. He’s the best at it. He deserves to play.”
“So do you,” my dad says.
Bouchard holds his fist up in his agreement and my dad taps it.
“Yeah,” Tavish agrees. “You can act tough all you want, big guy. But you deserve your place in the league as well. You’ve earned it and I know everyone on the Blizzards will agree with me. You’re not getting kicked out without a fight.”
This time Bouchard holds his other fist up, and Tavish bumps that one.
“Hey,” Bouchard says, grabbing my attention. “What does your Connor say?”
I throw my hands up as the barely contained panic I’ve been feeling finally explodes out of me. “I don’t know! I can’t fucking get a hold of him!”