Page 35 of Until He Scores

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m a man of few possessions.” The building was mine. The money I earned went into the shop and made sure the power stayed on. Everything else seemed trivial.

“Seems homey.” He took a couple of more steps. “I need to piss.”

“Bathroom is over here.” I hadn’t expected his acceptance. I was sure his home was some million-dollar mansion in Nashville or one of those penthouse apartments. With the money Thierry made over the years, he probably had both. This place would always be home for me.

Once I flipped on the light and was sure Thierry wouldn’t fall over, I went back into the main area of the apartment and grabbed a water out of the refrigerator for him. When the sink came on, I grabbed two pillows off the bed and threw them on the couch. The rest he could use. I didn’t mind.

Thierry ambled out of the bathroom and sat down. He pulled his jacket off like a tired toddler and flung it on the floor beside the bed. Then he went to work getting his shoes off. I tsked and moved his hands out of the way so he didn’t end up knotting the laces so badly, he’d never get them undone. He bent forward, pressing his forehead to the top of my head as he exhaled. The scent of mint hit my nose, and I knew he used my mouthwash and or brushed his teeth while he’d been in there.

“I want everything different between us,” he mumbled. “I want so many things that are unattainable.”

“Me too,” I said. “I’ve missed you. This. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a sleepover.”

He snorted. “Not since we were kids.”

“It was so easy back then.” I stayed knelt in front of him, unable to move or look up. He’d caught me off guard.

“So much more fun. We’d smash a pizza while watching movies. Talk about whatever hockey game we’d seen. Or about the next team we were going to face.”

“We were shooting for the stars.” Until I dropped hockey. Now, I couldn’t even remember what the catalyst was that ended my time on the ice—because if I was being honest, it hadn’t been the kiss—or what I’d seen in Thierry except for his potential to be more than just some junior league player who grew up to be a doctor or some shit.

“Yeah. I wish I had you with me every time I left home. Would have made the trips better.” The note of sadness in his voice had guilt welling within me.

“Would have been epic.”

“Our parents would have had to bail us out more than a few times.” Thierry chuckled softly as if he actively imagined the scenario playing out.

“Oh, fuck. Your parents and my dad flying halfway around the world calling us knuckleheads all while we nursed hangovers and relished the fond memories…” Yeah, I wish we had that too.

“Did you know the guy in our goal for theMountaineersis the Polish international goalie?”

“No,” I answered. “I hadn’t been paying attention to the goalies, to be honest.” I’d been staring at Thierry. Watching him for any signs he’d been in pain. When I wasn’t doing that, I’d been staring at him, because I couldn’t believe he was there after being away for so long. In a way, I worried if I blinked, he’d be gone.

I never wanted any of this to end.

Chapter 14

Pope

“Pavel,” he said, drawing me back into the conversation. “We saw each other whenever there were international games. Pretty soon, I was meeting his girlfriend, who became his wife, and then their kids. He’s the only one I let in while on the U18s.”

“Because you didn’t have to worry about being rejected?”

He nodded. “Because I didn’t have to be rejected, shunned, or bullied. Hockey…” he blew out another breath of winter mint. “The fans love Pride night. They love the rainbow flag. They support us, but there are players... People in management and some owners who think just because I like men, I’m going to harm them somehow. Worse, there are the fans who think like the owners, too.”

I couldn’t even imagine how that felt. The league wanted to be recognized for their contribution to the community, but not for supporting their athletes. Sounded like a bunch of bullshit to me. Then again, I wasn’t in Thierry’s shoes. I couldn’t possibly understand what it was like for him. “Why didn’t you just walk away?”

“Like you?”

I nodded, wincing slightly at his tone. “Yes.”

He shrugged, tugging at his shirt. “I love the game.”

Fuck. How easy was that? He would endure anything to play. I despised the idea someone would hate him just because he didn’t like women. “Enough to not be you, though?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m in the middle of my thirteenth season, now as a coach, aren’t I? Have a scandal at my back to boot.” His shirt ended up with his jacket on the floor. “Fuck.”

I swallowed hard. The act of him undressing seemed too intimate for me to be witnessing. His tanned, muscular torso surprised me. I hadn’t seen him without a shirt on in years. Now, seeing him like this, sent a mini wave of something akin to arousal through me. His nipples were hard. A shade or two darker than his skin, and surprisingly one had a barbell through it.

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