Chapter 17 #2
My heart sank, and I sighed. I knew that. I did. But every reminder that I was losing hope of ever playing in the NAL again—it sucked, what could I say?
Thanks.
Maybe in a couple of years.
Maybe.
I wasn’t sure how non-committal that was.
Kirils wasn’t one to blow smoke up my ass, and he could also be a pessimist in the name of not getting anyone’s hopes up.
But I also didn’t imagine there was much happening here that could get my hopes up.
The best I could hope for was to re-sign with Genève or get signed to another Swiss team.
Some of the other European leagues might be interested in me, too, and I wasn’t opposed to playing for them.
I was extremely fortunate. I’d broken into professional hockey, and I was doing what I loved for a living. The fact that I couldn’t get back into the NAL was disappointing, but I could live with it because I was still getting paid to play hockey.
In the bathroom, the shower shut off. I turned my head toward the wall separating us, and something settled in my chest.
If I continued playing in Europe, I could do the long-distance thing with Connor.
If I scored an NAL contract… well, that could complicate things.
Like… significantly. Especially with all the officials being under a microscope after the recent scandals, there was no way in hell anyone would tolerate a player dating a referee.
They were just barely tolerating queer players in the League at all.
So not being able to sign with the NAL had the very, very bright silver lining of being able to be with Connor. Whatever that looked like—dating, fuck buddies, friends with benefits.
Something more serious than I’d ever had with anyone.
I swallowed. That was a thought, wasn’t it? With only one of us tied to the NAL, there was nothing stopping us from seeing how far this thing could go.
As consolation prizes went… I mean, Fuck. I could live without signing another NAL contract if it meant I had a shot—a real, honest to God shot—with Connor.
The man in question stepped out of the bathroom in a pair of gym shorts and nothing else, his hair wet and finger-combed, and oh, yeah, I could definitely live with this. Playing in the NAL was every hockey player’s dream, but Connor? He was something else entirely.
I pushed myself up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. “Feel better?”
“Oh my God, yes.” He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it further. “There is nothing better than a shower after a long flight.”
“So true.” I stepped closer and slid my hands over his waist. He met my gaze with sleepy eyes and a soft smile.
Fuck. You are so much prettier than a hockey contract will ever be.
I didn’t say that, though. I just drew him all the way in and finally claimed that long kiss we hadn’t dared at the airport.
Connor moaned as he wrapped his arms around my neck.
Through the thin fabric of his shorts, he couldn’t hide that he was quickly getting hard, but I doubted he’d be up for much. Not until he’d actually slept.
I didn’t care. Sex could wait. I just wanted to hold him and taste him.
You’re here. You’re really here.
When he broke away, a ragged sigh slipped past his lips. “I’ve been looking forward to that for months.”
“Me too.”
He grinned, but then he let his eyes slid shut and his shoulders slump. Touching his forehead to my shoulder, he swore. “I wish we could do more right now. I know I’m terrible company.”
“You’re not. You’re exhausted.” I kissed his temple as I stroked a hand down his back. “You’ll be fine in a day or two, and then we’ll have an amazing time together.”
“But I want to fuck. And do… God, I want to do everything.”
“Me too.” I gently nudged him to lift his head, and when he did, I cupped his chin and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “And we will. Probably multiple times.”
A grin cracked through the fatigue. “Think we’ll be able to skate?”
“Maybe not at full speed, but we’ll manage.”
Connor chuckled. “We will. Just… after I’ve had some sleep.”
I turned him and steered him toward the bed. “Sleep, then. You need it.”
“What about you?” As he pulled back the covers, he glanced at me. “I don’t want you to just sit here in the dark.”
“I won’t. I’m going to go down to the bar so I don’t bother you.” I kissed the back of his shoulder. “When you wake up, text me or come find me.”
He nodded, a sleepy smile on his lips. “Okay.”
We shared another kiss, and then he burrowed down into the pillows. He was out cold in minutes.
I thought about staying there. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon than stretched out on the bed beside him and listening to him breathe.
In that moment, I didn’t even mind that we hadn’t fucked yet.
I was just so happy and relieved to be in the same space as Connor.
Once he’d shaken off the jetlag and the long flight, we had a ton of time to do anything and everything we wanted.
But I’d also probably fall asleep and screw up my own body clock, so it was best for me to leave him to it.
After I’d turned off all the lights, I slipped out of the room and went downstairs to the hotel bar.
There was a football game on TV—Real Madrid versus Villareal, I thought—which held the attention of almost everyone, including the bartender.
I did manage to flag him down long enough to get a glass of wine, though, and I settled at a table to scroll my phone and gather my thoughts.
Social media was dull today, and the game on TV wasn’t holding my attention. Big surprise—the only thing holding my focus was Connor.
I wasn’t restless, though. Even with him upstairs asleep, I was calm in a way I hadn’t been since Prague. Just being in the same place as him, knowing we had all this time stretched out in front of us, soothed something in me.
It was still weird to imagine I’d gone almost a decade without trying to reconnect with him. What was I thinking, letting him slip away like that?
Or maybe we’d needed that time to grow up and become the men who could navigate whatever it was we were doing.
Connor had been my first kiss. My first a lot of things, though we hadn’t done everything together.
More than once, I’d wanted to broach the subject of going further, but each time, I’d balked.
I’d been too afraid of regretting something with him, or him regretting it with me, especially while we were living in the same house.
And then I’d moved away, and just like that, our time was over.
I’d moved on, focusing mostly on hockey, though I did date and experiment along the way.
My mind wandered back to my rookie season playing for the minor league affiliate of Miami, the team that had signed me.
It was a little over a year after I’d moved out of the Ellis house, and Connor and I had mostly drifted apart.
I met a guy on a hookup app. Neil. He was cute, and he was fun to hang out with. He was also a little older and had more experience than me; most of the firsts I never had with Connor, I had with Neil.
I vividly recalled the first night we’d fucked.
I’d topped him, and it was fun and everything, but afterward, there’d been this feeling of that’s it?
When he’d topped me a few nights later, he’d been careful and kind, and it hadn’t been painful or anything.
But I hadn’t really enjoyed it, either. I’d even thought that maybe bottoming wasn’t my thing because it just didn’t do anything for me.
Then I’d felt guilty because while he’d been telling me how hot I was and how much he’d enjoyed it, I’d caught myself thinking, this would’ve been better with Connor.
It had confused me in the moment, and it had made me feel like a dick for comparing the guy I’d slept with to Connor. But everything I’d done with Neil had been… meh. It was all right—I got off and so did he—but there’d always been some mild disappointment I couldn’t shake off.
Other men had come and gone over time. The guy after Neil had made me realize that I absolutely loved bottoming if the top knew what he was doing. And I’d had some incredible sex with some very generous, talented men.
And nothing had ever stacked up to that one night in Prague.
I shivered just thinking about it. One impulsive kiss in the parking garage, and the next thing I knew, we’d been in his room having sex.
And suddenly I’d been glad we hadn’t done everything back when we were younger.
The first time we’d fucked, there’d been no shyness or inexperience.
No awkwardness like the first few times we’d made out.
A decade after those youthful explorations, I’d gotten the confident, self-assured adult version of Connor, and I’d been craving that for months.
Especially after my knee injury had screwed us out of our last night together.
I shifted in my chair as my dick hardened beneath the table.
I couldn’t fucking wait until Connor had recovered from his travel.