Game Changer

by Rachel Reid

  “My only summer plans involve a Stanley Cup parade.”

  They bent for the face-off, and Scott winked at him.

  Scott won the face-off.

  He had two good reasons to win this game. Obviously, he wanted to win the series and move on to the next round of the playoffs, but winning tonight would also give him a couple of days off here in New York. And he wanted to use some of that time to fix whatever the hell was going on between him and Kip.

  He could see Kip sitting in his usual seat. That was comforting. Scott wasn’t sure what seeing that seat empty would have done to him, psychologically. He was already struggling to stay focused.

  He would win this game. He would talk to Kip. He would go on to the next round clearheaded. He would win that round, and the next round, and he would finally, finally lift that cup over his head.

  * * *

  When Scott got home after the game, Kip wasn’t there. It was the second night in a row. Something was definitely wrong.

  He sent Kip a text. Will I see you tonight?

  The answer took a few minutes. No. Sorry. I’m just really tired.

  Fuck.

  I think you are mad at me, Scott wrote.

  He watched the three little dots flicker on his screen for what seemed like an eternity. Then, Can we talk? Tomorrow?

  Yes. Come over here as soon as you can tomorrow. Ok?

  Ok.

  Scott sat down hard on his bed. He felt sick. And a little angry. What the hell had he done to deserve this cold shoulder?

  He guessed he would find out tomorrow.

  * * *

  Kip took a deep breath and opened Scott’s apartment door. “Hello?” he called out.

  Scott appeared immediately. He was dressed in cozy sweats. His beard was really full now, making him look rugged and gorgeous. Kip set the backpack that he had optimistically brought with him on the floor.

  “Hi,” Scott said shyly.

  “Hi. Congratulations. That was a great game.” Kip sounded as awkward as he felt.

  “Thanks. I’m glad you were there.”

  Kip nodded, not sure what to do or say.

  Scott stepped closer. “Can I kiss you?” he asked. “I feel like I need to ask you now, and I don’t know why that is, but...can I?”

  Kip exhaled, trying to relax his nerves. “Yes. Of course.”

  Scott smiled and closed the distance between them. He held Kip’s face for a moment, gazing at him with sad eyes, before he brushed his lips against Kip’s. The beard tickled Kip’s face, and he sighed and deepened the kiss. It felt so good.

  When they broke apart, Scott said, “We should talk, I guess.”

  “Yeah. I think we should.”

  They went to the couch, and Kip sat and stared at his folded hands.

  “I feel like I’ve done something wrong,” Scott started. “Being with someone is new for me and I’m pretty sure I’m screwing it up. But I can’t figure out exactly what I’ve done, so I was hoping you could tell me.”

  Kip turned quickly to face him. “You haven’t done anything,” he said honestly. “I can’t even put my finger on why I’ve been so...upset. I just...”

  “Please,” Scott said. “Give me something.”

  “All right...” Kip said slowly. “I don’t like lying to my friends and family, or hiding my relationship with you. This...” He gestured between them. “Us. It’s the biggest thing in my life. It’s...the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I have to keep it a secret.”

  “I know. And I’ve told you—”

  Kip held up a hand. Scott stopped talking.

  “This isn’t how relationships are supposed to work. This is how...affairs work. Dirty secrets. I’m not ashamed of you. At all. And I’m not ashamed of me. I’ve never been ashamed of myself, and I’ve been out since I was eighteen.”

  Scott bit his lip. “I’ve been honest with you this whole time. I wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into.”

  “I did. I do. But I also know this isn’t how I want this relationship to be. I don’t want to be your secret. But... I’m worried, that if I push you—if I pressure you to come out and be honest about us, or at least about you—that you’ll realize I’m not worth the hassle.”

  Scott looked like Kip had gut-punched him. “God,” he said in a tiny voice. “No, Kip. No, I would never think that!”

  “Being with you has been amazing, but it’s also...lonely. And...” Kip swallowed. He needed to get this next part out. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

  Scott looked at him pleadingly. “I know I’m being selfish, asking you to keep this secret. I’m so sorry for that. But I’m also protecting you. I don’t think you realize how much your life would change if this got out.”

  “My life has already changed. And not only in a good way, Scott. I feel like I’ve been shoved back into the closet. It’s not you being famous or whatever that’s making this hard for me. I’ve never been with someone who is ashamed of who they are.”

  “I’m not ashamed!” Scott argued.

  Kip folded his arms and gave him a pointed look.

  “I’m not!” Scott said. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. With being...gay. I definitely don’t think there’s anything wrong with being in love with you. But my life has very little to do with what I think. There’s a lot of responsibility on my shoulders. I represent something important to a lot of people.”

  “And you can’t do that and also be gay?”

  “Not according to most of them, no.”

  “So show them that they’re wrong!” Kip said it way too loudly. His voice bounced off the walls of Scott’s condo.

  He thought Scott would yell at him, but instead he seemed to deflate. “I just don’t... Our time together has mostly been away from all of that. It’s been...nice.”

  “An escape, you mean?”

  “No! I’ve already told you that’s not what—You’re a part of my life. Not a distraction from it. Never, Kip. I promise.”

  “But I am separate from the rest of your life,” Kip argued, “and worse than that, you’re hiding who you are.”

  “I have to.”

  “Do you?” Kip demanded. “Are you sure? What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “I can’t! Not now. The playoffs...”

  Kip took a breath. “I’m not asking you to do anything right now, but you need to start to think seriously about coming out. Or at least not hiding. You don’t have to make a grand statement.”

  Scott’s posture stiffened. “Do you have any idea how huge the media circus would be if I came out? If people knew I was dating you?”

  Kip shrugged. “So your plan is to keep this a secret forever?”

  “No.”

  “Or until you realize you’re way out of my league and move on?”

  “Kip—”

  “You just expect me to hide out in your apartment until you need me?”

  “No!” Scott said. He was angry now. He stood up. “I can’t believe you’re even suggesting any of this! Have I treated you badly? Have I not shown you how much you mean to me?”

  “I can’t mean that much to you. You’re obviously embarrassed to be with me.”

  Kip knew he should not have said this the moment the words left his lips. But instead of backing down or apologizing, he glared at Scott and crossed his arms, waiting.

  “Is that really what you think?” Scott asked. His voice was quiet, but there was rage and hurt in it. “That I’m embarrassed to be seen with you? You know that’s not it.”

  “I don’t know anything, Scott! I just wait here. In your penthouse.” He swept a hand across the spacious living room for emphasis. “I hole up here alone and imagine what it would be like to be able to go on normal dates with you, or to, I d
on’t know, tell my parents that I have a boyfriend!”

  “Tell them!” Scott yelled. He threw up his hands. “Fuck, tell the whole world, Kip! I guess you know what’s best!”

  “I know this isn’t who I am!”

  “Do you know who I am? I don’t get to just be Scott from Rochester, all right? I’ve been a fucking commodity since I was a teenager. I’ve been a brand for almost as long. I don’t have the luxury of just being me. I can’t make decisions about my life independently. People depend on me!”

  “Right. Don’t want your brand to suffer. Don’t want to tarnish it with your gayness.”

  Scott snorted. “You have no fucking idea, Kip. None.”

  “I guess not,” Kip said tightly.

  “It’s the playoffs. I don’t know if you get how big a deal that is. I’ve got a team—a city—depending on me. It’s everything to me, all right?”

  The sting of tears finally hit Kip’s eyes. He nodded and clenched his jaw. Everything.

  “I’m gonna go,” he managed to say.

  Scott reached out a hand like he was going to stop him, but instead he dropped his arm, nodded, and said, “Fine.”

  Kip picked up his backpack and left.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Kip was drunk.

  Scott was in Detroit, and Kip was drunk.

  He had watched one period of the Admirals away game before leaving his parents’ house and taking the train to the Village. He’d thought about texting Shawn to see what he was up to, but he didn’t actually want to talk to anyone anyway.

  Now he was on one of the bar stools at the Kingfisher. Cute, wonderful, flirty Kyle had been setting pints in front of him all night.

  It was late. Kip noticed, with some surprise, that there weren’t many people left in the bar.

  “Last call, sexy,” Kyle drawled. His lips curved up into a suggestive little smile that had Kip mesmerized.

  Kyle’s hair was blond, like Scott’s. His eyes were blue, but not like Scott’s. Kyle’s were a washed-out gray-blue. They were really nice. His bangs kept falling into them. Kip wanted to reach out and brush the hair away.

  He was way too drunk.

  “S’okay,” he said, with a flirty smile of his own, “was gonna head out anyway.”

  “You got plans?” Kyle asked.

  “I dunno. Home, I guess.”

  Kyle grinned and leaned forward with his elbows on the bar. His face was suddenly very close. “Which way you headed?”

  “Brooklyn.”

  “Looks like we’re going the same way, then. I could walk with you to the subway?”

  And Kip should have stopped the whole thing right there. It had bad idea written all over it.

  But, fuck, it felt good to flirt like this. To just have someone be so open and honest about who they were and what they wanted. Kip felt like his old self.

  “I’ll be done here in about twenty minutes. Then I’ll make sure you get home safe, okay?”

  Kip was ready to politely decline, but instead he heard himself say, “Okay.”

  Kyle smiled and slid a glass of water in front of him. “Drink this. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  The water was cold and Kip hadn’t even realized how much his body had been craving it. It was nice of Kyle to think to give it to him. Kyle seemed nice.

  God, Kip wanted to feel anything other than the all-consuming despair that had gripped him since he’d walked out of Scott’s apartment. He shouldn’t have left. He should have stayed and talked it out with Scott. He knew that now.

  But it was too late. Obviously, it was too late. By now Scott had for sure figured out that Kip was not worth the hassle.

  At least there was Kyle. Kyle in his faded jeans and his tight V-neck T-shirt. Kyle with the floppy bangs and the winter eyes and the flirty smile. Kyle wouldn’t judge Kip for completely fucking up the best thing that had ever happened to him—that would ever happen to him. Kyle was going to walk him to the subway station because he was nice, and helpful. And cute, but that part wasn’t important.

  Suddenly, Kyle had his jacket on. He wasn’t behind the bar anymore. He was standing beside Kip’s bar stool. “Come on, tipsy.”

  Kip slid off the stool and followed Kyle outside. They walked together down the block a bit, and Kip enjoyed the cool night air. Kyle didn’t talk much, which was nice because Kip was sleepy and he didn’t think he could carry on a conversation right now.

  Kyle’s hand curled around Kip’s bicep as they walked. “Hello, muscles,” he teased. “You have beautiful arms, you know. I’ve been admiring them.”

  “Oh?” Kip smiled sloppily. He did have nice arms, dammit, and he appreciated that someone had noticed.

  “Mm. And a gorgeous smile. Look at those dimples!”

  Kip grinned wider, showing off the dimples a little. Compliments were awesome.

  Kyle stopped walking. “I’d really like to kiss you,” he said. “Can I?”

  Oh.

  No.

  “Um...”

  Kyle’s brow furrowed. “Is that not what you want? I thought we were—”

  Shit.

  Kyle’s face was so close, and Kip’s eyes landed involuntarily on his lips. This was bad, wasn’t it? Kip was with Scott. Was he with Scott?

  Kyle must have taken whatever was happening on Kip’s face as an invitation, because he leaned in and pressed their lips together. And for a second, Kip was too stunned, too confused, too drunk to do anything but kiss him back.

  Kyle was a good kisser.

  But holy shit, no!

  Kip shoved him away, and stumbled forward.

  “Hey, what the fuck?” Kyle said, catching himself before almost landing on his ass.

  “Fuck,” Kip mumbled. “This was... I can’t do this. I wasn’t looking for—I’m sorry.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes! Just... I need to go. Where’s the—Fuck. Where’s the subway?”

  “That way. Do you want me to—?”

  But Kip had already taken off at a run.

  * * *

  “You all right, man?”

  Scott turned his head to be met with a concerned-looking Carter. “Yeah. Fine. Why?”

  “You look a long way from fine, Scotty.”

  Scott faced the front of the bus. His team was en route from the hotel to the arena in Detroit to begin the next round of the playoffs, and now was not the time to think about his personal problems.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure you’re not getting sick or something? You look tired.”

  “Drop it,” Scott snapped. In truth, he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept well in days.

  And now he was thinking about his personal problems. Dammit, Carter.

  He still wasn’t sure what the hell had gone wrong—if he was mad at Kip, or at himself, or at no one. He was thoroughly miserable. He felt like he was in actual physical pain, but not like a bruise or an injury; he could endure those. This was searing every part of him at once. He wanted to scream, or cry, or punch something. Or just hide where no one could see him.

  Unfortunately, he had a team to lead to victory.

  Goddammit, Kip.

  Had Kip been unfair? Had he been wrong?

  Definitely, about some things. Like, how Scott was ever going to think that Kip wasn’t worth it? If someone asked Scott what he’d be willing to give up for Kip, Scott’s knee-jerk reaction would be everything.

  But when he thought about it, that wasn’t really true. And when he thought about it some more, he realized that no one was asking him to give up everything.

  Besides, Kip had given up a lot. He had distanced himself from his friends, from his family. He had adjusted his life to accommodate Scott. What had Scott adjusted?

  Nothing. He had just bee
n trying to tuck Kip wherever he would fit into his ridiculous, high-profile life.

  He didn’t think he had been unreasonable, asking Kip to be patient with him while he figured out a plan. There was no way Kip should expect him to just announce his sexuality to the world. They had only been dating a few months.

  But a few months or not, Scott was in love. Before that first glorious kiss, he had resigned himself to a life without romance. He had never expected any of this to happen. It had flipped his whole world upside down. And now he loved Kip so much that he could barely remember the lonely years before. He knew, in only a few short weeks, that he wanted to share the rest of his life with Kip. It was staggering.

  He’d wanted to, but now Kip was gone. And Scott had no idea how to get him back because he had no experience with this sort of thing. And maybe it wasn’t fair to Kip to go after him. What could Scott promise him that would be different? He was in the middle of the damn playoffs; there was no way he was going to come out before they were over. And after that...

  He really didn’t know. When he tried to imagine coming out, it filled him with dread. For one thing, if he did that he would always be “the gay hockey player.” Even if his teammates, and the fans, and the press, and the sponsors accepted him, his achievements on the ice would always take a back seat to his sexuality.

  Scott was as private a person as he could possibly be, under the circumstances. He didn’t have any social media accounts. He didn’t go out to clubs or even restaurants all that often. He didn’t try to be seen (much to his agent’s chagrin). He didn’t do probing personal interviews, and he generally didn’t talk about himself much.

  He had been able to hold on to some of his privacy because he had convinced the world that there was nothing interesting about him. He was good at hockey, he tried to be a good person, and that was it.

  Being gay would, without a doubt, be something the world would find interesting.

  He couldn’t think about any of this now. He needed to focus. His team, his city, was depending on him.

  * * *

  “Enough, Hunter! Enough!”