Chapter 32
CONNOR
Lying beside Madars, thoroughly fucked and blissed out, it was hard to imagine anything was off-kilter in our world.
That uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach, though, made sure I knew something definitely was off-kilter. Both of our careers were potentially in limbo at this point. More his than mine, which made the guilt burrow deeper beneath my skin.
And yet…
“You’re non-negotiable,” he’d said.
I pushed myself up on my elbow and faced him. Caressing his cheek, I whispered, “Are you sure about this?”
Madars gently clasped my wrist and kissed the center of my palm. “Completely sure. I don’t want to give up an NAL contract, but I can’t give you up. I just can’t.”
My throat tightened. “I don’t want you to resent me if—”
“I won’t.” He held our hands against his chest and looked right in my eyes. “Hockey was never going to be forever. I can’t justify choosing it over you. And that’s even before I think about how quickly and easily it might chew me up and spit me out.”
I blinked. “You don’t think they’ll keep you on?”
He half-shrugged. “Maybe they will, maybe they won’t.
But I saw how quickly the scouts lost interest in me after I got hurt in Prague.
The only reason anyone still reached out to me is that Vancouver is trying to turn things around before they go into a complete rebuild.
” He squeezed my hand. “There are other leagues and other teams. There are things I can do besides hockey if I can’t play anymore.
” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “But there really is only one you.”
My throat tightened, and I touched his face and pulled him in. “There’s only one you, too.”
His lips parted with a soft, near soundless laugh. “My mother would say, thank God for that.”
I laughed, too, which loosened some tension. “Eh, you were a pain in her ass, not mine.”
He arched an eyebrow. I rewound my own words, and I groaned as I realized the unintentional double entendre.
“Oh my God.” I facepalmed. “That was—”
“You said it!” he laughed. “Not me!”
“You are such a dork!”
“Don’t forget pain in the ass.”
I lowered my hand and tried to glare at him, but his mischievous grin made me crack up. Drawing him in, I murmured, “This is why I love you.”
“Because I’m a pain in the—”
“Shut up.” Then I shut him up with a kiss. He was still grinning, but his lips quickly softened, and we let that kiss linger far longer than I’d intended. I had no complaints; I was always game to taste his gentle, talented mouth.
The Sword of Damocles was still there, but I tried to ignore it. Or at least tell myself there was no point in stressing over it. There was no telling how this was all going to play out with the League, but the bottom line was that I wasn’t letting this man go for anything.
I loved him. He loved me.
Everything else would work itself out.
We were trying valiantly to distract ourselves with a movie when my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I checked the screen, and there was a message from my boss.
Ted
Can you and Mr. Kulda get on a video call?
My heart jumped into my throat as I looked at Madars. “It’s Ted. They want us on a call.”
I thought he lost some color, and he swallowed as if it took some work. “Oh. Uh. Okay. Let’s see what they have to say.”
I paused the movie and texted my boss to let him know we were in. He replied with the link to the video meeting, and I turned on my laptop.
As my laptop booted up, Madars touched my arm. “I meant what I said. No matter how this plays out—I want you.”
I smiled and lifted my chin for a soft kiss. “I know. I’m not going anywhere.”
Still, I was nervous, because the professional ramifications for one or both of us had potential to be significant.
Even if they couldn’t outright discipline us or refuse to sign us for being in a relationship, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see all the ways our careers could be affected without someone breaking a rule on paper.
There was a much shorter list of people attending this meeting, and I didn’t know whether to be worried or relieved. Or if it didn’t mean anything at all.
What I did know was that shortly after we’d logged on, my boss and Madars’ agent joined us.
“Thanks for meeting with us, gentlemen,” Ted said. “We just wanted to update you on the League’s decision regarding this matter.”
We both nodded. I could barely breathe, and my stomach was knotted six ways from Sunday.
Ted gave a long-suffering sigh. “I won’t tell you boys I’m thrilled about this. A player and an official—that’s not something that’ll go over well. Especially when League officials have already been under so much suspicion lately.”
I gritted my teeth, biting back comments about how maybe if the League had done something about dirty refs a long time ago, it wouldn’t be an issue now. This wasn’t the time to say that, though, so I kept my mouth shut.
Ted scowled, and his shoulders dropped. “At the end of the day, though, I can’t tell you that you can’t have a relationship while you’re both employed by the League.”
My breath caught. Beside me, Madars tensed.
“You…” I cleared my throat and tried again. “You can’t?”
Ted shook his head, his disappointment obvious. “No. And the League can’t do anything to either of you about it so long as it doesn’t interfere with Connor’s ability to officiate fairly.”
“It won’t,” I rasped. “It absolutely won’t. And you know that, because it’s never been an issue with my brother.”
His expression suggested he was skeptical, and that he thought he was giving me just enough rope to hang myself. Fine—he could think whatever he wanted. The bottom line was that Madars and I could both sign with the NAL and we could be together.
My boss went on. “I’ll go on record as saying I don’t like it. But the rules are what they are. There’s nothing any of us can do to prohibit it.” His features hardened. “There will be some conditions, however.”
Madars and I exchanged glances, then looked at the screen and nodded.
“What conditions?” Madars asked.
“Essentially, the same conditions that apply to Mr. Ellis and his brother,” Ted said.
“We will ask that he recuse himself from officiating games that will have an impact on Vancouver’s standings.
” He paused. “I suppose the matter is somewhat simplified by Mr. Ellis’s conflict of interests only applying to Western Conference teams. Connor, we’ll assign you to East Coast games, and we’ll expect you to use your judgment about recusing yourself from games that will affect Vancouver or Denver. ”
I was nodding as he spoke. “I can do that, sure.” I was already well-practiced in that regard, keeping a close eye on standings to make sure no one could even imply that I was deliberately giving Denver an advantage.
“The playoffs could get complicated,” Ted went on. “If your brother and boyfriend’s teams both make it into the postseason, there’s a good chance you won’t be officiating the playoffs at all.”
I fought a wince. “I understand.” I laced my fingers between Madars’. “Obviously I want to make myself available to officiate the playoffs, but not if it’s going to cause a conflict of interest. Or the appearance of one.”
Ted nodded. “All right, then. We’ll be in touch.”
“Madars,” Kirils said, “I’ve briefed Vancouver on the situation, and they’re still onboard with your PTO.” He inclined his head a little. “I suspect there’s going to be a lot more pressure on you to shine in training camp—this won’t be an easy tryout by any means.”
Madars was nodding as his agent spoke. “That’s fine. I was planning to shine there anyway. I want to make this team, damn it.”
His agent smiled. “Well, keep your training up. You’ve still got six weeks before you need to report to camp.”
Madars gave him a mock salute.
“Are the two of you, uh, out on social media?” Ted asked.
We both shook our heads.
“Let’s keep it that way until the ink is dried on the contract,” Kirils suggested. “Once things are official, then I would suggest going public in a very measured way approved by the team’s PR department.”
“And the League’s,” Ted said.
I hated that idea, but if it kept up appearances and got us ahead of any rumors, then… fine.
After that, Kirils and Ted had nothing else for us apart from final warnings about being extra careful going forward. Keeping our noses clean, and all of that.
Then, they were gone. The screen went dark, and I turned to Madars. My own surprise and relief were written all over his face. Without a word, he reached for me and wrapped his arms around me. For the longest time, we just stayed like that, holding on and letting the dust settle around us.
We’d wound ourselves into knots about the worst-case scenarios, but we’d landed on our feet.
The League—despite its best efforts, I had no doubt—couldn’t actually find a reason to fire me or prevent Madars from signing.
Vancouver cared more about his talent than his love life.
When the next regular season started, we’d have to be apart more often than not, but we’d still be together. We’d still have our careers.
Madars would still have a second chance in the North American League.
“I can’t believe it worked out,” he finally whispered.
“Neither can I,” I murmured against his neck. “And you don’t have to give up your contract.”
“And we can live on the same continent.” He squeezed my tighter and kissed beneath my ear. “We’ll still have to do the long-distance thing, but we won’t be as far apart.”
I closed my eyes and pushed out a long breath. He was right.
In the end, he hadn’t had to give up his PTO to be with me, but I wouldn’t forget that he’d been willing to. That he’d looked at what we had and decided it was worth making sacrifices. Huge sacrifices.
I would never forget that.
And I fully intended to spend the rest of my life doing everything I could to be the man who was worth the sacrifices he’d been willing to make.