Page 16 of Icebreaker

Quinn sat at the bench before his stall while I stood over his shoulder. "Oh, it's not the whole team." He sounded dismissive. "There's just a few of us who love the atmosphere if you get what I'm saying."

The bold clarity of his comment left me breathless. Of course, I did know what he meant. He wrapped up all of our lingering glances and casual touches into a neat package and tied it up with a bow.

"Okay," I spoke slowly while my heart began pounding. "Rainbow room it is."

About an hour later, we sat at the bar, sipping beers and chatting about the weather and Quinn's friend, Moose, who had taken an overnight climbing trip to Mt. St. Helens, the topless giant. It was fun to hang out together in an informalenvironment, but I sensed tension under the surface, unspoken questions that hung between us.

Quinn finally dug a little deeper while he picked at the paper label on his beer bottle. "So, I saw news stories about what happened between you and Dante Russo several years ago. That had to be tough, living through your relationship slapped on sports front pages everywhere."

I took a long swig of my beer, giving myself a moment to pull my thoughts together. I didn't talk about Dante often…or ever. The wounds remained raw, and the memories were too painful to reopen over and over. Something about Quinn's nonjudgmental curiosity drew me out, pulling out a piece of me that I hadn't shared with anyone for years.

I couldn't look into his eyes, so I stared at a row of bottles behind the bar. "It was ages ago." My voice was rugged, reflecting the effort required to push the words forward. "We were just kids. We were invincible."

I drank a long swig of my beer. "The problem was we didn't think." I shook my head. "Didn't consider how it would look to everybody else and the consequences of that. We were too focused on each other to see the danger until it was too late."

I remembered the moment it all came crashing down as clear as day. Headlines on every sports page and gossip site screamed, "NHL SECRET GAY AFFAIR." The stories included grainy photos of Dante and me leaving a gay club hand in hand.

The fallout was swift, and Dante denied everything. Dante tossed me into the media's feeding frenzy to save his own skin. He painted me as a predator and manipulator, and the league, fans, and reporters wanted to find a villain in the story.

When I refused to deny our relationship, they all pointed at me. I nearly lost everything in a few short weeks. Coach Fraser stepped away from the controversy, refusing to speak up for me. Finally, a few of my teammates pointed out my positive qualitiesand how I'd always supported them. They saved my position on the team, but it was never the same again.

"It nearly destroyed me," I told Quinn, my voice cracking. "The public humiliation wasn't the worst. It was the betrayal by someone I thought I could trust with my life. It made me question my entire world, my choices, and the foundations of who I thought I was."

Quinn placed his hand on my arm. "I'm so damn sorry, Axel. I can't imagine how painful that was. Twisting your relationship into something ugly and shameful is horrible. I wonder how he sleeps."

I shrugged. Having the sordid story out in the open again was hard, but Quinn's comforting presence made it bearable. "I've moved on and built a new life for myself. In that way, this trade to Portland was a good thing, but what happened is hard to get over. It changed me."

He rubbed my forearm. "You're an incredible man. It didn't do anything to dent that."

"Maybe not, but I learned a hard lesson. Being gay in this sport or this world isn't easy. You take risks every single day."

Quinn nodded and looked down at the bottle in his hand. "I know, I've never…" His voice trailed off for a few seconds. "There was someone. In college, I crushed on one of my professors—hard. But I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I was too afraid of what it might mean for me and my future."

He glanced at me with a half-smile, tugging at his mouth. "Pathetic, huh? I talk a big game, but when it comes down to I'm it…I'm still a scared kid."

I suddenly had an urge to be protective. Quinn was so young and full of potential. The idea that others could make him scared of who he was or what he wanted made my heart ache.

Leaning close so he could hear me, I said, "There's nothing wrong with being different. I don't mean to lecture, but you haveto believe it. There's nothing wrong with wanting what you want and loving who you love. You shouldn't have to hide for anyone or anything…hockey be damned."

The bar's lights flashed off Quinn's deep blue eyes, and a shiver raced through me when I saw the determination. "You're right. No more hiding or being scared for me."

He drank the rest of the beer in one long swallow. "Come on." He stood and held out a hand to me. "Let's dance."

I hesitated and instantly thought about at least ten different reasons dancing with Quinn in a gay bar was a bad idea. But then I looked at him, knowing I couldn't resist. I let him lead me out onto the dance floor and into the heart of the crowd.

The music was loud, and Quinn took only seconds to find the beat. His body moved with a grace that made my mouth go dry. He danced like he skated, fearlessly, with a natural sensuality that took my breath away. I ached with desire.

His shirt rode up as he moved, exposing a strip of smooth, tanned skin creased by his perfect abdominal muscles. My fingers itched to reach out and touch it.

Around us, other men began to peel off their shirts, and their sweat-slicked chests glistened under the throbbing lights. A wicked grin appeared on Quinn's face, and he reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head.

My breath caught in my throat. I saw him nearly every day in the locker room, half in and half out of clothes, but this was different. His lean muscle and golden skin were on public display, like a sculpture come to life. As I watched, I wanted him, and my body responded, tightening my jeans.

Still, my wary mind wouldn't let me fully enjoy the spectacle. A voice in my head told me all the reasons why being involved with Quinn was a horrible idea. He was so young and inexperienced. The media could add cradle robber to all the awful labels they slapped on me.

How could I be the one to introduce him to the world where physical connections complicated everything? How could I expose him to the risks and dangers of loving someone like me?

We were teammates, too. A relationship between Quinn and me could throw off the entire team, sending it into chaos if something didn't work out.

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