Page 16 of Common Goal
“Kyle seems nice.”
Eric kept his expression as neutral as possible. “He is.”
For a long moment, Ilya didn’t say anything. He just quietly studied Eric, as if searching for a weak spot. “He is attractive.”
“I suppose.”
“He looks like Hunter a bit. But younger.” He paused, and grinned. “Muchyounger.”
Eric’s expression got a whole lot less neutral. He didn’t reply, so Ilya kept going. “Is like if Scott Hunter had a younger brother. And that brother had a son.”
Eric did not likeanythingthat Ilya was implying. “He seems to likeyou,” he volleyed back, hating that it was true.
Ilya shook his head. “This table is a mess.”
“What do you mean?”
Ilya leaned forward, uncomfortably close to Eric. “You want to fuck Kyle. Kyle wants to fuck Hunter’s boyfriend, but maybe also you, since Hunter and his boyfriend do not see anyone but each other.”
“I do not!” Eric sputtered, even though he was pretty sure everything Rozanov had just said was true. Jesus this asshole was perceptive. “I barely even know him. And I’m not—I’m just here with Scott.”
“Yes.” Ilya’s eyes darted to where Eric’s left hand rested on the table. “Also, you are wearing a wedding ring but have no wife.”
Eric covered his left hand protectively with his right “I like wearing it. I’ve worn it my entire NHL career, and it doesn’t feel right to take it off. Not when I only—” He stopped himself just in time. Or at least, he’d thought he had.
“Not when you only have this season left,” Ilya finished for him. God, Eric hadn’t toldanyonethat yet. He was planning to announce it after the Christmas break, maybe.
“Don’t say a word to anyone, Rozanov.”
Ilya leaned back in his chair. “Is not going to shock people, Bennett. You are very old.”
“Thanks.”
“Tommy Andersson will be happy.”
Eric spotted Scott coming back from the bathroom. “Shush. I mean it.”
Ilya pressed his lips together, but his eyes danced and Eric really wasn’t sure if he was going to keep quiet or not. His stomach clenched at the possibility of having his two biggest secrets revealed right now by Ilya goddamned Rozanov.
But Ilya didn’t say a word, and shortly after Scott sat down, Kyle returned with their drinks. “One naughty Scott Hunter,” he said as he placed a blue cocktail in front of Ilya. “And oneniceScott Hunter.” He placed an identical drink in front of Eric, then darted away before Eric could even thank him.
Ilya lifted his glass. “Should we drink to Scott Hunter and his future husband?”
“I think we drank enough to that last week,” Scott said sheepishly.
“To love, then. And”—he glanced at Eric—“to being brave.”
They all clinked their glasses, and Ilya winked at him in a gesture that Eric translated asyour secret is safe with me.
Ilya took a sip of his drink, and his face scrunched up. “Ugh. Tastes like Scott Hunter. Too sweet.”
Eric thought the drink was remarkably well balanced, but his obviously had different ingredients.
“Kyle!” Ilya called out. “Help!”
Eric saw Kyle pause on his way from the bar to a table. He was carrying a tray loaded with drinks. “Leave him alone. He’s working.”
“I am a customer,” Ilya argued. “And I need a beer or something to get this taste out of my mouth.”
