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Declan’s grin widened. “We’re happy to be here. When Coach Hill asked a couple of us to visit, London and I couldn’t say no. You’re Wystan that I’ve heard about?”
Some of the joy in Atlas’s expression drained, but he kept a smile on his face, which seemed to be a miracle. “No, sir. I’m Atlas Frosteson.”
Declan winced. “Sorry, man. Coach Hill has told me about you, too. He said you’re strong and you’re a good defenseman. He’s got our coach keeping an eye on you and Wystan.”
I sidled up beside Atlas and bumped him with my elbow. “Hear that? We gotta show up tonight and show them what we’ve got.” I chuckled and held out my hand to Declan. “I’mWystan, the team’s captain and new center.”
Declan’s gaze flicked between us, calculating, and he squinted as he smiled, something knowing in his eyes as he shook my offered hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“I have to ask, if it’s okay with you, how is life as an out hockey player?”
Atlas shot me a wide-eyed glance, but I ignored it. I’d never been in the closet, and while I knew he wasn’t jammed deep in, either, he’d never admitted he was gay within earshot. Unlike me.
“I’m gay and I see the hockey world’s getting better.” I crossed my arms and focused fully on Declan, ignoring the side-eye Atlas was giving me.
Declan’s entire expression softened. “I’m not going to lie, it isn’t easy. I shook things up with having two partners.” He laughed. “But we’re handling the controversy. Jake and Logan stay out of the spotlight as much as they can. They don’t want to be known as Declan the hockey star’s partners. They’re just... mine. But that isn’t what you asked.”
London stepped in closer to us. “It’s like everything. Media storm and then they move on to the next thing.”
Declan nodded. “That’s true. And our team and a lot of the other teams are supportive. The atmosphere is changing. As long as we can play hockey, who cares who we fuck?”
Coach Hill cleared his throat and slapped Declan on the back. “How about we go for a second, guys? Then, once the team’s ready, we can talk with them all.”
Coach dragged Declan and London off, and from the corner of my eye, I noticed Nikolai watching them carefully, or more specifically, London. I’d never gotten the feeling that Nikolai was questioning or anything except straight, but by the way he was checking out London, I might have to reconsider that assumption. Although, I didn’t blame him. London’s ass was so round you could bounce a quarter off it.
Atlas grabbed my neck and shoved me backward so quickly that I didn’t have time to react as he slammed my bare back into one of the lockers. The noise echoed around the room, but most of the guys had started to make their way out toward the ice, except Nikolai, who didn’t seem to give a damn that we were probably about to get into a fight before the game.
“What the fuck?” I muttered.
His grip on my throat tightened.
I gasped.
“Why the hell are you asking him about being gay in pro?” he muttered.
I scrunched up my nose. “This may come as a surprise to you, so hold on to your hat... but I’m gay.” I leaned in closer. “I thought you would’ve known that after having your cock in me,” I whispered.
He shot a look at Nikolai, but the asshole was too busy typing on his phone to pay any attention to us. When Atlas glanced at me again, the mixture of hunger and hatred in his eyes made my cock throb. “Don’t get used to it.”
I licked my lips. “Oh, but you know you like it as much as I do.” I bumped my nose against his. “How about after this game, we hate fuck in the showers when everyone leaves? I haven’t gotten off all day, and I’m ready for a hard cock in my hole.”
He let out a feral growl and shot backward. “No.”
I had a feeling that one word was to convince himself more than me, but he left me in the locker room as he strode toward his gear.
Mm. That was totally ayes.
9
ATLAS
My gut droppedto my toes as one of the green-uniformed St. Loren Bayou Blades slammed Wy into the boards less than ten feet away from me. It was a hard hit and the sound echoed across the ice. The audience close to where it happened jumped to their feet as Wy hit the ice like a ton of bricks. The referee was already on number 6—whose last name was Fairborn—by the time I skated over, but Wy only shook his head at me and pushed to his feet. He stood for a second and stared at the ceiling. His brain had been rattled.
“Fucker,” Wy snarled and headed in the direction of Fairborn.
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Fairborn shouted, his Southern accent standing out.
The ref shook his head.
