Hockey Holidays Read online

  “So she said that it was too far,” he mused into his drink. “We’ve been dating since I was fifteen, you know, before the draft, before the money. Not that I earn what you do, Logan, but still, it’s steady.”

  I nodded, even though I wanted to yell at him that our jobs were only as steady as the next game or trade deadline or injury. I didn’t say any of it, because I’m not The Grinch, and Connor didn’t need to be told about the reality of playing professional hockey. If a veteran like me had told the young me that a career in hockey might not last, I would have ignored it all. Connor had drunk quite a bit earlier, mulled wine that Mase had made from ingredients he’d found in the kitchen. I suspected that it was merely hot wine because Connor was sleepy, his words a little slurred, and he’d spilled hot chocolate down his shirt. He wasn’t anywhere near drunk enough for me to pull the protective big brother act, demanding he treated his body like a temple and warning him that we were athletes. He’d only drunk enough to make him clumsy and to loosen his tongue.

  “I’ve loved Amelie since I was twelve, you know?” He wasn’t looking for an answer, and he forged ahead. “I know for sure she was with me for who I am. I mean, not for the hockey or fame or money, or whatever else the game brings with it. I can get sex when I want, anywhere. You know what that’s like, Logan, right? But I don’t want sex with random girls; I want Amelie.”

  Archie sat forward, and he had a familiar expression, the one that indicated he was about to dispense detailed, thought-out wisdom. There would be pros and cons and a considered summary, and he always ended up making people feel they were ready to decide something based on his advice. He wasn’t like other finance guys in this business where there was a perception that they were morally corrupt. Every day I heard stories of guys losing money to this scheme or that one, but never about Archie.

  “You say you love her?” he asked, carefully neutral.

  Connor nodded furiously, more chocolate slopping over the rim of his mug. “I do.”

  Archie took a deep breath and let it go noisily. “Then call her. Now. Ask her how she feels. If she says she loves you, then she’s worth fighting for, and you go out and fight for her with every breath. Don’t take no for an answer. Make things work.”

  Connor blinked at Archie, and I could almost imagine his thoughts. That was a better speech than anything the Dragons’ coach could hand out before the third period when the team was close to losing. Connor stood, wobbled a little before straightening and placing what was left of his chocolate on the table. He brushed at his shirt as if it was important he was tidy. This was serious.

  “I’m gonna do it now,” he announced, and I knew I had to step in.

  “Con, get some coffee and a cold shower first, right? Then she’ll know it’s real, okay?”

  He nodded at my wise advice, listening to me as only a new kid on the team could, as if he thought I knew everything in the goddamn universe.

  “Okay, I will. Thanks.” He left, stumbling over his chair, and I feared for the patio heater, although his innate hockey skills kicked in, and he sidestepped it smoothly in the end.

  I liked Connor. He was so earnest, so focused, and I imagined that he and Amelie would make the perfect couple. No doubt she was blonde and slim and perky, liked dogs, and posted a ton of pictures on Instagram. She was socially acceptable, and being seen with her would do wonders for his career, not send it crashing to the ground.

  “And then there were two,” Archie murmured and tipped his head back to look at the sky. We were far enough from the city that there wasn’t a ton of light pollution, and the night was clear and starry. Romantic even. I didn’t want to move. We stayed quietly staring up, and I was close to dozing when Archie cleared his throat.

  “You know, Logan, what breaks my heart is that if you only ever said you loved me, I would fight for you, too.”

  He eased up off his chair before I could answer, and walked inside, but I couldn’t let him leave. He couldn’t go around saying shit like that and I followed him into the kitchen.

  “That's enough, okay?” I snapped at him and slammed my mug down on the counter.

  He rounded on me, his eyes flashing with temper. “Is it worth it, Logan? Is hockey enough to make up for being alone and miserable?”

  I stepped closer, and my anger dripped into my determined but quiet words.

  “You promised when we ended things that it was done. No more.”

  “No, Logan, you said that. I said I loved you, and you backed off so damn fast.” He shoved at me, his hand flat on my chest. “I never promised you a damn thing about ending things, and I’ve been fucking lonely and miserable without you.” He pushed me again, and aggression snapped inside of me, as bad as when I was checked into the boards. I rammed him back. Only I was stronger, more determined. I might’ve been shorter, but he hit the counter with a pained sound, his hand going to his hip.

  The anger fled in an instant, the temper died, and I was at his side in a moment.

  “Shit,” I said and pressed my hand to cover his. We were jostling, nothing more, but I felt like a complete bastard.

  “I shoved you first.” He reached to cup my face. “I’m okay.”

  “Archie—”

  “I’m good.”

  Then he kissed me, and everything I’d tried to avoid flooded back. Somehow, the kisses grew into more, and I lifted him up onto the counter, moved between his legs, cradled him, touched him, loved him.

  “Guys, she said—”

  Connor’s voice broke into our passion, and we snapped apart as if we’d been burned. I turned to face Connor. His mouth hung open.

  “Shit. My bad,” he said and backed out of the kitchen.

  I panicked, yelled at him to stop, but he didn’t. He kept going, and for the first time since I’d kissed Archie on New Year’s, I felt utterly afraid. “Stay here!” I told a shocked Archie and chased Connor down, grabbed at his arm, stopped him at the base of the stairs. What if he went on Twitter? Or worse, passed what he’d just seen around privately, so a hundred knowing eyes would look at me and judge me? Why had I kissed Archie? Why couldn’t I keep things locked inside?

  I’ve destroyed everything.

  “Connor?” Even though it was only one word, it was a million questions I couldn’t vocalize because of the terror that gripped me. “You can’t say anything, please. I’m not ready for people to know.”

  He held up a hand, “I won’t say a word, Logan." He sounded fearful, and guilt flooded me. Was I scaring him? Was that what I wanted? To rule with fear so I could keep my secrets?

  I released my hold, and he backed up the steps. Who the hell knew anymore?

  “Please,” I said, my voice broken. “You have to understand…”

  Connor sat down, as if his strings had been cut, right there on the first step, and bent his head.

  God, I’d disappointed him, let him down. We played on the same line, and I’d just messed everything up. I backed away from him, not knowing where I was going to go. I needed to call my agent, talk to the captain, the owners, warning them about the damage. Get ahead of this. They could always push me down to the minors; they might even be happy to let me quietly retire.

  I could go home to Ottawa, find something else to do. My legs buckled, and someone was there, catching me, shaking me.

  “Snap out of it, Logan.” Archie shook me some more. I was hyperventilating as I had done the day I’d come out to my parents. I’d been fifteen, scared, and all they’d done is asked me if hockey would be the right thing for me. There weren’t any out players then. The fans wouldn’t understand. Other teams would target me. I’d promised myself there and then that I would hide. Nothing had changed since. Keeping secrets meant I was safe.

  “Listen to Connor, he’s trying to tell you something,” Archie demanded and then guided me back to lean on the wall. I slid down until my ass hit wood, and then I waited for the ax to fall.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” Connor began again, then thumbed b