Page 126 of Game Changer
“It’s probably dumb...”
“No! Maria, you’d be great! And we could use more good cops, y’know?”
Kip worked the rest of his shift in a daze. He couldn’t tell what was truly bothering him: that he would miss working with Maria, or that he resented her leaving while he was stuck here.
You could quit too, dummy.
When he went back to Scott’s apartment after work, Scott wasn’t there. He hadn’t received any texts from him all day.
Resigned to endure another lonely evening, Kip dragged himself into the shower and came out feeling a little better. He wondered if Scott would be home for dinner.
It wasn’t unusual for Scott to not keep in touch. Not lately, anyway. The playoffs and everything leading up to them had understandably consumed him. He had apologized to Kip in advance for how little time he’d be able to give him, which was ridiculous. It was the Stanley Cupplayoffsand Scott was the biggest star in the league, for chrissakes. Adding to that was the fact that Scott, despite his many achievements, had never actuallywonthe Stanley Cup.
Yeah, it was important that Kip be cool about this.
When Scott got home later that evening, he looked exhausted.
“Hey,” Kip said, kissing him quickly. “What were you up to today?”
“Oh, just... ESPN asked me and a couple of the guys to record some promos for round two of the playoffs. Took longer than I thought it would.”
“Ah.”
“I’m gonna—” Scott gestured toward the bedroom. “Long day. And I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
“Sure. Yeah.”My day sucked, thanks for asking.
Scott disappeared into the bedroom, and Kip sank onto the sofa. He knew he was probably overreacting because he had been in a bad mood to begin with, but in that moment he felt like Scott’s fuckingpet.
And then he became angry with himself, because why the fuckhadhe been waiting for Scott to come home? Why was this his life now? He used to go to the Kingfisher all the time—at least once a week. And he went out to clubs. And dinner with friends. And lunch with friends. And brunch with friends. Now he just left work and went to Scott’s apartment and waited for him to come home. And if Scott was away, he went to Scott’s apartment and watched television alone until he fell asleep.
He loved Scott. Absolutely. But this couldnotbe his life long-term. He wastwenty-six!
For the past few weeks, Kip had been bracing himself for Scott’s inevitable realization that he was too good for Kip. Or, at least, that Kip was not worth risking his whole career for. But maybe he shouldn’t be waiting for that moment. Maybeheshould initiate the conversation. Because the painful truth was that if Scott had no plans to change things, then Kip couldn’t stay in this relationship.
Kip almost wanted to march into the bedroom right then and just ask Scott, point-blank, “Are you ever going to come out? Am I worth it?” but the timing would be terrible. Scott was obviously drained.
And what was the answer Kip was expecting to hear?Yes. Absolutely. I will come out publicly tomorrow. Let me get on the phone so I can call a press conference?
So Kip didn’t say anything. He just watched television for a while, then slipped into the bed next to Scott’s sleeping body. He stared into the darkness for hours, worrying.
* * *
Scott wrapped black hockey tape around the blade of his stick using the exact same method he’d perfected when he was a teenager. It was two hours before game time in Boston.
“Hey,” Carter said, testing the blade sharpness on his own skates with his thumb, “did you hear what your boyfriend was saying?”
Scott nearly dropped his stick.“What?”
“Rozanov. Mouthing off again.”
“Oh.” He relaxed, feeling stupid.
“Said he’ll feel bad about taking away your first Stanley Cup victory.”
He rolled his eyes. “All right.”
“Said he’d be nice and give you one ofhisrings.”
