Page 104 of Two for Roughing

“No, I don’t, but I don’t need you treating me like I’m some fragile flower, okay? I can say no myself.”

“Harsh, dude,” Ketchup said.

“Sorry.” Kilian shrugged apologetically. “I really don’t want another scandal right now, you know?”

“I get it. But everyone does it sometimes.”

“They do not,” Damir protested. “Some teams are leading in the league because they put stock in training and practice, not in partying.”

Lissy patted him on the top of the head, a feat for which he had to stand on his tiptoes. “That’s what we have you for, buzzkill.”

“I don’t need to listen to this.” Damir turned on his heel and stalked off, the crowd parting easily before him.

Kilian watched him go, aching to put it right, to let Damir baby him just a little longer. He knew it wasn’t good for him, but he wanted it so badly.

Ketchup clapped his shoulder. “Seriously, bro, Denny’s messed up over something with his agent, remember? He said so the other day. What if he’s getting traded?”

Traded? He’d have told Kilian, surely.

Unless he was so sick of Kilian’s shit he wanted out.

“God forbid, we’d never win another game. But now he’s gone, are you sure you don’t want a bump?” Lissy patted his breast pocket. His shirt was unbuttoned so far down that his suit jacket hid the pocket entirely. His bare, hairy chest glistened with sweat. Kilian wondered if he was already high.

He liked Lissy, especially the gregarious, if over the top, energy he brought to the locker room. It kept things light. But Damir was the one who held the team together in all the ways that mattered.

Kilian didn’t want him to shoulder the responsibility alone. Not anymore.

After a year and change of believing he was a burden to the Sea Lions, discovering that his contributions were valuable in a different context—that he could help his new team succeed—was addictive. He wanted Damir to know he had an equal partner in Kilian. If it couldn’t be in bed, at least it would be on the ice.

Damir wasn’t trying to be a killjoy when he reminded his teammates of the schedule or that it was their responsibility not to be drunk assholes all the time. He did it because he genuinely believed in the team’s success and didn’t know how else to convey his worries about everyone’s health and the team’s standing. It wasn’t his fault he was surrounded by people he couldn’t be himself around. No matter how many hockey players came out, none of them were Russian or Muslim.

And Kilian had thrown it all in his face over what? Feeling a little babied? Compared to what Damir must be going through—watching the team he played for, won for, treat Kilian so well after coming out when he’d been there all along and never had the opportunity to get their support—it had to sting.

Hopefully not enough to ask for a trade.

Kilian extricated himself from Ketchup’s arm, still slung over his shoulders, and did his best to smile at Lissy. “Sorry, man, not today. I’m gonna…”

He jerked his thumb in the direction Damir had left and followed him in long strides. People didn’t part for him the way they did for Damir. Kilian didn’t have the same fuck-off energy, but it was easy enough to track Damir’s progress out the side door and into the unseasonably warm Los Angeles night.

At least Chicago had seasons.

“I’m sorry,” Kilian blurted the second he was outside. “I don’t want you to get traded.”

Damir flinched and turned. “What are you sorry for? I’m sorry. And of course I’m not getting traded. As far as I know anyway.”

“Wait, what are you sorry for?”

“For speaking for you. I know I’m not…who you want doing that.”

Kilian blinked. “I mean, I don’t want anyone speaking for me.”

Huffing a frustrated sigh, Damir kicked at the brick wall of the building. “No, I mean, I know I’ve done a shit job taking care of you in the past and don’t deserve—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Kilian held up his hands. “What the fuck? No? You’ve always taken care of me perfectly. I don’t want you to have to.”

The look Damir leveled at him could only have been described as anguished. “Kilian. Your first time? What you said on the plane? I know you were talking about me. And I treated you like shit.”

“I was being a little shit, and no, you didn’t. Anyway, it’s ancient history. You know you’ve had all my first times.”