Hot Off the Ice Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by A. E. Wasp

  “Happy New Year,” Paul answered after the rather long kiss ended. “Ready to move this party inside?”

  “Beyond ready.”

  They walked next to each other, arms brushing as they headed to Robbie’s place.

  “We have to talk to coach Williams,” Robbie said, breaking the silence.

  Paul’s sigh was a plume of white in the chilly air. “Yeah, I reckon we should.”

  Robbie hip checked Paul. “Are you going to be okay? Saying something out loud is a big step.”

  “I might freak out. But I’ll try to save it for when I’m alone. That good enough for you?”

  “That’s good enough.” Robbie crowded as close to Paul as he could. “I know it’s hard for you.”

  “You’re worth it,” Paul said seriously. “We’re worth it.”

  The smile Robbie turned on Paul was worth it.

  “I just hope the guys can keep their mouths shut,” Paul said with a scowl.

  “We don’t have to tell the whole team,” Robbie reminded him. “Just the coach.”

  Paul sighed and leaned his head briefly against Robbie’s shoulders. “I want to. I need someplace besides our apartment where I can relax.”

  He pulled away from Robbie, pacing and waving his hands as he ranted a little too loudly for a public street. “I hate feeling like I’m constantly looking over my own shoulder and second-guessing everything I say to you. Am I standing too close to him? Was that a normal friendly smile or something else? Did I hug him too long? It’s fucking exhausting.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, man. But you might want to keep it down a little.” Robbie nodded at the couple holding each other up as they walked past the boys.

  Paul yelled in frustration, head tilted to the sky. “God, I hate this.”

  Robbie didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

  Paul’s shoulders heaved with the force of his exhale. “So. Yes. I do want to tell the team. I just don’t want them to be dicks about it.”

  Robbie laughed and put his arm around Paul’s shoulders. “Oh, I one hundred percent guarantee they will be. Total dicks.”

  29

  Robbie

  They walked into the team lounge to a chorus of catcalls, whistles, and some clapping. Robbie noticed a few turned backs and some blank stares, but they were vastly outnumbered by the jokers.

  Which was great. Private humiliation was how jocks showed love.

  The talk with the coach had gone better than Robbie had expected. He and Paul had tried to figure out all the possible repercussions but eventually gave up in the wee hours of the night.

  Coach Williams hadn’t seemed surprised in the least at the confession. They sat awkwardly in chairs across from him, a large wooden desk between them. Jake leaned against a four-drawer metal filing cabinet with his arms crossed and studied them.

  “The league’s not stupid, boys,” the coach said finally. “We’ve known this was inevitable, and there’s been a lot of discussion with managers and owners about how to handle it. What rules and regulations, if any, to put in place. How to handle the media. Changing room, shower issues and all that.”

  “What have they decided?” Robbie asked, exchanging glances with Paul.

  The coach shook his head. “Nothing. Can’t agree on a damn thing. I think half of them don’t have the sense God gave a goose. Especially that shower bullshit.” He waved a hand at Robbie. “You came here with a boyfriend, for chrissakes. Anyone on the team give you shit about showering?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Any harassment on the ice from other teams?”

  “No more than the normal chirping. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  The coach nodded. “Good, good. Well, I’m not gonna say I ain’t worried about you boys having a falling out and messing up my team. You’re young, dumb, and, well, you know what else.”

  He leaned forward over the desk. “You fuck up my team, and I will trade one of you to Winnipeg and the other to the Panthers. Got it.”

  “Yessir,” they said in unison. Robbie wanted to clutch Paul’s hand, but that seemed like a terrible idea.

  Coach leaned back in his chair. “So are we telling the team or not? How hush-hush is this? Rhodes, I know your love life is an open secret, but still, nothing official, nothing confirmed. I haven’t even gotten any direct questions from the press. Dyson?”

  Paul blushed, but kept eye contact. Now Robbie did squeeze his hand. “I want to tell the team, sir. I don’t like keeping secrets from them. It’s not a good way to build trust.”

  Coach nodded as if he were impressed with Paul’s decision.

  Paul’s eyes darted to Robbie’s, so Robbie gave his hand another squeeze.

  “But, if you don’t mind, I would much appreciate it if we could keep it just to the team. My family, they wouldn’t understand. I’m not ready for that.”

  “And the staff?”

  Paul blanched.

  Robbie understood. The more people that knew, the greater the chance of someone talking to someone they shouldn’t be. Robbie did a quick calculation of everyone he knew worked for the Thunder and came up with about fifty people. He knew there were people he was forgetting, too.

  “Can that be on a need-to-know basis?” Robbie asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “I think I should talk to the guys without you around,” Jake said, standing upright. “Give them a chance to speak freely.”

  “I agree,” the coach said. “Why don’t you boys come a little later tonight?”

  “Yessir,” Paul said.

  “No problem,” Robbie agreed.

  They sat in awkward silence as the coach turned back to his computer.

  Go? Paul signed

  Robbie shrugged.

  The coach looked up at them. “You waiting for me to marry you? I’m a coach, not the captain of a ship. Get the hell out of my office.”

  Paul and Robbie rushed out without a word.

  Once the catcalls had died down, Lipe walked up to them, gave them an unreadable look, and pushed past them to the wall of corkboards, whiteboards, and smart boards on the wall. He reached into a cabinet and pulled out a piece of poster board. Sticking it to the whiteboard with some hockey puck magnets, Lipe turned back to the room. “Okay, who was in the pool?”

  On the poster was a grid. Written across the top were dates and places such as New Year’s Eve, Chicago, Dec. 26th, and game dates.

  There were only three entries down the side: The Big D, Rhodes, and mutual.

  “You assholes,” Robbie said laughing in spite of himself. Paul turned about a hundred shade of red.

  “Who voted no?” Lipe asked.

  A couple of the guys raised their hands. “You’re all losers,” he said, pointing at them. “Get your heads out of your asses next time. That was a sucker’s bet.”

  “Now to figure out who gets what, we’re gonna need some information right from the source.” He waved Paul and Robbie up to the board. “Ok. Give us the deets. First hookup, date, place? Who made the first move?” he asked Robbie. “You or Big D? You’ve got the experience, but he’s got that smooth southern style.”

  Someone in the back of the room with a surprisingly good voice started singing “Black Velvet.”

  “Fuck you, Lipe. I’m not telling you anything.”

  “Fine. Big D?” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  Paul bit his lip and looked at Robbie. Robbie kept his face as blank as he could.

  With a wink, Paul turned back to Lipe. “Chicago.”

  “Told you!” someone said.

  “And...” he pretended to be concentrating. “I’m gonna go with me.”

  “Damn,” Sven Robertson, another defenseman, whistled. “That was your second game with the team. You’re a fast mover, D.”

  “There you have it, boys. Straight,” he snorted, “straight as it can be from the horse’s mouth. Sergei, you called it on the nose. Very nice. You get the big pot. The rest of you who got it half
right will get something.”

  Robbie walked to the front of the room, heart in his throat. He knew better than to think it would be smooth sailing from here on in; he’d been a gay jock for too long. So he wanted to get some things out while everyone was still making an effort to play nice.

  “Guys, guys. I need to say something.”

  The room quieted, and all eyes were on Robbie. He swallowed, trying to get some moisture back into his suddenly dry mouth. “Thanks for being so awesome. I know this is weird. So, seriously, if this is a problem for anyone, talk to me. Or Jake or someone.”

  He glanced over at Paul, to see if it were okay if he spoke for both of them. Paul nodded and motioned for him to keep going.

  This next part was for those guys who were hiding behind blank faces or avoiding making eye contact with him or Paul. “I know you guys got our backs, but I can’t stress how important it is for Paul that this doesn’t go any further than us. It will be a disaster if this gets out. But you guys needed to know.”

  “Plus you suck at hiding it, Rhodes.” Sven clasped his hand under his chin and fluttered his eyelids. “Oh Paul, I just love the way you handle a stick.”

  Robbie threw a dry-erase marker at him.

  “Seriously, though,” Jake said from the back of the room. The team settled down. Everyone liked and respected Jake. He was a great captain, and his words carried a lot of weight.

  “If I find that someone has leaked anything to the press, or talked to your buddies on other teams, there will be serious repercussions. This is for Rhodes and Dyson to share with who they want when they want. Got it?”

  There were nods and general murmurs of agreement.

  “Great. Now let’s get started. We got a game to win tonight.”

  Paul’s sister called seven days later.

  They were hanging at Paul’s house on an off day. Over the last week, they had fallen into a routine of sorts. Home game days, they spent at Robbie’s because it was closer to the arena. Off days they gravitated to Paul’s because it was a nicer place to hang out.

  He had that awesome couch and video game set up, great views, and a parking spot for the Stingray, which they took out every chance they could. Today was rainy and cold so they’d opted for video games and Chinese food with movies and sex on the menu for later.

  “Hey, Sissy, what’s up?” Paul said, putting her on speaker and not taking his eyes off the screen.

  “You’re Tumblr famous!” She sounded more excited than Robbie felt that accomplishment warranted.

  “Is that good? Damn it,” Paul cursed as his virtual Sidney Crosby missed a shot.

  “It’s adorable. There’s fan art and everything. Hold on; I’ll send you some. You guys are starting to pop up everywhere.”

  Robbie nudged Paul with his foot. Does she know I’m here? he signed when Paul looked his way.

  Paul shook his head no. “Wait.”

  Should I keep quiet? Robbie asked just as Sissy’s text came through.

  Pausing the game, Paul picked up his phone. “Oh, fuck me,” he said with heartfelt sincerity.

  “What?” Robbie leaned forward to see what Paul was looking at.

  It was a lovingly-detailed drawing of him and Paul locked in a passionate embrace. Full on mouth to mouth kissing with both of them in their Thunder jerseys. The tags under it were #RhoDy, #Hockey #Thunderstruck. “Holy shit.”

  “Who was that?” Sissy demanded. “Is it that cutie pie, Robbie? Is he there? Did you show him the picture?”

  What should I say? Paul mouthed silently.

  Up to you, Robbie replied. This wasn’t a call he could make. Paul had to decide how much to tell his sister.

  “Yeah, it’s Rhodes,” Paul admitted. “We’re playing video games.”

  “Oh, my stars!” she squealed. “Take a selfie and let me post it! I’ll get like a thousand new followers!”

  “Not in a million years. Besides, aren’t you too old for Tumblr?” Paul did something with the phone Robbie couldn’t see.

  “Well, where else am I supposed to be getting my porn from without Daddy finding out?”

  “Cecilia Jean Dyson!”

  Robbie laughed out loud at the look of shock on Paul’s face.

  “Is he shocked, Robbie?” Sissy’s voice came through loud and clear.

  “He’s clutching his pearls like a proper Southern lady,” Robbie told her, laughing.

  “It’s not funny, Sissy Jean. You know Dad can find out everything you do.” He held the phone out to Robbie.

  He’d searched for the #RhoDy tag on the Tumblr site. There were way too many posts with not only that tag but his and Paul’s full names and the team name. It would be so easy to track.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Sissy said. “I’m way better than you ever were at keeping things away from him. Plus I doubt Daddy even knows Tumblr exists.”

  “I bet someone in the media department knows,” Robbie answered seriously.

  “Fuck,” Paul said again. He jumped up from the couch, running his fingers through his hair.

  “Chip, what’s going on? I thought you would think it was funny. It’s just some little girls having fun, letting their imaginations run wild. Right?”

  Paul stopped pacing and looked at Robbie. “No. Yeah. It’s just, you know, I didn’t expect it. It’s uh,” he dropped his eyes to a spot on the carpet, “hard to see yourself like that, you know?”

  The tiny spark of hope that Robbie had let himself have that maybe Paul would start to open up to someone started to die.

  “Uh huh.” Sissy didn’t sound convinced. “So you guys aren’t a thing? You do seem to spend an awful lot of time together. I see the interviews with you and him, joking and laughing. You like him. I can tell. Sisters know.”

  “Sissy! There’s nothing going on. We’re just friends. I’m not gay, for heaven’s sake.”

  Even though he was braced for it, the words hit Robbie like a blow. He couldn’t stay here right now. Moving quickly, he jumped up and started looking for where he’d left his sneakers.

  “Uh, hold on, Sissy. Give me a minute.” Paul hit the hold button on the phone. “Where are you going?”

  “Home. My place.” Robbie found his sneakers behind the couch and yanked them on.

  “Don’t go. I’ll get rid of her.” Paul reached for Robbie’s arm.

  Robbie brushed him off with an irritable shake. “Just talk to her. Tell her whatever you have to. I’m going to go home and call John. See how much trouble we’re in.”

  “Robbie,” Paul said, a world of meaning packed into that one word. “Are you mad at me? You know I gotta…”

  He looked lost, worse than lost. He looked abandoned. “I know you gotta.” Robbie sighed, trying to find someplace to put his anger. Paul had to do things in his own time. “I’m not mad. It’s just kinda hard, okay? To hear you say it right out like that.” He shoved his arms into his jacket.

  “I’m sorry. Don’t go.”

  Robbie could tell he was sorry. He looked miserable. This was hurting him more than it was hurting Robbie. “I’m not mad,” Robbie repeated. “I just don’t want to have to listen to you lie in our, I mean your, own damn house!” Despite his inner battle for control, his voice rose at the end.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Paul said. Sorry he signed. Sorry.

  “I know.” Taking a deep breath, Robbie took a step towards Paul.

  Paul recoiled as if he were scared of Robbie. “Jesus Christ, Paul.” Robbie reached for him and pulled him into a hug. “I’m not leaving. I’m just going to take a walk, clear my head, okay? I’ll probably get a cup of coffee and do some looking into this. I’ll be back. I promise.”

  “Promise?” Paul sounded very young.

  “Promise. I’ll bring you back a maple bar, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Robbie kissed him, and Paul clung to his arms when he tried to pull away. “What are we gonna do?” he asked.

  Robbie shook his head. “I don’t know, Pa
ul. But this,” he pointed at the phone, “sucks.”

  As he reached for the door, he heard Sissy’s voice calling from the phone. She sounded pissed. “Paul Stonewall Dyson, Junior you get your ass back to this phone right this minute. And next time, double check if you’ve actually put a call on hold before you go running your mouth.”

  Paul turned pale and snatched the phone up.

  Robbie heard Sissy tell him he was dumber than a bag of hammers before the door shut behind him.

  30

  Paul

  “Oh, shit, Sissy. Um, I…” How much had she heard? What was she thinking? What did she know? Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Tears filled his eyes. He couldn’t bear it if she hated him.

  He couldn’t catch his breath. “It’s not…I mean…”

  “Paul,” she said sharply. “Stop. Just stop. I can hear you panicking clear across the country. You’re panting like a hound dog in the sun” Her voice was calm, soothing, and more serious than he’d ever heard her sound. “Just breathe. Can you do that?”

  He forced himself to take a deep breath in, then another. Blood pounded in his temples, making him dizzy and he dropped down to the sofa.

  “Oh, God, Sissy.” He tried to get his breathing under control before he passed out. “Say something. Do you hate me?”

  The silence stretched until he thought he was going to puke.

  “Oh, big brother,” she finally said. “I could never hate you. Not in a million years.”

  Paul let out the breath he had been holding. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “So, just to be clear, is something going on between you and this boy?” Her tone brooked no equivocating.

  “Yes.” He was still whispering as if that would somehow lessen the impact of his words.

  “And is he a nice boy?”

  “He’s a good man, Sissy. Really good.” His leg shook nervously as he debated how much to tell her. “But he’s…I think he’s an atheist.” It was the first time he’d said that out loud, too. What a day for confessions.

  To his vast surprise, Sissy laughed. “Honey, I think at this moment that is the least of your problems. You’re okay with being in love with a man, but him bein’ a nonbeliever is a problem?”