Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Kip Grady/Scott Hunter

Characters:

Kip Grady, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), George Grady, Elena Rygg, Maria Villanueva, Carter Vaughn, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s), Greg Huff, Eric Bennett, Gloria Grey, Laura Huff, Kyle Swift, Shawn (Game Changers), Matti Jalo, Brisebois (Game Changers), Jimmy | Kip Grady's Friend, Chuck | Kip Grady's Friend, Harv Murdock (Game Changers), Todd Wheeler

Additional Tags:

Post-Episode: s01e03 Hunter (Heated Rivalry), Episode: s01e05 I'll Believe in Anything (Heated Rivalry), New York Admirals (Game Changers), Canon - Game Changers Series & Heated Rivalry (TV) Combination, Boston University, The Kingfisher (Game Changers)

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-06-27 Words: 84,611 Chapters: 38/38

We Deserve Sunshine

Summary

This work explores the previously unseen three and a half years in the lives and the relationship of characters Scott Hunter and Kip Grady from Season 1 of the Heated Rivalry television series created by Jacob Tierney. It begins where Episode 3 ("Hunter") ends and ends with the final scene of Episode 5 ("I'll Believe in Anything"). It follows Kip's growth from smoothie barista to graduate student and beyond. It accompanies Scott on his journey as a lonely and conflicted professional hockey star who became the Game Changer he was destined to be. And it chronicles the path to sunshine for their relationship.

Season 1 of the 2025 Heated Rivalry television series is treated as canon, and this work assumes the reader is very familiar with the show and especially the Scott and Kip characters within it. A few elements are inspired by events in the book Game Changer by Rachel Reid or other books in the series, but only to the extent that it does not conflict with TV canon. There are several original characters and new roles for familiar ones.

Notes

This work consists of 133 Scenes loosely organized into 38 Chapters and divided into 3 Parts.

PART 1: Impossibility (February 2014 - August 2015)
Kip moves to Boston for graduate school. Scott tries to return to the lonely life he led before he met Kip.

PART 2: Illusion (August 2015 - December 2016)
Scott and Kip reestablish a relationship from afar. Kip moves forward professionally. Scott returns to form on the ice.

PART 3: Sunshine (December 2016 - June 2017)
Kip must make choices about his future. Scott must make choices about Kip's place in his life.

PART 1
CHAPTER 1: Gold Medal / The Breakup
CHAPTER 2: Kip is Moving / Big Green Apple / Boston Parade / Mykonos
CHAPTER 3: TA / Video Game Night / The Date / Scott Hunter's Day Off
CHAPTER 4: The Hockey Game / What the What / Kip is Back
CHAPTER 5: The Fundraiser 1 / Family / The Application
CHAPTER 6: Notre-Dame-de-Grace / Fuck Hockey / Coach
CHAPTER 7: It was a Long Time Ago / Making Coffee / St. Thomas / Jimmy's Van / Grilling
CHAPTER 8: New Intern / Net / The Met / Goodbye Rochester / That was That
CHAPTER 9: He Asked About You / Text / Delivered / Read / The Reunion

PART 2
CHAPTER 10: The Weekend
CHAPTER 11: The Drive Back / Back in Boston / We Hooked Up
CHAPTER 12: I Got the Job / Scott Hunter Death Watch / FaceTime / Walking Achilles
CHAPTER 13: Can I See You? / I Can't Say I'm Surprised / Christmas with George / Christmas with Scott and Kip
CHAPTER 14: The Fundraiser 2 / I Need a Favor / Kip's Place / All Clear
CHAPTER 15: I'm On It / In Flagrante Delicto / High Stick / Tequila
CHAPTER 16: A Bear / Salud / Eliminated / Clean Out Day
CHAPTER 17: Boston / Cape Cod / Independence Day
CHAPTER 18: Reality Check / Brunch / Back in Rochester / Thesis
CHAPTER 19: Elite Players Camp / Luke
CHAPTER 20: Next Year / Summer's Over / A New Chapter / So You're Leaving Us
CHAPTER 21: Going Home / Art is Expensive / Kingfisher / Laundry
CHAPTER 22: Righting the Ship / Damn Paparazzi / Friday Night / Balancing Familiarity with Innovation / GK Modern Art Gallery
CHAPTER 23: Admirals Holiday Party / Tree / Why Not Take a Chance on Love? / In the Shadows
CHAPTER 24: Master Kip / Some Day / George

PART 3
CHAPTER 25: Christmas Eve / Christmas Day
CHAPTER 26: Times Square / Normalcy / Hoo Boy
CHAPTER 27: Todd / The Fundraiser 3 / All-Star Weekend
CHAPTER 28: Installation / Moving Out / Sneaking In / Roommate
CHAPTER 29: Fear / Choosing Hockey
CHAPTER 30: I Like You / Hunter's Date
CHAPTER 31: Showcase / Blue / Manly Hugs
CHAPTER 32: News / With Me / Steakhouse
CHAPTER 33: Done / Getting on the Same Page
CHAPTER 34: Delegate / The Louvre / PowerPoint / Rugby
CHAPTER 35: Quads & Glutes / Tote Bags / Eastern Conference Finals / Commencement / Turning Around / Conference Champions
CHAPTER 36: Opening / Game Two / Scrum / Second Opening / Distraction / Don't Come
CHAPTER 37: Overtime / Whatever / Project Coordinator
CHAPTER 38: Tickets / I'll Believe in Anything / Sunshine

 

DEDICATION

We Deserve Sunshine is dedicated to Jason Tierney and Rachel Reid, creators of the show and source material, the characters of Scott Hunter and Kip Grady who appear therein, and actors Francois Arnaud and Robbie G.-K. who brought those characters to life.

 
DISCLAIMER

This work was developed with the support of ChatGPT as an editorial, organizational, and research assistant. ChatGPT was used to help organize and track narrative elements, analyze story structure and character arcs, identify continuity and consistency issues, assist with editorial review and copyediting, provide general research guidance (which was independently verified), and support overall project management. It was not used to generate the novel's creative content or original prose, with the exception of this acknowledgment. All creative decisions, narrative development, characterization, dialogue, and written expression are solely those of the author.

Chapter 1: PART 1 CHAPTER 1: Gold Medal / The Breakup

PART 1 : Impossibility

CHAPTER 1

Gold Medal (February 2014, Brooklyn)

 

The American flag was raised to the rafters. “The Star-Spangled Banner” filled the air. The hockey players in red, white, and blue jerseys were laughing, smiling, celebrating. They threw their arms around each other’s shoulders, held the flag behind their heads. The gold medals sparkled as they dangled from their necks.  

Kip Grady watched the scene unfold on the television. He was lying on the couch in his dad’s Brooklyn home. He had a mostly-empty coffee mug in his hand. A half eaten bagel remained on a plate. A banana peel had fallen to the floor.

Kip’s father George stood up. He started gathering the dishes and picking up the trash.  He grabbed the tray that held a small tub of cream cheese and two kinds of jam. Kip moved to help, but George shook his head, “no”.

The broadcast cut to Scott Hunter, the Team USA captain. Sweat still glistened in his hair. He was talking to a reporter, microphone shoved in his face. 

Kip didn’t need to hear what was said. He had dwelled on everything long enough. This was going to make it easier, he thought. What had to be done. Next week.

Scott would be celebrated in every arena, every city. He would do hundreds of interviews and appear in dozens of ads. He would give a speech at the White House and receive the nation’s applause.

He belonged to America.

He didn’t belong to Kip.

George came up behind him and placed his hands on Kip's shoulders.

“Hunter had a great two weeks,” he said.

Kip silently nodded. George continued.

“On the ice, that is.”

 

The Breakup (March 2014, New York)

 

The sound of the doorbell broke the silence in Scott’s apartment. Scott’s heart sank a little when he realized that Kip hadn’t just used the code. He hadn’t just walked in like he used to.

Scott walked to the entry and opened the door. Kip with his soft dimples and disarming eyes looked every bit as good as Scott had expected. It was all he could do to keep himself from throwing his arms around him and holding him tight.

Actually, he couldn’t keep himself from doing that. Before Kip even had a chance to say a word, Scott’s arms were around him and his head leaned onto Kip’s shoulder. Tears welled in his eyes and his breathing became stiff and halting. Kip gently guided them both into the apartment and closed the door behind them, not allowing Scott’s hold on him to slip. They just stood there, together, Kip gently stroking Scott’s hair and Scott not once lifting his head from Kip’s shoulder. 

Scott's breathing began to steady. He lifted his head and he slowly pulled away. His face was red and his eyes bloodshot. Kip brushed a strand of hair off Scott’s forehead.

“So where is your gold medal,” Kip said. “I’ve never seen one up close.”

Scott smiled, and turned towards the bedroom as Kip walked to the couch. Scott returned a few moments later.

“Here. Catch,” he said as he tossed something soft and blue gently to Kip. It was a pair of blue socks with bananas printed on them. The ones Kip had given to Scott a few months ago.

“You keep it stuffed inside the socks?” Kip asked as he began to unwrap them. He pulled the medal out from inside.

“Don’t worry, they’ve been laundered,” Scott said.

He held out his palm and Kip placed it in his hand.  Scott took the medal and hung it around Kip’s neck.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to wear someone else’s medal,” Kip protested.

Scott scoffed.  He then took a step back, pulled out his phone, and pointed it at Kip. Kip looked at Scott with a bemused expression, and then smiled as Scott snapped a photo. Kip took the medal off and handed it back. Scott set it down on the end table and sat next to Kip.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Their legs touched.  Scott ran a finger along Kip’s cheek. Kip closed his eyes and, for a moment, held in a breath. Kip grasped Scott’s hand and pulled it against his chest.  Kip opened his eyes and they turned toward each other.

This was such a bad idea. This wasn’t why Scott had asked him to come. This wasn’t why Kip had agreed to meet him. It would only make everything that was to come so much more difficult. But nothing felt so right as when they felt their lips crash together once more.

✦

They were a single mass of naked bodies intertwined on the couch. They hadn’t even moved to the bedroom. They heard their breaths slow and felt their heartbeats relax.

This was a world Scott wished were real.

Scott briefly looked out the window at the city below.

“Where do we go from here?” he asked, his eyes returning to Kip.

There was a long silence. Kip gently pulled from Scott’s grasp. He grabbed a couple of towels, used one to clean himself off, and handed the other to Scott. He sat back next to him and took his hand.

“I think we both know.” Kip said. “I can’t pretend to all the people in my life that we don’t exist.”

Scott wished he could say that he and Kip could be a happy, normal couple doing happy, normal couple things soon. But he couldn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Kip.”

Kip didn’t move. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Scott sighed. He stroked Kip’s hair. But tears didn’t come.

“Please stay with me tonight,” Scott asked. “I want to wake up with you one more time. Please.”

Kip met Scott’s eyes and nodded. 

“Yes.”

✦

Scott got his wish. He watched Kip stir from his slumber lying next to him in the bed. For the first time in a month. And for the last time in … well Scott really didn’t want to think about that.

Kip pulled himself from the bed, dressed, and Scott walked with him to the door. They turned to each other one more time.

“I never thought I would have this,” Scott said. “I’m just not ready to keep it.”

Kip stepped forward, gave Scott a kiss on the lips.

“The man I fell for is Scott from Rochester,” Kip said.  “I hope, someday, Scott Hunter can be that man too.”

He leaned in and kissed Scott again. This one lingered a bit longer than the last. And then Kip pulled away and went out the door.

Scott stood there quietly for a few moments. He closed the front door and returned to his bedroom. In the bathroom, he turned on the shower, used his hand to check the water, and stepped in. Then he sat on the floor and let the emptiness pour over him.

Chapter 2: CHAPTER 2: Kip is Moving / Big Green Apple / Boston Parade / Mykonos

CHAPTER 2

Kip is Moving (April 2014, New York)

 

Elena entered the Kingfisher and pulled herself onto the barstool next to Kip. Kip gave her a half-smile and sighed.

“I got accepted by NYU,” Kip said, quietly.

“That’s good news … right?”

Kip’s hesitation left her uneasy. He looked at her almost as if to apologize.

“But they didn't offer any financial assistance.”

Elena’s heart sank. 

“So you’re moving to Boston,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“Boston University it is,” Kip said. “I don’t see how I can pass up a package like that.”

Elena took a sip of her beer. Strange, she didn’t remember ordering one. She glanced up and gave Kyle a knowing look, mouthing the words “thank you” from across the bar. She turned back to Kip.

“Your dad is going to miss you. Everyone at the Kingfisher is going to miss you. I’m going to miss you.”

Kip didn’t say anything to that. Elena just stared.

“So what happens next?” she asked.

Kip took a sip of his own beer. He looked up, grimaced, and braced for impact.

“I’m moving next month.”

Elena’s eyes opened wide, her mouth went agape, and she took a deep breath. She started to speak but then stopped. She pressed her eyes shut, brought her hand to her forehead and squeezed. She released, composed herself, and looked again at Kip.

“No,” she said, simply.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I thought,” she said, “Worst case scenario, we’d at least have you ‘til August. So, no.”

Kip put the glass down. He leaned over to Elena and gave her a hug. She hugged him back.

“I know it’s fast,” he said, pulling back. “But there’s a course I can take this summer to get a jump start on things.”

Elena was still deflated. She had been prepared for the possibility that Kip might be leaving. But not so soon.

“I’ll trust you to do what’s best for you,” she said.

Kyle came back over and replaced Kip’s empty glass with a full one. He set down a small dish of pretzels before them. He picked up the remote and turned on a ball game.

“So,” Kip said to Elena, “Jimmy’s been waiting on me to make a decision about the room and I can’t put him off forever.”

“Are you going to move in with him?” Elena asked.

“Yeah,” Kip said. “Chuck moved out last month to move in with his boyfriend. Jimmy held off on looking for a new roommate until I made up my mind. He’s in Fenway, right near BU.”

“It’s been a long time since I saw either of them,” Elena said.

“And I’ll need to find a job quickly,” Kip said. “The teaching assistantship is good for tuition, but it won’t cover groceries, let alone rent.”

He would need to tie up some loose ends. Turn in his notice at the smoothie shop and train the poor schmuck who replaced him. Figure out how to defer his student loans. Decide what he needed to bring with him from Brooklyn.

He paused before the next part.

“I should probably give Scott his tux back.”

Elena’s brow furrowed and her face darkened.

“Give it to me,” she hissed. “I’ll burn it.”

“Just stop,” Kip cut her off. “He never made me do anything I didn’t want to do. Then. Or now.”

“But he didn’t do anything you wanted him to do either.”

“I went into it with my eyes wide open, Elena. And I left it with my eyes wide open too.”

Elena sat there quietly for a few moments.

“All I know is he better never let you down again.”

“What makes you think he’ll get the chance?” Kip asked.

Elena crossed her arms, stared, and gave Kip a small shake of her head.

“What do Jimmy and Chuck know?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Kip said.

Elena turned back towards the bar. Kip picked up his beer.

“I think they’ll be good for you. That’s probably the only silver lining here,” she said.

“It’s only a few hours away. I’ll be back lots.”

“You better.”

 

Big Green Apple (May 2014, New York)

 

Scott was out for a run. His season was over. The Admirals couldn’t get past Boston in the conference finals. He had been hoping his offseason wouldn’t begin for at least two more weeks. But it wasn’t to be. Like every other one of his nine seasons in the league.

He cooled down and started walking the rest of the way home. He’d been avoiding running on this street for a reason, because there it was. The neon pink sign with the words “Straw+Berry” on it. There was no point avoiding it any more.

Scott entered into the once too-familiar store. There was a recognizable face behind the counter. But it wasn’t Kip.

“Well, well, well,” Maria said. “You haven’t been here in months.”

Scott gave her a friendly nod.

“Kip’s not here,” Maria said before letting him speak. “He already had his last day.”

“I know,” Scott said, perhaps a little too quickly.

A man with orange-hair and a dragon tattoo emerged from the back room. He was carrying several tubs of chopped fruit.

“Peter,” Maria said to the orange-haired man. “This is Scott Hunter, captain of the New York Admirals.”

Maria turned around and gestured towards Scott.

“Okay,” Peter said. He looked at Maria as if she were speaking a foreign language.

“He was one of our best customers,” Maria explained, and turned back to Scott.

“Do you want your regular? Blue Moon over Brooklyn? Extra banana?” she asked.

“I think I’m going to try something else,” Scott said.

Maria raised her eyebrows.

Scott scanned the menu board high up on the wall. Funny, he had been here dozens of times but didn’t think he’d even looked at it before.

“I’ll go with the Big Green Apple,” he said after a few moments of indecision.

Maria blended the drink. Then rang him up. Scott gave her a twenty.

“Keep the change,” he said, and then left the store.

 

Boston Parade (June 2014, Boston)

 

More than half of Kip’s classmates had been late, as was the instructor. About a quarter never made it at all. With hundreds of thousands of hockey fans flocking downtown for the parade, the roads were jammed, the T packed, and the wireless networks were janky and slow.

Kip was outside the lecture hall, looking down and viewing the map on his phone. He had about an hour-and-a-half to kill before work. He figured he would head down to see what all the fuss was about.

“Do you need any help?” said a voice.

Kip looked up and saw a man he thought he recognized from class. He was about Kip’s height but more slender in build. He was also probably about two or three years younger.

“Oh, Hi. Thanks, but I’m good,” Kip said.

“I’m Robbie,” the man said, extending his hand. “I think we’re in class together.”

Kip took the man’s hand and they shook.

“I’m Kip. Yeah. Contemporary Architecture.”

“Maybe they should have just cancelled today. The city’s a mess,” Robbie said.

“No kidding. But I was going to walk over to see what’s going on.”

“Mind if I join you?” Robbie asked. “I don’t have to be anywhere for a while.”

Kip agreed.

They walked down Commonwealth Ave. in the direction of Copley Square. The further they went, the more crowded the sidewalks became. The cheers of distant fans slowly became louder, too.

Like Kip, Robbie was a new master’s student in the art history department. He too was in summer session to get a head start.

“You don’t sound like you’re from New York,” Robbie said.

“Brooklyn born and raised,” Kip replied. “My roommate here was a friend from undergrad at NYU. He and another friend of ours moved here right after college.”

“Oh cool. It’s good you already have friends here.”

Kip and Robbie eventually found themselves standing about twenty rows back from what they presumed were hockey players riding in Duck Boats along Boylston Street. They really couldn’t see anything. But the vibrant atmosphere still made for a fun experience.

“Are you much of a hockey fan?” Robbie asked.

Kip bit his tongue.

“I suppose you could say so.”

After a few moments, he added, “What about you?”

“Not really. Not any sports actually,” Robbie said.

The crowd around them began to stir excitedly.

“But I’m from around here and it’s hard to escape. I don’t go out of my way, but I’m a passive fan just by osmosis.”

Robbie paused for a few moments.

“So since you’re from New York, does that make you an Admirals fan?”

Kip looked Robbie in the eye and just nodded wryly.

“Cool,” Robbie said. “Maybe we could go to a game next season when they’re in town visiting.”

Kip nearly choked.

The crowd was beginning to work itself into a fever pitch. There were young women excitedly jumping up and down. One was screaming “Marry me, Ilya”. The other held a sign that implored Boston’s Russian star to impregnate her. Or at least go through the motions to do so. Robbie said he took this to mean that the boat carrying Ilya Rozanov was rolling by.

When the frenzy started to subside, Kip tugged at Robbie’s shirt.

“We should probably get going,” Kip said. “I need to get to work.”

“Work?” Robbie asked.

Kip winced.

“Yeah, I have a part-time job at Relay Coffee near Kenmore.”

“Ouch,” Robbie said. “I can’t imagine trying to do that and go to school at the same time.”

“I have to pay the bills somehow.” Kip shrugged.

“I hope you can manage it.”

They pushed through the crowd and set about making their way back. The din of the masses began to fade and the horde of people started to thin.

“Rozanov’s been the biggest thing in Boston for five years now. Drafted number one.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a sports fan,” Kip said.

Robbie shrugged.

“What’s the name of the big star on the Admirals? Huntsman or something?”

A lump formed in Kip’s throat.

“Hunter,” he said. And then, after a second, “Scott Hunter.”

 

Mykonos (July 2014, Mykonos)

 

Scott had been to places like this before. Far, far away from New York. No one cares about hockey here. He is just one hot young thing in a crowd of them. Just looking for an hour or so of fun.

Last night, it was a bar. Scott camped out in a dark corner, letting his biceps and tight pecs do the talking. A blond English lad asked him to buy him a drink. And to let him sit on his lap. And to take the party elsewhere.

Today, Scott came to the beach. Amidst a sea of near-naked men. Only men. He set his trap right here, laying on his towel. He took off his shirt. He wore his trunks tight. He kept his sunglasses on.

A German man in red speedos came and crouched next to him. He generously offered to apply Scott’s sunscreen to his back. And his shoulders. And his abs. And his thighs.

But just like last night, Scott’s heart wasn’t in it. And neither was his dick.

Scott threw on his shirt, yanked his towel off the sand, and hauled himself off the beach. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to wait too long for a cab.

Scott would try again tonight. He’d head to the bar again after dinner. Otherwise, this was going to be one very expensive way to strike out.

Or, more accurately, chicken out.

✦

Scott walked back into Mykonos Town. He found a small seafood restaurant in a dense pedestrian maze near the harbor. It was near the bar he went to last night. He would give it one more go later. Maybe this time he could bring himself to go through with it.

Colorful bougainvilleas spilled over the whitewashed walls. Several small tables and chairs were tightly arranged on the alley’s stone floors. The street took on a golden hue as the bright sun began to dim.

The host seated Scott in the alley. He ordered a beer and the grilled lavraki with lemon and olive oil. A basket of bread was brought to his table.

There was another man sitting alone at an adjacent table. He was older than Scott, early forties maybe. He was comfortably dressed in shorts and a light linen shirt. He had a trim, well-kempt beard and a toned body. Scott noticed the man glancing at him a few times, his head tilted, an eyebrow raised.

The waitress brought out the beer. They had both ordered the same kind. The man’s focus returned to Scott. This time it remained fixed.

“I’ve never met a gold medalist before,” he said.

Fuck. Scott hadn’t considered the Olympics might make him more recognizable worldwide. Scott began to stammer.

“Relax,” the man said. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The man pulled his chair closer to Scott. He extended his hand.

“My name’s Francois. I’m from Canada. Montreal.”

Scott absent-mindedly took the man’s hand and shook it. Just my luck, he thought. The man was probably a hockey fan.

“I’d tell you my name,” Scott gulped, “but I think you already know.”

Francois smiled.

“I’d ask what you were doing here,” he said, “but I think I already know that too.”

Scott’s eyes widened. His pulse quickened.

Francois leaned in closer.

“I hope you had fun on the beach.”

Fuck fuck fuck. Scott looked to see if he should just try to make a run for it.

“Relax,” he said, taking a sip of his beer. “You have nothing to fear from me. I know you need to be discreet.”

The waitress came by with Francois’ appetizer. He turned and offered Scott a piece of grilled octopus. Scott accepted.

“I guess you’re a hockey fan,” Scott said.

“Unfortunately for you, yes,” Francois said. “You broke our Canadian hearts. We both cursed your name so many times before, during, and after the gold medal game.”

Scott surprised himself with a chuckle.

“Both?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” Francois said. “Both me and my husband.”

Francois took out his phone and scrolled through his photos. He turned the phone around and showed Scott the screen. There was a picture of Francois kissing another man on the cheek. The other man had a broad, goofy grin on his face.

“His name is Arnaud. We’ve been together for twenty-six years. Married for ten.”

The waitress interrupted them as she came back with the main course. Scott ordered another beer.

“Would it be OK if I joined you at your table?” Francois asked.

Scott nodded. The waitress reset the table to accommodate the two of them.

Francois pulled up another photo. This one was older. He and Arnaud looked younger, probably not even as old then as Scott was now. They were facing one another. There was a sunset in the background. Or maybe it was a sunrise. Scott couldn’t quite tell.

“I proposed on our ten-year anniversary. 1998.”

Scott did the math. He was twelve at the time.

“The moment it became legal to marry in Quebec, we made it official.”

Francois flipped through more of the photos, and Scott could assemble more of the pieces. 

A small apartment crowded with friends. Family celebrating at the Christmas table. A sunny beach and the bright lights of Paris. The two of them at a Montreal hockey game, bundled together in the stands.

Scott felt his chest begin to tighten. This was the life he was choosing to put on hold indefinitely.

He couldn’t go out to the bar tonight. Not after this.

The waitress brought Scott’s second beer.

“So where is he now?” Scott asked, giving the phone back to Francois. “Arnaud, that is. Why isn’t he here at dinner with you?”

“He’s back at the villa. He wasn’t feeling too well. Maybe he got a little too much sun at the beach today.”

Francois picked a little more at his plate.

“He told me to go off and explore on my own and have dinner with any American hockey stars I might come across.”

Scott laughed.

“He would be so jealous if he knew I met you.”

Francois immediately tried to reassure him.

“But don’t worry, I won’t say anything. Not even to him.”

Scott frowned. Something about that seemed off. Even to him.

The waitress cleared the plates off the table. Then she set down a bowl of chilled watermelon. Francois asked for an iced espresso. Scott just shook his head.

“Do you think he’d want to meet me?” Scott asked.

“Well, of course. But I’ve already taken too much of your time.”

“I have plenty of time. I think I’d like to meet him, too.”

Francois pondered that for a moment.

“If you really want,” Francois said, “come by our villa tomorrow. Anytime is fine. We’ve got an amazing view.”

“How about early afternoon?” Scott said.

“Perfect. And bring your bathing suit.”

✦

“He refused to tell me who was coming,” Arnaud said.

His arm hooked over the edge of the pool. 

“All he said was that we had a handsome young American coming over for a bit this afternoon, and I needed to prepare some drinks and snacks.”

“I didn’t say handsome,” Francois called out.

He walked through the open glass doors at the back of the villa. He came onto the terrace carrying a few things from the kitchen and set them down on a table in the shade.

“You didn’t say young,” Arnaud called back. 

He returned his attention to Scott, who by now was rocking back and forth in the water with his arms on the wall.

“But I suppose I can’t blame him. I simply would not have believed it.”

They were lounging in the pool at the hillside villa Francois and Arnaud had been renting. It overlooked Mykonos harbor and the whitewashed buildings of the town below. The deep blue waters of the Aegean glistened beyond under the mid-afternoon sun.

“You recognized me fairly quickly when I got here,” Scott said.

“I spent an unhealthy amount of time hating you,” Arnaud said. “That last goal in the third period of the gold medal game. Was that really necessary?”

“The game is sixty minutes long,” Scott said. “Not one minute less. You play until the horn sounds.”

“I can respect that.”

“Time for ouzo,” Francois said, speaking to them from his perch at the edge of the pool.

Scott and Arnaud pulled themselves from the water. Francois handed Scott a towel and wrapped another around his husband. He gave him a peck on the nose.

They walked over to the table where Francois had set up their snacks.

“Try the figs,” said Arnaud. “They’re just about at their peak.”

Francois opened a bottle of ouzo and poured a little in three glasses. He splashed in some water until they all turned milky white. He dropped an ice cube in each and handed a glass to Scott. He and Arnaud picked up the others.

“Yamas,” said Francois, holding up his glass.

“Yamas,” Arnaud repeated.

“Yamas,” Scott added, and they all took a sip.

✦

The bottle was empty. Three plates rested on the table with some olive pits and breadcrumbs. The bowl with the salad Arnaud had prepared only had a few bits of cucumber and feta in it.

Scott had put back on his shoes. His swimming trunks were dry. He threw his shirt over his chest.

“Thank you for a great afternoon,” Scott said. “I really enjoyed meeting and spending time with you both.”

“The pleasure was all ours, Scott,” Francois said. “I’m sure this is the highlight of our trip.”

“I really hope we get to meet next time we are in Montreal,” Scott said. “At the very least, I’d love to get you tickets to watch me play.”

“We would be thrilled,” said Arnaud. “And though I’ll be cheering for you, I can’t guarantee I’ll be rooting for New York.”

Scott laughed. They all hugged goodbye, and Scott started walking down the hill.

When Scott first came to Mykonos, this hadn’t been what he was looking for. But as he prepared to leave, he was so glad he had found it.

Chapter 3: CHAPTER 3: TA / Video Game Night / The Date / Scott Hunter's Day Off

CHAPTER 3

TA (September 2014, Boston)

 

Kip stared at his laptop in the communal graduate student offices. There were half a dozen windows open and a long list of student essays he had yet to read. He briefly closed his eyes, brought his hand to his face and started rubbing his temples. It was already pretty late. He had been there practically all day. Maybe he could grade one or two more and do the rest over the weekend. Someone entered the room.

“What are you still doing here?” said Robbie as he quickly walked over to his own desk.

“Grading,” Kip said. “And I still have a ways to go.”

Robbie breathed a sigh of relief as he plucked something from the drawers and stuck it into his wallet.

“What about you?” Kip asked.

“Thought I’d lost my credit card,” Robbie said as he turned around, calm returning to his demeanor.  “I just had dinner with a couple of the other first-years in the program and didn’t have it. Talk about embarrassing.”

Kip took a quick look at the clock and decided it was time to start winding things down. He saved what he could, put the computer to sleep, and shut the lid.

“Finally heading home?” Robbie asked.

“Nah,” Kip said. “I’m meeting a couple of my friends for a drink at Crave in South End at nine. I haven’t eaten yet, but thankfully, they have food too.”

It didn’t even initially occur to Kip that he was talking about a gay bar. Robbie gave a brief smile. 

“I know that place,” he said. “Pretty chill vibe. Doesn’t usually get that crowded.”

Kip understood.

“You want to join us?” he asked.

“Sure,” Robbie said. “I haven’t been there in ages. It’d be nice to meet some new people too.”

Kip packed his laptop in his bag and slung his jacket over his shoulder.  Robbie locked up the office and they started walking.

“You seemed a little stressed tonight,” Robbie said. “Are the essays that bad?”

“The ones that are just terrible aren’t the real issue,” Kip added. “Those are easy to deal with.”

“It’s the better ones that are stressing you out,” Robbie said. Kip nodded.

“For those, I feel I need to go the extra mile. Make sure whatever comments I make are as well grounded as possible.”

“Well, I suppose it’s good that you’re taking it so seriously. But you don’t have to kill yourself.”

“That’s the thing. I think I kind of have to,” Kip said. “I mean, how would you feel if you saw your TA serving cappuccinos?”

Robbie looked at Kip with a small pang of sympathy.

“Personally, I’d think it’s just the reality of being a grad student,” Robbie said. “But I get it. You don’t want them to think you’re a fraud. So you’re overcompensating.”

“I guess that’s one way to put it,” Kip said.

As they passed Kenmore Square, Kip pointed at Relay Coffee, the shop where he worked.

“I went there a couple of times over the summer,” Robbie said.

“Was I there?” Kip asked.

“It was crowded, you looked busy. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Well, say hello next time. I’m going to have to get used to people seeing me there.”

They had to wait a few moments for the signal to change and the traffic to stop before they could cross. Kip stopped briefly again to put on his jacket.

“So who are you meeting there?” Robbie asked. “At Crave, that is.”

“It’ll be my roommate Jimmy, our friend Chuck, and Chuck’s boyfriend Reid. We try to go out about every week or so. Well, at least since I moved here.”

“You knew those guys in college, right?”

“Yup,” Kip said. “Jimmy and Chuck, that is. Sometimes we all just hang out in the apartment instead.”

“You haven’t really hung out with the other first-years at all,” Robbie asked. “Why not?”

“I should. I know I should,” Kip said. “I’m just older than pretty much everyone else and it feels weird.”

“Not by much. And there are definitely a few others who I’m pretty sure are older than you.”

“There are,” Kip said.

“So it has to be more than that,” Robbie said.

Kip’s eyes dropped for a second.

“You’re right,” Kip said. “It’s also that most everyone has more experience than me. More valuable experience, that is.”

“And you’re self-conscious about that.”

“There’d be something wrong with me if I weren’t.”

They reached Crave. Kip held the door open for Robbie and they walked in. Kip spotted his friends across the room.

“Hey guys,” Kip called out as he and Robbie approached them. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

 

 

Video Game Night (October 2014, Boston)

 

“You’ve been in Boston for half a year now,” Chuck said.

“Not even five months,” Kip countered.

“Have you gone on a date? Have you even hooked up at all?”

“If he has, I haven’t seen anything.” Jimmy chimed in. “Except for the pile of dirty cum towels he accumulates under his bed every week. Kleenex is better, Kip.”

Kip glared at his roommate.

It was Sunday night. Chuck and his boyfriend Reid had come over to Kip and Jimmy’s apartment. They were drinking beers and had ordered pizza. They were going to play video games on the PS4 that Jimmy had bought himself for his birthday.

“It’s really such a waste,” Reid added. “Why even have a body like that if you’re not going to share it?”

Kip blushed.

“I mean just look at him.”

Reid walked over to Kip. He lifted Kip’s t-shirt up from the hem and exposed his abs.

“Seriously. You can grate cheese on this.”

Chuck grabbed his boyfriend and wrestled him away. They laughed and playfully struggled and then started kissing. Before it got too out of hand, Jimmy loudly cleared his throat. Chuck smoothed his clothes and put a hand through his hair. They sat back on the couch.

“As I was saying,” Chuck said. “It’s about time you, you know, lived a little.”

“Guys. I moved here. I’m a student again. I’m teaching for the first time,” he said. “It’s a lot all at once.”

Jimmy got up and turned on the console. 

“Hey, we’re all here to play video games. Not badger Kip about his sex life,” Jimmy said.

“Or lack thereof,” Reid added.

“Can’t we do both?” Chuck said.

“And, oh yeah, I also have a job,” Kip added. “I wouldn’t even have time if I wanted to.”

“Leave the guy alone,” Jimmy said. He held up a few games. “FIFA or Madden or GTA?”

“You know I bet Robbie has a crush on him,” Reid said.

“He does not,” Kip said. “We’re just friends.”

“Just go on a date with him,” Chuck said.

“You think he’s a power bottom?” Reid added.

“Game’s over here, guys,” Jimmy said.

Kip threw a pillow at Reid and gave Chuck a dirty look. He turned to Jimmy.

“FIFA,” he said. “You and me first. I’m putting these two in a time out.”

 

 

The Date (October 2014, Boston)

 

A few days after video game night, Robbie suggested to Kip they go out. On a date. That couldn’t have been a coincidence. Kip assumed Chuck had something to do with it. But Robbie was a nice guy, kind of cute, and, of course, they had a lot in common. Kip told himself he was going into this open-minded.

Saturday night, they walked in together to a mid-sized seafood place in Back Bay. It had seating outdoors, but the hostess directed them to one of the plush, wood-panelled booths in the interior space.

“I can’t believe you haven’t had New England seafood yet,” Robbie said. He and Kip settled into the booth and grabbed hold of the menus.

“I haven’t really gone out anywhere at all since moving here,” said Kip. “I mean, there’s Crave and occasional takeout. But all that gets really expensive fast.”

“Well, I invited you,” Robbie said. “So I want to make it clear that that means I’m paying.”

Kip smiled and thanked him. He looked at the menu for a few moments before putting it down. He told Robbie to just order for him, something he thought he’d like.

They talked over clam chowder, baked lobster, and a bottle of wine. Kip learned about Robbie’s childhood in Newton, summer trips to the Cape, undergrad at Tufts. A trip to Italy as a youth that sparked his passion for architectural history. Coming out to his friends and family in high school and the support he received.

The lights in the restaurant were dim. There was a constant low murmur and the occasional clink of a glass. There was an attractive young man across the table from him. He was clearly interested in Kip. He was open to the world and eager to move forward.

This was how it was supposed to look. This was the way Kip felt it should work. This was how he wanted it to be.

With Scott.

“Are you OK?”

Robbie’s voice broke Kip out of his daze.

“What?” Kip said. “Sorry, I was just thinking of something.”

Robbie put down his fork, took a sip from the wine. He studied Kip closely for a moment.

“I’m not going to lie, Kip,” Robbie said. “I really like you and of course I’m attracted to you. But I don’t think you want to be here.”

“That’s not true, Robbie,” Kip protested. “I’ve always liked hanging out with you.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Robbie said. “I just think you don’t want to be here, on a date, with anyone.”

Kip didn’t disagree.

“I was really hesitant to ask you out,” Robbie said. “Chuck’s the one who convinced me. I was kind of surprised you agreed.”

Kip remained quiet.

“But I should have trusted my gut. I’m sorry I pushed.”

“No you didn’t,” Kip said. “I thought this was what I needed.”

They both were quiet for a few minutes. Robbie took a few more bites from his meal. Kip drank from his glass of water.

“If there’s anything you want to talk about,” Robbie said, “I’d want to listen.”

Kip took a deep breath. He didn’t know how much he should say. But he’d been ignoring it for so long, it was starting to show.

“I meant it when I said I liked you,” Robbie added.

Kip smiled. Maybe he could test the waters.

“There was someone,” he said. “In New York. It ended before I moved.”

Robbie nodded. He thought he’d seen this sort of thing before.

“And you’re not over him,” Robbie said.

Kip shook his head.

“It was … intense. He made me happier than I’d ever been. I thought I was in love.”

Kip paused.

“No,” he said, “I was.”

Robbie let Kip regain his composure for a few moments.

“Did he love you back?” Robbie finally asked.

Kip closed his eyes.

“Absolutely.”

A tear started coming from Kip’s eye. Robbie watched as Kip wiped it away.

“Can you tell me what happened? What went wrong?” Robbie asked.

“He was closeted,” Kip said. “He wasn’t a cheating married guy. But he felt he couldn’t come out for other reasons.”

“What did you think about that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he was right.”

“That seems … unusual,” Robbie said.

“I’ll explain someday,” Kip said. “Please just trust me.”

Robbie nodded.

“But the lying, the secrecy, the sneaking around,” Kip continued. “He was the most important thing in my life but I had to pretend he didn’t exist. I couldn’t live like that any more.”

The waitress came and cleared the table. Robbie and Kip both declined dessert. Kip offered to split the check but Robbie refused. They got up to leave.

“What do Jimmy and Chuck know?” Robbie asked.

“They don’t know any details,” Kip said. “Please don’t tell them. I don’t want them to know.”

“You can trust me,” Robbie said.

They walked away from the restaurant, down the street, in the direction of their apartments. Eventually they came to a stop.

“I need to turn here, Kip,” Robbie said. “I’ll see you on campus next week.”

“Thank you for listening, Robbie. And I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“That’s ridiculous. You didn’t waste my time,” Robbie said. 

He leaned over and kissed Kip on the cheek. 

“It means a lot to me that you confided in me.”

The light changed. Kip watched as Robbie crossed the street and disappeared into the night. Kip turned around and started moving again. He knew he was walking home, but he had no idea where he was going.

 

Scott Hunter’s Day Off (October 2014, New York)

 

As was frequently the case, Scott was one of the last Admirals out of the shower. The postgame interviews he often gave would put him a bit behind most of his teammates. Scott didn’t mind. He liked being one of the last ones in the locker room.

The Admirals had just finished their final preseason game, marking the end of training camp. The regular season wouldn’t start for a couple more days, and they weren’t going to make the trip to Washington until the day after tomorrow. For tomorrow, Coach Murdock had given the players a rare and special gift - the whole day off.

Scott sat in front of his locker. Greg Huff, the Admirals’ first-line left wing, came by already dressed in his suit. He had a small duffel over his shoulder and was on his way out.

“Hey Huff, not having a barbecue this year?” asked Scott.

“God I wish, Hunter,” he said. “I’d much rather have you all over for beers and burgers. Sounds a heck of a lot more fun than playing tour guide.”

“Why are you doing that?”

“Laura’s brother is in town,” Huff said. “Construction worker. He’s never been to New York before. So I get to spend one of my only days off at the Statue of Liberty.”

Huff walked out of the room. Scott looked around. Carter Vaughn, the team’s alternate captain, was sitting in front of his locker looking at his phone. Scott had seen him earlier and it didn’t look like he had moved at all since then.

“Are you stuck?” Scott asked.

Carter looked up.

“Oh hey, Hunter,” he said, putting his phone down beside him.

“What do you have going on tomorrow?”

Carter grinned.

“So I met this actress at a club last weekend. Her name's Gloria. She’s in town filming and they have a cast party tonight.”

“I think I know where this is going,” Scott said.

“Yeah, you probably do,” Carter said. “She invited me to come. If things go well, I kind of want to keep my options open.”

Scott smiled and they bumped fists. Carter’s phone buzzed.

“Sorry, Hunter,” he said. He picked his phone up again and started texting.

Scott returned to his locker and finished putting on his suit. Eric Bennett, the team’s veteran goaltender, came out of the trainer’s room. It looked like he hadn’t even made it to the shower yet.

“Long massage today,” Bennett said as he sat next to Scott. “Gotta make sure these old muscles hang on a few more years.”

“You’re in better condition than most of us.”

“For now. I’ll be stuck in a cramped car all day tomorrow.”

“That’s not something to look forward to,” Scott said.

“Holly is making us go wine tasting. We have to drive all the way out to the North Fork in the morning, and then all the way back in the afternoon.”

With each passing season, fewer and fewer of his teammates were available on days off. They all had their wives or their girlfriends and many had kids. He remembered Huff mentioning that he and Laura were going to start trying too. Maybe he needed to become better friends with the rookies, he thought to himself.

“I don’t envy you,” Scott said and left.

✦

It was the next morning. Scott was coming back from a run. He planned a little bit of down time and then would head out to the gym. Later that afternoon and evening, there were scouting notes to study, game film to review, and a library of clips from the coaching staff on his tablet to watch. 

A full day devoted to hockey in the peace and quiet. He’d spent countless days off this way. Today wouldn’t be any different.

At least, it shouldn’t.

Scott sat on his bed and opened the drawer of his nightstand. It revealed an unkempt mess of clutter within. He didn’t know where hardly any of that came from and really didn’t care. He dumped all of it onto the duvet. 

There was only one thing in that pile that he cared about. One thing that had any meaning. One thing used to make him smile. And it had nothing to do with hockey.

Blue socks. Printed bananas. The medal inside was kind of beside the point.

Memories of a happier time flooded back. And while that happier time was now long gone, the memories were something he could hold on to.

He put the socks back in the drawer, threw out the rest of the junk, got dressed and headed out.

He walked the few short blocks to the place that almost changed his life. Until the day that it didn’t.

”Well, this is a surprise!” Maria exclaimed. “I assumed we’d never see you here again.”

“It’s a new season,” Scott said. “Have to start it off right.”

Maria smiled.

“So which one do you want?” she said. “There are a few new options.”

“Blue Moon over Brooklyn,” Scott said. He didn’t even hesitate.

“With extra banana?” Maria asked, her eyes not dropping from Scott’s.

He nodded.

Maria waited a few moments before she turned and started to prepare it. The whir of the blender felt almost serene.

A few minutes later she gave it to Scott.

“On the house,” she said.

Scott dropped the twenty directly in the tip jar.

“Don’t be a stranger, OK?” Maria said.

Scott took a sip from his drink and started to leave.

“I won’t.”

Chapter 4: CHAPTER 4: The Hockey Game / What the What / Kip is Back

CHAPTER 4

The Hockey Game (December 2014, Boston)

 

Scott had been dreading this road game since the moment the schedules came out. When the team bus drove by BU on the way to the hotel, Scott couldn’t bring himself to look out the window. He declined to leave the hotel to join Carter for dinner or drinks too. And this morning, after morning skate, Scott decided not to leave the arena at all. He was taking no chances.

Eventually, his teammates started trickling back in. Scott was the first one dressed for the game. During warmups, he was the first one on the ice and the last one to leave. Finally, it was game time. It was time to put everything out of his mind but hockey.

✦

Robbie meant well, Kip kept telling himself. It was the first Admirals visit to Boston this season. Kip had been genuinely shocked when Robbie said he had bought them tickets for tonight’s game. Only it wasn't for the reasons Robbie thought.

Robbie was wearing his white Rozanov jersey. How this man ever considered himself not a sports fan was a mystery, Kip thought. Kip was wearing a grey hoodie. There were fans here and there wearing red Hunter jerseys. Kip really wished Robbie wouldn’t point them out to him.

Thankfully, they had arrived after warmups were over. There was no one on the ice, no familiar tall, scruffy center to accidentally lock eyes with. Even better, the seats were not very good. Nothing like the ones Scott had always given him at the arena in New York. Here, Scott would be just one small red blur among a bunch of small red blurs. Kip wondered why he thought it would even be a big deal.

When the players arrived on the ice, Kip was jolted back to reality. Scott was there. He was right there. It didn’t matter that he was small and far away. That his face was obscured by his helmet and his body covered by pads. For the first time in months - almost ten but who was counting - he and Scott were breathing the same air.

Kip watched Scott take the opening faceoff. He followed his every move as he skated on the ice, battled his opponent for the puck, and crashed into the boards. Between shifts, he just watched Scott resting on the bench. He really wasn’t able to follow the action of the game closely at all.

“Sorry it’s going so badly for the Admirals, Kip,” Robbie said at the second intermission.

Kip was vaguely aware of the score. Three-zero Boston, apparently.

“Your goalie’s been keeping them in the game,” Robbie said, “but offensively they’re generating nothing.”

“Don’t undersell the Raiders,” Kip said. “They’re defending champs for a reason.”

The third period started and, about five minutes in, Boston scored their fourth. Kip began to notice Scott’s line getting less and less time on the ice.

There was a break in the action. Scott was leaning against the glass. He was pretty far away, but Kip couldn’t resist. He took out his phone, used his fingers to zoom, and snapped a picture.

“We can get going now,” Kip said to Robbie. “I don’t think we need to stay until the end.”

They headed down towards the exits. Kip really didn’t know what to think about what he just saw. The game had been pretty ugly as far as the Admirals were concerned.

All he knew was that Scott was probably miserable, and he wished he could reach out to comfort him.

✦

“What the hell was that,” Carter said, sitting next to Scott on the bench in the locker room.

“I don’t know,” Scott said. “It seemed like we were out of sync all night.”

“I’ll say,” Huff said, joining Carter and Scott. “I think our line only generated four shots all night.”

“It was three,” Coach Murdock said, approaching the group. “Not our best show.”

Carter and Scott and Huff didn’t say anything.

“I’ll chalk it up to a bad night, but let’s not make this a habit or anything.”

He turned to where Bennett was emerging from the training room to the cheers of a few of the other players.

Carter and Huff went off to their own lockers. Scott showered and dressed. He was first in line for the team bus. He could not wait to get out of here.

 

What the What (December 2014, Boston)

 

It wasn’t that late, but it seemed Jimmy was already asleep. Kip threw himself on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. It had been his first glimpse of Scott in the flesh since the morning after. The morning after they knew it was over.

He pulled up the photo that he just took at the arena. It didn’t matter to Kip that it was blurry, pixelated, and taken from a million miles away. It was Scott, and Kip’s mind could make out every feature in vivid detail.

“So guess who I saw,” Kip wrote, sending the photo along with the text. He set his phone on the nightstand and plugged it in. Then he went to wash up and get ready for bed.

When he returned, there were a half dozen notifications and three missed calls. I guess she’s not asleep yet, Kip thought. He placed the call.

“What the what?!” It was Elena’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It’s not what you think,” Kip said.

“Well, what is it then?”

“My friend Robbie. It was his idea. He thought he was being nice and got us tickets to tonight’s game.”

“Does he know?” she asked.

“No. Of course not,” Kip said. “I’ve never talked about Scott with anyone. Except you.”

“No, I meant Scott. Does he know you were there?”

“I would very much doubt that,” Kip said.

“Are you doing OK? After all this time, you had to have felt … something,” Elena said.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kip said. “I was there with about twenty thousand other people. And about eighteen thousand of them were closer than I was.”

“I’m keeping an eye on you, Christopher.”

“I probably shouldn’t have texted you,” Kip said.

“I’m glad you did, Kip,” Elena said. “I don’t get to see you in person at all anymore.”

“I know, but I’ll be back there for Christmas in less than two weeks.”

“Yes. Good,” she said. “We’ll talk more about this then.”

“Um, sure.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up.

What was Elena talking about, Kip thought. This was nothing. There would be nothing to talk about in two weeks. It really was not a big deal.

If Kip kept telling himself that, maybe he would begin to believe it.

 

Kip Is Back (December 2014, New York)

 

Kip walked through the doors and soon found himself in a bear hug. Shawn squealed as he grabbed him and Kip held on for dear life. He’d spent Christmas with his dad and only now had the time to meet everyone at the Kingfisher.

“You promised you’d be back all the time,” Shawn said. “None of us have seen you since you left.”

More Kingfisher regulars came and gave him plenty of hugs, a few kisses, and a pinch on the ass. Finlan and Matt. Brandon and Ash. Kyle came around from behind the bar and tousled Kip’s hair. Then he went back and poured him a draft.

“That’ll be $8.50,” Kyle deadpanned. “Are you paying now or should I start a tab?”

About ten minutes later, Maria came in. She walked over to Kip and looked at him up and down.

“Girl,” she said.

She threw her arms over him and they laughed and they twirled and they laughed some more.

Over beers, Kip learned Shawn had started a home catering business, Maria was applying to nursing schools, and Kyle had a secret plot to take over the bar.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Kip turned and there was Elena. She was still in her work clothes, briefcase in one hand, takeout in the other. She set them both down.

“I have to find out for myself that you’re real,” she said, as she grabbed hold of Kip tight.

The bar started filling. Kip didn’t recognize most of the new people. Kyle turned the music volume up. About half an hour later, Elena and Kip found their way to a booth.

“You know I’m going to see him next month, right?” Elena said. “At the fundraising gala again. Like last year.”

Kip gulped.

“I figured as much,” he said.

“I don’t think I can back out of it.”

“There’s no reason you’d need to do that,” Kip said.

“I just want to make sure you can handle whatever I might learn.”

Kip didn’t respond.

Shawn walked over and plopped three shots on the table.

“First round’s on me,” he said.

“First?” Kip asked.

They downed their shots. Elena paid for the next round. They all agreed there wouldn’t be a third.

Maria came by afterwards and sat next to Kip, across from Elena.

“You know he’s been coming by the smoothie store again,” she said.

“Who?” Elena asked, her eyes immediately focusing on Kip’s.

“Scott,” Maria said. “Scott Hunter.”

Maria paused for a moment.

“He stopped for a while, but has been coming in pretty regularly since October.”

“That’s … interesting,” Kip said.

“Yeah,” Maria said. “He’s really nice to me.”

“He was always really nice to me too,” Kip said.

Maria just stared at Kip.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “Anyway, he tried getting something new once but I guess he didn’t like it. He’s been getting the Blue Moon over Brooklyn ever since.”

“Extra banana?” Kip asked.

“Extra banana,” Maria replied.

Kip sat there in silence, the shots still swirling in his head.

“Great,” he said, “I guess he just knows what he likes.”

“Yes,” Elena said, her eyes and voice unwavering. “I guess he does.”

Chapter 5: CHAPTER 5: The Fundraiser 1 / Family / The Application

CHAPTER 5

The Fundraiser 1 (January 2015, New York)

 

Scott scanned the room. There was one person he was looking for with equal parts anticipation and dread. He wasn’t totally certain she would be here, but there was a strong possibility.

There was a tap on his shoulder. Scott turned around. It was Elena. She looked gorgeous in a navy cocktail dress and silver necklace. He hadn’t been sure what his reaction would be when they finally came face to face. Now that the moment was here, he realized he was glad to see her.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he said. “I’m glad to see you could make it.”

“You look handsome yourself,” she said. “But then again, I only ever see you in a tux.”

It was the annual fundraising gala for the Empire Scholarship Foundation. The Foundation funds scholarships for talented underprivileged youths to attend elite private schools. Scott had been a recipient as a teen to attend St. Thomas Prep in Rochester and benefit from their hockey program.

“Did you come alone?” Scott asked.

“If you’re asking about Kip, he’s back in Boston.”

“That’s not what I meant …” Scott blushed.

He took a moment to collect himself.

“So how is he doing?”

Elena’s eyes softened.  Scott abruptly added to his thought.

“Just the basics. Health. School. Work. I don’t need to know details or if he’s seeing anyone or not.”

“Don’t need to know or don’t want to know?” Elena asked.

Scott didn’t answer.

“No health concerns as far as I know,” she said. “He’s progressing towards his degree. He works a lot too.”

“There’s classwork, he’s a TA, and he’s part-time at a coffee shop,” she continued. “He said it’s embarrassing when one of his students comes in while he’s there.”

“Gosh, I wish he didn’t need to do that,” Scott said.

“He’s made a game of it. The student who comes in the most gets a prize at the end of the semester.”

Scott laughed.

“I think it’s just a free cappuccino,” she said, “But it shows he’s good natured about it.”

“That I can believe.”

An older man with silver hair came up to them.

“Scott. Scott Hunter. It’s so great to see you again.”

This was Dr. Jacobs, the Headmaster of Scott’s alma mater in Rochester and one of the directors of the Foundation. Elena introduced herself as communications manager at Equinox Tech.

“The Foundation can’t thank Equinox enough for its support all these years,” he said.

Elena smiled. Dr. Jacobs turned back to Scott.

“All the renovations are done. You’d hardly recognize the place.”

“I heard Coach Tierney has lots of new toys to play with,” Scott said.

“We’re happy to support the program he’s built,” he said. “And you were such a big part of it.”

“St. Thomas was a big part of me too.”

Dr. Jacobs waved to someone across the room and bade his adieu. Scott took a piece of chicken satay from one of the servers circulating with trays. Elena went to the bar and came back with two flutes of champagne.

“So how are you doing, Scott?” Elena asked, giving him one of the glasses.

“You’ve probably seen the news,” Scott said. “It’s been a rough season so far. I haven’t played to my expectations.”

“That’s not really what I was asking about,” she said.

Scott looked down at the floor.

“I just want you to be happy, Scott. I really do.”

“I’m not going to let myself make anyone that miserable again,” he said.

“No one has to be miserable, Scott. It’s a choice that you’re making,” she said. She leaned in. “And just as easily, you can make a different one.”

The lights flickered for a moment and the guests started walking to the tables.

“I guess it’s time to sit,” Elena said, and turned to leave. “But save me a dance for later.”

 

Family (January 2015, Westchester County)

 

“Evening, Laura, nice to see you again,” Scott said.

They gave each other a kiss on the cheek.

“Just head downstairs, Scott,” she said. “I think you’re the last one to arrive.”

Scott walked to the door that led to the basement of the Huffs’ suburban Westchester home. He followed the heavy beats of hip-hop coming from downstairs. There were scattered shouts of “Hunter” as he rounded the bend and entered the room.

About a dozen of Scott’s Admirals teammates were there. A couple were at the pool table. Someone was making himself a drink at the bar. The TV on the far side of the room had the All-Star Game on. Only Brisebois, one of the rookies, appeared to be paying the game any mind.

“Glad you could finally come to one of these things,” Huff said, giving Scott a pat on the back and handing him a beer.

Carter pointed to the TV. 

“Well that’s ‘cause he’s normally up there,” he said.

“That’s OK,” Scott added. “I don’t mind hanging out with the riff-raff.”

For only the second time in his career, Scott hadn’t been selected to the All-Star Game. Eric Bennett was the team’s only representative this year.

There was a gigantic spread on the side of the room. Pulled pork sliders, shrimp cocktail, meatballs in marinara. Half the guys were already devouring the food and it seemed it had hardly made a dent. Scott went to go make himself a plate, when Huff came down the stairs carrying a tray of Buffalo wings.

“I think this might be overkill, Huff,” Scott said.

“No such thing,” Carter said, grabbing a trio of wings with a dollop of sauce.

Scott eyed the white sauce suspiciously and looked at Huff.

“That better be blue cheese.”

A shout came from across the room.

“Bennie’s in net!” Brisebois said.

Everyone gathered in front of the TV to watch Bennett take his turn as a sacrificial lamb. Huff turned down the music. They cheered at his save and then laughed at the barrage of shots he came under.

Scott and Carter took a seat on the couch. By now, the hip-hop was blaring again. The Admirals were going to go on a west coast road trip soon after the break. 

“Gonna see that actress in LA again when we’re there?” Scott asked.

Carter grinned. 

“Get this,” he said. “Gloria’s taking me out to Winchester in Santa Monica.”

“Hey, that’s the place Bennie and I took you your rookie year,” Scott said.

“Yup,” Carter said. “But no offense to you or Bennie, I think my date is gonna be a whole lot better looking this time.”

The pool table, for once, was empty. Scott and Carter called dibs. When Huff protested, they agreed to play doubles against him and Brisebois.

“Hey, you have to call your bank shots,” Scott exclaimed.

“I meant to do that,” Huff said with a cheeky smile.

Breezy pointed to a pair of photos on the wall near the bar. One was of a team. Huff’s team. The other was Huff alone, holding the MLH Cup, proudly wearing a team uniform with the word “Detroit” printed on its chest.

“I’m gonna need another pair of those,” Huff said, nodding at the photos. “And this time the uniform needs to say ‘New York’.”

“Might have to wait until next year for that one,” Carter said. “The way things are going right now, it’d be a long shot.”

“Still a long way to go, guys,” Scott said. “Plenty of time to turn it around.”

Laura came down the stairs to the basement. She was carrying three boxes of pizza.

“Who the hell ordered that?” Scott asked, taking a look at the mound of food still on the table.

“Better safe than sorry,” Huff said.

He took the boxes from her, set them on the table, and everyone gathered around for a slice.

 

The Application (January 2015, Boston)

 

Kip sat in front of his laptop. He stared at the screen. The pointer lay over the button.

This was stupid. This was pointless. It would just confirm that he didn’t belong.

Kip clicked anyway. The button turned from red to green. He closed the computer and lay his head down on the desk. This could be the beginning of the end, he thought. But it could be the beginning of the beginning too.

A friendly voice broke him out of his trance.

“Kip?” Robbie said, as he moved from his own desk and gently nudged at Kip’s shoulder.

Kip lifted his head and returned to reality. He saw the concern on Robbie’s face.

“Is there something wrong?” Robbie asked.

Kip just stared blankly into space.

“I did something dumb.”

Robbie looked at Kip with alarm.

“I applied for a summer internship at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

A broad smile came over Robbie’s face.

“Why is that dumb? I think that’s fantastic,” Robbie said.

“Because I’m way underqualified, there’s no way I’ll get it, and I’m just wasting everyone’s time.”

Robbie shook his head.

“Did you have that attitude when you applied to BU?”

Kip was quiet.

“You’ve already done the hardest part. You have no way of knowing how this will go.”

“I just can’t get my hopes up,” Kip said. “I’ve wasted so much of my life already.”

“They still check your ID whenever we go out to a bar.”

“I’m running out of time to turn things around.”

Robbie rolled his eyes.

“You’re talking like you’re fifty, Kip.”

Kip’s face turned towards the floor.

“I just fucked up after college,” Kip said. “I didn’t take starting a career seriously enough. I always thought I had time to figure something out later.”

His eyes slowly rose to meet with Robbie’s. He continued.

“‘Later’ became three years of dead-end jobs. The smoothie shop. I served at catered events. I was even a go-go boy for a while there.”

Kip could see a slight look of amusement cross over Robbie’s face.

“If Jimmy, Chuck, or Reid ever find out, I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it,” Kip said.

“Well, you probably made a lot of tips,” Robbie added.

Kip stifled a short laugh, before he turned serious again.

“Just proves my point. I had great grades. Even did an undergraduate thesis,” he said. “But I had no plan to take control of my life.”

Robbie frowned.

“Now wait a second there, Kip. You’re being unfair,” he said. “You got into BU. You moved to a new city. You’ve applied to a truly challenging internship. And you’re taking all of it seriously.”

Kip nodded. Robbie continued.

“You’ve created this wonderful opportunity to start over.”

Kip let out a breath. He looked up at Robbie’s eyes.

“I know,” he said. “But, sometimes, all I can think of is how this is just another opportunity to fail.”

Chapter 6: CHAPTER 6: Notre-Dame-de-Grace / Fuck Hockey / Coach

CHAPTER 6

Notre-Dame-de-Grâce (March 2015, Montreal)

 

Nearly eight months after Mykonos, Scott finally made it to Montreal. It was the Admirals’ only trip there this season. Francois and Arnaud invited Scott to spend the evening at their home. They didn’t want to risk him being recognized by fans in the hockey-mad city.

Scott rang the doorbell of their two-story brick townhome in the Notre-Dame-de-Grâce neighborhood. The door opened and Scott had to shake his head. Francois and Arnaud were decked out in matching Montreal Metros team jerseys. “Hollander” was written on the back.

“Kind of rude, guys,” Scott muttered with a smile.

“Well then you’ll have to get us ‘Hunter’ ones for next time,” Francois said.

Scott pushed over the threshold and gave them both a big hug. He passed Arnaud a bottle of ouzo as a gift. He told them their tickets for tomorrow night’s game would be at will call.

Francois led Scott to the living room. Scott sat in the worn leather armchair that faced the fireplace. On the mantle, Scott recognized one of the photos Francois had shown him on his phone that night in Greece. A younger Francois and Arnaud, turned towards one another, the day they got engaged.

Arnaud came into the living room with a few glasses of wine. He took a seat next to Francois on the couch, Francois’ arm lazily holding Arnaud’s thigh.

A small terrier mix came into the room. It took a sniff of Scott’s pant legs before Francois picked it up and placed it on his lap.

“His name is Achilles,” Francois said.

Scott leaned over and gave the dog a friendly pet. 

“He’s a rescue but loves people.”

“I never thought he looked like an Achilles,” Arnaud said. “But Francois insisted.”

They got up to take a tour of the house. Scott spied the bottle of ouzo on the bar cart in the dining room. The kitchen looked recently upgraded with all new appliances.

“Arnaud is an amazing cook,” Francois explained. “So we prioritized this space.”

They went upstairs. The master bedroom was plush and full. There was an office with two desks and two laptops. Books about law and finance filled a bookshelf. The guest room was sparse but comfortable.

“One day, one of these rooms will be a nursery,” Arnaud said. “So we’ll probably have to finish the basement and move the office or guest room down there.”

They went back downstairs and settled in the kitchen. Arnaud pulled a tourtiere from the oven and gave everyone a slice. Francois refilled everyone’s wine.

“We think of you a lot, Scott,” Francois said. “And often wonder how you’re doing. How you cope with everything.”

“Well you know how rough of a season it’s been,” Scott said. “We might miss the playoffs. It’s hard for any of us to take.”

Francois paused and set his glass of wine down.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t ask about hockey. I’m asking about you.”

Scott hesitated.

“Arnaud and I,” Francois glanced briefly at his husband, “have seen a big part of you that the world has not.”

Scott swallowed.

“That I’m gay,” Scott said.

The house was still, the calm broken only by the sounds of Achilles’ breaths coming from the living room.

“It must be incredibly hard to be a gay man and also a professional athlete,” Francois said.

Scott looked down and nodded.

“Do any of your teammates know about you?”

Scott shook his head.

“What do you think they would think if they did?”

“I don’t think that’s something I want to find out,” Scott said. “I’ve been around hockey my whole life. At best, it’s just something people don’t want to acknowledge exists.”

“And at worst?” Francois asked.

“I think you know,” Scott said.

Arnaud stood behind Francois and lightly rubbed his back.

“What about other players?” Arnaud asked. “Surely there are some who are out to other players, but it’s just not known publicly.”

Scott shook his head again.

“There are none that I’m aware of,” he said. “They probably know the risks just as well as I do.”

“And what are those risks?” Francois asked.

Scott laughed.

“Where do I begin?” he said. “Becoming a target. Losing my teammates’ respect. Creating a divided or hostile locker room. Getting called a predator in the showers. Causing a media circus. Attracting the anger of fans. Missing out on endorsements.”

Scott paused momentarily.

“Losing my career.”

Francois and Arnaud looked at Scott sympathetically.

“It must be a very difficult life, Scott,” Francois said.

“In some ways,” Scott said, “it’s incredibly easy. I only have one thing to worry about. And that’s hockey.”

Francois frowned.

“You don’t want more?”

“What does it matter,” Scott answered quickly. “I can’t have it.”

“So you do want it,” Francois said.

Scott closed his eyes.

“I had more, once,” Scott said. “Briefly.”

Scott took a deep breath.

“It was incredible.”

Francois and Arnaud looked at Scott closely.

“But that part of my life will just have to wait. I have to pretend it never happened.”

Francois leaned forward.

“The problem is,” he said. “Once you’ve had a taste of it, it’s hard to pretend you didn’t.”

 

Fuck Hockey (April 2015, New York)

 

With a week left in the regular season, the Admirals were eliminated from playoff contention. They played out the string and then shut everything down for the year. The tabloids, sports radio shows, blogs, and podcasts were livid. The fans were ruthless and looking for someone to blame. And, for everyone, there was no bigger scapegoat than Scott.

Declining. Washed-up. Failure.

The crescendo became harder and harder to tune out as Scott’s teammates dispersed, the playoffs got underway, and Scott sat on his couch watching them alone.

It wasn’t just the fans and the media. Todd Wheeler had been Scott’s agent for more than ten years. He had signed Scott as a teenage phenom before he had been drafted. He had negotiated all of the lucrative contracts Scott had signed with the Admirals and his sponsors along the way. He was laying out the facts.

“Hugo Boss is out, Hunter,” Todd said over the phone. “They’re not renewing. I think we’re lucky that you have another year left on your Under Armour deal.”

“So what are our options?” Scott asked coldly.

On the other side of the phone Todd laughed.

“I’ve been ringing the alarm for months, Hunter. There’s not going to be anyone else,” Todd chuckled. “Well maybe I can get you a used car dealership.”

Scott was not amused.

“And it’s not as if you’re making waves outside of hockey either,” Todd continued. “You visit orphanages, you donate to charities. But we need you on red carpets, we need you on social media.”

Todd took a moment.

“And it wouldn’t hurt if you're seen with some supermodel instead of, well, nothing.”

Scott bristled.

“Everyone thinks you’re on the way out. Yesterday’s news. Hollander and Rozanov are the stars of this league now.”

Scott dwelled on this a second. He was once the young star replacing the old guard. Now maybe it was his turn to be the one the league was passing by.

“The most important thing you can do now,” Todd said, “is get your act together enough to have a comeback year. You're twenty-nine. You’re not old, but you’re going to have to work for it. Whatever you did last off-season, don’t do it. Do something else.”

“So why don’t we just sit this summer out,” Todd continued. “No major deals. If things look good in the fall, I’ll see what we can do. I just thank God we don’t have to start negotiating with the Admirals for an extension for another two years. Plenty of time to show last year was a fluke.”

After another minute or two, mercifully, Todd ended the call. Scott tossed the phone onto his nightstand and threw himself down on his bed. The conversation was still echoing in his head.

Scott was bitter. He was angry. He had given everything he had to hockey. He had put his life on hold for hockey. And now that he had a minor setback, hockey was turning its back on him.

Fuck hockey. He had earned plenty of millions and spent shockingly little of it. He had a gold medal in his drawer. He could just quit now. He could fade away, live a quiet life, and let the world forget about him.

He wouldn’t need to hide anymore. He could live how he wanted to.

He could call Kip.

Scott reached for the phone and opened the photo app. He flipped through the pictures until he found the one he was looking for. It was the picture of Kip, sitting on Scott’s couch, wearing Scott’s medal.

He stared at the photo for more than a few minutes. His finger gently stroked the screen. He allowed himself to imagine a life where he had chosen differently.

Scott quickly put the phone down.

Scott then thought about that twelve-year-old boy whose life had been turned upside down in an instant. He thought about the years of drifting and loneliness. And about how hockey had rescued him. How it had grounded him. How it had given him purpose and hope and a community and a family.

Scott couldn’t give up now. He owed it to hockey to try once more.

 

Coach (April 2015, Boston)

 

“It’s so good to hear from you, Hunter,” Coach Tierney said from the other side of the phone. “It’s been far too long.”

“Likewise,” Scott said. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to make it to Rochester for a while.”

“Well, the chaos the last couple years certainly hasn’t helped,” Coach said. “We’ve lived with sawdust and had to improvise a lot. But I think it’s come together nicely.”

“You’re really growing your hockey empire up there,” Scott said.

“It’s not about me. The school made the investment.”

“Well they did it because of what you already built.”

Coach Tierney acknowledged the compliment and moved on.

“We added a second sheet,” he said. “Rebuilt the weight room. Made the video room state-of-the-art.”

“Do the locker rooms smell the same?”

Coach Tierney chuckled but didn’t respond.

“More importantly, we had four seniors go D1 and had a sophomore taken in the USHL draft. Maybe one of them is the next Scott Hunter.”

“You might not want to use me as your success story any more,” Scott said.

“Oh come on, Hunter. One down year isn’t going to define you.”

“Is it a down year or the beginning of the end?”

“Hunter, Scott, don’t talk that way. I see you on TV. You’re as fast as ever, shot’s still there and you’re absorbing contact fine. Whatever you have going on, it’s not physical.”

“Admirals coaching staff has been saying the same thing.”

“Then listen to them. You’re hesitating a lot, missing a lot of reads, reacting slowly to rebounds. You just look … off. Thinking instead of playing.”

“My agent’s been suggesting I handle my off-season training differently this year. Change up from what I’ve been doing. And that got me thinking.”

Scott paused.

“Go on,” Coach Tierney said.

“I think a change of scenery would do me some good. Get away from the city and the noise of the New York media,” Scott said. “And that’s kind of why I’m calling.”

“Thinking of paying us a visit?” Coach Tierney asked.

“It would be a bit more than that,” Scott said. “I was wondering if I could come up there for a while this summer. To Rochester. Do some of my training at St. Thomas.”

“Well, that’s an interesting idea. This is your home. You know you’re always welcome.”

“I figure it might help me get through whatever it is I need to get through,” Scott said. “If the rink is available, that is.”

“I’ll have to do some checking, but, gut feel, I don’t see why not,” Coach said.

“I promise I won’t be a distraction.”

“Hunter, I think you know we’d be thrilled to have you here, one way or another.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Scott said. “I’d be very happy to spend some time there.”

“Tell you what,” Coach said. “Semester ends late May, why don’t you come then. Stay as long as you need. Whole summer if you want.”

“Thank you so much, Coach.”

They chatted some more and sketched out a plan. Scott wasn’t sure if this was the right answer. But it was the best one he had.

Chapter 7: CHAPTER 7: It was a Long Time Ago / Making Coffee / St. Thomas / Jimmy's Van / Grilling

CHAPTER 7

It Was a Long Time Ago (April 2015, Boston)

 

“We should go somewhere,” Reid said.

Reid was lying crosswise, feet up on Jimmy and Kip’s couch. His head and torso were resting on Chuck’s lap. He had his phone up over his face. Chuck was lazily holding him with one hand, grasping the TV remote with the other.

“Where would you want to go?” Jimmy asked, not turning away from the ball game on the TV.

“We’ve been to Provincetown a couple times,” Reid said. “Let’s go to Fire Island. Maybe around Memorial Day. I’ve never been.”

Jimmy and Chuck looked at one another.

“Chuck and I went there once with Kip back in college,” Jimmy said.

Kip perked up from where he and Robbie were working on their laptops at the kitchen table.

“Someone say my name?” Kip said.

“Maybe this will finally get Kip out of whatever funk he’s been in,” Chuck said.

“That sounds like a fun activity,” Reid said. “Get Kip laid on Fire Island.”

Jimmy coughed.

“Easy now,” he said.

“If it’s anything like last time, he’ll be beating them off with a stick,” Chuck said.

“As long as it’s more than him beating off,” Reid added.

“Guys!” Kip shouted. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“Maybe give him a break, guys,” Robbie chimed in.

“It’s just that this is not the same Kip we knew in college,” Chuck said. “Even you have to see it, Jimmy.”

Jimmy looked at the floor.

“Come on,” Kip said. “I’m just focusing on different things.”

“Doesn’t really explain why you’re living like a monk,” Reid added.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kip said. “I mean, Jimmy, you understand. Tell them.”

Jimmy just sat there and didn’t respond.

“Jimmy?”

Jimmy thought for a few moments. Then he got up, walked over, and sat next to Kip.

“I know it’s none of my business,” he said. “But I’m worried about you, Kip. I have for a while now.”

“Let’s leave him be,” Robbie said.

“We have,” Jimmy said quickly. “But I can’t pretend I don’t notice. There’s something you’re not telling us, Kip.”

“Before you moved to Boston,” Chuck said. He tried to find the words. “Was there a bad breakup or something?”

“You don’t have to answer, Kip,” Robbie said.

The room went quiet. All eyes were on Kip.

“Just drop it, guys,” Kip said. “It was a long time ago.”

“That’s why we’re so concerned,” Chuck said.

Jimmy put an arm on Kip’s shoulder.

“We’re your friends. We love you. I hope someday you’ll trust us enough to tell us what happened,” Jimmy said. “But we’ll back off until you’re ready.”

All eyes turned to Reid.

“What?” he said.

Jimmy glared at him. Reid sighed.

“Usually, I’d say that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone,” Reid said. “Or in Kip’s case maybe he gets on top of him too.”

Kip shook his head.

“But I suppose I can let it go,” Reid continued.

Chuck stroked Reid’s hair. 

“But we’re still going to Fire Island. All of us.”

Reid turned and looked at Robbie.

“Robbie too.”

 

Making Coffee (April 2015, Boston)

 

Kip saw Robbie walk into the coffee shop. Kip quickly stopped wiping down the counters and headed right over to him.

“You wanted me to come over right away,” Robbie said.

Kip was beaming. He looked around. Fortunately, business was pretty slow.

“This couldn’t wait,” Kip said. He took a breath. “I got the internship.”

Robbie looked at Kip. His eyes widened and a broad smile came across his face. He dropped his bag on the floor and threw his arms around Kip.

“Congratulations,” Robbie said. “You absolutely deserve this.”

“I got the email about an hour ago,” Kip said. “And I just had to tell you right away.”

“I’m just so happy for you,” Robbie said. “I was wondering when you would hear.”

“I had the video interview with an Associate Curator, Nadine, two weeks ago,” Kip said. “And I figured I could find out any day.”

A customer came in and Kip had to return to the counter. He prepared a latte with two pumps of vanilla. The customer didn’t leave a tip. Kip walked back to Robbie.

“So I'm looking forward to leaving all this behind,” Kip said, gesturing around the store. “For the summer, at least.”

Robbie looked at Kip skeptically.

“You’re not going to come back to this, are you?” he said. “Not after the Met.”

Another customer came in. They just wanted a drip coffee.

“I’m just saying there are options,” Robbie said when Kip was done. “There’s a bunch of art galleries in Boston. Some of them hire grad students part-time.”

“I guess I could think about it,” Kip said.

“It might not pay any more, at least when you start. But it would be much more valuable to you in the long run.”

Kip imagined breaking the cycle. Untying himself from the mistakes of his past.

It might still be a job, but it wouldn’t be just a job.

“You have some pretty good ideas, Robbie.”

Robbie settled himself at a table. A small flurry of customers came into the store. After ten minutes of grinding and tamping and steaming, he finally found a few moments of peace. He walked back over to the table and brought with him a chocolate croissant. He gave it to Robbie.

“So then you’re going to live with your dad for the summer?” Robbie asked.

“Yeah,” Kip said, sitting down. “He’ll be so excited when I tell him I got it.”

“And you’ll have a chance to really reconnect with your friends in New York.”

“I feel bad,” Kip said. “Since moving here, I only saw them that one time at Christmas.”

Robbie paused for a moment and took a bite of the croissant.

“And what about him?”

Kip was silent. He looked at Robbie blankly.

“You know who I mean,” Robbie said. “Are you going to see him when you go back to New York this summer?”

Kip swallowed.

“You know, we haven’t had any contact in about a year,” Kip said. “So, no. Probably not.”

Robbie took a few more bites of the croissant.

“Well, we’re going to need to celebrate your internship,” he said. “I’ll text the others. Dinner and drinks tonight.”

Robbie grabbed his things, hugged Kip, and said goodbye.

As he left, another group of customers entered the store. Kip went behind the counter and returned to work.

 

St. Thomas (May 2015, Rochester)

 

Scott arrived at the hockey facility at St. Thomas Prep in Rochester. Though there had been many changes since the last time he was here, he could still recognize its bones. The players’ entrance he used to use was in the rear, near where he’d parked his car. The rink he once played on greeted him as he stood in the lobby. Down a corridor were an old familiar flight of stairs, leading to the locker rooms below.

Scott started walking around the concourse. The stands had all been renovated. There was a new practice rink. There were coaches’ offices in the corridor that hadn’t been there before. They’d been relocated from one side of the hall to the other. Most of them now had windows overlooking the main rink.

While the rooms Scott had passed on his walk were empty, the one he was looking for was not.

“Hello, Coach,” Scott said as he poked his head through the door frame.

Coach Tierney looked up from his desk. His face brightened when he saw who was speaking.

“Hunter,” he said. “Come on in.” 

He stood up, walked over, and gave Scott a one-armed hug. He glanced around. 

“Sorry about the mess.”

It appeared Coach Tierney hadn’t finished moving in yet. The whiteboard was up, but the shelves were mostly bare. There were clumsy stacks of unpacked boxes throughout. The only decorations he thought important enough to unpack were a bunch of photos displayed on the far wall. 

Twenty-two photos, to be precise. Of twenty-two teams over twenty-two years. One hundred and seventy young men in all.

“I barely recognize the building, Coach,” Scott said. “But you don’t look like you’ve changed a bit.”

“A few more gray hairs than the last time you were here, I’m sure,” Coach said. “How long has it been?”

“Three years,” Scott said. “And I was here only for a couple days.”

“I can’t believe we let that happen,” Coach said. “How long do you think you’ll stay this time?”

“I rented a house here for two months,” Scott said. “But we’ll see.”

Coach Tierney returned to his seat behind the desk. Scott moved a box from a chair so he could sit down too.

“As I said, Hunter, stay as long as you want. Come and go as you please. If you need someone on the ice with you, just ask. We’ll figure something out.”

Scott nodded.

“I just hope we can help you recover whatever it is you think that you lost.”

“I hope so too.”

After lunch, Scott got his key cards and Coach Tierney took him around the building. He showed him the weight room, the training area, and where the equipment was stored. Scott went out to his car and grabbed his gear. He brought it all into the locker room and found the spot reserved for him.

He walked out from the locker room to the edge of the rink. As he’d done countless times before.

His gaze drifted to a solitary maroon and gray jersey hanging from the rafters.

HUNTER

21

 

Jimmy’s Van (May 2015, Boston and Brooklyn)

 

It was early Thursday morning, shortly after Memorial Day. Everyone was loading their bags into Jimmy’s van. Reid had rented a beach house on Fire Island for the weekend. But with his internship starting Monday, Kip decided he wouldn’t be able to go after all.

Kip was actually just getting a ride. The semester was over and he had quit his job at the coffee shop. Jimmy and his friends were going to drop him off at his dad’s house in Brooklyn and be on their way.

“It might be a tight squeeze to fit all five of us in,” Reid said. “I think Kip is going to have to sit on my lap.”

Chuck gave his boyfriend a gentle shove.

“What?” Reid protested. “I’m just saying with his extensive lap dancing experience, it makes total practical sense.”

Kip glared at Robbie.

“I can’t believe you told them the go-go boy thing.”

“Kip,” Robbie said, “I don’t think any of them were surprised.”

“We would have been more surprised if you’d never been one,” Chuck said.

“Are we going to get going or what?” Jimmy said.

“Yeah. And I want to stop at Dunkin’,” Robbie said.

“We have plenty of time for that and still drive to Long Island,” Chuck said. “Besides, if we’re running late we can all just stay with Kip and his dad.”

“Is his dad hot?” Reid asked.

“We are not discussing this,” Kip said.

✦

The five-hour drive quieted and subdued them. When they finally pulled in front of the row house in Brooklyn where Kip’s father lived, Jimmy had to poke Robbie awake. They climbed out of the van and spent a moment stretching their legs. Chuck and Reid helped Kip unload his things. 

George Grady met them on the sidewalk and gave his son a hug. He’d come home from work early to meet them. He also warmly greeted Jimmy and Chuck, who he’d known since Kip was in college. Reid and Robbie introduced themselves to him for the first time.

They all came in for snacks and cold drinks and to use the bathroom. While Jimmy, Chuck and Reid talked with George in the living room, Robbie followed Kip to the kitchen.

“It’s a shame you’re not coming with us,” Robbie said.

“That means that you’re the one who’s going to be the focus of Reid’s shenanigans,” Kip said.

“Jimmy said he’d help me keep an eye on him.”

“That’s not going to work.”

Robbie laughed.

“So we’ll see each other back in Boston, then,” Robbie said.

“Yes. But it’ll be nice living in New York again, even if it is just for the summer,” Kip replied. “It’ll be just like old times.”

Robbie brought his hands together.

“So I was going to ask about that,” he said.

“About what?” Kip replied.

“About being back here. Being near your ex. Have you thought about what you’ll do if you see him again?”

“New York is a big place. Millions of people. That’s not going to happen.”

“True,” Robbie said.

Chuck called out from the living room that it was time to go. Robbie and Kip could hear the door open and footsteps pattering down the front stairs.

“As long as you don’t make it happen, that is.”

Robbie followed the group out to the van. Jimmy held the door for Robbie as he jumped in the passenger seat. Chuck and Reid piled into the back. Kip and his dad waved goodbye from the window and they watched the van head down the street.

 

Grilling (May 2015, Brooklyn)

 

George spread the hot coals into an even layer across the bottom of the grill. He put some veggies and two hamburger patties on the grate. Kip pulled up a chair alongside him and sat down. George took one of the two bottles of beer that Kip was holding in his hands.

“It was good to see them again after all these years,” George said. “I remember you would all come by when you were at school. I’m happy you didn’t lose them from your life.”

“No one’s more happy about it than me,” Kip said.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Elena too,” George continued. “Ever since her parents moved she has no reason to be around.”

“We will have to fix that this summer.”

“I’m just glad to have you back for a while, Kip. The house is too quiet these days.”

Kip drank from his beer. George opened the grill again and put down some buns.

George picked up his beer.

“So what does a summer intern at the Met actually do?”

Kip smiled. He hadn’t really had the opportunity to talk about job stuff with his dad before. At least, not this kind of job.

“I’m in the Modern and Contemporary Art curatorial department,” Kip said. “Doing background research on the artists and the artwork.”

“Where do you think this will lead?” George asked.

“I want to have a better understanding about how the museum world works and where I can fit in.”

George opened the grill, took the buns off the grate and flipped the patties, adding a slice of cheese to each.

“So you’ll be there for ten weeks?”

“Yeah,” Kip said. “I’ll need to return to Boston mid-August.”

George frowned.

“I thought the semester didn’t start until September?”

“I didn’t really tell you my plan,” Kip said. “When I go back, I’m not going back to the coffee shop. I’m going to try to get a part-time job in an art gallery there.”

George looked at Kip with curiosity.

“Tell me more,” he said.

“The pay won’t be any better. Might even be worse. But it will be more aligned with my career.”

George pulled the burgers and veggies off the grill. Kip carried the plates to the picnic table.

“Sounds like a pretty good idea,” George said.

“There’s a bunch of galleries in South End, not far from campus,” Kip said.

Kip put pickles, tomatoes and ketchup on his burger. He added some slices of onion for George.

“So that’s why I need to be back that early,” Kip said. “I’ll need to line something up before classes start.”

“I’m impressed by how proactive you’re being, Kip.”

They both spent a few moments silently eating their meal.

“But it’s going to be more work,” Kip said. “And juggling that with class and everything will be hard.”

George listened while continuing to eat.

“So I’m going to fulfill the program requirements on a less aggressive timeline. I won’t be able to graduate on time.”

“How much longer do you think it will take?” George asked.

“The coursework will probably be done at the end of next summer,” Kip said. “But I’d need an extra semester to work on my thesis.”

George considered Kip’s plan.

“So you’d be in Boston for at least another year and a half,” George said.

Kip nodded.

“The one problem is that I’d probably need to cover tuition for the extra semester,” Kip said. “The teaching assistantship will run out before then.”

“Do you think this is the right move? For you? For your career?” George asked.

“With a master’s degree, the internship, and a year and a half of professional experience, maybe I'll finally be ready to start my career.”

George stacked the plates and collected the silverware.

“In Boston,” George said.

“Or New York,” Kip quickly replied.

George stood up holding the dishes. Kip gathered what remained on the table.

“Son, you need to do what you need to do, go where you need to go.”

They carried everything through the back door into the house.

“Kip. The tuition thing. Don’t let it be a consideration,” George said. “We’ll make it work. I will certainly help.”

“Dad, I don’t want you …”

“This would be as much for me as it is for you,” George said. “I only want to see you succeed.”

They set the items on the kitchen counter.

“This plan, well, I want this for you,” George said.

Kip began to load the dishwasher.

“Your mother would have wanted this for you.”

Kip stopped for a second. There was nothing but pride on his dad’s face.

“Thank you, Dad.”

Chapter 8: CHAPTER 8: New Intern / Net / The Met / Goodbye Rochester / That was That

CHAPTER 8

New Intern (June 2015, New York)

 

Maria walked over and sat across the table from Kip. He was sipping a smoothie. Staten Island Berry, it was called.

“So no offense, Kip, but what you’ve been describing. Sounds kind of boring,” Maria said.

It was Monday morning. Kip was on his way to start his third week at the Met. He was early and Straw+Berry was kind of on the way, so he got off the subway to pay Maria a visit.

“What, spending all day on Google or in a library isn’t exciting to you?” Kip asked. “Inputting stuff into a database can be quite the rush too.”

Maria looked at Kip skeptically.

“We had the birth year of an artist listed wrong on the card,” Kip said. “He was born in 1928, not 1929. The painting was on display and everything.”

“Oh no,” Maria said. “The horror.”

“I’ve even had to whip out a tape measure to confirm the dimensions of a piece.”

“You are an expert with a tape measure.”

Kip gave Maria a look. Maria had a satisfied grin.

“We’re all kind of doing menial stuff right now,” Kip said. “It’s supposed to get better, more interesting soon.”

A customer walked in. Maria looked over to the counter. Peter signalled to her that he would handle it.

“Do you miss this place?” Maria asked.

“I miss you,” Kip said. “But, to be honest, no.”

“I keep telling myself, I’ve got just a little more than a year,” Maria said.

“The plan is still nursing school?” Kip asked.

Maria walked behind the counter, grabbed a textbook she’d set aside, and showed it to Kip.

“I’m taking some prerequisites in community college,” she said. “But I should be able to apply in the spring.”

Another customer came in. Maria gestured to Peter that this was hers. She took the order and prepared the drink. When she was done, she walked back over to Kip.

“You know Scott was still coming here,” she said.

“You mentioned,” Kip said.

“Yeah. Up until May.”

Kip put his smoothie down.

“One day he came in and apologized. He said he wouldn’t be in for a while. That he’d be gone for the summer.”

Kip wanted to ask if she knew where he went. But he didn’t.

“He gave me $250,” Maria said. “Told me to give the next ten customers their smoothies for free. And whatever was left over was a tip.”

Kip thought about this. He was here, in New York, and Scott wasn’t. It was probably just for the best.

Kip finished his smoothie, hugged Maria goodbye, and left to head off to the museum.

Scott being gone meant nothing. They wouldn’t have seen one another anyway.

But now Kip wouldn’t even be able to try.

 

Net (July 2015, Rochester)

 

Scott stood in the high slot. On the rink. At St. Thomas. In Rochester. A pile of pucks at his feet. He pulled one free and, with a snap of his wrist, went high glove. Net.

He pulled another. High glove. Post.

Another. High glove. Net.

High glove. Net.

High glove. Glass.

Scott gathered the pucks and restacked them in the same spot.

He went high blocker this time. Post.

High blocker. Net.

High blocker. Net.

A few minutes later, the pile was gone. Scott prepared to gather them up and do it all again.

One puck had kicked out to the right circle. He skated over and shot it where it lay. Net.

Another puck rested just off the slot. Scott didn’t break stride when he went to it. Net.

There was another puck tight against the boards. He skated across and pulled it off the wall. He went short side. Net.

Another puck sat a few feet in front of him. He pulled this one off the boards as well. This time he held onto it a second longer, took a stride toward the net, and let it go. Wide.

The puck tumbled into the corner and Scott chased after it. He settled it and turned up ice. He cut across the front, changed the angle, and shot. Net.

The last puck rested behind the net. He skated quickly to it, pulled it onto his stick, and dumped it hard against the boards. He chased it down, collected it, and carried it back toward the middle. He cut inside, dragged it across his body, took another stride and, off-balance and without setting his feet, he fired.

Scott laughed and smiled as he watched the puck sail through the air.

Net.

 

The Met (July 2015, Brooklyn)

 

Kip walked back downstairs and entered the living room. He’d changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and a tee as soon as he got home. George was sitting in his easy chair and had the ball game on the TV.

“There’s some chicken on the stove,” George said. “Mushrooms and noodles too.”

Kip prepared himself a plate and joined his father in the living room. They sat quietly watching the television as Kip ate.

“So I had an interesting day,” Kip said.

George turned and looked at Kip.

“Oh, how so?”

“So Nadine, my boss. She was running a meeting. She invited a couple of us interns to join,” Kip said.

George put the TV on mute.

“I’ve been invited to a couple meetings before,” Kip said. “But usually I’m just listening or, at most, have to answer something simple about what I was working on.”

George kept his attention on Kip.

“But anyway, they were talking about what kinds of pieces in the collection might fit a show they were planning.”

“What kind of show?”

“An exhibit for next year. They haven’t come up with a name, but the theme is ‘physical proximity with emotional distance,’ if you can follow that.”

“I can’t, but I’m sure you can,” George said.

Kip smiled.

“So they were discussing artists and artworks that fit the theme,” Kip said, “I mentioned someone no one brought up. A lot of solitary figures in his paintings, but I still thought he represented the concept well. Kind of by what’s implied but not shown.”

George remained quiet and just listened.

“And that set off a whole discussion between the other folks in the room about whether what I said really fit the theme or not. And, I wouldn’t say they were arguing, but there were some who agreed with me and some who did not.”

George laughed.

“Long story short,” Kip said, “Nadine asked me to write a proposal about why this should be considered, how it could be included, and what sorts of pieces I thought made my case.”

“So I’ve got my work cut out for me,” Kip continued. “She wants five pages, due my last day. So in two weeks.”

George walked over to Kip and gave him a hug.

“I understood, maybe, twenty percent of that,” George said. “But the part that I understood tells me they heard you, respected you, and valued you.”

George pulled back and gave his son a close look.

“I’m proud of you, son.”

 

Goodbye Rochester (July 2015, Rochester)

 

Scott cleaned out his locker and carried all his gear to the parking lot. He packed up his car and returned to the arena. He looked around for Coach Tierney before he found him walking the corridor, heading towards the stairs to the locker room. Scott walked up alongside him.

“I really want to thank you again for agreeing to let me train here,” Scott said.

“It was our pleasure, Hunter. I think everyone enjoyed having you around. I hope you got what you needed out of this.”

“I guess I’ll find out, but it definitely felt good to be back.”

“And you’re welcome to do this next year too.”

“We’ll see about that,” Scott said.

They said their goodbyes and Coach Tierney ducked downstairs into the locker room.

Scott looked out over the rink. St. Thomas assistant coaches were talking with a large group of boys. They appeared to be high school age. A few moments later, Coach Tierney emerged onto the ice with his skates on.

This was an elite prospect camp, run by the school. Scott had seen Coach Tierney and his staff preparing all summer. The boys were elite-level athletes who might have a future in the game. Not necessarily the pros, but maybe college or juniors. They’d all just arrived the night before.

That was me, once, Scott thought. A young kid with a lot of potential. He had talent. He had dedication. He had an unyielding commitment and love for the sport.

But that was back when hockey was everything to him. When it was more than the only bright spot in his world. When he believed it was the only thing he needed.

Scott asked himself if that was still true.

He didn't really want to know the answer.

 

That Was That (August 2015, New York)

 

“You just got back and now you’re leaving again,” Elena said.

“I’ve been here more than two months,” Kip protested. “Summer’s almost over. I need to leave so you can start missing me again.”

“And you said now it’s going to take you another year and a half,” Maria added.

Kip nodded sheepishly.

“That’s the plan right now,” he said. “I’ve lined up a couple of interviews at some art galleries in Boston for the week after next. Right after I get back.”

“So does that mean you’re just going to stay in Boston after your degree is done?” Elena asked.

“Or this proposal thing you’re writing,” Maria interjected. “Does that mean you’ve got a good chance at a job at the Met later on?”

“Guys, guys. You’re getting way too far ahead of yourselves,” Kip said. “I haven’t decided anything yet.”

Neither Elena nor Maria appeared satisfied with Kip’s response.

“The Met specifically,” Kip said, “It’s a long shot. But there are other opportunities in New York,” Kip continued. “Boston too.”

Kyle came by with a beer for Kip, a glass of white wine for Elena, and a bottle of sparkling water for Maria.

“I still have to study later tonight,” Maria said.

“How many more classes do you need?” Kip asked.

“Anatomy in the fall, Physiology in the spring,” she said.

“You guys are putting me to shame,” Elena added. “What with the whole going back to school thing. I have to admire how hard you’re both working.”

“You did it right the first time,” Kip said.

“In the meantime,” Maria said, “I still need to put in as many shifts at the smoothie shop as I can.”

Kip took a sip from his beer. He knew what he wanted to ask but wasn’t sure if he should do it. There was no harm in it, he told himself. It was just information.

“So has Scott been back at all?” he asked.

Elena raised her eyebrows. Maria turned to face Kip.

“No. Not since the last time I mentioned him,” Maria said. “As I said, he told me in May he’d be gone for the summer.”

Well, that was that, Kip thought. He didn’t know what he expected. Or what he would do if the answer were different.

“Well, we will need one final gathering here at the Kingfisher before you go back,” Elena said. “How about next Friday night? Week from tomorrow. After your last day at the Met?”

“Sounds great,” Kip said.

Kip didn’t know what was wrong. He had the unconditional support of his dad. He had friends who genuinely loved and cared for him. He was taking the next big step in getting his career on track.

Yet nonetheless, deep down, he felt a nagging sense of disappointment.

Chapter 9: CHAPTER 9: He Asked About You / Text / Delivered / Read / The Reunion

CHAPTER 9

He Asked About You (August 2015, New York)

 

Since returning from Rochester, Scott was slowly getting back to his New York routine. He’d start his day with a run, leaving straight from his apartment. He’d then spend an hour on the ice before lunch. For the off-season, he had regular ice times reserved at the rink at Chelsea Piers. He’d then make it to his gym in the afternoon.

But there was one more part of his routine he was going to add back in today. Scott slowed his run down to a walk, kept going until his heart rate was normal, wiped the sweat off his face, and entered the small shop with the silly name on the corner.

Maria smiled at him as he walked in.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” she said. “Did you have a good summer?”

Scott nodded.

“I did,” Scott said. “It was a refreshing change of pace.”

Maria started gathering the ingredients for his smoothie. Scott just watched. He didn’t need to say anything.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“I went home,” Scott said. “Rochester. That’s where I’m from.”

The whir of the blender interrupted their conversation. Maria smiled apologetically while Scott waited in silence. When it finally stopped, she grabbed a disposable cup.

“You know I saw Kip last night,” Maria said as she started to pour.

Scott was surprised.

“Visiting from Boston?” he asked.

“He was here for the summer,” she said. “But he’s going back next weekend.”

Kip was here, Scott thought. The whole freaking summer. And he’d been spending that whole time in Rochester. What rotten luck. What stupid irony. If he had known he could have …

Scott didn’t finish that thought. His brain moved on to another one.

Kip is here. He’s here in New York right now. And he won’t be for long. If there was ever going to be a chance, if it were even a possibility, Scott should …

Scott didn’t finish that thought either.

Let’s not get carried away, now. It’s just a fleeting fantasy. It simply doesn’t matter that Kip’s here.

At least, it shouldn’t.

“He asked about you,” Maria said. “He wanted to know if I’d seen you.”

Scott looked at Maria. His chest got a little tight and he felt his pulse quicken. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Maria finished scraping the last of the drink from the blender into the cup. She put on a lid and took out a straw.

“I told him I hadn’t seen you since May,” she said.

Scott didn’t really know what to say. Should he ask some more questions? Maybe tell her to send his regards.

Scott simply handed Maria a twenty. He took the drink, and then headed for the exit.

Words finally returned to him.

“Thank you for the smoothie.”

 

Text (August 2015, New York)

 

Scott paced back and forth at his kitchen counter. What, if anything, was he going to do with any of this information. He could just send Kip a friendly note. Say he heard he was in town. That it’d be nice to catch up. Learn how that grad school thing was treating him.

Or, he could just do what he’d been doing for the past year and a half, give or take. Which was nothing.

Scott looked at the smoothie he still held. It was only half-finished. It seemed to be mocking him. This was ridiculous. He was not going to let a blended drink have this much power over him. He walked right over to the garbage can, popped the lid open, held out the cup and …

He let the lid drop back down. The smoothie was still in his hand. He walked over to the refrigerator and put it inside.

There was no need to do anything hasty. To decide anything now. He’d feel a lot better after his morning skate.

Scott grabbed his gear bag and a change of clothes and headed out of his apartment and down to his car.

✦

Scott waved to the front desk when he got to the rink. He went straight to the locker room. A few minutes later he was dressed, in his skates, and just waiting for the Zamboni to finish up. The attendant came out, dragged the net into position, and then finally opened the gate to let Scott onto the ice.

Scott started with laps. He slowly circled his way around the rink, up and down the length of the ice. Up and down. Up and down. His turns were simple, the crossovers easy. He’d take a few strides, then relax and just let himself glide. Then he’d do it all over again.

Eventually, he grabbed a puck. This didn’t really change anything about what he was doing. He softly pushed it around with his stick as he continued his laps. His gaze remained unfixed, his eyes shifted around. He focused only just enough to make sure the puck didn’t get away.

On one of his laps he shot lightly towards the net. It wasn’t really much more than a tap. He retrieved it and got back to what he was doing. He’d circle some more and take a few more shots along the way. None with any real degree of purpose.

Scott skated into the circle and pulled to a stop. He put his hands on his knees and looked down at the ice. The puck lay resting at his feet. He raised his head and looked at the clock. He’d been doing this for nearly half an hour.

Scott straightened and positioned himself next to the puck. With a snap of his wrist, he sent it through the air. He stood there and watched as it hit the back of the net, dropped down and rolled forward into the crease.

Scott skated up to it slowly and flicked it back into the net. It rebounded off the back bar and kicked out, behind Scott on the ice. He skated out to it and, in a single motion, circled around and smacked it forward again.

The puck kicked off the post to the side. Scott raced there and, even with the tight angle, just struck it again.

The puck went flying across the face of the goal, hitting the boards on the other side of the rink. Scott was already moving and, when he reached it, he poked it back towards the middle. With barely a look, he just fired from there.

There would be many more rebounds, many posts, many shots off the boards. Scott would chase after every one. He would fire from the edge. He would never let the puck settle. When it got stuck in the corner, he’d just smack it until it ricocheted out.

He would skate. He would shoot. One after the other. He never stopped moving. He abandoned any pretense of trying to gain control. Yet each shot came faster and harder than the last.

One puck bounced off the back of the net. It started rolling into the slot. Without making an effort to slow down, Scott stepped into it. He slammed it with his stick.

It bounced off the crossbar. It flew over the glass.

Finally, Scott stopped.

He stood there, catching his breath. He looked around. A small group had gathered to watch.

Scott was done. He needed to get out of here.

✦

Scott sank into his couch. His gear bag remained on the floor. He stared blankly at the wall. There were imperfections in the paint he had never noticed before.

He shook his head. He needed to confront this head on like an adult. He wouldn’t just default to inaction without thinking things through.

On the one hand, nothing about his life had changed. That morning when Kip left his apartment for the last time might as well have been yesterday. Hockey was still his world, and who he was had nothing to do with it. He was still in absolutely no position to give Kip what he wanted.

On the other hand, he wasn’t asking for anything. Kip didn’t live here. He was only around a few more days. They couldn’t fall into any old patterns if they tried. And Scott wouldn’t try.

It wasn’t as if they’d ended on bad terms. It just hadn’t been possible to continue. When the wounds were fresh, sure, it had been better just to let everything fade away. Certainly they were past that by now.

Best case scenario, they’d exchange a few messages, maybe meet for a drink. And Scott would have a tiny bit of Kip in his life again. Scott wouldn’t dare to dream of anything more.

In the worst case scenario, Kip had already moved on. Or he’d blocked him. Or he just wouldn’t respond. He’d privately laugh with Elena about what a loser Scott was. He’d get on with his life and not give Scott another thought.

Scott failed to see how that was any worse than how things were now.

But doing nothing was still the right thing to do. That’s what he had done since last spring and that’s what he had decided to do for the rest of his career. Maybe his life.

He needed one good reason why he should send Kip a stupid little text that would change almost nothing.

Because he wanted to.

A smile came to Scott’s face. He felt the tightness in his chest fade away. He never thought the decision would be so easy. So clear.

He’d go make some lunch. Then he’d head to the gym. Just like he’d planned. Then, when he came home, he’d send Kip a text.

Scott pulled out the bread. There was a fresh tomato on the counter. And he knew he’d bought turkey just yesterday.

He opened the fridge. That morning’s smoothie was still there. He reached out and took a sip.

It never tasted so good.

 

Delivered (August 2015, New York)

 

Kip was in the small office at the Metropolitan Museum of Art that he shared with two other summer interns and a junior staff member. He had been reading some publications and jotting comments down on his notepad. He’d think for a few moments and then do a search for records in the museum’s collections database. He’d switch back to his Word document, add a couple lines, and then pull up a different window and study and compare some reference images.

He’d been working like this for days. He’d been making the time to work on the proposal in between the other assignments he’d been given.

“Someone’s been working hard this week.”

Kip looked up. It was Nadine. She poked her nose into the office.

“Oh, hey.” Kip said.

“I thought I saw you working late a few times this week,” she said.

Kip blushed.

“I’m trying to get as much of the research done as I can. I can focus on the writing next.”

“And I’m looking forward to reading it.”

After a few moments, Nadine added, “I’m glad to see you’re taking this so seriously. You’re quite committed in whatever you do.”

By now Kip’s focus had returned to the screen.

“Thank you, Nadine,” he said. “I’m just trying to do a good job.”

Nadine smiled.

“I can see I’m distracting you,” she said. “I’m going to take off now. Best of luck and have a good weekend, Kip.”

With that, she was gone. One of the other interns came in for a while and then left. Kip pulled up another record from the museum database.

Kip felt his phone buzz in his pocket. What did Elena want, he thought to himself. He looked the time on his computer. It was just after four. He’d check back in with her in a few minutes.

Kip returned to his document and started writing a little. Two minutes after the previous alert, Kip’s phone buzzed again, a reminder he hadn’t checked the message yet. Kip decided he'd complete this little section, save the document, and email it to himself. Shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.

Ten minutes later, Kip finally looked at his phone. His eyes went wide.

“I hear you’re in New York,” the message said.

But it wasn’t what the message said that caused his breath to catch and his heart to thump.

It was who it was from.

 

Read (August 2015, New York)

 

Scott sat at his kitchen table. His eyes were glued to his phone. In particular, the tiny letters that spelled out “Delivered.” He knew it meant absolutely nothing. But it was all he had.

Scott turned away. He couldn’t spend all day obsessing over this. For all he knew, Kip had him blocked and the message status would never change. He should probably get comfortable with the idea.

Twenty seconds later Scott checked his phone again.

The dance persisted for what seemed an eternity. It was a little less than fifteen minutes. Scott breathed a sigh of relief when, with the last check, the notification changed to “Read.”

The relief was short-lived. Now he would find out if Kip would bother to respond. He needed to do something else. He grabbed his clothes from his bag and added them to a load of laundry. He hadn’t even poured the detergent when he heard the buzz of his phone in the other room.

Scott ran as fast as he could.

“Yes I am. Where are you?”

Scott was giddy. He held the phone with both hands and placed it firmly against his chest. He tilted his head down and closed his eyes. He needed a moment to collect himself.

Scott settled down. He calmly walked over to the window. He turned around and took a selfie. The skyline of Midtown Manhattan was behind him, the Empire State Building clearly visible over his right shoulder.

“I’ll give you one guess. What about you?” he wrote as he sent it. He regretted it almost immediately.

This had been too much. He’d acted too eager. Too familiar. Surely he’d scared Kip away. His fears only multiplied as the minutes passed and there hadn’t been any response. Fuck, he thought to himself, and collapsed on the couch.

Moments later, Scott once again felt a wave of relief crash over him. Kip had replied. He’d sent a pic of his own. He looked happy. He looked healthy. He looked every bit as good as Scott had envisioned in his head.

Scott looked at the photo again. He had to blink for a second and study it more closely. There appeared to be a figure in a full suit of armor riding on horseback directly behind Kip. This was not what Scott was expecting.

“I don’t mean to alarm you,” Scott wrote, “but it looks like you are under attack.”

“Just a hazard of the job,” came Kip’s reply. “But the knights are normally very friendly.”

They exchanged a few more texts. Scott found out that Kip had been interning at the Met since early June. Kip learned that Scott had been in Rochester since late May. That he’d returned just a few days ago. Kip confirmed that he was going back to Boston the following weekend. Scott said that he’d heard Kip was around from Maria.

“So I was hoping we might be able to meet up before you went back to Boston,” Scott wrote.

Once again, he held his breath. A short time later, the reply came.

“I’ll be passing near you on my way home,” he said. “Why don’t we meet at the park across from Straw+Berry. I can be there in forty-five minutes.”

Scott couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He would shower again. He’d brush his teeth. He’d put on fresh clothes.

“OK,” he wrote. “See you then.”

 

The Reunion (August 2015, New York)

 

Scott sat nervously on the park bench. He was pretty sure from which direction Kip would come, but he wasn't taking any chances. So his eyes kept darting everywhere. He was anxious and hopeful at once.

And then there he was. Striding up the street in a form-fitting cream button-down and a pair of brown chinos. A canvas messenger bag strapped across his shoulder. Kip smiled as they made eye contact, his two-day-old stubble following the contours of his dimpled grin.

Scott wanted to hug him and squeeze him and never let him go. He wanted to kiss him and smell him and feel Kip’s rough jaw rub against his face. He wanted to undo every one of those buttons on Kip’s shirt, run his hands through the short tight curls of his hair and lean both of their bodies together against the nearest tree.

Scott stood up. He held out his hand. Kip took it.

“It’s really nice to see you again, Kip,” Scott said as they shook.

Kip pulled Scott in and let one arm wrap around Scott’s back. Scott responded in kind.

“It’s great to see you again too, Scott.”

They separated. Scott suggested they go for a walk. Kip suggested they head in the general direction of the East River.

“So this whole Met internship thing,” Scott said. “It’s kind of wild.”

“I know, right?” Kip said. “I remember going there so many times as a kid. With my parents. On school trips. Being a part of it this summer has been incredible.”

“I’m just so happy for you. It sounds like it’s been really fulfilling.”

“It’s a big change from the smoothie shop, I can tell you that much.”

Scott winced a tiny little bit. While he was genuinely happy for Kip, the smoothie shop would always hold a special place in his heart.

“How about the rest of the whole grad school experience?” Scott asked. “I saw Elena back in January and she said you were super busy juggling work and school.”

Kip nodded.

“It’s actually only going to get worse,” Kip said. “I’m trying to get a job at an art gallery. That’s going to be a lot of extra work.”

“Probably good for your resume,” Scott said.

“Yes,” Kip said. “But I won’t be able to finish my degree on time.”

They started walking along the East River promenade.

“I have to say, Kip,” Scott said. “You look really good.”

“Well, thank you,” Kip said. “You’re as handsome as always too.”

Scott blushed.

“Thank you. But that wasn’t exactly what I was trying to say.”

As they walked side by side, their elbows accidentally brushed up against one another.

“You’ve made all these plans,” Scott continued. “You’ve had all of these new experiences. You have this, I don’t know, air of confidence about you. I don’t want to say this is new, but it’s a lot more obvious now.”

Kip looked Scott in the eyes and smiled.

“Thank you,” Kip said. “It means a lot to me to hear you say that.”

Scott smiled back at Kip. They passed under the Williamsburg Bridge.

“I’ve gone off in the opposite direction,” Scott said. “If you hadn’t noticed, last season, my game just fell off a cliff.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Kip. “I mean, last I checked, you're still a gold-medal-winning superstar.”

Scott laughed.

“You can probably drop ‘super’ from that description.”

Kip scoffed.

“One season slightly below average for you. I refuse to believe anyone is taking it that seriously.”

“Have you listened to any of the sports media here in New York?” Scott said. “Just absolutely brutal. One of the reasons I went up to Rochester for two months.”

“What was it like being back there?” Kip asked.

“It was nice,” Scott said. “Quiet, but nice. Everyone was just so welcoming to me. I guess I never fully appreciated that I had a ‘home’ there I could go back to.”

“Are you going to visit there more often?”

“Maybe,” Scott said. “Probably. I just hope spending time there in some way helped me be better prepared for next season.”

“Do you think it did?” Kip asked.

Scott looked up and shrugged. They exited the riverfront park and started walking inland again.

“I came to one of your games last year,” Kip said. “December. The first game you played in Boston.”

Kip pulled up the grainy photo he had taken of Scott that night.

“I remember that game,” Scott said. “Our worst game of the season. Except for Bennie. I think he had more than forty saves that night.”

“I do remember it not having gone especially well for you,” Kip said.

Scott turned to Kip, a slight cautious grin on his face.

“So what made you decide to come to that game?”

They turned a corner and could see Scott’s building a block away.

“Oh, it was Robbie,” Kip said. “He knew I liked the Admirals and he thought he was being nice.”

Scott tensed.

“Oh, is he a boyfriend or something?” he asked, as casually as he could.

“No. Just another grad student,” Kip said. “But he’s actually a really good friend of mine now.”

Scott nodded. He tried to keep his expressions under control.

“I’m actually not seeing anyone,” Kip said.

Heat started surging in Scott’s veins.

They arrived at Scott’s building. They stood in front of the entrance. He turned to Kip.

“Well, thank you for meeting with me, Kip,” Scott said. “I guess I should just go now.”

Kip didn’t say anything. He looked directly at Scott. He spoke in a calm, measured voice.

“Aren’t you going to invite me up?”

Scott gulped. He couldn’t move. He didn’t know what to say. Every part of him wanted to devour Kip right then and there. He just didn’t want to give the impression this was the only reason he had wanted to see him.

Kip took a step closer, his face mere inches from Scott’s. He repeated, softly and slowly.

“I said, aren’t you going to invite me up?”

There wasn’t anything Scott could do anymore. He was only human. He held the door open for Kip. They rode the elevator in silence to Scott’s floor. Scott entered the code to the apartment.

When the door closed behind them, Kip was upon him.

Chapter 10: PART 2 CHAPTER 10: The Weekend

PART 2 : Illusion

CHAPTER 10

The Weekend (August 2015, New York)

 

Scott was on his back. He was naked in his bed. He’d pulled his knees to his chest, his dick was rock hard, and sweat dripped from his forehead. He was breathless and panting. He moaned Kip’s name.

Up until a few hours ago, Scott wasn’t sure he’d ever speak to Kip again. See him again. Hold him again.

Get his brains fucked out by him again.

Kip was on top of him. He was thrusting his hips. He used one hand to brace himself on Scott’s knee. He used the other to push Scott down against the mattress. He didn’t break rhythm as he leaned forward and took Scott’s mouth into his own.

Scott could barely take it any more. The softness of Kip’s lips caressing his. The warmth of Kip’s skin touching his body. The pleasure of Kip’s cock pumping inside him.

Scott’s hand grabbed the back of Kip’s head. His feet wrapped behind Kip’s ass. His dick pushed up against Kip’s body.

He didn’t need anything else. The sensations pushed him over the edge. Scott gasped one more time. His legs became stiff. His dick erupted between them

Kip felt Scott trembling beneath him. That was all the push he needed. With a final few thrusts and a shout of his own, Kip started writhing, then tensing, then convulsing in ecstasy too.

✦

Kip lay with his head on Scott’s shoulder, one arm stretched across him, a finger playfully doodling on his bare stomach. Kip’s naked body was curled against Scott’s side. One of Scott’s hands gently stroked Kip’s back. Scott bent his head forward for a moment and kissed the top of Kip’s head.

Scott took a look out the window. The light outside had started to dim.

“Can I order us some dinner?” Scott asked.

“Okay,” Kip said. His finger didn’t stop drawing on Scott’s stomach.

Scott reached for his phone. It was close enough that he didn’t need to separate from Kip. After a couple minutes and a few clicks, he set the phone down.

“What did you order?” Kip asked.

“I hope you still like Chinese,” Scott said.

“Chicken and broccoli?” Kip asked.

Scott nodded.

Kip turned his head and kissed Scott’s chest. He began to use his whole hand to rub Scott’s belly. He pulled his body closer to Scott’s side.

Scott noticed Kip’s touch was becoming firmer. And that his hand was starting to head south. And that Kip’s dick was hard and pressing into his hip.

Scott felt his own cock begin to stiffen. And then he moaned when he felt Kip’s hand wrap around him.

✦

They sat on stools next to each other wearing nothing but towels. Their hair was still damp. There were a few empty cartons of takeout on the counter. Scott was done, and got up to clear stuff away. Kip still had a few bites left on his plate.

Scott came up behind Kip and wrapped his arms around him. Kip leaned his head back. Scott stroked his hands over Kip’s chest.

“Do you need to go home tonight?” Scott asked.

He looked out the window. It was dark.

Kip didn’t move. He kept his head firmly pressed against Scott’s chest.

“Do you want me to?” Kip asked.

Scott spun Kip around. He looked him straight in the eye. He shook his head from side to side.

“No,” he said.

Scott pulled the towel from Kip’s waist. Kip did the same. They brought their bodies together once more.

✦

The sun poked around the curtains in Scott’s bedroom. Scott’s chest filled with warmth as he remembered the previous night. He rolled over to his side to see …

Scott sat up quickly. His heart began to race. He was alone.

Scott pulled on a pair of underwear and darted into the living room. When he got there, he silently breathed a sigh of relief. Kip was sitting at the dining table working at his laptop. He was wearing a pair of Scott’s underwear. The aroma of coffee filled the air.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Kip said as he looked up at Scott. “Good thing you didn’t change your Wi-Fi password. I would have had to wake you.”

Scott walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“What are you working on?” Scott asked.

“It’s this proposal thing I’m writing for the Met,” Kip said. “I have to turn it in by my last day.”

“Oh,” Scott said. “Sounds important.”

“Well, it’s probably more important for me than it is for them,” Kip said. “I just want to show I can do a good job.”

Scott drank his coffee while he watched Kip typing away at his computer.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kip said. “Is it OK if I stay and work on it a bit more? I’m kind of getting into a rhythm.”

Scott put the coffee down and walked over behind Kip. He placed both hands on Kip’s shoulders and began to massage them.

“Stay as long as you want,” Scott said. “I’m not kicking you out.”

Kip smiled and his focus returned to the screen.

“I’m just going to head out for a run,” Scott said. “I can bring us back something if you want.”

“Whatever you like,” Kip said. “You know I’m not picky.”

✦

“I’ve never understood your fascination with serial killers,” Kip said.

He was laying on the couch, feet up on Scott’s lap. They were watching a true crime documentary on TV. A couple takeout containers lay empty on the coffee table. Tonight, they had gotten Thai.

“It’s not just serial killers,” Scott protested. “It’s also jealous husbands, greedy children, and disgruntled former employees.”

“What about the loner who was always such a nice boy?” Kip asked.

“Now you’re getting into the spirit of it,” Scott said.

Kip rolled his eyes. He watched the TV some more.

“Isn’t it fascinating that these sorts of things always happen in a quiet town where nothing ever happens?” Scott said.

“Well if it happened there, then it’s not really a town where nothing ever happens,” Kip said.

Scott’s eyes widened.

“That’s deep,” he said.

✦

“I’m going to do laundry,” Scott said. “I should probably wash your things too. You’ll need something to wear to work tomorrow.”

It was Sunday afternoon. The clothes Kip had worn Friday still sat in a neat pile in the living room. He’d either been naked or wearing Scott’s things the entire time he’d been there. Scott wasn’t complaining.

“Would you mind?” Kip said. “That would be great. Thank you.”

Scott walked over to Kip and he pulled him up by his arms.

“What are you doing,” Kip said.

“I’m going to need these too,” Scott said, and he yanked down the underwear that Kip was wearing.

“You’re just making up excuses to get me naked again,” Kip said, kicking them off completely.

“Maybe,” Scott said, picking the underwear up off the floor.

Scott looked at Kip. They were in agreement on what they wanted to happen next.

“Hold that thought,” he said, and headed to the laundry room.

✦

Kip was getting ready for work Monday morning. He’d been able to do a fair amount of writing despite hanging out all weekend in Scott’s apartment. And despite getting distracted by Scott a couple times each day.

Scott had ice time scheduled later that morning and hadn’t made it to the gym since Friday afternoon. He needed to return to his own routine.

“Will I see you again before you leave?” Scott asked. He watched as Kip finished putting his things into his messenger bag.

“I’ll text you,” Kip said. “I made good progress but I’m still not done. And next weekend’s going to be busy.”

Kip kissed Scott on the mouth.

“I hope you have a good day,” Scott said.

“I hope you do too,” Kip replied. Then he left.

That had been an incredible and fun couple of days. Scott had desperately needed that. He also got the impression that Kip had desperately needed that too.

Scott wondered when he would see Kip again.

But he was convinced the question was “when” and not “if.”

Chapter 11: CHAPTER 11: The Drive Back / Back in Boston / We Hooked Up

CHAPTER 11

The Drive Back (August 2015, Brooklyn and Boston)

 

George carefully tried adjusting the tuning knob, hoping to bring back the signal that was starting to get a little choppy.

“I might need to find a new station soon,” George said. “We’re starting to drive out of range.”

“You know, I could just play something off my iPhone,” Kip said from the passenger seat.

“That won’t be necessary,” George said. “The signal should still be strong enough for a little while longer. And by then we should be able to pick up the Hartford stations.”

They were on their way to Boston. Kip’s bags were in the trunk of George’s car. George had brought an overnight bag too.

“Will you hear anything back about your proposal?” George asked.

“Probably not for a couple of weeks,” Kip said. “I doubt Nadine will get to it this week and she’s on vacation after that. But I’m sure it will be less than a month.”

“What do you hope will happen with it?”

“To be honest,” Kip said, “not much. All I’m looking for is feedback on how I conducted the research and how well I presented the material. I don’t expect it to go much further than that.”

“That’s a healthy attitude,” George said.

“It’s a realistic one. But it has given me ideas about my future thesis. I’ll have to talk to my advisor when I get back.”

The music started breaking up again, and a persistent hiss had started to creep in. Once again, George adjusted the dial by a fraction of a hair. He beamed with pride when the sound became clear once more.

“So any news on the art gallery job options?” George asked.

“Three interviews this week and I’m trying to get two more scheduled.”

“I guess we’ll just have to see how it plays out.”

“For one of them,” Kip said, “the owner is also an NYU alum.”

“Will that help?”

“Can’t hurt,” Kip said.

The radio cut out again. Try as he might, George couldn’t get it to come back. He sighed and just started turning the dial, seeing what else he could find. George skipped by a jazz station and another playing hip-hop. He landed briefly on a sports segment. George listened a few seconds before moving past again. He settled on a station playing Journey.

“Did you hear that the Admirals extended Carter Vaughn?” George said.

In the summer there was generally a dearth of hockey-related news, other than free agent signings or contract extensions.

“No, I didn’t,” Kip said. He really didn’t pay attention to that kind of thing.

“Yeah,” George said, “sounds to me like ownership still has confidence in the team’s solid core. That they think last year was a fluke.”

“I don’t think I can disagree.”

George glanced at Kip for a second before returning his eyes to the road.

“I think Hunter will have a comeback year,” George said. “What do you think?”

Kip’s throat got a little tight.

“I certainly hope so,” he said.

George once again looked at his son. And once again returned his gaze straight ahead.

“I certainly hope so too.”

 

Back in Boston (August 2015, Boston)

 

Kip carried his bags through the apartment towards his bedroom. Jimmy and Robbie were cuddling together on the couch. Robbie was reading a paper on his iPad. Jimmy was stroking Robbie’s hair. They were both only in boxers.

“You know, I don’t even think I’m surprised,” Kip said to them.

“We were trying to figure out the best way to tell you,” Jimmy said. “But we figured this was simple and to the point.”

“It was all Reid’s fault,” Robbie said, shifting to sit upright. “The beach house only had two bedrooms.”

“And we had to share a bed too,” Jimmy said. “So …”

“I’m pretty sure Reid did it intentionally,” Robbie said.

Jimmy gave the back of Robbie’s neck a kiss.

“All I know is get some clothes on,” Kip said. “My dad’s going to be here any minute.”

They scurried into Jimmy’s room and closed the door.

Kip pulled out a new set of sheets and put them on his bed. He grabbed one of the pillows and a spare blanket and brought them to the living room couch.

A knock came at the apartment door. Kip walked over and let his dad in.

“I lucked out,” George said. “Found a spot only half a block away.”

Kip grabbed George’s overnight bag and brought it to his bedroom. Jimmy and Robbie came out of Jimmy’s bedroom and into the living room.

“Hi Mr. Grady,” Robbie said.

George went over to give them a hug. He looked them up and down.

“Well, looks like you boys had a good summer,” he said.

They blushed.

“Yeah, we did,” Jimmy said.

“Dad and I were about to head out to eat,” Kip said.

“And you’re welcome to join us,” George said. “My treat.”

Jimmy declined. He had a PowerPoint he needed to work on. He encouraged Robbie to go.

“Jimmy, we’ll bring you back something,” Kip said.

“All right let’s go,” George said. “I’m starving.”

✦

Robbie poured everyone a cup of tea while George held on to the menu. When the waitress came back he asked for an order of egg rolls, a few entrees they would all share, and some steamed rice.

“So Kip tells me you’re the one who suggested he try to find an art gallery role,” George said, looking at Robbie.

“If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else,” Robbie said. “It just makes sense given his interests and what he wants to do.”

“And what do you want to do?” George asked, still talking to Robbie.

“My specialty is in architectural history. I’m applying to switch to the Ph.D. program later this year,” Robbie said. “Ultimately I’d love an academic position, but I’m generally interested in anything related to conservation.”

“I’m surrounded by such intelligent, ambitious young men,” he said. His gaze turned towards Kip. Kip smiled.

The waitress brought out the egg rolls. Everybody grabbed one.

“You know, if you want,” Robbie said, “I can have Jimmy stay at my place tonight and you can use his bed. That way you won’t need to sleep on that lumpy old couch, Kip.”

“I'll be fine,” Kip said. “I don’t do that that often and I’m not going to use Jimmy’s bed either way.”

“You sleep on Elena’s couch all the time,” George said. “You just spent Friday night there. After your going away party with your friends at that bar in the Village.”

Robbie gave Kip a look. Kip’s face flushed a little. He did have his going away party at the Kingfisher Friday night. He did stay out and not come home to Brooklyn afterwards. But he didn’t spend the night at Elena’s. The image of him riding Scott’s dick deep into the night and waking him up with a morning blowjob came rushing into his brain.

“And the week before,” George continued, “you stayed with her the whole weekend too. Can’t be good for your back.”

“It'll be OK,” Kip said with a nervous smile. “I think her couch has a permanent impression of my body in it.”

“Does it now …” Robbie demurred.

Mercifully for Kip, the waitress brought out the main dishes. Kip grabbed the chicken and broccoli. He hoped the food would cause everyone to change the subject.

Kip looked up. Robbie was eating, but his gaze didn’t shift from Kip the whole time.

 

We Hooked Up (August 2015, Boston)

 

Kip carried his dad’s things as he walked with him out to the car. They hugged goodbye and George drove off. He was hoping to make it back to New York before the afternoon rush.

Kip headed back to the apartment. Jimmy had already left for work. Robbie had spent the night and had made breakfast for everyone.

Most importantly, Robbie hadn’t left yet. Kip nervously anticipated what would await him when he opened his apartment door.

Robbie was sitting on the couch, drinking coffee. He’d already folded the sheet and blanket Kip had used when he’d slept there last night.

Robbie turned to Kip. He smiled and gestured.

“Come here,” Robbie said. “Sit. I’ve already prepared you another cup of coffee.”

“Don’t you have to go home now?” Kip said.

“I will,” Robbie said. “Soon. But not yet.”

Kip sat next to Robbie on the couch. He picked up the mug of coffee that Robbie had prepared for him.

“So, what is this about?” Kip said.

Robbie took a sip of his own coffee.

“So first of all,” Robbie said, “I want to make sure you’re OK with me and Jimmy dating. With you being gone all summer, we ended up spending a lot of time together. Alone.”

“Are you kidding,” Kip said. “I think that’s great. I can’t help being a little happy that I might have played a small part in it.”

“Jimmy and I were a little worried you might be weirded out.”

“I’m not. You guys seem happy together.”

Robbie smiled. Kip gave him a hug.

“So, is that all you wanted to talk about?” Kip said.

Robbie took another sip from his coffee.

“Not all,” he said. He turned to Kip again.

“Something tells me that I’m not the only one in this room to have had a summertime fling.”

Kip blushed.

“What makes you say that?” Kip said.

“So you did,” Robbie said.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Was it with who I think it was?” Robbie asked.

Kip looked down. He didn’t want to look Robbie in the eyes.

“It’s OK, Kip,” Robbie said. “Did it make you happy?”

Kip looked up and nodded.

“Well I’m glad,” Robbie said. “You deserve to be happy.”

They sat there for a minute in silence.

“At times, it almost felt like we had never been apart,” Kip said.

Robbie looked at Kip with empathy.

“What happens now?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Kip asked. “Nothing’s changed. I look for a gallery position and then get back to school. He goes back to his job too. We hooked up. It was incredible. Now it’s done.”

Robbie finished his coffee. He got up and got ready to leave.

“If you say so, Kip.”

Chapter 12: CHAPTER 12: I Got the Job / Scott Hunter Death Watch / FaceTime / Walking Achilles

CHAPTER 12

I Got the Job (August 2015, Boston)

 

“I got the job,” Kip typed and then pressed send. He waited a minute or so to see if there would be an immediate reply. When there wasn’t, he went to brush his teeth.

A few minutes later, Kip came back and saw there was a message waiting for him. Kip smiled. Scott hadn’t wasted any time.

“Congratulations. Which one was this?” the message said.

“It’s a place in South End,” Kip wrote. “GK Modern Art Gallery.”

“Tell me all about it,” Scott wrote back.

Kip wrote the gallery had been around for about ten years and was still somewhat small. There were eight employees, four of them part-time. He had been interviewed by Bianca, the gallery manager, as well as Graham, the owner who also served as director. It had been Graham that Kip had been in communication with to set everything up. He and Graham were able to bond about their time at NYU. Kip had also been asked about his recent internship and his graduate school plan.

“I also think my time at Straw+Berry was actually a point in my favor,” Kip wrote.

“Dedication pays off,” Scott wrote back.

Kip explained that he expected to be mostly working the front desk three days a week. But they were about to set up a new exhibit with an opening next week. He’d be helping out with that immediately.

“What goes on at an opening?” Scott asked.

“It’s an opportunity to schmooze with the artist and drum up publicity with art critics and collectors,” Kip wrote. “I think all I’m going to be doing is passing around champagne and hors d'oeuvres.”

“Don’t spill soup on one of the guests.”

“What, are you afraid I’ll go home with him if I do?”

✦

It was after eight in the evening on Thursday of the following week. The crowd was starting to taper off, but there were still about twenty guests in attendance. Kip had been mingling with the crowd, answering questions if he could. Graham came over to Kip.

“So how are you enjoying your first opening?” he asked.

“I’m just glad to assist however I can,” Kip said.

“We’re happy to have you aboard,” Graham said. “You were a lot of help all week.”

Kip saw four familiar faces enter through the front door. They were dressed a bit better than Kip was used to seeing them.

“I hope moral support is OK,” Jimmy said.

“We just had to come see you in action,” Chuck added.

Reid almost said something but thought better of it.

“I’d love to meet the artist, too,” Robbie said.

Kip brought them all a glass of champagne. The hors d’oeuvres were long gone.

“Come,” Kip said. “I’ll show you around.”

 

Scott Hunter Death Watch (October 2015, New York)

 

Training camp was over. Scott was very happy with how he had been doing, how the team had been doing. He was attacking the middle and working well with his linemates. There was no sign of the hesitation and missed looks that he had struggled with the previous season.

The Admirals coaches had noticed. The New York sports media had not. The barrage of criticism he had been subjected to at the end of the previous season had not relented. With the season opener just a few days away, the gallows humor of Admirals fans was on full display.

“Have you heard about the ‘Scott Hunter Death Watch’?” Scott wrote in his text.

“The what now?” was Kip’s reply.

“It’s a contest,” Scott wrote. “Some New York sports blog or podcast is running it.”

The contest invited fans to predict the exact circumstances of Scott’s upcoming humiliation. When he would be dropped from the first line. Where he would be traded. Whether his point total would be the lowest of his career. The fan who came closest would win two tickets to the first Admirals game of the post-Scott Hunter era.

“Do they have a website?” Kip asked.

“I think you can just Google it,” Scott replied.

Scott waited a few minutes before Kip texted him again.

“OK. I just entered the contest,” Kip wrote.

“You did what?” Scott asked.

“I predicted you would be the MLH Cup MVP this year.”

“You know,” Scott wrote, “I don’t think that’s how this contest is supposed to work.”

✦

Scott stood alone in the locker room. Every other Admirals player stood silently facing him, giving him their full attention. The coaching staff stood off to the side. All the players were in uniform and ready for the game.

“Most of us were here last season,” Scott said. “It didn’t go the way we had hoped. It wasn’t the result we had worked for.”

“I’m here to say that last year is long gone,” he continued. “I’ve put it behind me and, from what I’ve seen, so have all of you.”

“I’m looking at all the old faces.”

Scott glanced at several of the veterans.

“And I’m looking at all the new ones.”

Scott looked at the rookies and other new acquisitions on the team.

“And each one of you is going to play a role in getting us to the promised land this season.”

“So today. It’s the first game of a new campaign,” he said.

“I know what we’re capable of. You know what we’re capable of. The rest of the league knows what we’re capable of.”

There were murmurs of agreement in the locker room.

“Let’s get out there and prove it.”

The murmurs turned to shouts. The team stormed out of the locker room. They spilled onto the ice under the bright lights of a new year.

 

FaceTime (November 2015, Winnipeg)

 

Scott settled into bed. Except it wasn’t his bed. It was a hotel bed. For the twelfth night in a row. And this one was in Winnipeg.

“This trip has been brutal,” Scott texted.

The reply came only a minute later.

“You’ve been on the road almost two weeks,” Kip replied.

“I feel tight everywhere,” Scott wrote. “I asked for an extra massage session as soon as we got to the hotel.”

“I’m jealous.”

“You want a massage too?”

“No. I want to give you one,” Kip replied.

Scott grinned to himself.

“You know it’s not that kind of massage, right?”

“I know,” Kip wrote. “It’s just not fair your trainer gets to put his hands all over you all the time and I don’t."

Scott laughed.

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you that I asked him to focus on my groin.”

“Now you’re being mean.”

“It was really tight. I had to have him work it really hard.”

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you.”

Scott was enjoying himself.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Scott wrote.

“What’s that,” Kip replied.

“I told them I was exhausted. So I pulled rank. Made them give me my own room.”

“So you don’t have a roommate right now.”

“Nope.”

The FaceTime notification came to Scott’s phone moments later. Scott pressed “Accept.” He was immediately greeted by Kip’s adorable face.

“Now that’s something I like to see,” Scott said.

“I bet there’s something else you’d also like to see,” Kip replied.

Scott watched the screen on his phone. Kip’s camera was no longer pointing at his face.

“You are so evil, Kip Grady,” Scott said.

“What?” Kip replied, pulling off his underwear but keeping the camera steady. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Scott moaned. He slipped out of his own underwear too.

“What you’re doing. It’s exactly right.”

 

Walking Achilles (December 2015, Montreal)

 

“It is so wonderful to see you again, Scott,” Francois said, greeting Scott at the front door.

Francois and Arnaud took turns welcoming Scott to their home with hugs. Scott gave them a bottle of Cognac and once again told them there’d be a pair of tickets for tomorrow night’s game at the will call window. He also gave them a matching pair of Scott Hunter Admirals jerseys.

“I want to see you in red at the game tomorrow,” Scott smirked.

“I’m not sure our friends would let us get away with that,” Arnaud added.

They wandered into the living room. Scott marveled at the decor. Candles and garland adorned the fireplace mantle. A modest Christmas tree with white lights and shiny ornaments stood off to one side.

As he sat in the worn leather armchair, Scott contemplated the tree. He had never thought to put one up in his New York apartment before. And he’d not had one at all since he was a boy.

Arnaud came back with a few glasses of wine. Scott got caught up on their jobs, and their travels, and their lives. At one point Achilles walked into the room and curled himself at Scott’s feet.

“It seems you guys have rebounded nicely this season,” Arnaud said.

“We’re not even two months in,” Scott said. “But yes, this season, so far, is a much better reflection of who we are.”

“You’re going to give the Metros quite a challenge this year,” Francois said.

“Hollander won’t go back-to-back if I have anything to say about it,” Scott said.

Achilles yawned. The conversation continued until they had finished their glasses of wine. The timer on Arnaud’s phone went off.

“I think dinner is ready,” he said.

They walked into the kitchen. Arnaud pulled the salmon and roasted vegetables from the oven. Francois poured himself and Arnaud another glass of wine. Scott switched to water.

“Before we begin,” Francois said, “we do have one bit of news we wanted to share.”

Arnaud walked next to Francois and put an arm around his husband. They made eye contact briefly before returning their focus to Scott.

“We’re pregnant,” Francois said.

Scott’s eyes widened and a broad smile came to his face. He grabbed them both in a tight hug.

“Congratulations, guys,” he said. “That’s just fantastic news.”

They held in the hug a few more seconds before breaking away.

“We identified a surrogate and started working on IVF treatments in the summer,” Arnaud said.

“It’s going well,” Francois said. “You’re one of the first to know.”

“I’m honored,” Scott said. “When is the due date?”

“She’ll be here in mid-June,” said Arnaud. “So we’ve got six months to get everything ready.”

Scott looked them both in the eyes, gave them another hug, and kissed them both on the cheek.

They gathered around the counter and enjoyed the meal Arnaud had prepared. Over dinner, Scott learned that they were in the process of building a guest room downstairs, complete with a full bath. There were a few boxes of fixtures next to the basement door. Upstairs, where the guest room had been, they were putting together the nursery. Scott asked if they had a registry anywhere so he could contribute.

When dinner was done, Arnaud told them both that he would clean up. Achilles came up and nudged Francois in the calf. Francois turned to Scott.

“How about you join Achilles and me for a walk,” Francois said.

Scott agreed. They bundled into their warm hats, coats, and gloves. Francois put a sweater on Achilles too, and then they headed out into the cold. They began walking along the tree-lined street barren of leaves. They had a plan to circle around.

“So there’s something I wanted to tell you too,” Scott said, after a little while. “It’s certainly not as big of a deal as your news, but, still.”

“If it’s important to you, I want to hear it,” Francois said.

Scott smiled.

“I kind of,” Scott paused, “reconnected. With someone.”

Francois raised his eyebrows.

“Oh?”

Scott nodded.

“So, before I met you. Before Mykonos. There was someone,” Scott said.

Francois kept listening as they walked. Achilles poked his nose at a few small patches of snow on the ground. Scott continued.

“And it ended because … because …”

Scott struggled with the words.

“Because you thought you couldn’t be with him and be a hockey star at the same time,” Francois offered.

Scott nodded his head.

“Then he moved away. He’s a grad student in Boston now. And we weren’t in contact for more than a year.”

They rounded a corner.

“But in August. In New York. He was back. And we, you know, reconnected.”

A grin came over Francois’ face.

“Reconnected,” Francois repeated.

“Yeah, it’s pretty much what you think,” Scott said.

“And was it just that one time?” Francois asked.

“We spent three days without leaving my apartment and then he came back a week later,” Scott said.

Francois laughed.

“Well, that’s certainly one way to reconnect,” he said.

“But,” Scott continued. “I haven’t seen him since. He went back to Boston.”

Francois looked at Scott with a little sorrow in his eyes.

“So was that it, then?”

“That’s the thing,” Scott said. “We’ve stayed in touch this time. We talk or text almost every day now.”

They made another turn.

“And through it all,” Scott said. “The three days in my apartment. The four months since.”

Scott paused.

“It feels as if that year and a half apart never happened.”

They walked a bit in silence.

“But it didn’t work the first time around,” Scott said. “And I don’t know what this is and I have no idea where it’s going.”

Achilles sniffed at a small wet pile of dirt.

“But I don’t want it to stop.”

A cold breeze chilled their faces. Francois adjusted his scarf.

“I’m sorry, Francois,” Scott said. “You’re literally the only person I can talk to about this.”

Francois took in a breath.

“One thing is clear,” Francois said. “It sounds like he means a lot to you.”

Scott put a hand to his face momentarily.

“Yes, he absolutely does.”

They continued around the block for the final stretch home.

“So I just want to hear you tell me about him,” Francois said. “How you met. What he’s like. What he’s doing now.”

Achilles had briefly stopped. Francois gently pulled at the leash.

“Why he’s made such an impact on Scott Hunter.”

Scott pondered a moment.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he said.

They approached the front of Francois and Arnaud’s house.

“Well,” Francois said. “You can start by telling me his name.”

Achilles tugged at the leash and pulled Francois up the steps to the front door. Scott came hurrying behind them.

“Kip,” he said. “His name is Kip.”

Chapter 13: CHAPTER 13: Can I See You? / I Can't Say I'm Surprised / Christmas with George / Christmas with Scott and Kip

CHAPTER 13

Can I See You? (December 2015, New York)

 

Scott looked at his phone screen. He watched as Kip carefully wiped the mess off of his abs. He was pleased with his work. Scott’s own heart was still pounding. He reached over for his own discarded underwear and did the same.

A minute or so later, Kip’s face reappeared on the screen. He appeared to have caught his breath.

“Fuck,” Scott said. “That was so hot.”

Kip smiled and gave a little laugh.

“Hell yes,” Kip said. 

“I want to kiss you so much right now,” Scott said.

He panicked inside a little. Maybe he’d said too much.

“I want to kiss you too,” Kip replied.

There was no hesitation. Scott silently breathed a sigh of relief. And then his heart skipped a beat with delight.

“What are you doing the rest of the week?” Scott asked.

“I’m just grading and working at the gallery,” Kip said. “My dad’s coming up on Saturday. We’re driving to New York Sunday.”

“So you’re going to be in New York next week.”

“Yeah,” Kip replied.

“For how long?”

“Bianca asked if I could help out with some inventory and stuff for a couple days before New Year’s,” Kip said. “So I’m probably headed back around the 28th.”

“Can I see you?” Scott asked.

“Do you want to?”

“Of course.”

“When are you in town?” Kip asked.

“We should be back from a short road trip by Christmas,” Scott said. “Then we’ve got a few home games until New Year’s.”

“I think I need to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with my dad.”

“You could come on the 26th. Or late the 25th.”

Kip pondered for a moment. Scott continued.

“And then stay. Come to our game on the 27th. Go back to Boston the next day.”

Kip considered it a bit more then made up his mind.

“I think I can do that,” he said. He saw the broad smile on Scott’s face.

Scott’s heart was racing. Nearly as much as it had been only a few minutes earlier.

“I can’t wait to see you,” Scott said.

“Me too.”

 

I Can’t Say I’m Surprised (December 2015)

 

“What are those guys doing over there?” Robbie said.

Robbie was pointing at Chuck and Reid at the other side of the bar. They were standing near the back. Reid appeared to be engaged in an animated conversation with another gay couple. Chuck had his arms around Reid from behind.

“If I had to guess,” Jimmy said, “I’d bet Reid said something the other guys considered rude or inappropriate.”

“Well, they’d probably be correct,” Kip said.

“I better see what’s going on,” Jimmy said. “See if I can calm things down.”

Jimmy walked over to where Reid was still having lively words with the other men. Kip stayed behind with Robbie.

It was Friday night. Kip’s dad was coming up to Boston tomorrow. This was their last opportunity to hang out together before everyone dispersed for the holidays. They decided to spend the evening at Crave.

“Did you ever decide whether you’re going to Florida with Jimmy?” Kip asked.

“I’m going. But just for a few days,” Robbie said. “My sisters are coming to visit my parents. So I won’t fly down until after Christmas.”

“Only a few days?”

“We’ll be back before New Year’s,” Robbie said.

Kip glanced over to the back of the bar. Jimmy was chatting with the two men. Reid had stopped talking, it seemed. Chuck was stroking Reid’s hair.

“So what are your plans?” Robbie asked.

“Just going to New York,” Kip said.

“You know I’m going to have to ask, right?”

“If you want to know if I’m going to see him,” Kip said, “the answer is …”

Kip paused and let out a breath.

“… yes.”

Robbie raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t change his expression.

“That’s just great, Kip,” he said. “What’s been going on?”

Kip looked towards the others again. Jimmy and Chuck were both still talking to the two men. Reid was nowhere to be seen. Kip turned his attention back to Robbie.

“We’ve pretty much been talking again this whole time. Since the summer,” Kip said. “And, well, it’s been kind of nice.”

“You haven’t seen him since then, have you?” Robbie asked.

Kip shook his head.

“This will be the first time in person since August. He wants to see me. I want to see him. So it’s happening.”

“Are you staying with him when you go to New York?”

“Right now, the plan is just for a couple of days,” Kip said. “I’m still spending Christmas with my dad.”

Robbie smiled.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

They spied Reid at the bar. The bartender had passed him five shot glasses. Reid was struggling to gather them together to carry them back to the others.

“Looks like Reid needs help,” Kip said.

They walked over to him. Robbie motioned to the bartender.

“We’re going to need two more.”

 

Christmas with George (December 2015, Brooklyn)

 

For the thirteenth Christmas Eve in a row, George popped the DVD into the player. For the thirteenth year, Kip cleaned the dinner plates and then brought mugs of hot chocolate in from the kitchen. For the thirteenth time, George poured a little bourbon into each mug.

For the thirteenth year in a row, George and Kip watched from the couch as the rooftop of Nakatomi Plaza exploded into a blazing fireball. They saw Hans Gruber plummet to his death. Holly and John McClane kissed and drove off in a stretch limo into the chaotic Los Angeles night. As the credits rolled, George and Kip turned to one another.

“Yippee ki yay, motherfucker,” they said and laughed.

Thirteen Christmas Eves in a row. George and Kip.

Just the two of them.

✦

George picked up the wrapping paper and put it into a trash bag. They’d exchanged their presents over brunch Christmas Day. Kip got George a coffee table book filled with images of the collection at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. George got Kip a bunch of clothes - shirts, sweaters, a couple pairs of leather shoes - so he could look smart for his job at the gallery. It might have been a bit too much.

“You’re going to have to help me pack,” Kip said. “I don’t know if I can make it all fit.”

“Bring your bag down,” George said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Kip brought his bag down from upstairs. He and George tried rearranging things a few different ways. The extra shoes were kind of a problem.

“You know, I can just drive you later,” George said. “So you don’t have to lug this thing through the subway.”

“I don’t want to have to inconvenience you,” Kip said. “And I’ll need to figure this out before heading back to Boston anyway.”

“You’re staying at Elena’s again?” George asked.

“Yeah,” Kip said. “Until Monday.”

Kip’s words stung a bit. He was lying to his father again.

“And you’re going to the hockey game with her Sunday night.”

Kip nodded. At least that part was true.

All the original contents of Kip’s suitcase were now on the floor.

“Maybe I could just borrow one of your bags,” Kip said.

“I’m not ready to give up,” George replied.

He continued trying to rearrange things.

“They’re having a rebound year,” George said. “Hunter especially.”

“It seems they are,” Kip added.

George looked down, focused on his task.

“You used to go to a bunch of games with her a couple years ago,” George said. “When you said you were staying with her all the time. When you were working at the smoothie shop. When Hu …”

George decided not to say it.

“During those months before the Olympics,” he said.

He looked to see Kip’s reaction. Kip didn’t bite.

George decided to drop it. He suddenly had an idea, moved a few things around, and the new suitcase configuration appeared to work. 

“There,” he said. “You’re just going to have to not take anything out of it until you go back to Boston.”

“I’m not sure I can manage that,” Kip replied.

✦

Kip had his winter clothes on, his suitcase at his side, and a messenger bag over his shoulder. It was already dark outside. He and George stood just inside the front door.

“Have fun in Manhattan,” George said. “You’ve worked hard. You deserve it.”

“Thank you, Dad,” Kip said. “I’m glad we were able to spend a few days together too.”

They hugged and wished each other a Merry Christmas again.

They pulled apart, but George’s hands remained holding on to Kip’s shoulders. He looked at his son and spoke once more.

“Wish Scott a Merry Christmas for me too.”

Kip studied his father’s expression. Nothing had changed. It was the same warm smile he’d seen countless times his whole life.

A wave of relief overcame him. Kip pulled his dad in for another hug, this one tighter than the last.

“I love you, dad,” he said.

 

Christmas with Scott and Kip (December 2015, New York)

 

A Christmas tree stood by the window, aglow with white and orange lights, decorated with glass and metal ornaments. The fireplace was flickering, a pair of stockings hung off to one side. Candles, garlands, and pinecones were strewn about the room. The dining table had settings for two. In the kitchen, boxes of food were ready to be served. 

“What’s all this?” Kip asked. 

Kip had arrived a few moments earlier. They shared a kiss in the doorway before coming inside. But the apartment he walked into had never looked quite like this.

Scott approached Kip from behind and wrapped his arms around him.

“I hired a decorator, and I hired a caterer,” Scott said. “I wanted to do something special.”

Scott kissed the back of Kip’s head.

“I didn’t have the chance to do that before.”

Kip turned around. Scott still held him in his arms. He wanted to say that none of this was necessary. Scott didn’t have to go to all this trouble. Pizza and blank walls would have been more than enough. As long as they were finally in the same room.

But Scott’s eyes were earnest. His heart was full. This tall beautiful man with wavy dark hair and hazel eyes was genuinely excited about doing all this. About doing this for Kip.

Kip stroked the tightly cropped beard that hugged Scott’s face.

“I love it,” Kip said.

Scott lifted Kip up, his strong arms holding him up by his thighs. Kip wrapped his arms over Scott’s shoulders and his legs around Scott’s waist. Scott carried him to the bedroom, placed him down gently on the bed, and lay down beside him. They kissed. They touched. They began to undress.

The food would get cold.

It didn’t matter.

✦

Kip sat up in the bed. The sun was starting to shine. Scott began to stir and, soon, he was awake too.

Kip looked down. He held his head in his hands. He felt Scott’s arm reach around his back and pull him close.

Kip took a breath.

“My father knows,” he said. “About this. About us. About you.”

Kip noticed Scott’s hold on him went unchanged.

“I think he’s always known.”

Scott leaned back again, and pulled Kip down with him. Kip rested his head on Scott’s chest.

“I want to take him to your game tomorrow night,” Kip said. “Is that OK?”

Scott stroked Kip’s hair. He kissed the top of his head.

“Yes,” Scott said. “It’s OK.”

✦

Kip and George Grady stepped into their seats. Sixth row. On the blue line. Facing the home bench. The seats Scott had usually gotten for Kip when he came to his games.

The Admirals took the ice for warm-ups. Kip and George watched as Scott entered the rink with his teammates. Scott stretched his legs and then began to skate laps.

On one of those laps, Scott slowed down. He looked directly in Kip and George’s direction.

Scott lifted his glove. George raised his hand. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Scott skated back to rejoin his teammates. He got hold of one of the pucks and took his turn taking practice shots on goal. The arena started filling up with fans.

“I hope they win tonight,” Kip said, hopefully.

George put his arm around his son.

“Maybe he already did.”

Chapter 14: CHAPTER 14: The Fundraiser 2 / I Need a Favor / Kip's Place / All Clear

CHAPTER 14

The Fundraiser 2 (January 2016, New York)

 

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Scott said, sliding up next to her with a drink in his hand.

Scott and Elena gave each other a brief hug.

“I don’t see why,” Elena said, scanning Scott from top to bottom. “We’re always so impeccably dressed when we see each other.”

It was the annual Empire Scholarship Foundation fundraising gala. This year’s event seemed the largest it had ever been.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Scott said. “I understand Equinox promoted you just after the New Year.”

“So who could you have possibly heard that from?” Elena asked.

Scott winked.

“Yes. Assistant Director of Communications. And thank you,” she said. “I guess I’ll be able to continue justifying coming to events like this.”

“It’d be a shame if you missed one.”

“It’s nice to get paid for being a social butterfly.”

Scott let out a laugh. Elena took a sip of her drink.

“I suppose I should congratulate you too,” Elena said. “The team’s doing well and I hear you’re headed back to the All-Star Game.”

“It’s been a nice turnaround,” Scott said. “For the team and for me. One of those websites had me on a Death Watch at the start of the season.”

“I know,” she said. “I had you down as getting traded to St. Louis by November.”

Scott gave her a look.

“Sorry,” she said, “I was in a bad mood that week.”

They walked together across the ballroom floor.

“So I checked the schedule today,” Elena said. “You have a game in Boston in a few weeks.”

“Our only trip there this season,” Scott said. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately,” Elena repeated, looking at Scott closely.

“Are you going to see him when you’re there?” she asked.

Scott nodded.

“That’s currently my plan,” he said.

Elena took another sip from her drink.

“Good,” she said. “I know that will make him happy.”

“He’s not the only one,” Scott replied.

They wandered closer to the dinner tables.

“Where are you supposed to be sitting?” Elena asked.

Scott pointed at a seat at the table on their right.

“Let’s move some place cards around,” she said. “I want to sit next to you.”

 

I Need a Favor (February 2016, Boston)

 

Kip walked into his shared graduate student office. Robbie was sitting in front of his laptop. Kip closed the door. Robbie looked up.

“I need a favor,” Kip said. He pulled up a chair, sitting backwards, straddling the backrest with his legs.

“Okay …” Robbie replied, cautiously.

“Wednesday. I need you to keep Jimmy at your place. The whole evening and night. And have him go straight to work from your place in the morning.”

Robbie saved the document he was working on, put the laptop to sleep, and closed the lid. He turned to Kip.

“So what could you possibly be planning for Wednesday night?”

Kip gave him a devilish grin.

“He’s in Boston for work. Only one night. Arrives evening Wednesday, leaves late Thursday.”

“Aren’t we going to the hockey game Thursday?”

“Shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Why don’t you just tell Jimmy you need the place to yourself?”

“If I do, he’s gonna start asking questions. Then Chuck will start asking questions. Then Reid will become insufferable.”

“Reid is already insufferable,” Robbie said.

They laughed.

“Fine,” Robbie said. “I’ll keep Jimmy out of the way so you can …”

Robbie made a motion with his fingers.

“Thank you, Robbie. I knew you’d understand.”

 

Kip’s Place (February 2016, Boston)

 

Scott had never tried to sneak out of the team hotel before. He’d opted out of dinner and drinks with Carter, Huff and Bennett. He just said he was going to get room service, watch a movie, and retire early. When they’d gone, and he saw the lobby was empty, he left quickly. He wore an oversized jacket and ski hat and carried a small bag with overnight essentials. He walked a block or so away. He called an Uber from there.

The ride was fairly quick. Scott texted Kip as he approached. He saw Kip waiting on the sidewalk when he arrived. They bounded straight up the stairs, two steps at a time. They entered Kip’s apartment. They had their hands all over each other practically before the door had shut behind them.

✦

Nearly an hour later, Scott was lying on Kip’s bed. Kip had just gotten up and put on the underwear that had been thrown to the floor. He heard Kip doing something in the kitchen. It sounded like he might be making dinner.

Scott had never been to Kip’s place before. Never been somewhere Kip called home. And, other than the smoothie shop, never been anywhere that was part of his world.

He’d never looked at the art that Kip put on his walls. Never touched a trophy he’d won as a child. Never felt how soft or firm the pillow he used every night was.

Scott looked at Kip’s shelves. There were art history books with little yellow Post-its sticking out of a few pages. Scott opened to one of them. Caravaggio. Then another. Vermeer. And another. Edward Hopper.

Off to the side on one of the shelves was a half clamshell, possibly plucked off the beaches of Long Island. In it were two matchbooks. One from a Brooklyn pizzeria. The other from the Kingfisher.

Pinned to a bulletin board was the program to an off-Broadway play that Kip must have enjoyed. Medea, it was called. There were birthday cards from a few weeks ago. There was the ticket stub to the first Admirals game he’d invited him to.

On the desk, in a frame, was a photo. Scott picked it up. There was a young Kip, probably 12 or 13. He stood in front of the facade of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and was flanked by two adults. The man he recognized as Kip’s dad. There was also a woman who must have been his mom.

Scott set the photo down. He walked into the kitchen. Kip was still cooking. Scott came up to him, hugged him, and gave him a kiss.

✦

The alarm on his phone jolted Scott awake. It was five AM. Scott was planning to sneak back into the hotel before dawn.

Kip was there, lying next to him, still fast asleep. Scott quietly got up, dressed, and got his things together. He put on the oversized jacket and ski hat and called his Uber. He walked over to Kip’s side of the bed. He gently stroked Kip’s hair.

Kip began to stir.

“When will I see you again?” Kip asked through the haze.

Scott didn’t answer. He wasn’t quite sure. Then the Uber showed up to take him away.

Scott arrived at the hotel. He snuck through the lobby and went straight to the elevator. He hurried to his room.

He had made it. No one had caught him. No one suspected a thing. Sneaking away to spend the night with Kip had been a success.

Why did it feel so hollow inside.

 

All Clear (February 2016, Boston)

 

The apartment was quiet. The dishes were clean. All evidence that Scott had been there the night before was gone.

Kip walked to the kitchen. He started a small pot of coffee. As he waited at the counter, he pulled out his phone.

“Where are you guys now?” he wrote.

A few moments later, he received Robbie’s reply.

“I’m on campus. Jimmy went to work.”

“You have class today?”

“In a bit,” Robbie replied. “Working in the office in the afternoon.”

The coffee had finished brewing. Kip poured himself a cup. As he drank, he received another message.

“So where are we meeting?”

“I’ll be done at the gallery by five-thirty,” he typed. “We can head to the game from there.”

“I’ll wait for you at Crave,” Robbie wrote. “Just swing by after work.”

Kip sent a thumbs-up emoji.

He headed back to his bedroom. He needed to get ready for work. His phone buzzed once again.

“So did he leave?” Robbie asked.

“Yeah,” Kip replied. “He’s gone.”

Chapter 15: CHAPTER 15: I'm On It / In Flagrante Delicto / High Stick / Tequila

CHAPTER 15

I’m On It (February 2016, Boston)

 

Kip sat at the small desk near the entrance to the gallery. Thursday was often slow, so he was the only one scheduled to be on site today. But Graham had shown up a short while ago. He was in the back office. He had come in to meet with a collector.

The front door to the gallery opened and someone walked in. It was the gallery’s first visitor in almost an hour. Usually Kip would just smile as they entered and let them look around on their own. After a few minutes he’d approach and ask if they had any questions.

This time, the visitor came right towards him. This time, the visitor was Scott.

“Hello, sir,” Kip said, barely suppressing a smile. “Welcome to GK Modern Art Gallery.”

“I don’t need to be back for a couple hours,” Scott said. “So I thought I would come by.”

“I don’t think visiting me at work is quite as exciting as visiting you,” Kip said.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Scott said.

Kip guided Scott through the gallery installation. The artist lived in rural upstate New York. The pieces were colorful abstractions that evoked the natural scenery of the area. Scott imagined himself on the shores of Lake Ontario as Kip explained the artwork and the motivations behind them.

“Have I ever told you how sexy you sound when you talk art?” Scott whispered.

Kip looked at Scott sideways.

“No, I don’t think you have,” he said. “But you can start anytime.”

The office door opened and Scott and Kip heard the voices of two men. They watched as the men walked towards the front door and shook hands. One of them left and the remaining one turned and walked over.

“This is Graham,” Kip said. “Owner and director of GK Modern.”

“Thank you for visiting our gallery,” Graham said. “I trust Kip is answering any questions you might have.”

“Yes. He’s been quite informative,” Scott said.

“Excellent,” Graham said. He turned to Kip.

“Kip, I’m going to be staying at the gallery for the rest of the day. So if you’d like to leave early, you’re welcome to. I’ll deal with any additional visitors and close up.”

Scott and Kip’s eyes met for a nanosecond. That was more than enough for them.

“Thank you, Graham,” Kip said. “I’ll finish up with this visitor, make sure he’s in our system, and head out.”

Graham nodded and walked away.

Kip made a show of pointing out a few more pieces and then walked Scott to the small desk near the front door. He gave Scott an exhibit brochure and made him sign the guest book and provide his email. When Scott left, Kip spent a few moments entering the information into the computer, and then gathered up his things.

“Have a good evening, Graham,” Kip said as he exited. Graham gave him a little wave.

Kip looked both ways when he emerged onto the sidewalk. Scott was waiting with his phone out half a block away. Kip walked up to him.

“I’m already on it,” Scott growled.

The Uber pulled up. They jumped in. They sped off once again to Kip’s apartment.

 

In Flagrante Delicto (February 2016, Boston)

 

Kip leaned with his back against his sofa. His pants and underwear were around his ankles. He was gently holding onto the back of Scott’s head. He was moaning. His face was dripping with sweat. Kip could feel the surge building in his groin. After a few more moments, he exploded. Scott took every drop.

As his pulsing began to wane, Kip grabbed Scott by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. With a growl of his own, Kip muttered “my turn” and pushed Scott back against the couch. He dropped to his own knees and yanked Scott’s pants and underwear down with him. He listened to Scott gasp as he took him into his mouth.

With both hands, Kip grabbed Scott’s buttocks. He pulled him in deep, feeling him tickle the back of his throat. He feverishly worked Scott into a frenzy. He heard Scott panting. He heard Scott moaning. He felt Scott grab the back of his neck. At last, he felt Scott unloading into him.

Kip stood up. They were still out of breath. Their pants were still on the floor. They pulled their bodies close and joined their mouths together. They felt their glistening, softening dicks press up against one another. They could taste themselves on the other’s lips. They looked at each other, smiled, and made a small laugh.

They heard voices outside. They watched in horror as the door swung open. They scrambled for their pants as Robbie looked in, mouth agape. They hurried to Kip’s bedroom as Robbie tried to back out the front door. They hadn’t quite made it when they heard Jimmy’s voice.

“What the …”

✦

Scott sat on Kip’s bed, head in his hands. Kip sat next to him, arms around Scott’s shoulders. Their pants, by this time, were once again pulled up to their waists.

A voice came from outside the bedroom door.

“Hey Kip,” Robbie said. “Jimmy and I are going to head out for a bit.”

“We’ll be back in an hour,” Jimmy added. “We’ll text when we’re coming home.”

They heard footsteps followed by the sound of the front door.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Kip said.

“We were reckless,” Scott said. “I guess we were tempting fate.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think Robbie recognized you at all. And I don’t think Jimmy ever got a good look.”

“I think you’re probably right,” Scott said. “But if you’re not …”

“They’re both good guys,” Kip said. “I’ll talk to them. They won’t do anything that might hurt me. Or you.”

Scott leaned his head into Kip.

“It’s your fault for being so irresistible.”

Kip stroked Scott’s hair.

“But I should probably go now,” Scott said.

Scott pulled out his phone and called an Uber. A few minutes later it arrived. He kissed Kip goodbye for the second time that day and returned to his hotel.

✦

Kip was on the couch. Robbie was in a chair. Jimmy sat at the kitchen counter.

“I thought you said he was out of the apartment,” Robbie said.

“He was,” Kip replied. “There was a last-minute change of plans. Something came up.”

“Obviously,” Jimmy said, not quite under his breath.

“I’m sorry, Jimmy,” Kip said. “We should have been more careful.”

“Kip,” Jimmy said. “I’ve known you for a long time. This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you with your pants down.”

Kip blushed.

“But that’s not the part that hurts,” he said. “This has, apparently, been going on a long time. You could have just told me. There was no need for you to hide this from me.”

Jimmy looked at Robbie.

“Or for you to help him.”

Robbie looked down at the floor.

“I’m sorry Jimmy,” Robbie said.

Jimmy walked over to Robbie and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “You guys go off to the game. I just need to cool down for a while.”

Jimmy walked over to his room.

“I’ll be able to explain some day,” Kip said.

Jimmy shook his head.

“I sure hope so.”

 

High Stick (February 2016, Boston)

 

Kip and Robbie found their way to their seats. There was still tension between them.

“I’m sorry my whole situation got between you and Jimmy,” Kip said.

“Yeah,” Robbie said. “I should have known better.”

After a moment he added, “But he’s honestly more upset with you.”

“I know,” Kip said. “I hope I can make him understand that there are reasons.”

Robbie looked at Kip.

“You know that’s starting to wear a little thin.”

Kip didn’t respond. Robbie turned to face forward.

“But, at least for me, I’m glad he’s a real person and not just this vague abstract concept anymore,” Robbie said.

They turned their eyes to the ice. The players were finishing their warm-ups. Robbie looked back to Kip.

“OK, there’s one more thing I need to say. Just this once. Just to get it out of my system,” Robbie said.

“What’s that?” Kip asked.

Robbie exhaled.

“Damn,” he said. “Pretty hot. Looks athletic. Lucky you.”

Kip blushed.

By now the Zambonis were resurfacing the ice.

“These are pretty good seats,” Robbie remarked. “Thank your dad for me.”

Kip had told Robbie the tickets were a birthday present from his dad. The lies were piling up on top of each other.

The pregame festivities soon got underway. The Boston crowd booed the announcement of the Admirals’ starting lineup. The loudest boos were reserved for when Scott Hunter was announced as starting center. Robbie booed along with them. He turned to Kip. “You can get me back by booing Rozanov.”

The game was action-packed but low-scoring. Huff had scored off a power play in the first period. Marleau tied it for Boston in the second. Scott had several opportunities but could not break through. Bennett was having another excellent night for the Admirals in net.

Early in the third, there was a scrum along the boards on the far side of the Raiders’ zone. Carter Vaughn was in the thick of it. Suddenly, the puck came flying out. It traveled through the air in the general direction of the Boston goal. Moments later, the puck was in the back of the net and Scott was being congratulated by his teammates.

The referee had signaled goal. A number of the Raiders players appeared to protest. Rozanov started screaming in Scott’s face. The crowd booed ferociously. The referees conferred and skated over to the scorer’s table. An announcement came over the PA system. “The previous play is under video review.”

“They must be checking for a high stick,” Robbie said.

On the Jumbotron, replays of the alleged goal were being played. Videos from a few different angles were shown. Eventually, the scoreboard looped in slow-motion over the key frame. It did a reasonable job of capturing the moment Scott’s stick made contact with the puck. The goal’s crossbar was also visible. The crowd murmured. In Kip’s mind, the puck was clearly below the level of the crossbar. The goal should count. But Kip acknowledged that it was at least somewhat close.

Kip also realized that the video looping on the scoreboard also happened to capture a fairly clear view of Scott’s face. He glanced over to Robbie, who was looking at it intently. Kip then saw Robbie look down and type something into his phone.

The referees left the video monitor. It was announced that the call stood. No violation. Goal to Hunter, assist to Vaughn.

As the crowd booed, Robbie turned to Kip. He held up a picture of Scott’s face on his phone.

“Holy shit.”

 

Tequila (February 2016, Boston)

 

Robbie and Kip were amid the crowds heading out of the arena. Robbie spent a few moments texting on his phone.

“What are you doing?” Kip asked.

Robbie looked up.

“I told Jimmy to wait up,” he said. “That we’re both coming over. And that it’s going to be a long night.”

“I don’t think you have to …”

“Oh yes we do,” Robbie said. “I think it’s time you told us everything.”

Half an hour later, they arrived at the apartment. Jimmy was up, playing on the PS4. He put the game on pause, walked over to the refrigerator and took out three beers. Then he put the beers back and grabbed a bottle of tequila. Robbie grabbed three glasses and a couple of limes.

“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” Kip protested.

“This is so going to be worth it,” Jimmy said.

Alongside a few shots of Patrón, Kip told the story. Flirting over blueberry smoothies. Jumping head-first into a passionate romance. Feeling like it was everything he’d ever wanted.

Scott’s loneliness and devotion to hockey. Having no one from his world he could talk to. His fear of the unknown and the professional consequences.

Kip living a secret life for months on end. Lying to everyone important to him. Walking away when he couldn’t do it anymore.

The year and a half apart where neither one of them could move on. The reunion last summer where it all seemed right. Rebuilding tentatively and then enthusiastically from afar.

Falling in love all over again whether it was a good idea or not.

Robbie and Jimmy listened silently and attentively. They didn’t ask many questions. They just let Kip speak. Eventually, Kip was done.

They were all quiet for a few minutes. By now they had all switched to water.

“So I’m sorry I hid things from you,” Kip said. His gaze shifted between Robbie and Jimmy. “Both of you.”

He continued after a pause.

“But I thought it’s what I needed to do to protect him.”

Kip looked at them both, trying to gauge their reactions.

Robbie spoke first.

“I think I get it,” he said. “I can see how hard it is for both of you. It’s such an unreal situation.”

“Pretty much unprecedented,” Jimmy said.

Kip took a breath.

“So I know I’m in practically no position to ask,” he said. “But you can’t tell anyone. I have no idea what this will do to his career. I can’t bear the thought of being responsible if it got out.”

Robbie quietly nodded. Jimmy did too.

“I’ll keep Scott’s secret. You don’t need to worry about that,” Jimmy said. “But here’s a small piece of advice.”

Kip looked and listened.

“You don’t need to tell them everything. Don’t need to say who it is,” Jimmy said. “But Chuck and Reid. Tell them something. That there’s a guy and it’s complicated.”

“Because if it comes out,” he continued, “I wouldn’t want them feeling quite as blindsided as I was.”

Kip nodded.

“I’m really sorry, Jimmy. I should have trusted you more.”

Jimmy smiled. He walked to Robbie and pulled him by the hand.

“I think I need to get to bed,” he said.

He and Robbie walked to Kip, the three of them hugged, and then everyone got ready for bed.

Kip lay back on his mattress and looked up at the ceiling. It had been an incredibly tumultuous day. He should be scared or frustrated or angry with himself.

Instead, all he did was smile.

Chapter 16: CHAPTER 16: A Bear / Salud / Eliminated / Clean Out Day

CHAPTER 16

A Bear (March 2015, Montreal)

 

“I’m back at the hotel,” Scott texted.

“Room to yourself?” Kip texted back, along with a winking emoji.

“No dice. Rooming with Breezy this trip. I’m actually texting from the bar.”

A crying emoji appeared on Scott’s screen.

“Down, boy,” Scott wrote.

A few moments later, Kip wrote back.

“Did you have a good time?”

“It’s nice to see Francois and Arnaud. I brought them a bear.”

“A bear?”

“A stuffed one. For the baby. Wearing an Admirals jersey, of course.”

“Makes sense,” Kip wrote.

“Nursery’s almost done. I got to see the stuff from their list that I got.”

“How’s the dog?”

“They say he knows something’s up. I don’t buy it.”

“You should get a dog.”

“I don’t have time for one,” Scott wrote.

“How about a cat?”

“Maybe.”

Scott looked around. He was pretty much the only one in the hotel bar. Maybe he should head to his room. Another message came in from Kip.

“So don’t take this the wrong way. I think it’s awesome you’re friends with those guys. But it’s also kind of hilarious.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only you would go out looking for a random hookup, fail at that, but end up making lifelong friends.”

“So it doesn’t usually work like that?” Scott wrote.

“It’s a bit atypical.”

“What about picking up the barista at a smoothie shop?”

“My view,” Kip wrote, “Was that the barista was the one doing the picking up.”

“I think that’s open to interpretation.”

“Maybe. But I’m glad it happened.”

Scott grinned a little bit at his screen.

“Me too.”

 

Salud (May 2016, Boston)

 

“OK, you’re just doing this to annoy me,” Kip said.

Robbie and Jimmy were sitting together on the floor of the living room, playing MLH 16 on the PlayStation. Jimmy was playing as the Admirals. He was losing.

“We’re going to need to get MLH 17 as soon as it comes out,” Jimmy said, without taking his eyes off the screen. “Your boyfriend had a much better season this year. So he and his team are going to have higher overall ratings when the next game comes out.”

“Just put that game away before Chuck and Reid get here,” Kip said. “I think it’ll weird me out too much.”

Robbie had been accepted into the Ph.D. program at BU and was going to spend the summer in Madrid to do research for his dissertation. He was leaving in a few days. They were having a little get-together tonight to send him off.

Jimmy and Robbie continued to play. Kip brought out some plates, a few serving trays, and some glasses. He started streaming some music and playing it on the speakers.

“Hunter scores!” Jimmy shouted from in front of the TV.

“A shame that didn’t get to happen last week,” Robbie said.

“That was uncalled for,” Kip said. “You guys are just as bad as Reid.”

“You are severely underestimating Reid,” Jimmy said.

Kip had just come back from a trip to New York. He’d taken it right after the spring semester had ended but before summer courses began. He got to spend some quality time with his dad, see Elena, and catch up with everyone at the Kingfisher. The original plan was to see Scott too, of course. It would have been for the first time since February. But, sadly, it just didn’t work out.

It was the Admirals’ postseason success that got in the way. They were in the second round of the MLH playoffs and had to travel to Pittsburgh. Unfortunately, those were just the days that Kip could make it to New York. The Admirals did end up completing the sweep on the road and were on their way to the Conference Finals, probably against Montreal.

Jimmy stopped his video game and went to answer the door. Chuck and Reid had arrived. They were carrying several trays of food, a couple grocery bags, and several bottles of wine.

“We have tapas!” Reid gleefully announced. He and Chuck entered and set everything down on the kitchen counter.

“We also got stuff for sangria,” Chuck added.

Chuck set out the olives, jamon, cheese, and bread. Jimmy started reheating the shrimp, potatoes, and meatballs.. Robbie started chopping some fruit. Kip opened two of the bottles of wine and brought out a pitcher.

Kip and Robbie finished making the sangria and prepared everyone a glass. There was a round of “Salud” and then everyone started munching on tapas.

“Have you guys finalized your dates yet?” Kip asked.

Jimmy had been making plans to visit Robbie in Spain over the summer. Chuck and Reid were going to travel on their own but at the same time. Then, the four of them were all going to meet up in Ibiza for the last few days of the trip.

“We’ll all be gone the last two weeks of June,” Jimmy said. “Coming back right after the 4th of July.”

“Kip just wants to know when he’s going to have the apartment to himself,” Reid said. “He’d going to spend two weeks getting nailed by his secret New York fuck buddy.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” Kip said.

“Or maybe you’re the one doing the nailing this time?”

Kip ignored him.

“You know I’d rather you join us in Ibiza this summer,” Reid said. “Actually both of you. But sneaking around while we’re all out of town is certainly another way to go.”

“Hey,” Robbie jumped in. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“So I’ve been told,” Reid murmured.

✦

The leftover tapas had been put away. There were still glasses with the remnants of sangria around the room. The TV was turned on to a nature show, but no one was really watching. Food coma was setting in.

Chuck sat on the floor, leaning with his back upright against a chair. Reid lay across the floor. His head was resting in Chuck’s lap. Both of them were quiet except for the heavy sounds of their breaths.

Jimmy cuddled with Robbie on the couch. With their eyes closed, it looked like both of them were asleep.

Kip was the only one awake. He was silently sitting at the kitchen counter, his phone in his hand. He had important information for Scott.

“Last two weeks of June, through July 4th.”

 

Eliminated (May 2016, Montreal and New York)

 

There was no laughter in the locker room. Barely anyone spoke. The pads made a sound as they fell to the floor. Sticks clanged against the lockers. A few players grunted as they yanked off their skates.

There was also the unmistakable din of the full arena upstairs. Thousands of fans celebrating Montreal’s victory.

Scott sat on the bench, facing his locker. He hadn’t moved in several minutes. He hadn’t started to undress. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. Not this year.

Someone tapped on his shoulder. He was needed in the media room to speak to the reporters. He’d better get his pads and skates off.

He said all the usual things. We were right there. It could have gone either way. Have to give credit to the other team. I’m proud of what we did this year.

For the umpteenth time he put on a brave face for the media. For the umpteenth time he said they’d learn from this for next year. For the umpteenth time he ended the season empty-handed.

Only it wasn’t umpteenth.

It was eleventh.

Scott returned to the locker room and sat back down on the bench. Carter came up next to him.

“Hurts, doesn’t it,” Carter said.

“Gets harder each time.”

“So let’s not have a next time.”

Scott showered and dressed. He finally reached for his phone.

There was a message from Coach Tierney. He was proud of how Scott had fought back. Game Sevens were always a crapshoot. The door to St. Thomas was always open.

Another message was from Francois. He and Arnaud and Achilles were all devastated. They’d hidden away from their friends during the series so no one would know who they were rooting for.

And, of course, there was a message from Kip. He said to call him when he was finally free. Any time. Even in the middle of the night. Kip would be waiting for him.

✦

No one wanted to stay in Montreal any longer than absolutely necessary. The Admirals went straight from the arena to the airport and flew to New York that night. It was four in the morning when Scott finally rolled into his apartment in Manhattan.

Scott dropped his bags on the floor. He walked straight to his bedroom. He kicked off his shoes, didn’t take off any clothes, and collapsed on the duvet.

Scott pulled out his phone. Moments later, Kip’s face was on the screen.

They only looked at each other. Soft lights illuminated each of their rooms. They didn’t say anything. They only listened to the sounds of breathing on the other side.

Scott remembered a time from long ago. He would come home from practice or a game and Kip would be there, waiting for him.

“I wish you were here,” Scott finally said after about ten minutes of silence.

“I’m right here, Scott.”

The sound of Kip’s voice brought a smile to Scott’s face.

“Can you stay with me tonight?” Scott asked.

“OK,” Kip replied.

Scott adjusted himself in bed, plugged the charger into the phone, and mounted it so he could get a clear view of it from his pillow.

Then they lay there in their separate beds in their separate apartments in their separate cities and felt the two hundred miles between them disappear.

 

Clean Out Day (May 2016, Westchester County)

 

Scott had finished his meetings with team management and Coach Murdock. He’d checked in with the training staff. And he’d given yet another anodyne interview to a New York sports reporter about the bitter end of a promising season. There was nothing left to do but pack up his things and head home.

Huff was one of the only other players in the locker room at that moment. His locker was already empty, his duffel bag was full, and he had a cardboard box sitting on the bench next to him.

“You ready to head out?” Scott asked.

“Haven’t met with Murdock yet,” Huff said. “So I’m just gonna chill here for a bit.”

“I think Carter is with him right now. Hopefully won’t be too much longer.”

“Breezy is going in after him. I think I’ll still be here a while.”

“You can help me clean out my stuff.”

Huff walked over to Scott’s locker, but didn’t exactly help. He just sat on the bench while Scott did the work.

Bennett emerged from the trainer’s room. He headed over to join Scott and Huff.

“I don’t know how many more of these I can take,” Bennett said.

“You’re gonna outlast me, Bennie,” Huff said. “And I’m a couple years younger than you.”

“It’s all that yoga you do,” Scott said. “You’ll be playing until you’re fifty.”

“I’ll be happy with forty,” Bennett said. “Okay, maybe forty-five.”

A few other Admirals players drifted in and out. Carter eventually showed up. A coach came in and called over to Brisebois, telling him to follow him.

“Damn. This is my least favorite day of the year,” Carter said.

“You and me both,” Scott said.

“One of these days, let’s win the Cup first,” Bennett added. “Cleanout would be a heck of a lot more enjoyable then.”

They all nodded in agreement.

“Anyone made any off-season plans yet?” Carter asked.

“You’re the one asking so you go first,” Huff said.

“OK,” Carter said. “Gloria and I are doing a trip to Barcelona and Nice.”

“Hey, maybe you’ll see Holly over there,” Bennett said.

“So you guys are doing something similar?”

“I didn’t say I was going,” Bennett said. “Holly’s spending the summer with some of her girlfriends on the French Riviera.”

Everyone looked at Bennett with a little surprise.

“Are you going to visit?” Huff asked.

Bennett shook his head.

“Wasn’t planning on it. I’m actually looking forward to having the place to myself for a few months.”

“Ouch,” Scott said.

“No ouch,” Bennett said. “It’s a lot better this way. Scott, what do you have planned?”

All Scott had planned was his upcoming trip to Boston. Two wonderful weeks together with Kip. He’d been thinking about it nonstop and hadn’t even considered the rest of the summer.

“Not sure yet,” Scott said. “But I’m probably heading back to Rochester again for a bit.”

“Not as exciting as the French Riviera, but it’ll do,” Bennett said. “Huff, what about you?”

“First thing we’re doing is heading to Alberta. The town Laura is from,” Huff said. “Her brother Colin is getting married.”

“Cool,” Carter said. “Have you met her?”

“Him,” Huff said. “He’s marrying a guy.”

Scott froze.

“Huh,” Carter said. “I’m surprised. I thought you said the guy was a construction worker or something.”

“Guy he’s marrying, Jason, runs a cattle ranch,” Huff said with a shrug. “They seem happy together.”

“Guess you never can tell,” Carter said. “Good for them.”

“Maybe I should’ve married a guy,” Bennett said. “Might have been a lot easier.”

Carter and Huff laughed. Scott feigned amusement.

“Hey, I bet you and Hunter would make a cute couple,” Carter said.

They laughed again. The coach came back in and motioned to Huff.

“Hey, as soon as I’m done with Murdock, I’m meeting Laura for a late lunch,” Huff said. “You guys want to join?”

“Sure,” Bennett said.

“OK,” Carter agreed. He turned to Scott.

“What about you, Hunter?”

Scott looked at his friends. He was still trying to process everything he just heard.

“All right,” Scott said. “I’ll come.”

Chapter 17: CHAPTER 17: Boston / Cape Cod / Independence Day

CHAPTER 17

Boston (June 2016, Boston)

 

Scott had his feet up on the couch. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a light-colored t-shirt. His torso was propped up by a pillow and his back was to the door. There was a glass of water and the crumpled-up wrapper of a protein bar next to him. With his headphones on and his gaze on his iPad, he didn’t notice that Kip had come in the door.

Kip couldn’t resist. He leapt onto Scott from behind. Scott’s headphones were knocked to the floor, but he managed to smoothly set the iPad aside. He responded to Kip’s kisses with several of his own. They laughed and cuddled for a few moments before settling down. Kip nestled his head on the crook of Scott’s neck. Scott kept his arm wrapped around Kip to keep him from falling to the ground.

“Did you miss me?” Kip asked. He used his hand to lightly brush a lock of hair from Scott’s face.

“Of course,” Scott said. He leaned his head forward and gave Kip a kiss on the nose. “But I’ve been keeping myself busy.”

Kip had class two mornings a week and was still working at the gallery. He’d had to help set up for a new exhibit earlier that afternoon. There was going to be an opening tomorrow night.

But in the four days since he had arrived Saturday, Scott had started to find his own rhythm. He went for a run in the mornings along the Charles. There was a gym near Boston Common he used in the afternoons. He spent some of his additional free time exploring Back Bay or Cambridge or the tourist sites downtown.

“Ooh, I got you something,” Scott said.

He stood up, leaving Kip behind on the couch. He grabbed a small brown paper bag from his backpack and brought it to Kip.

“It’s a still life,” Scott said, as Kip pulled the piece out of the bag. “There were a few artist stands outside Faneuil Hall.”

It was a small painting of a bowl of fruit. Blueberries and bananas featured prominently.

Kip looked at it and laughed.

“This is perfect,” he said.

✦

“So where do you want to get takeout from tonight?” Kip asked. He was next to Scott on the sofa and had his phone out.

“There’s a new Thai place around the corner I’d like to try,” he continued.

Scott saw that Kip was flipping through the options in one of those food delivery apps.

“You know,” Scott said. “We don’t have to get takeout. We’ve done that all week.”

“You should have said something earlier,” Kip said, without looking up. “I didn’t go shopping. We can cook tomorrow.”

“No,” Scott said. He hesitated for a moment. “We can go out.”

Kip contemplated what Scott said.

“Out?” he asked. He needed to confirm.

Scott nodded.

“As in, out to a restaurant.”

Kip wasn’t going to take any chances.

Scott nodded again.

Kip sat there with a blank look on his face. He looked at Scott’s sheepish expression. Then he pulled Scott in for a kiss and held it longer than usual. Then he pulled back.

“Okay let me put my shoes on.”

✦

It was a reasonable Friday night crowd for what was meant to be just a neighborhood spot. The staff was running around and most of the tables were full. There were families with children. Groups of friends. Couples on a date.

Scott and Kip.

The waiter came over to take their order. They ordered a couple beers, a couple appetizers, and a couple curries.

“Mild, medium, spicy, or Thai spicy?” asked the waiter.

Scott looked at Kip.

“Don’t do it,” Kip said.

“I think I can handle it.”

“Not a good idea.”

“It’ll be fine,” Scott said.

The waiter went off to put in their order. Kip rolled his eyes.

The beers were cold and the appetizers full of flavor. They ate those and waited for the main dishes to arrive.

“So I want you to skip class Monday morning,” Scott said.

He eagerly awaited Kip’s response.

“What did you do?” Kip asked.

Scott had a slight grin on his face.

“I may have rented a vacation house on Cape Cod for a few days,” he said.

Kip put down his fork.

“Did you, now.”

“We would go Sunday afternoon and stay three nights. Then we can leave really early in the morning so you won’t miss your Wednesday class. You’re not working again ’til Thursday anyway.”

Kip looked at Scott’s face.

“Please?” Scott asked.

Kip smiled.

“OK,” he said. “I think I can miss one class.”

 

Cape Cod (June 2016, Cape Cod)

 

The vacation house was nestled against a salt marsh in the Lower Cape. They’d taken their time driving from Boston, stopping to load up on groceries and pick up some seafood at a small fish market. It was already late afternoon by the time they arrived.

The back of the property opened out directly to the water. It was framed by some scrub pines, offering some semblance of privacy. A small sandy footpath led through the brush to a narrow shore. Two kayaks were tied to the back of the house. A hot tub stood off to the side. There was a deck with a gas grill, a few weathered chairs, and a small table.

“We can cook out here tonight,” Scott said.

“I’m glad we bought the swordfish steaks,” Kip said.

They went back inside. The living area was furnished with wood tables, a comfortable sofa, and a wicker armchair. It was decorated with a few pieces of driftwood and coastal-themed art. There were four bedrooms with light quilts and white linens.

“This place has way too many bedrooms,” Kip said, as they entered the fourth one.

“Are we going to have to christen each one?” Scott asked.

Kip turned around. Scott had a cheeky little grin on his face. Kip walked up to him and placed his hand on his chest.

“I suppose we can try,” Kip said.

Scott grabbed Kip’s hand and brought it up to his lips. They brought their bodies closer.

“We better get started then,” he said.

✦

They launched the kayaks from the back of the property. They took their time meandering down the narrow channel. They ducked into a few coves and passed a few other houses along the way.

A woman was with her dog, standing along the shore. Scott pulled alongside her.

“Would you mind taking our photo?” he asked.

The woman agreed. Scott handed her his phone.

Scott and Kip maneuvered next to one another. They held on to each other’s kayak and the woman took the picture. Scott thanked her as she gave his phone back to him.

They continued down the channel and reached the open expanse of the bay. There were some pleasure boats and a few other kayakers. They saw an uninhabited island a mile or so away. The water was calm and the breeze was light. They decided to go for it.

A few minutes in, Scott called out. Kip was a few kayak lengths ahead of him.

“You’re going too fast,” he said.

“You’re a professional athlete,” Kip said. “You should be able to keep up.”

“It’s not that,” Scott said. “I’m just having a hard time keeping this thing moving in a straight line.”

Kip slowed down and waited for Scott to catch up. Scott grumbled.

“I think I like water better when it’s frozen.”

They approached the island and prepared to glide the kayaks onto the beach. Before they got there, Scott struck his paddle into the water. He sent a spray of marsh water all over Kip.

“Hey!” Kip said, his hair and face now dripping wet.

Scott raced ahead as fast as he could. He pulled the kayak onto the beach and got out.

A few moments later Kip joined him. He chased after him on the shore. He grabbed Scott by the waist and held on to him tightly. Scott tried to pull himself free. Instead, they tumbled together onto the sand. They wrestled. Their hearts pounded. They rolled over each other across the ground.

When they came to a stop, Scott had Kip pinned to the ground. He had both of Kip’s hands held down above his head on the sand. Scott’s legs straddled Kip’s waist. Kip’s struggling beneath him had ceased.

It had been a long time since they had passed anyone else out on the water. The nearest boat was hundreds of yards away. A heron squawked and flew away. There was no one else around.

“Kiss me, you fool,” Kip said.

And Scott did.

✦

Scott was lying on the couch. Kip was still cleaning up after they had grilled outside yet again. He had told Scott to relax and he could handle it.

Scott’s phone buzzed. In his messages, there was a photo of a sleeping infant wrapped in a soft blanket. Scott saw who the message was from and immediately pressed the call button on FaceTime. A few moments later, he saw the familiar face of Francois.

“Oh my god. Congratulations, Francois,” Scott said. “I’m so happy for you both.”

“We were finally able to bring her home a few days ago,” Francois said. “We meant to reach out earlier, but it’s been an absolute whirlwind of activity.”

“I can imagine,” Scott said. “I hope you guys are able to handle it.”

“Arnaud has been an absolute hero,” Francois said. “He’s been managing feeding and nap time and nearly everything.”

“Did I hear my name?” 

There was a voice coming from off camera. A few moments later, Arnaud’s face appeared over Francois’ shoulder.

“Scott, it’s wonderful to see you again,” Arnaud said.

“I just called to congratulate the two of you,” Scott said. “Francois was just filling me in.”

“Well then you’ll know that he’s become a champion at changing diapers,” Arnaud said. “I mean, who knew?”

Kip came in from the deck and closed the patio door. He looked at Scott.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Scott gestured over to him to join him.

“Just doing my part,” Francois said, apparently to Arnaud. “You’re mostly putting me to shame.”

Kip came and sat next to Scott. Soon, his face was on camera too.

“Oh, who’s this?” Francois asked.

Scott glanced briefly at Kip, then turned back to the phone.

“This is Kip,” he said. “My boyfriend.”

Kip smiled. He put one hand on Scott’s thigh and the other around Scott’s shoulder.

On the other side of the phone, Francois beamed.

“Oh Kip,” he said. “I’ve heard so much about you. I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally meet you.”

Scott turned to Kip.

“And this is Francois and his husband Arnaud.” They each gave a little wave on the other side of the phone. “These are the guys in Montreal I’ve told you about.”

“Of course,” Kip said. “The Mykonos guys. I’m so happy to finally meet you two as well.”

Francois turned to Arnaud. He said something neither Scott nor Kip could understand. Arnaud disappeared from the screen.

“I have to say I’m so happy to see you two together,” Francois said. “Where are you calling from?”

“We’re in a little vacation house on Cape Cod,” Scott said. “I’d been visiting Kip in Boston and we went away for a bit.”

“Well it looks like you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Kip brushed his face alongside Scott’s.

“Absolutely,” he said.

Arnaud reappeared on the screen.

“OK, there’s someone else I want you both to meet,” he said.

The camera turned and there she was. She was in Arnaud’s hands, wearing an Admirals onesie.

“Scott, Kip,” Arnaud said. “Say hello to Rachelle.”

✦

Scott’s legs surrounded Kip from behind. His strong hands grabbed hold of his shoulders. The water pulsed around them. Steam wafted off the water and rose up towards the night sky.

“This feels so good,” Kip said.

Scott continued to work Kip’s shoulders with his hands.

“The hot tub or the massage?” Scott asked.

Kip nestled his body back further against Scott’s body.

“Kind of both,” he said. Then, after a moment, “But mostly just pressing up against you.”

Scott leaned over and kissed the top of his head.

“Are we really leaving at five in the morning?” Kip asked.

“I promised to get you to class on time.”

Kip sighed.

“You did,” he said. “Dammit.”

Scott’s hands worked their way down Kip’s arms. Kip grabbed hold of Scott’s thighs. Their hands gently stroked each other’s body.

“When do you start doing hockey stuff again?” Kip asked.

“Probably after I get to Rochester. I’ll head there a few days after I get back to New York.”

Kip reached further behind him. His hands now firmly had hold of Scott’s butt. Scott’s hands were on Kip’s chest and slowly working their way down.

Kip let out a quiet moan. He felt Scott’s lips on his neck.

“It was good for you last year,” Kip said. “Rochester, that is.”

Scott pulled his lips away from Kip’s neck.

“Yes,” he said.

Scott’s hands continued south until they finally grasped what he wanted.

“But so were you.”

 

Independence Day (July 2016, Boston)

 

The flashes of light in the sky had ceased. The noise from the crowds nearby had faded. There were still a few scattered pops from time to time, but the big booms coming from over the river had stopped.

Kip turned away from the window. Jimmy was coming home tomorrow. Scott’s suitcase was on the living room floor.

It was mostly packed.

Kip joined Scott in his bedroom. He curled up against him and put his head on his chest. A few minutes passed.

“I don’t want you to go,” Kip said. His head didn’t move from Scott’s chest.

Scott stroked Kip’s hair with his hand.

“I wish you would come back to New York,” Scott said.

Kip didn’t move. Scott felt the stubble of Kip’s face on his chest.

“You know, for good.”

“I have, like, half a year left here,” Kip said.

“Of course,” Scott replied. “When you’re done. With your degree.”

They held on to one another quietly some more.

“I do need to start looking for jobs,” Kip said. “For after I graduate.”

Kip’s head rose and fell with each of Scott’s breaths.

“I just want to be with you,” Scott said.

Kip reached his arm across Scott’s body and found his hand. They joined them together. Kip lifted his chin so they could come face to face.

“Me too,” Kip said. “I want that more than anything.”

Chapter 18: CHAPTER 18: Reality Check / Brunch / Back in Rochester / Thesis

CHAPTER 18

Reality Check (July 2016)

 

Scott was back in his apartment in New York. He couldn’t help but notice how quiet it all was. His suitcase remained on the floor. He couldn’t bear to unpack it.

“What do you mean there’s nothing else,” Scott said. “Isn’t that your job?”

Todd Wheeler, his agent, was on the phone.

“There’s a few small opportunities,” Todd said. “But Hugo Boss isn’t coming back. And I can’t get Armani to bite.”

“After the year I just had? I would have thought it would have meant something.”

“Hunter. Hunter,” Todd said. “It did. Under Armour renewed. And if you keep it up in the coming season, we’re in great position for extension talks with the Admirals next summer.”

“So then what’s the problem?”

On the other side of the line, Todd sighed.

“You know,” he said. “I hate to be the one to break this to you. But for many sponsors, hockey’s not enough.”

“What the hell is that supposed that mean, Todd.”

“How do I put this lightly,” Todd said. “It’s your image. You’re perceived as, well, kind of boring.”

Scott let the word sink in.

“Boring,” he repeated.

“Yeah,” Todd said. “And that’s kind of the best case scenario.”

“You’re losing me, Todd.”

“Look, I’ve known you since you were a teen. I know how much hockey means to you. I know exactly why you’ve thrown your whole life into it.”

Scott just listened. Todd continued.

“I get it. Hockey is who you are. It kept you going. It still does,” Todd paused. “But to the rest of the world. You’re giving them nothing.”

“I’m just doing my job, Todd.”

“Hey, and that’s great,” Todd said. “But if you don’t give them something else, folks will just fill in the blanks on their own. You don’t want that.”

Scott bristled.

“I’ve mentioned this before. You need to get out more. Be seen with a beautiful woman on your arm. Get the gossip sites talking about you.”

“Do you have a point?”

“So I know your teammate Carter Vaughn is dating some actress. Gloria Grey, I think is her name. I got a hold of her agent.”

Scott didn’t like where this was going.

“Her firm also represents a few up-and-coming actresses who would kill to be seen in public with a big hockey star like you.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“It doesn’t need to go anywhere. Just a night out. Somewhere public. I’ll make sure the paparazzi find you.”

Scott had a hard time listening to what Todd was saying.

“Sorry,” Scott said. “This is a terrible idea.”

“I don’t know,” Todd said. “It seems pretty win-win to me.”

“Is there anything else, Todd?”

“You don’t have to decide now,” Todd said. “Just think about it.”

“I think we’re done here.”

Scott hung up. His stomach churned. He threw his phone across the room.

He wanted to forget that conversation ever happened.

 

Brunch (July 2016, Boston)

 

“How come we never go out to brunch?” Reid asked.

Kip and Jimmy looked at each other, and then at Chuck and Reid.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Kip said, “but I can’t afford to eat out much. And, I work most Saturdays.”

The waiter dropped off four mimosas at their table. Everyone took one. They clinked glasses and took a sip.

“You managed to get today off, didn’t you?”

“Today’s Sunday, Reid,” Jimmy said.

Reid looked at Kip and Jimmy suspiciously, and then glanced back down at the menu. He took another sip from his mimosa.

“Well, we should go out to brunch more,” Reid said, without looking up.

Eventually, the waiter returned to take their orders. Jimmy ordered an omelette. Chuck and Reid each got eggs benedict. Kip ordered a quinoa bowl.

“You haven’t yet told me about your trip,” Kip said, looking at Chuck and Reid.

“I’m sure Jimmy got you up to speed,” Chuck said.

“I didn’t tell him anything from after you left me and Robbie in Madrid until we all met up in Ibiza,” Jimmy said.

“Well, San Sebastian and Catalonia were gorgeous,” Reid said. “But it was a mistake to take the ferry to Ibiza from Barcelona.”

“And whose idea was that?” Chuck remarked.

“I just thought it would be glamorous,” Reid said. “Those cabins were nothing like the brochure.”

“Nine hours, overnight, in bunk beds, in a tiny cabin, with no windows, and two strangers,” Chuck added.

“You have no idea how hard it is to get busy in a situation like that,” Reid said.

“You didn’t …,” Kip said.

Chuck and Reid smiled at each other. Chuck leaned over and gave him a kiss. Kip shook his head.

“Oh, they stepped out of the room for a few minutes,” Reid said. “We were quick.”

The waiter brought the brunch dishes. Jimmy ordered another round of mimosas.

“Speaking of getting busy,” Reid said, looking at Kip. “I bet you and your secret New York boyfriend defiled every square inch of that apartment while Jimmy was gone.”

Reid turned back to Jimmy.

“I hope you made him clean every surface there once you got back. With bleach.”

Jimmy started coughing. He grabbed for his water.

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad, guys,” Kip said, protesting. “It wasn’t bad at all.”

He leaned back in the booth. A devilish grin came over his face.

“As a matter of fact, it was really fucking good.”

 

Back in Rochester (July 2016, Rochester)

 

The key card he’d kept since last year had been reactivated, so Scott just let himself in. The same locker he’d previously used was ready and waiting for him. Scott brought his gear in from the car then headed upstairs.

Scott found Coach Tierney inside one of the meeting rooms. He was there with several assistant coaches and St. Thomas staff. Coach spied Scott through the conference room window and waved at him to come in.

“Welcome back, Hunter,” Coach said as he got up to greet him.

Scott greeted everyone else in the room too. He knew most of them already.

“Sorry,” Scott said, “I didn’t mean to disturb.”

“Nonsense, we were just wrapping up.” 

Coach Tierney looked around the room and asked if there was anything left to discuss. There didn’t seem to be, so the meeting broke apart. Scott and Coach were the last two left in the room.

“Did you get yourself all settled in?” Coach asked. “I told the staff to get everything set up for you.”

“I did,” Scott said. “Everything seemed taken care of. Can’t wait to get back on the ice.”

“Well that’s great, Hunter. Hope you have a good experience here again. You seemed to rebound nicely last season.”

“I’d have to think St. Thomas played some role in that.”

“Well, we can’t take all the credit,” Coach said. “But we’ll certainly take some.”

Scott chuckled.

“So what was the meeting for?” Scott asked.

“Oh it was a planning meeting. We’re hosting another elite prospect camp. Second year now.”

“When’s that going to be?”

“Two weeks,” Coach said. “So we’re headed into the home stretch.”

“I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

“It’s probably the other way around,” Coach said. “When the boys find out you’re practicing here too, they’ll get an absolute kick out of it. I hope they don’t bother you too much.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Scott said.

“It is a pretty serious group. Mostly fifteens and sixteens. And we had to be a lot more selective than last year.”

“Are these the boys who will replace me?”

Coach Tierney smiled.

“Well some of those boys will be tough. They’ll give you everything they’ve got. You should come see for yourself.”

“If you want, I can join in on a drill one of those days too.”

“You know, that would be absolutely amazing. But honestly, you really don’t have to.”

“It’ll be fun. I don’t have too much else going on,” Scott said.

“We’ve got lunches and socials and a barbecue planned, too,” Coach Tierney said. “You’re welcome to join in on any of that.”

“I really appreciate it, Coach.”

“Anytime, Hunter. I’ve said this before, but St. Thomas is your home. We’ll support you no matter what.”

 

Thesis (July 2016, Boston)

 

Kip was at the desk in his bedroom. He was reading a paper on his computer and jotting some notes on the side. His phone alerted him to an incoming call. It was Scott.

“You’re getting in later than usual tonight,” Kip said.

“Yeah. Went out for a bit with Coach and some of his staff,” Scott said.

“Special occasion?”

“They were just working late and decided to go out together afterwards.”

“And they invited you to join?” Kip asked.

“Yeah. Coach did. The campers are showing up Sunday. It sounded like they had to make some last-minute adjustments.”

“Well, I hope you’re having a good time over there.”

“What about you?” Scott added. “I’m surprised you’re not out with your friends.”

Kip shut his computer down, put his notes away, and connected his phone to some earbuds so he could talk hands-free.

“Jimmy went out. I need to stay in to catch up on some reading.”

“On a Friday?”

“I met with my advisor today before work,” Kip said. “We reviewed where I’m at with my thesis. He doesn’t think I’m behind but I really need to get going.”

“Ooh, getting serious.”

“Basically. I should aim to turn it in right after Thanksgiving. Give me a little time to make adjustments if needed.”

“I don’t think you ever told me what your thesis is about,” Scott said.

“You’ll think it’s boring.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Do you really want to know?” Kip asked.

“Absolutely.”

Kip headed out to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and then sat at the table.

“Well, it’s an idea I’ve been thinking about for a long time,” Kip said. “Basically about artists who use traditional styles to express modern themes.”

“Wow,” Scott replied. “I wish I could understand what that meant.”

“Think of it like this,” Kip said. “On the surface, the style is familiar. Old masters. Baroque. Realism. All kinds of people can recognize it and get drawn in. But then, once you’re there, you realize what you’re looking at is something completely different and has a whole other layer of meaning.”

“That is really cool,” Scott said. “Why are you drawn to that?”

“I guess it’s because, sometimes, contemporary art can be intimidating,” Kip said. “The artist might be well-meaning but ends up shutting a lot of people out.”

Kip took a sip from his glass.

“With a more classical style, you can be more welcoming. A lot more people are invited in,” Kip said. “But the artist still doesn’t have to simplify or compromise on what they want to say.”

Kip went on to describe a few contemporary artists he was familiar with and the classical painters who served as inspiration. He talked about the modern themes they conveyed in their work. And he talked about the balance they sought to maintain in expressing their ideas.

When Kip finished, Scott remained quiet. Kip listened to him breathe a few times before speaking up again.

“Did I put you to sleep?” Kip asked.

“Oh god no,” Scott said quickly. “I just love listening to you when you’re like this.”

“When I’m like what?”

“When you’re all excited and passionate and confident,” Scott said. “You’re getting so into it. It’s kind of a turn on.”

Kip laughed. “You’re ridiculous,” he said.

“Can’t help it,” Scott responded. “I like what I like.”

Chapter 19: CHAPTER 19: Elite Players Camp / Luke

CHAPTER 19

Elite Players Camp (July 2016, Rochester)

 

Scott finished his own skating drills and headed to the locker room. He changed out of his gear and put on some street clothes. He made his way again towards the ice, standing in the walkway along the boards near the bench. He looked at the activity there on the main rink.

There were about forty boys. All about sixteen, give or take a year. They’d been assigned into four different groups of ten when they arrived. St. Thomas assistant coaches were on the ice as well, each one running a different drill with one of the groups. There was one group doing puck control, a second a passing drill. The third group was doing two-on-two play and a fourth one-on-one corner battles.

Coach Tierney was on the ice too. He was skating between the groups, checking out how things were going and chatting with a coach or one of the players from time to time. Eventually, he caught sight of Scott standing next to the boards. A few moments later he skated on over.

“So what do you think?” Coach Tierney asked.

“I’m seeing a lot of energy out there on the ice,” Scott said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said. “This might be the most talented single group of boys we’ve had on this rink.”

“You’ve certainly got your hands full.”

They stood and watched a bit more from the side. Coach Tierney turned back to Scott.

“So, I was hoping to get this out of the way, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I wanted to introduce you before the next rotation.”

“You think they already know I’m here?”

Coach Tierney chuckled.

“You’ve already caused quite a commotion. They caught wind that was you over there this morning. Just skating on your own right next to us. That was all any of them could talk about for about five minutes.”

Scott smiled.

“Well, I’m glad they’ve settled back down,” he said. “But, sure. I’m happy to say hello. I look forward to getting on the ice with them later this week too.”

“We’re still good for Wednesday afternoon?” Coach asked.

“That’s the plan.”

Coach Tierney skated a few steps away from the boards and gave a long, loud whistle until finally he had the attention of his coaches and most of the players. He gestured to them, calling them all to skate over to where he was. When most of them had gathered around, he spoke to the group.

“Just wanted you all to meet Scott Hunter,” Coach Tierney said. “You all know already he’s doing his off-season training here.”

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you all week,” Scott said.

“Captain of the New York Admirals. Seven-time MLH All-Star…”

“Eight,” Scott interrupted. A few of the boys laughed.

“Eight-time All-Star,” Coach corrected. “Olympic gold medalist. And prep St. Thomas Prep alum.”

“I’m joining you on the ice in a couple days,” Scott said. “Looking forward to seeing what you got.”

“OK now back to practice,” Coach said. “Rotate stations.”

The boys and the other coaches skated off and resumed their drills. Coach Tierney hung back next to Scott.

“We’re breaking for lunch in about forty-five minutes,” Coach said. “Why don’t you join.”

✦

Everyone worked their way through the lunch buffet line. Scott waited until most everyone else had filled up their plates before taking some chicken and a few scoops of pasta for himself. He joined a table where Coach Tierney and the other coaches were already sitting.

Scott asked if they had done things differently for the camp this year compared to last year. Coach Tierney explained they’d gotten a lot more applicants this time around. Most of the boys had been personally recommended by other coaches he already knew. Nearly all the boys were from New York or neighboring states. There was one player, Kolton, who was also a student at St. Thomas. There were also about five from places like Georgia or Tennessee where the hockey infrastructure wasn’t that well developed and where there wasn’t as great a concentration of talent.

“I think we already had a pretty solid reputation for many years,” he said. “And now we have the staff and facilities to really take advantage of that.”

Coach Tierney had also, for several years, been involved in the USA Hockey development pipeline. He was an evaluator at the district camp for the New York region. He gestured towards several of the players around the dining hall.

“About a dozen of the boys here were at district camp back in May,” he said. “We could only recommend a handful for nationals. But a few of the others took me up on my offer to come here. Another opportunity to continue to develop their skills with a select group of players and keep their forward progress going.”

One of the coaches nudged Coach Tierney, who said something quietly and nodded. He gestured towards one boy in the room in particular. A sixteen-year-old with blond hair, a bit taller than the others, it seemed.

“That’s Luke,” Coach Tierney said. “He’s from Niagara Falls. He was at district camp and was actually one of the ones we had put forward for nationals.”

Scott took a closer look. Luke was sitting at a table with several of the other boys. He was quietly eating his lunch. He only seemed to speak a few words and was certainly not one of the loud, boisterous ones filling the room with more typical sounds of teenage chaos.

“Nationals was three weeks ago. But I found out through my network that he didn’t actually go.”

“What happened?” Scott asked.

Coach Tierney hesitated. He looked at his coaches. Then he turned to Scott.

“There was some kind of family emergency,” he said. “Right before nationals. Unfortunately, he had to pull out.”

“That sucks,” Scott said.

“When I found out,” Coach added, “I reached out to offer him a spot here. It took some convincing. He didn’t agree to come until just a couple days ago. It’s no substitute for nationals, but I just wanted to do what I could.”

Scott took a look at Luke again. He himself had been on the USA Hockey national player development pipeline as a teenager. It had opened many opportunities for him and helped springboard his career.

“You’ve always cared a lot for the players,” Scott said. “Even if they’re not your own.”

“He’s a real talented kid,” Coach Tierney added. “Definitely keep an eye on him while you’re here.”

Kolton, the St. Thomas student, came up to Scott’s table. He asked him if Coach pushed him hard when he was a player.

“Not at all,” Scott said. “I guess some of my teammates felt that way, but I thought he just cared a lot.”

“That’s because with you, it was the opposite. I wouldn’t have to push you, I would have to practically chase you off the ice,” Coach said. “He was first to arrive. Last to leave. He was always asking others to practice with him and, failing that, he’d just practice on his own.”

A few more of boys came over. They asked about life in the MLH. Who he considers his toughest opponent. What kind of music Carter Vaughn listens to in the locker room.

“All right. That’s enough now,” Coach Tierney said. “Let Hunter finish his lunch in peace.”

“That’s all right,” Scott said, “I don’t mind.”

Coach nodded. That seemed to be the green light for more and more students to crowd around. Lunch devolved into a bit of an impromptu Q&A session. Whether he thought junior hockey or college was the right path. What were the biggest adjustments he had to make as he was just turning pro. What does he do to break out of a slump. Scott answered them all as best he could.

“When did you know you were going to make it?” one of the boys asked.

“I don’t know,” Scott shrugged. “I don’t think I ever thought about it that way. I just kept practicing and doing my thing. Day after day. Year after year. I guess I just didn’t know any other way.”

 

Luke (July 2016, Rochester)

 

On Wednesday, it was ice time. Scott showed up at the rink in the mid-afternoon in all of his gear. There was going to be a rapid-fire shooting drill and Scott was going to kick it off. Coach Tierney or one of the other coaches would feed a puck to the slot where Scott or one of the other players would receive it and shoot immediately.

Since they’d arrived, the boys had been grouped into four teams of ten - Maroon, Grey, White, and Gold. The Maroon team goalie had the privilege of being the first to try to defend a shot against Scott. He didn’t stand a chance. 

The rest of the drill got underway in earnest. Two teams at a time, both ends of the ice. Scott lined up with the boys as they rotated through. He made sure he stayed in for enough reps on both goals to put a shot past each of the keepers on the four teams.

Later during the afternoon session, Coach Tierney gathered everyone around him.

“OK, we’re going to have a little competition,” he said. “And there’s going to be a prize for the winning team.”

Coach Tierney announced a puck control relay between the four teams. The other coaches set up cones along the ice. All ten members of each team would need to participate. Maroon would race Grey and then White would race Gold. Winners would race against each other. All the members of the winning team would get to face and - more likely than not - be humiliated in one-on-one battles against Scott.

Ultimately, it was the Grey team that won. The ten members of the team gathered along the boards by the blue line on the right side of the zone. The remaining thirty boys stood away from the action on the other side of the rink.

For the drill, each boy on the Grey team would, one-by-one, set up with Scott in the right faceoff circle. Coach Tierney would dump the puck into the right corner and Scott and the boy would race toward it. They would battle along the boards and, when one of them emerged with control of the puck, Coach Tierney would blow the whistle and the battle would be over. To be sporting, Scott would spot each of the boys a stick-length head start.

The drill started. The first boy beat Scott to the puck but was immediately pinned to the boards. Scott easily kicked the puck loose, gained control, and skated away. Coach Tierney blew the whistle. Round one to Scott.

The same thing happened to the second. The third didn’t even beat Scott to the puck. The fourth at least managed to make a turn without getting pinned, but Scott quickly poked the puck away and stole it. The fifth just flat out lost control when Scott initiated contact. None of the next four campers fared much better.

The final skater was Luke. Like most of the others, he beat Scott to the puck. As Scott closed in on him, he rolled off the boards before Scott could pin him. Luke pulled the puck away from the wall. He used his body to shield it as Scott reached in with his stick. With a quick movement, Luke pivoted on an edge and immediately accelerated off the turn. Scott looked on in vain as Luke found an opening to skate away. Coach Tierney blew the whistle.

Most of the other boys banged their sticks against the boards and a few of them cheered. Scott skated up to Luke and tapped his glove.

“Nice job,” he said.

Luke looked up and smiled for a split second. Then he just skated away.

✦

The St. Thomas staff set up a barbecue Wednesday evening in the picnic area outside the dorms. Coach Tierney and his assistant coaches were taking turns manning the grills. They were cooking up white hots - the pork and veal sausages that are the pride of Rochester - as well as some regular hot dogs and hamburger patties.

The staff had also set up a “garbage plate” station, another local culinary tradition. There were trays of macaroni salad, baked beans, home fries, a crock pot of hot meat sauce, and an array of toppings. Kolton showed the out-of-towners how to assemble it - piled up high, and topped with chopped onions and mustard. Thankfully, there were lots of napkins.

Scott put his own plate together, going with two white hots on a bed of home fries and macaroni salad, drowning it in sauce and covering it in toppings. He snapped a photo and sent it to Kip. He went looking for a beer before remembering where he was. He grabbed a bottle of pop instead. He looked around for a place to sit.

He spotted Luke sitting at the far side of one of the picnic tables. He was sitting next to a couple boys who he recognized as other members of the Grey team. The seat on the opposite side of the table from him was empty. He was mostly just sitting there, listening to the animated conversations of his teammates. He didn’t look too eager to jump in. Scott walked over and took the seat across from him.

“You’ve got great moves,” he said. “You really impressed back there.”

Luke looked up and made eye contact with Scott.

“Thanks,” he said but didn’t elaborate.

The boy to Luke’s left, Stewart, spoke up.

“Was that the first time you lost a battle to a sixteen-year old?” he asked.

“No,” Scott said. “But maybe the first time since I was twelve.”

There were a few audible laughs and Luke appeared to blush.

“I had a head start,” Luke said. “I wouldn’t have won otherwise.”

“We all had a head start,” Stewart said. “And no one else came close.”

“Just accept the compliment,” Scott said. “You did good today.”

Luke smiled again. This time it was more sustained. Stewart turned to Scott.

“Did you know this one was selected for nationals?” he said.

Luke’s expression turned.

“Yeah. I heard about that,” Scott said. He turned to Luke. “Sorry you couldn’t go.”

Luke looked down for a few moments.

“It is what it is,” he said.

Luke turned his focus back to his plate. Stewart’s attention moved elsewhere. Scott heard some shouts behind him in the yard. It looked like some of the other boys had set up to play cornhole.

Scott finished his own meal, mostly in silence. He thanked the boys for the company and got up. He worked his way around the yard, stopping to chat with various groups of boys along the way. Kolton came up to him again. Scott pointed out the dorm he lived in for four years. They talked about some of his favorite places in Rochester from when he was a teen.

When Scott turned around, he saw the picnic table he had been at was now mostly empty. But Luke was still there. Coach Tierney was now sitting across from him. He and Luke appeared to be talking pretty closely. Luke nodded a lot in response to the things Coach Tierney said.

Scott felt his phone buzz. He took it out and smiled. Kip had finally responded to his photo.

“What the hell is that?” it said.

✦

Scott came by the rink again to watch the Thursday afternoon session. The boys were doing three-on-three drills in opposite zones. Maroon vs. Grey on one side, White vs. Gold on the other. Scott set up along center ice, so he could keep an eye on all of the action on both ends of the rink.

But he couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting over to the Grey team. At least whenever Luke’s line came in. The kid was good. He was definitely showing off the skills that had earlier surprised Scott and earned him the attention of scouts.

Friday morning, Scott got a late start. As he was making his way over to the practice rink, he saw the boys were already on the main one. Coach Tierney had the boys gathered around him. He overheard that they were adjusting the team lineups a bit for the final day of camp. A handful of boys had had to leave a day early.

Scott looked around. Sure enough, it seemed like the camp was now about five or six boys short. He looked more closely. He checked every single face. Kolton was there. So was Stewart.

Luke was nowhere to be found.

Chapter 20: CHAPTER 20: Next Year / Summer's Over / A New Chapter / So You're Leaving Us

CHAPTER 20

Next Year (August 2016, Boston)

 

Kip was walking briskly through the streets of South End. He had already texted Jimmy that he was running late, but was feeling guilty about it. He and Jimmy had planned to meet up at Crave at seven. Kip never dreamed he would have still been at the art gallery until a quarter to eight.

“Sorry about that,” Kip said as he pulled up next to Jimmy at the bar.

“It’s all right,” Jimmy said as he sipped his beer. “You could have cancelled if you needed to.”

“No. I’ve bailed on you a few too many times this summer. And with Chuck and Reid in Provincetown this weekend, I didn’t want to stand you up again.”

Kip gestured to the waiter and ordered his beer. Though it was Friday night, it was early enough that the bar wasn’t that crowded.

“What were you up to? Were you at the gym?” Jimmy asked.

“I didn’t even get the chance,” Kip said. “I stayed late at work. Bianca was running a meeting about the logistics for the shows we are doing the rest of the year. The whole thing just ended up running a lot longer than usual.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Part of it was that Graham then wanted to start talking about next year too. So things started really running long. He decided to schedule another meeting on the vision for next year for next week. He actually wants me to join that one too.”

“Well that’s interesting.”

“Yeah it’s very cool. I kind of feel torn about whether I should actually go.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I guess I’m just not even sure if I’ll be around next year,” Kip said. “Boston, that is.”

“Right,” Jimmy said. “But at the very least it’s a good sign you’re invited to that sort of thing.”

Jimmy took another sip of his drink. He briefly waved at someone across the bar. He turned his attention back to Kip.

“Still think you’ll finish on time?” Jimmy asked.

“I still have a lot of work to do on the thesis. But that should pick up once this class I’m taking is over.”

“So what’s your plan for after you’re done?”

Kip dwelled on it a few moments before responding.

“I guess I’m leaning towards heading back to New York,” he said. “There’s a lot of opportunities there. Galleries, museums. I’ve got decent connections with NYU and the Met. My dad is there.”

“And so is Scott,” Jimmy said.

Kip smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a big part of it.”

“What does Scott think?”

“No question. He really, really wants me to move back.”

“That’s great,” Jimmy said. “I really hope it works out this time. Seems like you guys are still very much in love.”

Kip gave Jimmy an appreciative smile. Jimmy continued.

“But it’s clear that your boss at the gallery thinks highly of you. And it’s probably a good idea to keep your options open.”

“I know,” Kip said. “It’s one of the reasons I’m torn about whether to sit in on the meeting next week.”

“I’m sure he’d value your input regardless,” Jimmy said.

“He’s been great. He said he had some connections in New York if that’s what I needed.”

“I think he’d really hate to see you go,” Jimmy said. “I know I will.”

 

Summer’s Over (August 2016, Rochester)

 

This was Scott’s last practice on the ice at St. Thomas this summer. Fall semester was starting up soon and Scott wanted to be out of everyone’s way before campus got too busy. He wasn’t going to drive back to New York until tomorrow, but he figured he might as well get all his gear out of the locker room now. Then he’d get off to an early start the next morning.

Even though most of the students wouldn’t start showing up until next week, a lot of the school’s athletes had started trickling in over the past ten days or so. Scott had seen some of the varsity hockey players in the weight room or scrimmaging on the ice.

Scott packed up his locker and started carrying everything out. He was hoping he could manage this in only one trip. As he emerged through the door to the parking lot, his sticks slipped from his grasp and fell onto the pavement.

“Aw, crap,” Scott muttered.

“I got you,” called out a voice from not too far away.

Scott looked to see that a student was jogging towards him. Scott immediately recognized that it was Kolton, the St. Thomas hockey player who attended the camp earlier that summer.

“Thanks,” Scott said. “Maybe I should have planned on doing this in two trips.”

Kolton picked up Scott’s sticks from the ground and carried them as they walked towards Scott’s car.

“How was the rest of your summer?” Scott asked.

“It was good. I helped my dad out with his landscaping business back home.”

“Cool. Where’s home?”

They reached the car and started loading up Scott’s things. Scott continued.

“Buffalo,” Kolton said. “The team’s headed back there for an invitational in a couple of weeks.”

“I think I remember Coach mentioning that. I suppose a bunch of guys from the camp this summer will be there.”

“Yeah,” Kolton said. “A handful of them. But …”

He hesitated momentarily before continuing.

“Do you remember Luke? The one selected for nationals that beat you in the one-on-one battle?”

“Of course,” Scott said. “Good player.”

“Well his AAA team’s going to be there,” Kolton said. “But he’s not. A friend of mine from back home told me he quit.”

“Ouch,” Scott said. “What happened?”

Kolton didn’t return Scott’s gaze.

“I don’t really know,” he said.

By now they had finished loading the car and were both just leaning against the trunk.

“You heading out now? Leaving Rochester, I mean,” Kolton asked.

“Not yet,” Scott said. “I’m taking Coach Tierney and some of the staff out for a goodbye dinner tonight. I’m driving back to New York tomorrow.”

“Well it was great meeting you. You’re quite the legend around here.”

Scott acknowledged the compliment with a nod.

“Have you ever made it to one of our games in Buffalo?”

“I haven’t,” Kolton said. “But I looked it up. Your first game there next season is in December. I already asked my parents to buy us tickets.”

 

A New Chapter (September 2016, New York)

 

Scott looked at the naked man on the other side of his phone screen.

“I can’t wait until we can do that again for real,” he said.

“Less than a week away,” Kip said. “I’ll be there late Friday night.”

“I’m not planning on leaving the house again until Monday.”

Scott got up from his couch. He walked over to the kitchen and tossed the napkins into the trash. He wasn’t in any rush to put his clothes back on. From the looks of things, neither was Kip.

“I’m glad you’re able to come before training camp begins,” Scott said.

“Without any classes or needing to TA, my schedule is a lot more flexible this semester.”

“But you’re still missing a few days of work.”

“Not really,” Kip said. “Mostly just shifted things around. Graham has been super supportive. He even connected me with a couple gallery owners he knows in Chelsea.”

Scott poured himself a glass of water.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” he said.

“It’s just networking,” Kip said. “For now, anyway.”

“I know. I’m getting ahead of things. You’re doing this the right way.”

“I just need to be patient. I’ll be meeting up with Nadine too. She’s forwarded me museum opportunities in the past, but the timing wasn’t quite right before.”

Scott plopped himself back down on the couch.

“So that means this time the timing is right,” he said.

“Easy there,” Kip said. “But, yeah. I guess it is.”

“I just really want you back here. With me,” he said. “The sooner the better.”

“I want to be there with you too.”

Scott looked at Kip’s face filling the screen. He basked in the warmth of his smile.

“You know, you are just too sexy for words.”

Kip’s smile broadened and his eyes narrowed.

“I could say the same about you.”

They lay there in their respective apartments staring at one another again on their phones. Kip licked his lips. A hunger returned to Scott’s eyes.

“You up for a round two?” Scott asked. He reached down and started stroking again.

Kip adjusted how he was holding the phone camera.

“How can I resist?”

 

So You’re Leaving Us (September 2016, Boston)

 

Reid handed Kip a bottle of wine, pushed past him, and waltzed into the apartment.

“OK, where is he?” Reid asked. “Where is he?”

Kip looked at Reid standing in the living room and spoke calmly.

“Nice to see you too, Reid.”

He turned to Chuck, still standing just outside the front door, and gave him a hug.

Jimmy and Robbie emerged from Jimmy’s bedroom before Reid had the opportunity to barge in. Reid immediately took Robbie into a big hug.

“Don’t ever leave us for that long again,” Reid said.

Robbie returned the hug and then gingerly pulled himself away.

“It was only three months,” he said. “And we saw each other in Ibiza two months ago.”

“When I came back from my internship last year,” Kip commented, “you’d have thought he was a war widow.”

Reid gave them both suspicious looks.

“Well I can’t help it if I care about you all a bit too much.”

Robbie and Kip moved in to give Reid a hug of his own. Jimmy and Chuck joined in.

They opened the wine and ordered Chinese takeout. While they waited, Robbie talked about all the things he did and all the places he visited during his summer in Spain. He said he had started working on a paper about adaptive reuse of historic structures. He’d been inspired by a lot of the things he saw while he was over there. This was going to be the direction he was going to go for his Ph.D. dissertation.

“So that’s why you were so excited about the old fort in Ibiza,” Chuck said.

“Yes, somewhat,” Robbie said. “Dalt Vila has several examples of what I’m talking about.”

“Well if you need to head back to Ibiza to do more - ahem - ‘research’,” Reid said, “then you can count me in.”

The food arrived and they all gathered around the table. They passed around the egg rolls and shared the entrees. Jimmy grabbed a bottle of chili sauce from the pantry.

“We should have done this as a dinner party,” Reid said. “I just didn’t have enough time to prepare anything today.”

“That would have been totally unnecessary,” Robbie said. “I’m just happy to be with everyone again.”

“Well we still need to do it,” Reid said. “Sunday. I’ll make paella. We can do it here.”

Jimmy and Kip looked at one another.

“So as long as Jimmy’s OK with it, that’s fine,” Kip said. “But I’m not actually going to be here this weekend.”

Reid turned to Kip and lowered his gaze.

“So are you headed to New York to get dicked down again?”

Kip rolled his eyes.

“Well, that is, in fact, part of the itinerary,” he said. “But it’s also kind of a networking trip.”

Everyone stopped eating for a moment.

“What’s this about?” Chuck asked.

Kip put his chopsticks down. He looked at them with a bit of a meek grin.

“So I’ve been putting out feelers for job opportunities in New York. Galleries. Museums. That sort of thing,” he said. “I’m going to be meeting with a bunch of people who might be able to help me with some leads.”

No one responded immediately and Kip’s expression didn’t change.

“So you’re leaving us,” Jimmy said, breaking the silence.

Kip brought his lips together and took a breath before responding.

“Nothing’s guaranteed. But this can’t really be a surprise that this was on the table,” he said. “I’ll be done with my master’s in December. New York has a lot of opportunities for people in my field. My dad is still there. And …”

Kip trailed off.

“This is about him, isn’t it,” Reid said. “Mr. Secret New York Fuck Buddy.”

“Well, not entirely,” Kip protested.

“Not entirely,” Reid repeated.

“Just to make sure,” said Chuck. “This is something that he wants too. To have you there with him.”

“Yes.”

“And you want that too.”

“Yes, of course.”

No one said anything for several seconds. Reid spoke up again.

“So how, exactly, is that going to work?”

“What do you mean?” Kip asked.

“Pretty much what it sounds like. Being with a closeted guy is just a recipe for disaster.”

“We’re just … we’re so happy when we’re together,” Kip said. He looked towards Robbie. Robbie looked away.

“Kip, honey. I don’t doubt that one bit,” Reid said. “But are you just going to hang out in his apartment all day and never leave? Will you be able to be seen with him in public?”

“He’s gotten better,” Kip said.

“Has he?” Reid replied. “I’ve never met him. Chuck’s never met him. We don’t even know his name.”

Reid pointed at Jimmy and Robbie.

“And the only reason those two even know what he looks like is because they caught you two with your dicks in each other’s mouths.”

Jimmy coughed. Robbie nearly spit out his food.

“The story I heard,” Chuck said, “was that their dicks were already out of each other’s mouths by the time they got caught.”

“Thank you,” Reid said, smiling at Chuck. “It’s important to get the details correct.”

He turned back to Kip.

“But, seriously now, have you actually ever met anyone important to him? Any of his friends? Family? Coworkers? Are you his dirty little secret with no plans to change any of that?”

Kip looked down.

“He’s trying,” he said.

“You don’t even live in the same city,” Reid said. “You keep each other in nice, tidy little boxes. You can overlook all the compromises you make because you only need to make them occasionally.”

“We’re all gay men,” Reid continued. “We’ve all done our share of sneaking around.”

He looked everyone in the eye. Robbie blushed.

“But it’s one thing to sneak around once every couple of months. It’s another thing entirely to try to make that your daily reality.”

By this point, everyone had forgotten all about the Chinese food they hadn’t yet finished.

“So I know you love your dad. And I can’t really speak to the job opportunities you might find in New York,” Reid said. “But are you really going to try to build a life with someone who doesn’t let you into his?”

Reid looked around the room.

“Does anyone disagree?”

Chuck leaned gently into his boyfriend’s touch. Jimmy looked down at the floor. Robbie took Jimmy’s hand, looked at Kip, and quietly shook his head.

Chapter 21: CHAPTER 21: Going Home / Art is Expensive / Kingfisher / Laundry

CHAPTER 21

Going Home (September 2016, Brooklyn)

 

Reid’s words were still ringing in Kip’s ears as he crossed the state line into New York. Chuck’s pained expression and the image of Jimmy looking away were seared in his mind as he crossed the Whitestone Bridge. And as he drove along the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, all he could think about was Robbie abandoning him when the whole room seemed against him.

They just didn’t know how much things had actually changed, Kip thought to himself. Elena and Maria, Jimmy and Robbie, even his dad knew about them. They’d gone out to restaurants and even took a mini vacation together. Their relationship was in a far, far better place than where it was when Kip walked out of Scott’s apartment two and a half years ago. 

It was three in the morning and the streets of Brooklyn were quiet. Kip pulled Jimmy’s van into a spot just outside his childhood home. The lights were all off and his dad was certainly asleep. Kip snuck upstairs with his bag as quietly as he could.

When he woke up, he would spend the day with his dad and then head over to Scott’s later at night. The days here in New York would make it clear how much sense it would make for him to come home.

He would get his career off the ground. He’d be able to see his dad a lot more.

And he and Scott could be together again. For real.

✦

George was at the table, a mug of coffee beside him and a copy of the New York Sentinel in front of him. He lit up when he saw Kip come down the stairs and enter the kitchen, glasses on his face and a mop of disheveled hair on his head.

“Welcome home,” he said as he got up to give his son a hug. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Kip held onto his father’s tight embrace.

“I missed you too, Dad,” he said.

They broke apart and George was still beaming.

“I hope I didn’t wake you when I got in.”

“You didn’t,” George said. “But it wouldn’t have mattered if you did. I just hope I didn’t wake you too early and you got enough sleep.”

Kip looked at the microwave. It was a little before nine.

“I’m fine.”

As Kip poured himself some coffee, George got to work preparing breakfast. He’d already cooked the bacon, but set about making toast and scrambling some eggs. The table had already been set.

“So what do you have planned for the week?” George asked as they both started to eat.

Kip pulled out his phone, opened his calendar and showed it to his dad.

“Looks like you’ll be busy,” he said.

Kip smiled.

“I’m having lunch with Nadine from the Met on Monday,” he said. “She introduced me to some of her colleagues at a few other museums in the city. I’m meeting an assistant curator at the Museum of Folk Art and, if all goes well, the Whitney too.”

Kip continued.

“Graham also connected me to some gallery directors in Chelsea and Tribeca. One of my former NYU classmates manages a gallery in Williamsburg, and he introduced me to the director of another place on the East Side.”

“You can’t imagine how much it would mean to me if you ended up coming home for good,” George said.

“Plus, when I’m free and get the chance, I’m going to walk in at some other galleries. Just scope them out a bit to see if it might be worth contacting them.”

“You’re amazing, son,” he said. “It’s just incredible how organized and proactive you’ve been.”

“I learned my lesson when I didn’t do it right the first time,” Kip said. “And that’s how you end up working in a smoothie shop for nearly three years.” 

George leaned back and frowned slightly.

“I’m proud of you no matter what you do. No matter who you are.”

Kip looked at his dad appreciatively.

“Yeah,” he said. “I suppose if it hadn’t been for the smoothie shop I would have never …”

Kip stopped. His father was still listening. Kip continued.

“I would have never met Scott.”

George’s expression didn’t change.

“Everything happens for a reason,” he said.

Kip smiled. He wanted to give his dad a hug. But he didn’t think he needed to.

“You’re going to his place tonight?” George asked.

“Yeah. I’ll stay there the next few days and be back here on Thursday. It’ll just make it easier …“

“You don’t need to explain,” George said. “I just want to see you happy.”

 

Art is Expensive (September 2016, New York)

 

Kip’s bag was just inside the door to Scott’s apartment. A string of clothes were strewn from there to the living room couch. Scott’s arms were wrapped around Kip as he lay on top of him. Their noses rubbed.

“I don’t think we made it ten seconds after I walked in the door,” Kip said. He gave Scott another kiss.

“Not even five,” Scott said. He leaned up and returned the kiss.

Kip stroked his fingers through Scott’s hair.

“Maybe I should go bring my things into the bedroom,” Kip said.

Scott used his arm to stroke Kip’s back from his shoulder to his ass.

“You could,” he said, kissing Kip again. “Or we could stay here and make out some more.”

Kip took a look at Scott’s grin beneath him. Neither of them were going to go anywhere for a while.

✦

An hour later, they finally managed to break apart from one another. Scott picked up their clothes from around the room and Kip retrieved his bag from the entryway. They walked towards the bedroom. Kip stopped in front of a blank spot on the wall in the hallway just outside.

“What’s going on here?” Kip asked. “This space wasn’t empty before.”

Scott looked at Kip sheepishly. He took Kip by the hand.

“There were just a couple generic pieces there,” Scott said. “Nothing meaningful. Left behind by the staging company.” 

“Yeah. I remember,” Kip said.

“Well, I kind of want you to pick something.”

“Pick something?”

“Yes,” Scott said. “Like a painting. You know a heck of a lot more about art than anyone else I know.”

Scott gestured at the empty place on the wall.

“I want you to find something you like and that you think should go here. Just tell me what to do and I’ll buy it.”

Kip looked at Scott.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.”

Scott gestured to a few of the other generic pieces around the apartment.

“And over time, we’ll replace some of the other ones too.”

Kip stared some more.

“You know, art is expensive.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I earn a lot of money.”

Kip shook his head.

“You’re unreal.”

He turned back and focused on the blank wall for a few moments. Then he looked back at Scott.

“You know, I think I have a few ideas.”

Scott smiled and dropped the clothes he was carrying. He picked Kip up with his arms, carried him over to the bed, and threw them both down on top of it. There was more kissing, more grinding, more rolling around.

“You were serious, weren’t you,” Kip murmured.

“About what?” Scott asked between tastes of Kip’s skin.

Kip moaned gently.

“We really aren’t going to be leaving this apartment until Monday.”

 

Kingfisher (September 2016, New York)

 

Scott rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He turned on the water. When it was warm enough, he called out to Kip.

“I’m about to step in.”

“Noooooo,” Kip replied. “You can’t do that without me.”

He scampered out of bed and made his way to join Scott in the shower. Neither one of them had taken one alone in days. They spent a few minutes lathering each other up, rinsing each other off, and towelling each other dry. All of it, of course, was accompanied by a little horseplay and a lot of kissing.

“What’s on your agenda for today?” Scott asked when they were finally done and began to get dressed.

“First stop is the Whitney Museum,” Kip said. “Nadine’s colleague came through.”

“That’s good,” Scott said. “I can drop you off there if you want. It’s pretty close to the rink at Chelsea Piers.”

“That would be great,” Kip said. “I have a couple more meetings in the neighborhood afterwards so don’t need a ride back.”

“You want me to make dinner tonight?”

“Actually,” Kip said as his eyes met Scott’s. “I was going to meet up with folks at the Kingfisher tonight.”

Scott looked at Kip and nodded his head.

“Cool,” he said.

“It’ll be the only chance I’ll have to see Elena on this trip. She has to fly out to LA tomorrow.”

Scott took Kip in his arms and kissed him on the forehead.

“No problem,” he said. “Go see your friends.”

“Maria is going to be there too.”

Scott smiled.

“Say hello to her,” Scott said. “She hasn’t been at Straw+Berry since I got back from Rochester.”

“She’s done. Just started nursing school.”

Kip stepped back, looked up at Scott and continued.

“So you still go there?”

Scott nodded.

“One of my favorite places in the world.”

✦

Elena had her arms around Kip’s neck and he held her around her waist. They swayed slowly from side to side. Elena’s eyes were gleaming. It was a scene that would have made a lot more sense if it weren’t Lady Gaga playing over the speakers and if the Kingfisher actually had a dancefloor.

“Do you really think you’re coming back?” Elena asked, not bothering to try to keep in time with the music.

“I’m doing what I can to make that happen,” Kip said.

Elena smiled.

“Your father must be beside himself.”

“He kind of is,” Kip said. “He’s tried to hide but it’s really not working.”

Maria came up to them. She had Kyle by the hand.

“I’m taking him around and making everyone say thank you to him.”

Elena smiled and said “Thank you, Kyle.”

Kip looked confused.

“What are we thanking him for?”

Kyle looked offended.

“He’s letting me move in with him while I’m in nursing school.”

Kip raised his eyebrows and turned to Kyle.

“Wow,” he said, turning to Kyle. “That’s pretty amazing.”

Kyle shrugged.

“The world needs more nurses,” he said.

“So …,” Elena said, turning to Kip.

Kip smiled and silently nodded.

“Thank you, Kyle,” he murmured.

Maria beamed. She turned and walked with Kyle to find her next victim.

Elena turned back to Kip.

“So I’m guessing Scott is also beside himself,” she said.

Kip blushed. He was about to say something when Shawn came up to them.

“Well if this isn’t the look of a well-sexed man,” he said.

Kip’s eyes widened.

“Excuse me?”

Shawn shook his head.

“Girlfriend, please. It’s not subtle.”

He leaned over, kissed Kip on the cheek and walked away.

Elena turned back to Kip with a smile on her face.

“We’re all rooting for you, Kip.”

Kip smiled, but didn’t say anything.

“We all want you to be happy,” she said. “And we want him to be happy too.”

✦

Scott was outside the Kingfisher. He stood on the same spot where he had been two and a half years before. When he couldn’t bring himself to go in. To celebrate Kip’s birthday with his friends.

Scott noticed Kip hadn’t asked him to come join this time. He guessed Kip didn’t want to make that mistake again.

It was a Tuesday night. From the looks of things, the bar wasn’t very crowded. The streets were relatively quiet. It was already dark. He’d been in gay bars before - in Europe and Brazil. Just never in North America, let alone New York City.

Scott psyched himself up. Kip was inside. He could do this. He wanted to do this.

His heart was racing. He walked to the entrance. He pulled open the door. He walked in.

There were two men at the bar. They immediately turned to look at him. Scott held his breath, then relaxed when he realized it wasn’t his face that they were staring at.

He walked in a bit further. His eyes darted around. He made eye contact with the bartender, who immediately nodded and turned to say something to a woman standing across from him. The woman stepped forward and approached him. Scott relaxed.

“Maria,” Scott said with an exhale. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Long time no see,” she said. She gestured toward a group of booths in a different section of the bar. “Kip’s back there.”

Scott walked towards the booths. There were only a few other people in the bar. Most of them were enjoying their own drinks and having their own conversations and paying him no mind.

He could see the back of Kip’s head. He was sitting in a booth, talking to Elena sitting across from him.

Scott saw the moment she saw him. She had been saying something to Kip. She looked up. And then stopped.

They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds before she reached across the table to nudge Kip. But before Kip had the chance to turn around, Scott had reached the table and sat right next to him.

Scott turned to Kip.

“Hi,” he said.

Kip turned to Scott.

“Hi.”

✦

Twenty minutes later, Scott’s beer was empty. He’d chatted with Elena, been coerced to say “Thank you, Kyle” by Maria, and met a man named Shawn who muttered “Finally” under his breath as they shook hands.

He turned to Kip.

“I think I’m going to go,” he said. “Don’t be out too late. You still have some meetings tomorrow.”

“Thank you for coming,” Kip said.

Scott leaned over and kissed Kip on the forehead. Then he got up and left.

Elena returned to the table. She sat down across from Kip. Kip’s face as bright as the sun.

“Well, that was something, wasn’t it?” Kip said.

Elena took Kip’s hand, smiled and nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “It certainly was.”

 

Laundry (September 2016, New York)

 

Scott and Kip stood in the living room. They held one another in each other’s arms. Kip’s bag was on the floor beside them.

“It gets harder for me each time,” Scott said. He raised his hand so he could stroke his fingers through Kip’s hair.

Kip nestled his head into Scott’s chest.

“Me too,” he said.

It was quiet except for the sounds of their breathing.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come down here next.”

They broke apart.

“Finish your thesis. Line up some interviews,” Scott said. “We’ll be in Boston in November.”

Kip picked up his bag.

“I guess I should head to my dad’s place now.”

Scott leaned in and gave him a kiss.

“Please say hello to him for me.”

Kip smiled and walked towards the door.

“I will,” he said, and then left.

✦

Scott went into the laundry room. He saw that his hamper was nearly empty. Then he noticed that the dryer was still full. He sighed. He remembered Kip had done a load of laundry last night, mixing his clothes with Scott’s. They both had forgotten to unload it. No wonder Kip had been able to pack so quickly.

He opened the dryer and separated the clothes into a pile for him and a pile for Kip. He put his own clothes away and took out a bag so he could send Kip his things later. He was about to put them inside, but then stopped. He carried everything into his bedroom.

Scott opened his dresser. He opened his closet. There were plenty of clothes there he never wore. He sorted through it, pulled many of them out, and put them in the bag instead. He rearranged some of the things still in the dresser so that one of his drawers was now empty.

He put most of Kip’s things inside, folded neatly in a small pile. He hung Kip’s shirts up in his closet, intermixed with his own.

He’d just keep everything here for him until next time.

Next time.

✦

Scott was about to head out to the gym. His phone buzzed. It was a text from his agent.

“I can get you invited to some of the parties here,” it read. It was followed by a link.

Scott clicked the link. New York Fashion Week. Not exactly his scene, but he guessed Todd was just trying to help. Another text came in.

“It’ll be good for your image. You should go.”

Todd’s message was followed by yet another link. Scott clicked it again. It was the bio page for one of the runway models.

Scott’s phone buzzed with one more message.

“With her.”

Chapter 22: CHAPTER 22: Righting the Ship / Damn Paparazzi / Friday Night / Balancing Familiarity with Innovation / GK Modern Art Gallery

CHAPTER 22

Righting the Ship (September 2016, Boston)

 

Kip didn’t get back to Boston until the wee hours of Friday morning. He managed to sleep until ten before heading out to run errands. At least he didn’t have to do any laundry. He had laughed when he got Scott’s text that he had left half his clothes at his apartment. He figured he could manage without them for a while.

He hadn’t been able to do much work on his thesis the past week, though. With everything going on, he’d just been too busy. He was still in good shape, but he knew he’d need to head to campus today. The high-resolution images he needed were only available in the departmental library. He wanted to get as much of this done in preparation for his meeting with his advisor Monday morning.

After a few hours in the library, Kip headed over to the grad student offices. Even though he wasn’t teaching anymore, he still had a desk there and worked there from time to time. It was almost six and he figured the room would be empty. It wasn’t.

“Hi Robbie,” Kip said to the figure sitting at one of the desks at the back of the room.

Robbie turned around and their eyes met.

“Oh hey,” he said. “How was your trip?”

Kip put his bag on his desk and walked over to sit next to Robbie.

“It was good. Talked to a lot of people. Got some interesting leads. It felt like I have a decent network over there.”

“That’s great. I hope something will materialize.”

“The folks at most of the galleries were happy to meet me, but said to reach out again only after I was already back in New York.”

“Is that something you’re prepared to do?”

Kip thought about it for a few moments.

“Well it wasn’t all of them. And I’m more interested in the museum path anyway.”

Robbie nodded. He held Kip’s gaze and decided he couldn’t dance around things this time.

“So how’s Scott?”

Kip lowered his eyes. His face revealed a tinge of sadness.

“You guys just don’t understand,” he said. “I love him. He loves me.”

“I think we all understand that part, Kip.”

Kip returned his gaze to Robbie’s face.

“He’s changed. It’s nothing like it was back then. I don’t have to hide anymore.”

They were quiet for a few moments. Kip continued.

“At least, not entirely.”

Robbie tilted his head. He reached out and took Kip’s hand into his own.

“It does sound like there’s been progress,” he said. “But I guess it’s hard to know when there’s been enough.”

Kip didn’t move or change his expression. Robbie gave Kip’s hand a squeeze.

“Let me take you out to dinner,” Robbie said. “Then we’ll meet everyone else over at Crave afterwards.”

Kip scowled and his body tensed.

“Is Reid going to be there?”

“Of course,” Robbie said. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Kip’s shoulders dropped.

“Kip, you’ve known Reid longer than I have. You know he has the subtlety of a freight train. But anything he says, it comes from a place of love.”

Kip began to let his guard down.

“All right. Fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”

 

Damn Paparazzi (October 2016, Dallas)

 

Scott, Carter, and Huff were crowded around Bennett’s locker. A few other teammates were there too, among them Brisebois and offseason trade acquisition Matti Jalo. Bennett was reading something to the crowd from his phone.

“According to well-placed sources,” he said, “Ms. Grey and Mr. Vaughn are planning an extravagant event in Santa Monica for the summer of 2017. Several Hollywood A-listers are rumored to be among the bridal party. We can only assume several MLH stars will be as well.”

“I got dibs on best man,” Scott said.

“No fair,” Huff said. “I’m older than you.”

“I’ve known him longer,” Scott added. “Besides, you’re going to be up to your elbows in diapers. You’ll be too busy for any of that.”

“Where do they get this stuff?” Carter said. “Do they literally just sit around a table and try to come up with the most ridiculous rumors they can think of?”

“I think they mentioned credible sources,” Jalo said. “If it’s on the internet it must be true.”

“Guys, guys,” Bennett said. “We’re losing focus. Where are we taking Carter for his bachelor’s party?”

“For the last time, I’m not getting married,” Carter said. “Why would they think that?”

“It was probably because of that romantic marriage proposal you made,” Brisebois said.” On the beach, the night before the game in LA this week.”

“What are you talking about?” Carter asked.

Brisebois pulled up something on his phone and held it up so everyone could see.

“They have photos and everything,” he said.

Carter snatched the phone out of Breezy’s hand. He looked at the screen and shook his head.

“I was just tying my shoelace,” he said. “Damn paparazzi.”

“The paparazzi aren’t so bad,” Huff said. His teammates turned to him.

“It’s those mammarazzi you have to watch out for.”

A half dozen grown men groaned. Huff shrugged.

“Just need to start working on my dad jokes.”

“Baby’s not due until February,” Scott said. “So until then, I don’t think any of us want to hear it.”

 

Friday Night (November 2016, New York)

 

“So apparently we’re not flying up to Boston until Saturday, a few hours before the game,” Scott said.

Kip was on the other end of the line.

“So you’re not going to be here Friday night,” he said.

“I know it sucks,” he said. “That’s what we always do if the previous game is at home. I didn’t even think about it until this week.”

Kip didn’t say anything for a few moments.

“So it’s going to be another month before we see each other next,” he said.

Scott could hear the disappointment in his voice. He was angry at himself for getting Kip’s hopes up. Not to mention his own.

“It’s only three and a half weeks,” Scott said. “You said you would come early December. You were trying to line up some interviews then.”

“That’s true,” Kip said. “But I was hoping to be able to spend some time with you without all of that hanging over my head at the same time.”

“I’m really, really sorry. I’m an idiot. I should have known better.”

Kip’s trip would coincide with an Admirals home stand interrupted only by one road game a short distance away in New Jersey. So they’d be able to see each other a lot then. They just needed to wait a bit longer.

✦

The Admirals had gotten off to an excellent start to the season. Fourteen games in and they’d already won eleven, with one of the losses coming in an overtime shootout. The addition of Matti Jalo during the offseason had bolstered the defense of a team that was already elite offensively. Bennett was still playing at his usual high level in net but found his job had been made a lot easier. They were several points clear of the second place team in the division and had the best record in the league.

They won their game again Thursday night. The crowd in the arena had been raucous and the atmosphere in the locker room was electric. Loud beats played over the sound system. Jalo and Carter led the team in a singalong of “Mr. Brightside” by the Killers. Coach Murdock announced that there would be no practice Friday and the players could have a full day off.

When things eventually calmed down, the players slowly peeled off to go home. Scott was one of the last ones left. Coach Murdock was still there too. Scott had an idea.

“Hey Murdock,” he said as he entered the coach’s office.

“What’s up, Hunter?”

“So I was hoping I could be excused from morning skate on Saturday. Before the team flies up,” Scott said. “I was thinking of heading up to Boston a day early.”

Coach Murdock looked up at him. His expression was neutral.

“I’ve been your coach for more than eleven years. I’m pretty sure this is the first time you’ve ever asked to be excused from practice.”

“If you need me I can …”

“Jesus, Hunter. You’re excused,” he said. “No, you’re not excused. You’re forbidden. If I see you at our practice facility Saturday morning I’m sending you home.”

Scott was thankful it was that easy.

“Thanks, Coach,” he said. “See you in Boston on Saturday.”

✦

Scott’s flight touched down at Logan airport late Friday afternoon. He knew Kip wouldn’t be getting home from work until around six so he hadn’t tried to get a flight earlier in the day. In the cab, he was excited. He couldn’t wait to see him.

“Are you home from work yet?” Scott texted. While he wanted to surprise Kip, he just wanted to make sure Kip was home.

“Yeah,” came Kip’s reply. “Just hanging out with Jimmy. Robbie should be here any second.”

Shit. Scott had forgotten about that. Kip’s roommate. What was he thinking? This was a stupid idea. He hadn’t thought things through. He should turn around, get a hotel and tell Kip to come over.

He thought about it some more.

Fuck it.

“I’ll see you in ten minutes,” he texted. He awaited Kip’s reply.

Scott’s phone buzzed. It wasn’t a text. Scott answered the call.

“What do you mean you’ll see me in ten minutes,” Kip said.

“Give or take,” Scott said. “Traffic doesn’t appear to be too bad.”

“You’re in Boston?”

“Umm, yes.”

“And you’re headed here?”

“Also yes.”

“You should have told me. I don’t think I can get rid of Jimmy and Robbie.

“It’s OK,” Scott said.

“I can meet up with you somewhere else.”

“I said it’s OK,” Scott repeated. “If you want to go to a hotel later we can still do that. But I’m still coming over.”

There was a long pause. Kip didn’t say anything for several seconds.

“OK,” Kip said. “Let me just tell them. I’ll see you soon.”

Scott smiled to himself.

“Love you,” he said.

“Love you too,” Kip replied.

✦

Kip opened the apartment door. Standing before him was the beautiful hockey player he didn’t think he’d see again for another three weeks.

Scott entered the apartment. They kissed and held on to one another in silence. Kip’s breathing became heavy and his eyes grew a little wet. Scott stroked Kip’s back with his arm.

They pulled away from each other and Kip turned around. Behind them were Jimmy and Robbie, standing together in the living room. Jimmy had one arm around Robbie’s waist. Robbie pursed his own lips together in a subtle smile.

“This is my roommate Jimmy and his boyfriend Robbie,” Kip said, gesturing to his friends.

“Jimmy, Robbie,” Kip continued.

He turned his face towards Scott and held his hand.

“This is Scott.”

 

Balancing Familiarity and Innovation (December 2016, Boston)

 

Kip sat at his computer. He’d needed the Thanksgiving break to make the final adjustments. He found a few typos, changed how he wanted some of the images presented, and checked the formatting of all of his references. He gave the whole thing one final read from start to finish.

He had three spiral-bound manuscripts on his desk next to his laptop. His advisor had said he wanted a hard-copy version with the images printed in high resolution. He would drop it off tomorrow morning before work. He figured he’d also print one out for the second faculty reader and have a third for himself. This was in addition to the one he needed to upload electronically.

Kip picked up a copy. One hundred and twenty pages. Seventy-five pages of text. About fifteen of endnotes and bibliography. Thirty of images. 

Balancing Familiarity and Innovation: Using Classical Techniques to Illustrate Modern Themes was printed on the cover. Beneath that, it said “Boston University”. Beneath that, there were two more words.

“Christopher Grady.”

Kip turned to his laptop. The graduate student portal was open. He uploaded his PDF, checked all the necessary boxes, and pressed submit.

He composed an email to his advisor.

“I just submitted it,” he wrote. “See you tomorrow.”

 

GK Modern Art Gallery (December 2016, Boston)

 

It was early afternoon. Kip was at GK Modern Art Gallery. Fridays were usually somewhat busy, so he wasn’t alone. Bianca, the gallery manager, was also on site, chatting with a few visitors towards the back.

Kip didn’t care to sit more than was necessary. So he was standing, lingering towards the front of the gallery. The front doors opened and someone walked in. It was Graham. They exchanged greetings as Graham headed to the back office.

Visitors to the gallery came and went. Sometimes Kip would interact with them, sometimes he’d leave them alone. He sensed that one visitor might be pretty serious, so he called Bianca over for support.

There was a lull in traffic mid-afternoon. Graham came out of the office and walked over to Kip.

“Do you have a few minutes?” he asked.

Kip looked around and made eye contact with Bianca.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve got things under control.”

Graham and Kip went into the office. Graham sat behind his desk and Kip took one of the chairs in front of it.

“What’s this about?” Kip asked.

“I think your plan was to submit your thesis this week,” Graham said. “How’s that coming along?”

“It’s done,” Kip said. “I turned it in last night.”

“Congratulations. How do you feel?”

“It’s a bit of a relief,” Kip said. “I hope I don’t have to make too many revisions.”

“They always come up with something,” he said. “But it’s still a big step and you should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you, Graham.”

“I also understand you’ve lined up a couple interviews in New York next week.”

“That’s right,” Kip said. “Curatorial Assistant positions. One at the American Folk Art Museum, another at the Whitney, and then also at the Museum of the City of New York.”

“Well the Whitney would be incredible if you got it.”

“It’s a long shot,” Kip said. “I probably need a few more years of experience. But at least I got this far.”

“Something will materialize, I’m sure,” Graham said.

“Oh and I’m also meeting the owner of Saint-Georges Gallery in Chelsea. We hadn’t gotten the chance to connect in September.”

“So you’re meeting Jeanette too,” Graham said. “She and I go way back. We met when I was still at NYU. We still talk frequently.” 

“Yes. Thank you so much for the introduction.”

“Well, best of luck with all of that,” Graham said. “But. I also wanted to make sure I spoke with you directly before you went. Your heart is pretty set on moving back to New York, is that correct?”

“I think so,” he said. “But I am trying to make sure I have something lined up first.”

“I get that. You’re from there. It’s a great city for art.”

Kip nodded. Graham continued.

“But I just wanted you to know that if things fall through or you decide you want to stay in Boston, there’s a place for you here. We can move you to full-time in January. I have some interesting projects in mind and there would be opportunity for us to grow your role significantly.”

Kip raised his eyebrows. This was not what he was expecting when he came to work today.

“That’s very generous and kind, Graham,” he said. “I’ll really think about this over the next few days.”

“Please do,” Graham said. “I hope things go well for you in New York. But, the door is open for you here, too.”

Chapter 23: CHAPTER 23: Admirals Holiday Party / Tree / Why Not Take a Chance on Love? / In the Shadows

CHAPTER 23

Admirals Holiday Party (December 2016, New York)

 

Kip was curled up on the couch. He had the TV on. He was watching the Admirals trouncing New Jersey. It was 6-1 late in the third. Just as impressive as the 4-0 beating they had inflicted on their cross-river rivals two nights before. The Admirals were nearly a third of the way through the regular season and were still at the top of the standings.

Kip’s interviews and meetings that week had gone well. The Whitney would indeed be an incredible opportunity, but he felt it was unlikely they’d make an offer at this point in his career. The Museum of the City of New York wasn’t quite a perfect fit, but at least it got him into the museum world. The American Folk Art Museum seemed a right-sized next step for him. It tied in well with his interests and wasn’t too big and intimidating. He was also glad he’d met Jeanette at Saint-Georges Gallery. A future on the gallery side of the art world was something he might consider after all.

The buzzer sounded. The game was over. Kip watched Scott get interviewed on the postgame show. He listened to Coach Murdock praise the team and Hunter’s leadership. When the highlights came on, Kip stopped to rewatch the two goals Scott scored several times. Scott should be in a good mood when he came home later that night. It was a good thing, because Kip was in a good mood too.

Scott finally walked through the door at half past midnight. Kip had waited up for him. He’d barely let Scott say a word before he pounced - kissing him, shoving him up against the wall, sticking his hands down his pants. They stripped off their clothes.

Kip could get used to this.

✦

Eventually, they came up for air. Scott went and grabbed a towel to clean up the mess they had both made on the floor. Kip laughed. Scott followed suit.

“You’re welcome to do that every day when I get home,” Scott said.”

“I plan to,” Kip replied.

They put back on their underwear. Scott picked his other things up off the floor and went to the bedroom to put them away. They both washed up and got ready for sleep and, before long, they were cuddled up next to each other in bed. Scott’s arm was around Kip’s body, Kip’s head was on Scott’s chest.

“I hope your day was as good as mine was,” Scott said.

“It was. I think the interview went well. All of them this week actually.”

“I’m so proud of you. I cannot wait until you are home for good.”

Kip turned his head and kissed him on his pec. He looked up at Scott’s face.

“So I have the whole day free tomorrow,” he said. “I was thinking I could go shopping and prepare dinner for the two of us.”

Scott made a small frown.

“Aw, crap,” he said. “I should have mentioned this sooner. We have our team holiday party tomorrow night. So I won’t be having dinner at home.”

Kip froze for a second. This was the first he’d heard of this.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s too bad.”

Scott lay there stroking Kip’s hair.

“Yeah. We have one of these every year. It’s for the whole organization. I kind of feel obligated to go because of, well, who I am.”

Kip just lay still there a few more moments. This wasn’t a big deal. It was just a matter of poor timing.

“I wonder if Huff’s wife is going to come,” Scott muttered. “She’s seven months along now. I guess if she doesn’t come, I can just hang out with him.”

Kip stroked Scott’s stomach. He had no right to expect to be invited. It was ridiculous to even think about it.

“I guess maybe I’ll see if Elena wants to hang out tomorrow night then,” Kip said.

Scott grunted approvingly.

“The good news is we don’t have practice tomorrow. So we can hang out during the day.”

“Yeah,” Kip said. “I guess we can.”

Scott lifted Kip’s chin up and kissed him on the lips. Then they shifted their positions and Scott ended up spooning Kip.

“Let’s try to get some sleep,” he said. “Good night, Kip.”

Kip lay there in Scott’s arms. He felt Scott’s warmth. He heard Scott’s breath. It became heavy and then rhythmic. He realized that Scott was asleep.

“Good night, Scott,” Kip whispered. “I hope you have fun tomorrow.”

✦

Thursday morning, Scott and Kip were able to sleep in. After morning cuddles, Kip said he would go out to get some stuff for lunch. He went to the nearby deli and got bread, sliced turkey breast, and some cheese. At a produce market he got tomatoes, lettuce, and some fruit. He started to head back towards Scott’s apartment but decided to take a small detour.

He looked through the window. He saw Peter, the orange-haired man, behind the counter talking to a customer. It had been so long since those years at Straw+Berry. Since those months when he went back and forth between there and Scott’s apartment nearly every day. So much had changed in the meantime. Everything was different.

Back to the apartment, Scott was in his room. He had laid out a shirt, some slacks, and a dinner jacket. He also pulled out a tie.

“What do you think?” Scott said as he held the shirt and tie against his chest.

Kip blinked.

“You’ll look great no matter what you wear.”

✦

It was mid-afternoon. Scott had gone down to use the fitness center in the building for a little while. Kip put away the dishes they had used at lunch. He pulled out his phone and was about to call Elena. But something stopped him and he put his phone away.

He went into the bedroom. He opened the dresser drawer that Scott had cleared out for him a few months back. He took a couple of the items out and put them in his bag.

“Hey, I’m back.”

Kip looked up. Scott had returned from the gym and entered the room.

 

“Hey,” Kip said. Then after a moment, he added, “So I was thinking …”

Kip paused.

“What about?” Scott asked.

“Well, since you’re busy tonight, I think I’m just going to head over to visit my dad. I didn’t get to spend much time with him before coming here last weekend.”

“I guess that’s a good idea,” Scott said

Kip grinned.

“I think I’ll spend the night there too, if that’s OK.”

Scott frowned.

“Well of course that’s OK, but that doesn’t mean I won’t miss you.”

Kip went up to Scott and kissed him.

“Thanks. I’ll head over there in an hour. And, of course, I’ll miss you too.”

 

Tree (December 2016, Brooklyn)

 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you until Saturday,” George said as he gave Kip a hug at the entrance to his home.

“Sorry for the short notice,” Kip said. “I hope I didn’t interrupt any plans.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m always happy to have you here, short notice or not.”

Kip went upstairs to drop his things off. He pictured moving back to New York. Moving back in with his dad. Back to this house. Back to this room.

Kip shook his head. Where did that thought come from? He’d be moving in with Scott. That’s what Scott wanted. That’s what Kip wanted too. Everything was different now. It was better. It was nothing like the way it was three years ago.

He ran back downstairs. He found his dad in the kitchen boiling a kettle of water for tea.

“I thought the interviews went well,” Kip said. “Doesn’t mean I won’t keep looking, but I’m hopeful things will work out.”

“When do you think you’ll hear something?”

“December is a busy time for everyone. I’m not sure I’ll hear anything before the holidays.”

“I hope you do. It would be a nice thing to celebrate when you come back for Christmas.”

Kip looked over to the living room. There were boxes of ornaments on the floor. George must have brought them up from the basement in the last couple of days. But there wasn’t a tree yet.

“Hey, why don’t we do that tonight,” Kip said. “Put up the Christmas tree. We can go out and pick one up from the lot right now.”

George looked thrilled.

“I’ll get my coat.”

George and Kip bought a six-foot Fraser fir from the Catholic church nearby. They strapped it to George’s car, brought it home, and set it up in the living room. They ordered takeout while they strung the lights and began to hang ornaments. Kip streamed some holiday carols from his phone while they worked.

“You know, I was planning to do this tomorrow,” George said. “So it’d be up by the time you came back on Saturday. But it’s a lot more fun to do it with you.”

“Well then I’m glad there was a small change of plan.”

“But what happened?” George asked. “Is everything all right?”

Kip pulled an angel playing a harp out of the box of ornaments and hung it on the tree.

“Yes. It’s fine. Scott just had a …”

Kip hesitated for a second.

“He had some team thing he had to go to tonight. So this was the perfect opportunity to spend extra time with you.”

It was. His dad was so happy to spend this time with him. Maybe this should have been the plan from the start.

“Well not that I’m complaining,” George said. “I just hope everything’s OK.”

The doorbell rang. Their takeout had arrived. They decided to take a break from the tree to eat the food so it didn’t get cold. They passed the boxes of egg rolls and kung pao chicken between them.

Kip looked at the time. It was almost eight-thirty. Scott was probably sitting for dinner now. Or maybe dinner was over and he was being asked to give a speech. He wondered if Huff’s wife had shown up or not. Kip supposed that, if she had, Scott could just hang out with some of his teammates who were also single.

Kip stopped eating. He put his fork down. He felt sick.

“Kip?” George said.

Kip blinked and looked at his dad.

“Huh?”

“Is something wrong?”

Kip forced a smile and shook his head.

“No. Just …”

He didn’t know what he was going to say.

“Hey, I’m full. Let’s finish the tree.”

Kip went back into the living room. He put the remaining ornaments on the tree and strung a few shiny strands of tinsel. When George came back, Kip knelt under the tree, grabbed the end of the string of Christmas lights and plugged it in. The tree illuminated in an array of multicolored lights.

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” Kip said, giving his dad a one-armed hug.

“Well you’re a couple weeks early, but Merry Christmas.”

✦

Kip lay in his childhood bedroom. He looked at his phone. It was almost ten-thirty. Maybe the party was wrapping up by now.

He composed a text.

“Hey I hope you had fun tonight,” he wrote.

Kip waited for a reply. He adjusted the covers and shifted onto his side. He put an extra pillow under his head.

So far, no response.

Kip got up. He went to the bathroom. He walked around the room. He returned to bed.

Still nothing.

Kip sighed. Scott was probably just distracted. He was having a good time with his teammates. Like he’d always said, hockey was his family.

Kip gulped.

But if that was so, where did that leave Kip?

 

Why Not Take a Chance on Love? (December 2016, Brooklyn to Boston)

 

The sun was up. Kip hadn’t slept well. He was tense and had woken up several times during the night. He rolled over and looked at his phone. There were a few text messages from Scott waiting for him. He felt his body relax just a bit.

“Sorry I missed you. Didn’t get back until late.”

“Party was fine. Bennie showed up without Holly. Single Bennie is a fun Bennie.”

“Have practice and meetings today. Should be home around three.”

“Lemme know when you’re coming.”

Kip didn’t respond right away. He got out of bed, brushed his teeth, put on some clothes and went downstairs. George was already up and had made a pot of coffee. Kip poured himself a cup.

“How are you doing this morning, son?”

Kip took a sip from his mug.

“I’m fine. I guess all the interviews took more out of me than I realized.”

George gave Kip the once-over.

“I think I can see that on your face. You look pale.”

Kip walked with his coffee to the kitchen table and sat down. George came over and sat next to him.

“I think I’m just going to head back to Boston today,” Kip said. “That way I’ll have a whole day to relax before working again on Sunday.”

George frowned.

“So you’re not going back to Manhattan?”

“I’m coming back in two weeks. Scott will understand. And his team is traveling to Buffalo early tomorrow anyway.”

George was skeptical but didn’t let it show.

“I suppose you know best.”

Kip texted Scott with the change of plans. He told Scott that he just needed an extra day to unwind. He’d been on an adrenaline high all week and was bound to crash. They were only going to miss one night together. And Kip would be back again real soon.

Scott was disappointed but, ultimately, said he understood. 

✦

Kip said goodbye to his dad a couple hours later. He took Jimmy’s van and drove back to Boston on the interstate. Traffic was fairly light. He should make it back home around five.

Maybe he was overreacting. Being with Scott was always going to be full of compromises. He knew that three years ago, he knew that now. And they’d been back together for over a year and Kip had been happier than he’d ever been.

The important thing was that Scott had been trying. Many things had changed for the better. And nothing in life was ever guaranteed. So why not take a chance on love?

Kip parked the van outside the apartment. He grabbed his things and walked upstairs. Robbie and Jimmy were in the living room.

“We didn’t expect you back until tomorrow,” Jimmy said.

“Did anything happen?” Robbie asked.

“I’m just tired,” Kip said as he went into his room. “We can talk more about it later.”

He closed the door. He lay down on the bed.

It was impossible to know how things would work out.

But it was a heck of a lot easier to feel.

 

In the Shadows (December 2016, Boston)

 

A light tap came on the door. Kip was still lying on his bed. He had his hands on his eyes. He probably hadn’t moved in the two hours or so since he got home.

Kip muttered something inaudible. The bedroom door opened a crack. Kip looked over without moving his body. Jimmy was peering in. Robbie was behind him.

“Um, we were going to head out soon,” Jimmy said. “We were going to meet Chuck and Reid at Crave.”

Kip just grunted. Jimmy and Robbie pushed the door open wider and gingerly walked in.

“Kip?” Jimmy said. “What’s going on?”

Robbie walked towards the bed and sat down.

“Did you guys fight?” Robbie asked.

Kip looked at him and scowled.

“What?” Kip said. “No. Nothing like that.”

“Well clearly something happened between you and Scott.”

“What makes you think it has anything to do with him?”

Robbie lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head.

“I mean seriously? Just look at you.”

Kip turned his gaze up at the ceiling. He didn’t say anything. Jimmy came over and sat down too.

“We’re here if you want to talk about it. Or we can just keep you company. Or you can tell us to leave.”

Kip let out a breath and then swallowed.

“I just don’t understand,” Kip said. “For so long, it just seemed so easy.”

Robbie took Kip’s hand. He turned to Jimmy.

“We’re not going to Crave tonight. Go tell Chuck and Reid.”

Jimmy nodded and left the room. Robbie turned back to Kip.

“Nothing about you and Scott has been easy.”

Kip closed his eyes.

“I don’t know if I can do it. If I go, I’m going to go insane.”

Robbie stroked the back of Kip’s hand with his thumb.

“That’s always a risk.”

A few tears dripped from Kip’s eyes. He wiped them away with his hand.

“I just want things to be the way they were.”

Robbie squeezed Kip’s hand. Jimmy came back into the room.

“They’re coming over.”

Robbie turned to Jimmy. 

“What?”

“I may have said that Kip came back a day early and was looking pretty down. Reid insisted he was coming over. And you know how Reid gets …”

Robbie turned back to Kip.

“I’ll just turn them away. Won’t let them in. I don’t want to make things more complicated than they need to be.”

Kip thought for a moment.

“It’s fine,” he said. He paused before continuing.

“I like having you all here.”

✦

Kip by now was sitting up in his bed. Reid was sitting next to him, stroking his hair. Jimmy pulled something up on his phone and showed it to Chuck and Reid.

“A fucking professional hockey player,” Chuck said.

“Kip,” Reid said, “I always figured you could pull. But this is ridiculous.”

Kip chuckled.

“Not just any player,” Robbie added. “Eight-time All-Star. Gold medalist.”

“Captain of the best team in the league,” Jimmy chimed in.

“I think Boston is right up there with them,” Robbie said.

“The Admirals are way more well-rounded this year. I think …”

“Guys,” Reid calmly interrupted. “While the current MLH standings might have some relevance to the current situation, I think you’re losing sight of the bigger picture here.”

Kip smiled and shook his head. Reid turned to Kip.

“I understand he’s in an impossible situation. But living every day in the shadows is an impossible situation too.”

Kip leaned back in his bed and put his forearm over his eyes.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he said.

His friends remained quiet. Kip brought his arm down from his face.

“But I can’t lose him again. I’m certain of that. I can’t and I won’t.”

Chapter 24: CHAPTER 24: Master Kip / Some Day / George

CHAPTER 24

Master Kip (December 2016, Chicago)

 

“Did you get your thesis resubmitted in time?” Scott asked into his phone.

“Yeah,” Kip replied. “I did that last night.”

The second reader had suggested some changes to Kip’s manuscript and his advisor had agreed. So over the past couple days, in between shifts at the gallery, Kip had been scrambling to get the revisions done. The whole thing needed final approval before the official last day of the semester, which was today.

“So, then, are you ‘done’ done?”

“Got an email from my advisor late this afternoon. It was accepted and I’m done.”

“Woo hoo!” Scott said. “So does that mean I have to start calling you Master Kip?”

“If you want,” Kip said, dryly.

The thesis drama must have taken a lot out of Kip. He would need some time to recover. Scott decided to change the subject.

“I’m taking delivery of the painting on Wednesday,” Scott said. “Day after I get back.”

This was the artwork Kip had selected for the hallway outside Scott’s bedroom. He couldn’t wait to see Kip’s face when he finally saw it hanging in his apartment. The plan was for Kip to spend Christmas Eve with his dad and then come to Scott on Christmas Day. Just like last year. He’d hired the decorator again too.

“That’s nice,” Kip said.

“And you can tell me what you want to do next.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

In the week since Kip had gone back to Boston, things had seemed … off. Though they’d talked or texted every day, their calls had been a bit shorter than usual and Kip just seemed distracted. They’d only even had phone sex once, even though Scott hadn’t had to deal with having a roommate the entire road trip.

“You sound tired,” Scott said.

“I’m sorry. Yeah. It’s been a crazy week.”

“Well then you should get some sleep.”

Kip agreed. They wished each other a good night.

On top of everything, Kip hadn’t heard back from any of the places he’d interviewed with. He said he needed to be patient, and he’d reach out soon after the New Year if he hadn’t heard anything by then. The anxiety was probably getting to him.

It was beginning to get to Scott too.

 

Some Day (December 2016, Boston)

 

“Dear Christopher,” the email began.

“I wanted to let you know we wanted to move forward with your candidacy for the role of Curatorial Assistant.”

The message was coming from the assistant curator at AFAM whom he’d interviewed with two weeks before.

“Due to the proximity of the holidays, HR won’t be reaching out with a formal offer letter until after the New Year. However, I wanted to let you know of our decision as soon as possible.”

That was nice of them. He could have some clarity when he went to New York for Christmas.

“The American Folk Art Museum would be excited to have you aboard.”

Kip read the message again. He replied with a quick “Thank you.” This was all finally really happening.

He would wrap things up at the gallery. He would move back to New York. He’d get his career started for real. And he and Scott could be together.

That was what he wanted.

Wasn’t it?

He thought about calling his dad to tell him the good news. He thought about sending a message to Elena. He thought about letting Scott know so they could celebrate.

He didn’t do any of that.

This was what he’d been working towards for so long. It should have been the moment that relief and excitement overtook him.

Instead, a pit formed in his stomach and all he felt was dread.

✦

Kip was finishing up at work. Graham was there too. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and there were things to wrap up before GK Modern Art Gallery closed to the public for the week.

Kip went into the office. He apologized to Graham for interrupting him. Graham didn’t appear bothered and just asked Kip what was up.

Kip took an extra moment before responding.

“So I’ve been thinking seriously about staying,” he said. “Is that full-time offer still on the table?”

✦

Kip sat in the driver’s seat of Jimmy’s van. Jimmy and Robbie had gone to Florida again. Kip was about to drive to New York. It was late and he wouldn’t get to Brooklyn until the middle of the night. He told his father not to wait up.

Kip started the ignition. He turned the headlights on and put the transmission in Drive. There were light flurries drifting down but nothing serious.

Kip did not look forward to telling Scott what he’d decided. He didn’t even know when or how he would bring it up. He didn’t know how Scott would react. But Kip was determined to explain and was sure he would make him understand.

If he moved back to New York, there was no way their relationship would survive. Kip couldn’t live in a box. The disappointment and frustration would turn to sadness and anger. It would get louder and stronger until something in Kip finally cracked. It would be three years ago all over again.

But if Kip stayed away, he could live with it. Scott meant everything to Kip, after all, and they’d been doing that all year. So if he stayed in Boston, their relationship could survive. And then maybe, just maybe, they’d have a real chance to be together.

Some day.

Kip put the van in Park. He switched off the headlights and turned off the engine. He grabbed his things from the back and headed back to the apartment.

As much as he dreaded telling Scott, he dreaded telling his dad even more. Telling him he was staying in Boston. That he wasn’t moving home after all. The disappointment he’d feel would be devastating. It might be enough to break him.

Both of them.

 

 

George (December 2016, Brooklyn)

 

George put down his phone. He had just spoken with Kip. He still was in a state of shock.

Kip’s room that morning was empty. He hadn’t driven from Boston overnight. He wasn’t going to be there for Christmas. And he wasn’t going to move home after all.

This wasn’t the plan. Kip had been gone for two and a half years. He’d finished his degree. There was an offer on the table. The light was at the end of the tunnel.

Until it wasn’t.

George tried to understand. Kip loved Scott. And, as far as he knew, Scott loved Kip too. But Kip had said he couldn’t come back. That if he did, everything would be ruined. That their relationship would die from a million cuts. That he wouldn’t and couldn’t lose Scott again.

George looked at the Christmas tree. There were a few presents underneath. Most of them were things he had gotten for Kip. One of them was a gift to himself. He had planned to open it when they were together Christmas morning.

George grabbed his present, tore off the wrapping paper and opened the box inside. He lifted up the red Admirals jersey with the word Hunter on the back.

He took out his phone. He looked for the number he’d asked Kip to give him in case of emergency. He composed his message and pressed send.

Scott was supposed to be the reason Kip was coming home.

Instead, he was the reason Kip was staying away.

✦

Scott was drinking his cup of morning coffee. He looked at the time. Kip was probably just getting up. He wouldn’t have gotten to his dad’s place until the middle of the night. They would probably have a late breakfast soon.

Scott’s phone buzzed. He saw an incoming text from an unknown number in the 718 area code. He clicked on the message to read it.

“Hello Scott Hunter. This is George Grady. I think you and I need to talk.”

Chapter 25: PART 3 CHAPTER 25: Christmas Eve / Christmas Day

PART 3 : Sunshine

CHAPTER 25

Christmas Eve (December 2016, Brooklyn)

 

Scott pulled up in front of the Brooklyn row house he’d never been to before. As he walked towards the entrance, he saw the front door open. George Grady stood in the entryway, watching him as he approached.

“I’m glad to finally meet you,” Scott said. He gently patted George on the shoulder.

“I think it’s about time we got to know one another,” George said, as he returned the gesture.

They went inside and Scott made himself comfortable in the easy chair. George brought out a bottle of water, a pot of tea, and a few snacks. As the sky outside turned dark and the tree in the living room glimmered with light, they talked.

Scott talked about growing up in Rochester, losing his parents that awful day, and finding himself again through hockey. Getting noticed, then drafted, then becoming a star. And the day he walked into the smoothie shop and met Kip.

George talked about living his whole life in Brooklyn. Working for the city for thirty years. Meeting his wife. Taking the family on trips to the museum or beach. Then saying goodbye and raising Kip alone.

“You raised an amazing son, Mr. Grady.”

“Just call me George,” he said. “And, yes, he makes me proud every day.”

Scott lowered his head. His eyes drifted half shut. He spoke quietly with a brief shake of his head.

“I’m afraid that I’m losing him,” Scott said. “He’s been distant ever since his interview trip and today I find out he’s not even coming for Christmas.”

George could see the pain and confusion on Scott’s face. For a brief moment, George thought he was looking in a mirror.

“It’s worse than that,” George said. “He said he’s not moving back. He’s going to turn down an offer at one of those museums and is going to work full time at that gallery in Boston.”

Scott looked up in horror. His eyes widened. His nostrils flared. His cheeks turned another shade of pale.

“I’m guessing he was just too afraid to tell you,” George said.

Scott took a moment to take it all in.

“What the hell,” he said. “I thought … I thought …”

Scott’s words trailed off. George stood up, walked over, and placed both of his hands on Scott’s shoulders.

“Don’t for a second believe that this is because he doesn’t love you,” George said. “He does.”

“I love him too,” Scott said.

A lump formed in George’s throat.

“But as far as your world is concerned,” George said. “He doesn’t exist.”

“I thought he understood. Hockey. It’s just not possible.”

“Believe me. He does understand.”

George returned to the sofa next to Scott.

“It’s just that he doesn’t want to be reminded of that every day.”

Scott swallowed. He turned to George.

“What can I do?”

George looked Scott in the eyes. He didn’t blink.

“I think you know.”

Scott felt his heart pounding in his chest. His breathing was heavy. He stood up. He looked like he was on the verge of panic.

“I’m going to Boston. Right now,” he said. “I have to convince him. Get him to change his mind.”

George didn’t move. He took a sip of his tea.

“I know my son. He didn’t come to this decision lightly.”

Scott stood there staring for a while. Eventually, he sat back in the easy chair.

“By all means, go to Boston. Go tonight if you have to,” George said. “Not to beg, or to plead, or to argue. But to talk, to listen, to understand.”

Scott looked down at his feet.

“I’ll fly up in the morning. Stay for the day,” he said. “I just need to see him.”

“Just let him know. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

Scott nodded. He reached down to take a handful of nuts. He noticed a small box on the coffee table next to them.

“What’s this?” he asked.

George’s face fell. His eyes became dull.

“It’s a DVD. Die Hard. We watched it on Christmas Eve thirteen years ago. The last one we had with Margaret.”

George choked up a bit.

“Kip and I have watched it together every Christmas Eve since.”

George briefly wiped a tear from his eye.

“I guess this is the year that ends.”

George got up. He opened the cabinet and put the DVD away. He slowly turned around and walked back to the seats.

“Looks like your bottle of water is empty,” he said. He gestured at the empty container in Scott’s hand. “Do you want anything else?”

Scott leaned over and grabbed George’s hand.

“I do,” Scott said. “I want to watch Die Hard. Tonight. With you.”

George looked at the world-famous hockey player sitting in his living room. Kip had chosen well. They both had.

“That would be fantastic.”

 

Christmas Day (December 2016, Boston)

 

Scott trudged up the steps to the second floor apartment in the Fenway section of Boston. He’d taken the seven-thirty AM flight from Newark and got a cab straight from the airport. He didn’t pack a bag. He was flying back tonight.

Kip opened the apartment door when he knocked. They didn’t need to say a word. They held one another in their arms. Kip gently stroked Scott’s back. Scott breathed in Kip’s scent. God, he needed that.

“Your dad says you’ve changed your mind,” Scott said. “You turned down a job and are staying here.”

Kip silently nodded then hung his head.

“I wasn’t sure how to tell you,” he said. “So I didn’t.”

Scott reached over, put his arm around Kip, and pulled him in.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

Kip buried his face into Scott’s shoulder. He felt everything he’d been bottling up for two weeks trying to burst out.

“Does this mean you don’t want to be with me anymore?” Scott asked.

Kip pulled back. His eyes welled up. He saw the pain on Scott’s.

“I want to be with you more than anything,” Kip said.

His face turned sullen and his eyes dimmed.

“But I can’t,” he continued. “At least not in the way that you want.”

Scott frowned. He must have been blind. He hadn’t seen how much Kip had been struggling.

“I know what you want,” Scott said. “But I can’t come out. It would kill my career.”

Kip put a finger to Scott’s mouth and gently shook his head.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just telling you that I’ll wait. However long you might need. Even if it’s to the end of your career.”

Kip pulled back. Scott didn’t have anything to say. Kip continued.

“It’s just that I’ll be waiting for you here.”

Scott tilted his head. He didn’t like what Kip was saying.

“But that could take years,” he said.

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

Kip leaned forward and kissed Scott.

“We made it work for a while. Let’s just keep that going,” he said. “I have friends here. I have a job here. We can see each other whenever we have time. I can handle that.”

He reached out and stroked Scott’s hair.

“But I can’t be invisible in my own home.”

Scott rested his head on Kip’s lap and stretched the rest of his body along the couch. He let out a sigh. He felt Kip’s hand stroking his head.

“Kip Grady,” he said. “I wish I were as strong as you.”

Chapter 26: CHAPTER 26: Times Square / Normalcy / Hoo Boy

CHAPTER 26

Times Square (December 2016, New York)

 

“Joining us tonight from Times Square,” the host on the program said. “Star of the hit television series …”

Scott had a bemused expression on his face. He watched Ryan Seacrest stick a microphone in Gloria Grey’s face on screen. Carter Vaughn stood behind her, half-smiling at the camera. He wore a luxurious wool scarf wrapped a little too perfectly around his neck along with a burgundy velvet blazer. The color of his long overcoat matched Gloria’s.

“Carter is going to get absolutely roasted during practice tomorrow,” Scott said to his phone.

“What makes you say that?” replied Kip.

“Because I’m the one who’s going to do the roasting.”

Kip laughed.

They listened as Gloria answered some questions and promoted her show. Eventually, Seacrest turned his attention to Carter.

“We also have here Carter Vaughn, key member of the top line in the MLH. The Admirals are taking the league by storm. Do you have anything to say to your fans?”

“Just wishing them all a Happy New Year,” he said. “And they should watch Gloria’s show.”

Scott audibly laughed.

“Oh, that’s terrible,” he said. “He’s never going to hear the end of it.”

“The show’s not bad,” Kip said. “I’ve seen it a couple of times.”

The broadcast switched over to some different celebrity couple. Scott and Kip each changed the channel before finding one with a musical act they both liked. Eventually, the ball began to drop and the countdown began. The marquee underneath the tower suddenly displayed “2017” emblazoned in lights while the crowds on the television cheered.

“Happy New Year, Kip,” Scott said, on one end of the line.

“Happy New Year, Scott.”

 

Normalcy (January 2017, Boston)

 

Kip slowed down his pace on the treadmill to cool down. He’d completed a few sets on the machines before getting in some cardio. As he was no longer a student, he couldn’t use the fitness center on campus anymore, so he’d joined this small neighborhood gym near Kenmore right after the New Year.

His heart rate finally settled. He stepped down and wiped off his remaining sweat with a towel. He put on his sweats and threw on a hoodie. He’d shower once he got home.

He bundled up with a warm winter coat, scarf, and some gloves before heading out into the morning cold. He pulled the hood up over his head too. He didn’t head back right away. Relay Coffee, the place he’d worked his first year in Boston, was right across the street.

Kip had started going back there since joining the gym. His old boss was there, and he gave Kip his coffee for free that morning. Kip thanked him but bought two croissants anyway. He’d take them home and give them to Jimmy and Robbie, assuming they hadn’t left yet by the time he got there.

The coffee was warm in his hand. He could feel it even through his gloves, and he could see the steam rising from the lid. He navigated his way down the sidewalk as he walked home, trying to avoid the grey piles of slush that seemed to accumulate at every corner.

As he headed up the stairs, he saw Jimmy and Robbie walking down. They greeted each other on the landing.

“Glad I caught you,” Kip said. He handed them the croissants.

“Ooh, breakfast,” Robbie said, as he and Jimmy thanked him.

“So while you’re here,” Jimmy said. “I wanted to let you know that Reid wants to go ice skating tomorrow night.”

“All of us,” Robbie added. “He was quite insistent with us that we make sure you come.”

“Ooh-kayy,” Kip responded, looking at them warily.

“He wants to learn how to skate,” Jimmy said. “And was saying that, since you’re dating this world famous hockey player, that you can teach him.”

Kip looked at them blankly.

“That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever,” he said.

Jimmy and Robbie chuckled.

“That’s what I was trying to tell him,” Jimmy said.

“Well, do you know how to skate?” Robbie asked.

Kip stared at them for a few moments.

“Well, yes.”

Jimmy smiled. So did Robbie.

“All right then!” Robbie said. Kip shook his head.

They parted ways again and Kip continued walking upstairs. In the apartment he finally got out of his winter clothes and gym gear, showered, and made himself some scrambled eggs for breakfast. After a few minutes of relaxation, he got himself dressed for work, threw back on his outerwear, and headed out the door.

Kip was the first one at the gallery that morning. He unlocked the doors, turned on the lights, and started playing some quiet music over the speaker system. He tidied the front, booted up the computer, and gave the space a brief walkthrough. When ten o’clock rolled around, he opened the doors to the public.

Graham came by around noon. Kip hadn’t been expecting him until later. There was going to be a brief planning meeting after work that day.

“I’m going to have to cancel the meeting today,” Graham said. “I need to take a trip to New York for a couple days and want to head out before the evening rush. I’ll reschedule for the same time next Wednesday.”

“Oh, OK, Graham,” Kip said. “Should I let the others know?”

“I’ll take care of it,” he said. “I was thinking of making some changes to the spring schedule so it’s better if we postpone anyway.”

“If there’s anything I can do …”

“There is,” Graham said. He gave Kip a couple printouts with names, addresses, and some images on them.

“There are a couple local artists that I’d been meaning to check out. Since I’m going to be gone for a few days, I was hoping you could go do it. Please arrange to visit their studios and get a sense of whether they might fit with our program.”

Kip nodded his head. Graham continued.

“Just give me your feedback and impressions. We can discuss at our meeting next week.”

Kip hadn’t been asked to do this sort of thing before. He did his best to try to keep his facial expression neutral.

“Sure, Graham,” he said. “I’d be happy to help.”

 

Hoo Boy (January 2017, New York)

 

“I could come down just for Sunday,” Kip said from the other side of the phone. “I need to be back here on Monday to visit some artists.”

“That’s a lot of driving for such a short amount of time,” Scott said. “And I’ve got practice and a game on Sunday anyway.”

Kip sighed.

“You’re going to see Elena before you see me again.”

“Yeah, the fundraiser is next Tuesday. I guess she’s coming, then.”

“Yep,” Kip said. “I think she’s looking forward to it.”

Kip returned to the main matter at hand.

“So what about the following week?” he asked. “I can be there Sunday and Monday.”

“All-Star Game. I’ll be in Tampa.”

“Damn you for being a good hockey player.”

Scott chuckled.

“It’s going to be a whole bunch of us this year.”

“I could just come down anyway. See my dad on Sunday, come to you on Monday and also take Tuesday off.”

“Our game after the break is in Miami, so I’m just staying in Florida,” Scott said. “The week after that would work for me, though.”

Scott could hear the frustration in Kip’s voice.

“There’s going to be an opening that Thursday. I imagine we’re going to be busy with the install all week.”

“This is getting ridiculous. It’d be so much better if we just …” Scott didn’t complete that thought. 

“Well, we do start a road trip the following week, and one of the stops is Boston,” he said.

“That’s a whole month away,” Kip groaned. “And are you really going to be able to sneak out of your hotel?”

“I’m a little worried there’s going to be some extra scrutiny,” Scott said. “Boston’s been matching our pace so it’s going to be a big game.”

“You know, I can always try to sneak in.”

Scott gulped.

“Hoo boy,” he said. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Chapter 27: CHAPTER 27: Todd / The Fundraiser 3 / All-Star Weekend

CHAPTER 27

Todd (January 2017, New York)

 

Scott was annoyed. It was going to be two full months between times he and Kip would be together. They’d had some pretty long stretches apart previously since getting back together. But that part was supposed to be over.

Why couldn’t Kip have just moved back to New York? Why couldn’t he have just taken that job at the museum? Why couldn’t he be here, waiting for him at home, right now?

Scott stopped himself. He couldn’t believe how selfish that sounded.

His phone buzzed. It was his agent. Scott answered the phone.

“What do you want, Todd?”

“And a good Monday afternoon to you, too, Hunter.”

Scott muttered a half-hearted apology for being abrupt. Todd resumed speaking.

“So I just wanted to give you the rundown on a few of the brands I’ve got meetings with over the All-Star weekend. There’s a couple execs I’m going to want you to meet as well.”

“Fine,” Scott said. “About time.”

“Hey, I may have mentioned this before. You’re a hard guy to sell.”

Scott bristled.

“Yes. You’ve made that abundantly clear. I think the word you used was ‘boring’.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Todd said. “And it’s not like I didn’t try to do something about that. I mean, after you shot down my suggestion to take that model to some Fashion Week parties, I’ve stopped pushing.”

“And I appreciate that.”

“But it’s still a really good idea.”

“No.”

“And you see how much Gloria Grey has helped with Carter Vaughn’s brand. I think he just got signed by Yves Saint-Laurent.”

“They’re a happy couple, Todd.”

“And they’re getting all this free press in the celebrity rags. They’ve been giving the tabloids something to talk about, and it’s really paying off.”

Scott gave a brief huff.

“I’ll really give them something to talk about,” he said, half under his breath.

“What was that?” Todd asked.

“Nothing. It’s not important.”

“Anyway,” Todd continued. “You know my position. We can make you a hell of a lot more marketable if we can get an actress on your arm. And who knows. Maybe she’ll be good for you in other ways too.”

Scott paused. Todd had taken this one step too far. And if he knew anything about Todd, this wouldn’t be the last he’d hear of it. This needed to end now.

“You know what, Todd,” Scott said. “I gotta tell you something.”

“Don’t know where this is coming from, but I’ll take it. I’m all ears.”

“So let’s get this straight. There’s not going to be any actresses on my arm. I’m not going to be taking any runway models to any parties to get people talking about me. And you know why, Todd? You wanna know why? It’s because I’m actually already seeing someone.”

There was silence on the phone. It seemed to last an eternity.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Todd said. “I didn’t know. You never told me. Who’s the lucky lady?”

Scott was nearly hyperventilating. Was this really the day?

“His name is Kip,” Scott said. “And I love him very much.”

 

The Fundraiser 3 (January 2017, New York)

 

Scott was cornered on one side of the ballroom by Dr. Jacobs, headmaster of St. Thomas Prep. It wasn’t so much that he disliked Dr. Jacobs. It was just that he was having trouble focusing on the conversation. His eyes kept darting around the room, searching for Elena.

“Yes,” Scott said. “I really enjoyed the time that I’ve spent there the past two summers. I’m convinced it played a big part in why things turned around for me and are going so well this year.”

“And the camp,” Dr. Jacobs said. “Your presence there was cited as one of the highlights in a lot of the feedback we got from the players who attended.”

“I had a great time interacting with them too.”

“You know Coach Tierney has recruited one of them to St. Thomas. He’d been a highly regarded prospect and a nationals invitee. We were able to accommodate his request to matriculate for the spring semester.”

Scott figured he must be talking about Luke, who, last he’d heard, had quit the game. Good for him for getting back into it. And good for Coach Tierney for making that happen.

“So if you train with us again next summer, we might have to beat the applicants off with a stick.”

“Not making any promises, but I’m happy to support St. Thomas any way I can.”

Scott’s eyes drifted towards the entrance. He saw Elena outside the ballroom, standing in front of the coat check station. He turned to Dr. Jacobs.

“It was great seeing you again, but I see someone I need to talk to.”

He didn’t even wait for a response before making a beeline for the entrance.

“I need to talk to you,” Scott said, as he pulled up next to Elena.

Elena handed her coat to the attendant and turned to Scott.

“Where do you want to go?” she asked.

Scott looked around. There were people everywhere.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Let’s just walk.”

They made their way together down the corridor. They found a small alcove near the end of the hall. It seemed quiet and private enough. There was even a little bench. They sat down.

“Did Kip tell you? I came out to my agent yesterday.”

Elena smiled. She leaned in and gave Scott a big hug.

“Yes he did,” Elena said. “And congratulations. I know how big a step that is for you.”

“I’m kind of low-key freaking out about this right now.”

“Did it not go well?”

Scott put a hand to his forehead and rubbed his eyebrows.

“He just kind of immediately went into this spiel about not jeopardizing my career or complicating contract negotiations or losing endorsements.”

“So what does that mean?”

Scott sighed.

“Basically, he said I’d be an idiot if I didn’t stay closeted until the end of my career,” Scott said. “Oh, and then he added, ‘For God’s sake, don’t say anything to your teammates or management until we finalize your extension’.”

“And when’s that going to be?” she asked.

Scott looked down at the floor.

“The window opens at the end of this season. It could take up to a year after that.”

Elena looked at Scott’s face. He looked scared and almost defeated.

“So what are you going to do?”

Scott leaned over and Elena wrapped her arm around his shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Scott said.

Elena gently rocked with him there in the alcove.

“Whatever you do,” she said. “Kip’s worth it.”

 

All-Star Weekend (January 2017, Tampa Bay)

 

“I hate it here,” Scott typed. He was texting on his phone.

”It’s a resort. I think you’ll survive,” Kip replied.

Scott knew he shouldn’t take these things for granted. This was his ninth All-Star Game selection. It would have just been fine with him not to have been picked this year. He could have used the time off to spend a couple days with Kip.

Over the next few days, he’d dutifully give his media interviews, cheerfully participate in fan engagement events, and pay adequate lip service to the league’s key sponsors. He and some other star players were scheduled to film some silly promo tomorrow for the network broadcasting the event. And, at some point this weekend, something resembling hockey would be involved too.

“I should go,” Scott said. “I’ve been hiding in my room ever since we got here. The others will wonder where I disappeared to.”

Kip sent back an emoji with a sad face.

“Miss you,” Scott sent.

Even worse, most everyone would be here with someone. Carter said that Gloria was flying in from LA tonight. Matti Jalo talked about meeting up with some woman he used to see when he played in Tampa Bay. Coach Murdock was here with his wife. As selfish as it might sound, he was at least grateful that Bennett and his wife were on the splits. He could hang out with him just like he did at the Admirals holiday party.

The holiday party.

Fuck.

Kip hadn’t said anything all this time. But everything changed right after that. And here he was doing the same thing all over again. It didn’t matter that he didn’t like it. It didn’t make Kip any less invisible.

Scott felt disgusted with himself.

Scott went downstairs to the lounge. There were players and partners and families everywhere. He didn’t know where Jalo or Bennett or Murdock were. He saw Carter off to the side with a beer in his hand. He was alone. Maybe this was his chance to get the ball rolling.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” Carter said. It didn’t seem like this was his first beer.

“Hey, I don’t see Jalo or Bennie around either.”

Carter gestured towards the pool. They were playing chicken with two players from the Western Conference. Scott put up a fake smile.

“So I was hoping you and I could chat for a few minutes,” Scott said.

Carter turned to him.

“Sure, Hunter.”

But his eyes drifted and he spotted Hollander and Rozanov sitting together at the bar.

“Hold on a second. I gotta go give them shit.”

Carter ran over to the bar, threw his arms over their shoulders and started talking.

Scott’s phone buzzed. It was a message from Todd.

“I just arrived. We’re meeting with the Volvo team at nine.”

That’s right. Todd was in town.

Carter came back to Scott. He appeared to be in a good mood.

“So what did you want to chat about?” he asked.

Scott looked at Carter. This wasn’t the time. The moment had passed.

“Oh, I was just wondering what time Gloria was getting here.”

Chapter 28: CHAPTER 28: Installation / Moving Out / Sneaking In / Roommate

CHAPTER 28

Installation (February 2017, Boston)

 

“What do you think,” Graham asked. “Is this wall too dense?”

Kip took a long look at the gallery wall. He headed towards the opposite side of the exhibition space, turned around, and approached the wall again slowly. He looked from side to side, taking in the works they had placed on either side.

“It’s not that it’s too dense,” he said. “I just think the works here don’t complement each other well enough to pull it off.”

Graham stepped back himself.

“I think that’s right,” he said.

He looked at a mid-sized piece hanging on an adjacent wall.

“We can swap that one here and then there won’t be as much competition between them.”

Kip nodded.

“And if we do that …”

Kip pointed to one of the pieces they hadn’t yet mounted for the show.

“Then I think we can add this one.”

Graham agreed and went into the back office. Meanwhile Kip and the other gallery assistant on site got to work moving the artwork around. It took forty-five minutes and a little bit of touching up on the wall, but Kip was eventually pleased with the result. He and his coworker got to work on the lighting.

There was a knock at the front door. Kip looked around to see a woman at the entrance. She looked vaguely familiar. Just as he was about to walk over there, Graham came out of the office. He waved Kip off and let the woman in.

“I believe you two have met once before,” Graham said, speaking to Kip and the woman.

“Jeanette, if I’m not mistaken,” Kip said. “From Saint-Georges Gallery in New York.”

“That’s right,” she said. “We met in December. Christopher, I believe?”

“Everyone calls me Kip,” he said. “What brings you to Boston?”

She glanced at Graham.

“Graham came to our opening in Chelsea a few weeks ago,” she said. “And so I suggested I come to yours here tomorrow night.”

Graham smiled.

“We’ve been having some discussions lately,” he said. “Trying to see if there are ways GK Modern and Saint-Georges can collaborate.”

Jeanette nodded.

“Nothing’s written in stone. But stay tuned.”

She and Graham headed back towards the office. Before they closed the door, Kip called out.

“Graham. Wait a second.”

Graham turned around.

“Yes, Kip?”

“I was getting ready to mount the placards on the wall. But I think the ones for at least three of the pieces are missing. Looks like we never prepared them.”

Graham frowned.

“How do you feel about writing them?” he asked.

Kip didn’t change his expression and just replied calmly.

“I think that would be fine.”

Graham smiled.

“Great,” he said. “I think I can trust you.”

He turned back into the office and closed the door.

 

Moving Out (February 2017, Boston)

 

Kip had stopped by the grocery store on his way home after work. He picked up a bag of mussels and a crusty baguette. He knew he had some fresh garlic and an open bottle of white wine at home. He was going to prepare his dinner and watch the Admirals game on TV. He probably wouldn’t get the chance to call or FaceTime with Scott tonight.

He got to the apartment and Jimmy and Robbie were already there. He wasn’t sure if they would be home or at Robbie’s apartment tonight. He liked the company, but he was fine either way.

The two of them stood up and walked over to Kip. Kip didn’t like the expressions on their faces - at once sad and apologetic.

“What’s up, guys?” Kip asked.

Jimmy reached with one hand and touched Kip’s shoulder.

“Umm, before you prep your dinner, there’s something I wanted to chat about,” Jimmy said.

Kip stopped and was wide-eyed with concern. He put everything down on the kitchen counter.

“Okay,” he said. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Jimmy swallowed. His eyes darted between Robbie and Kip and back again before focusing once more on Kip.

“So, Robbie and I have been talking recently. And I think we’re going to move in together.”

Kip took a moment for that to sink in before he nodded.

“That’s …”

Kip hesitated before continuing.

“Fantastic, guys. I’m so happy for you.”

Jimmy and Robbie glanced at each other.

“We’re sorry, Kip, but …,” Robbie started.

“No, no, really,” Kip said, becoming a bit more forceful with his words.

“I’m serious. I’m really happy for you. What are your plans?”

“I want to be moved into Robbie’s place by the end of March,” he said. “In an ideal world, you’ve entered into your own arrangement with the landlord by then.”

Kip did the math quickly in his head. He could probably cover the full rent for a couple months, but would definitely need to find a new roommate before long. If he wanted to stay, that is.

“We thought you would have moved back to New York by now,” Jimmy said. “So when you decided to stay, we weren’t sure what to do, or how long to wait.”

“We can help you out a bit with rent for a little while until you have someone move in,” Robbie said.

Kip shook his head.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll need to figure this out on my own.”

It was an awkward time of year to try to find a roommate. He had some thinking to do.

“But let’s not lose sight of what’s important here,” Kip said.

He walked over and wrapped one arm around each of them.

“You guys are taking a big step. And I couldn’t be happier for you.”

Jimmy and Robbie hugged him back.

“We’ll still hang out lots,” Robbie said.

“We promise,” Jimmy added.

Kip held them tight in his embrace. He wasn’t quite ready to let them go.

✦

Jimmy and Robbie stayed a few hours to watch the hockey game. They left to spend the night at Robbie’s place. Kip sent a congratulatory text to Scott and told him he was going to turn in for the night. He got himself ready, but checked his email before heading to bed.

There was a message from Nadine waiting in his inbox. He hadn’t heard from her in more than a month.

“Hi Kip,” the message began. “I heard that the Brooklyn Museum will soon be posting an opening for a curatorial assistant in the Contemporary Art Department. I just wanted to let you know. I’m not sure if you’re still looking for opportunities in New York, but if you are, I can help you reach out.”

Kip turned the computer off. He shouldn’t have checked his email this late. Now, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get to sleep.

 

Sneaking In (February 2017, Boston)

 

“I’m on your floor,” Kip texted. “Hallways look clear.”

Kip tried to walk naturally as he made his way down the corridor. He could see Scott’s room ahead. The door had been left open a crack.

But before he got there, he heard a door open in the hallway behind him. Kip didn’t turn around, he didn’t dart into Scott’s room. He just kept walking down the hall as nonchalantly as he could.

“I had to improvise,” he texted. “Hold on a sec.”

The footsteps behind him didn’t sound like they were getting closer. Kip stopped and turned around to take a brief look. Whoever it was had ducked into the area in front of the bank of elevators.

Now was his chance. He backtracked quickly to Scott’s room, pushed inside, and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the wall on the inside of the room and let out a breath. Scott walked up to him.

“Sorry,” Scott said. “Thank you for doing this.”

Kip dropped his overnight bag on the floor. He placed his hand on Scott’s cheek. He rubbed it across his face and felt the bristles of his short beard against his palm.

“It was kind of exhilarating,” Kip said. “Like I was a spy or something.”

Scott leaned in and brought his mouth to Kip’s ear.

“Oh yeah,” he whispered. “What are you going to do to make me spill all my secrets?”

He reached down and grabbed the waistband of Kip’s pants. They brought their bodies together. Chest against chest. Abs against abs. Crotch against crotch.

Kip purred.

“Why don’t we find out.”

✦

They cuddled together naked in bed. Legs intertwined. Faces inches apart. Scott’s finger lazily tracing down from Kip’s hair, down his cheek, to his lips.

“I missed this,” Scott said.

“Me too,” Kip replied.

Scott gazed into Kip’s eyes. He felt the warmth of their bodies together. Why couldn’t it be like this every night?

“Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?” Scott asked.

Kip had told Scott about his housing situation and the job opportunity at the Brooklyn Museum. Scott hadn’t really said anything about it to Kip, but he hadn’t needed to.

“No, I haven’t,” Kip said. “I’m still thinking.”

Scott pulled Kip towards him a bit more.

“Maybe it’s a sign that it’s time to come back.”

Kip leaned his head onto Scott’s neck.

“I suppose it does make a lot of sense.”

Scott wrapped his arm around Kip’s back.

“Even if it doesn’t work out at the museum. Move in with me. You can start looking again when you’re in New York.”

Kip loved the feel of being in Scott’s arms. It wouldn’t have to be just for one night anymore. Maybe he made the wrong choice back in December.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it,” Scott said.

Scott lifted Kip’s head by the chin and they kissed.

“I will,” Kip said.

✦

They woke up at four-thirty. They didn’t want to take any chances. Kip dressed and gathered his things. He would sneak back downstairs before any of Scott’s teammates were up.

“Thank you again for coming,” Scott said. He walked Kip to the door.

“Nadine said it would be better to apply before it was publicized,” Kip said. “I will let you know in the next day or two.”

Scott opened the door and he looked down the hallway.

Shit.

“Hunter?” A voice called out. It was Brisebois.

Kip saw the fear in Scott’s face. Without a word, he took his bag, went into Scott’s bathroom, and closed the door.

Brisebois appeared at the doorway.

“What are you doing up?”

“Breezy, I could ask the same thing about you.”

Breezy looked Scott up and down.

“So you’re being a wise guy,” he said.

“Morning skate’s not until ten,” Scott said. “You should try to get more sleep. I know I am.”

“Yeah. I suppose.”

Brisebois turned around and headed back to his room.

“See you later, Hunter.”

Scott heard the sound of a door closing coming from down the hallway. He shut his own door and turned around. Kip had emerged from the bathroom.

“I’m sorry about that,” Scott said. “He just …”

Kip leaned forward and interrupted Scott by kissing him on the lips. He held him longer and more tightly than the last time.

“That’s OK,” Kip said when they broke apart. “I know how it is.”

Scott felt a deep pang of shame. He checked the hallway again and this time it was clear.

Kip hurried outside and down the corridor. He didn’t look back as he left.

 

Roommate (March 2017, Boston)

 

“I didn’t realize how hard it would be to find a place this time of year,” Gordon said. “I’ve spent the last two months here couch surfing.”

Kip had recommitted himself to Boston. He’d thanked Nadine for the job lead but said he wouldn’t apply. He came to an agreement with the landlord to transfer the lease into his name. He put out an ad for a new roommate and, after screening a few applicants, thought he’d found a good fit. Gordon was a grad student who had just transferred to BU in January.

“Jimmy said he was coming by to get more of his things today,” Kip said. “And if you wanted his furniture, you could probably move in tonight.”

“I’m looking forward to having a bedroom again.”

“He’ll give you a really good deal. His boyfriend already has plenty and he doesn’t want to deal with the hassle.”

“That sounds promising,” Gordon said. “I was dreading buying furniture. A grad student stipend only goes so far.”

“I think the stipends in materials engineering go a bit further than the ones in art history do.”

Gordon looked Kip up and down.

“You know, if you hadn’t already told me, I never would have guessed. You’re pretty solidly built. Not something people normally expect from an art history major.”

Kip laughed.

“We come in all shapes and sizes.”

“Seriously, Kip. You should come play on the club rugby team. Season’s about to start.”

“Maybe I’ll come to a practice sometime.”

There was a knock at the door and Jimmy let himself in.

“You must be the new guy,” he said.

“Yes. You must be Jimmy.”

“I am. Kip, did you mention the furniture?”

“I did,” Kip said.

“Tell me what you’re asking,” Gordon added.

They took a brief walk around, reviewed all the pieces, and agreed on a price.

“I guess I better get my stuff out of here then,” Jimmy said.

“I don’t want to rush you,” Gordon said. “You probably already had plans tonight.”

“Help me finish packing and come out with us afterwards,” Jimmy said.

“You can meet some of our friends,” Kip added. “And I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Sounds good,” Gordon said. “Where are you headed?”

”Gordon,” Jimmy asked, “Are you familiar with a bar called Crave?”

Chapter 29: CHAPTER 29: Fear / Choosing Hockey

CHAPTER 29

Fear (March 2017, Montreal)

 

Scott was on all fours. Butt in the air, hands and knees on the floor. This was fun. It was something he’d been curious about, but never really had the opportunity to try.

“I’m ready,” he exclaimed.

“All right,” Arnaud said. “Go!”

Scott took a few quick steps across the floor. Right hand first, followed by left knee. Left hand next, followed by right knee.

Rachelle just sat on the floor next to him, looking at the big man go.

“I don’t think she wants to play,” Scott said.

“Take a couple more steps,” Francois said. “She’ll copy you soon enough.”

Scott moved forward a few more paces, looking back at Rachelle as he went. She let out a small squeal and, finally, seemed to get the idea. She fell forward and started crawling after him.

Scott took a few more steps. He’d made it halfway through the room. Rachelle was really motoring now, closing the distance between them.

“Oh no, you’re catching up!” Scott called out. He intentionally made his paces shorter.

Rachelle kept moving. She pulled even with Scott. They crawled together side by side. 

“She’s going to win!” Arnaud announced. The edge of the carpet was close.

Achilles entered the room. He stuck his nose in Rachelle’s face. She grabbed him by the neck and tumbled with him onto her side. Achilles licked her nose while she giggled hysterically. Apparently there were more important things to do than win bragging rights over a professional hockey player in a crawl race.

Scott stood up. He feigned disappointment.

“I think I know where I stand here,” he said.

“That’s OK,” Francois said. “I think Achilles ranks higher than me, too.”

✦

Arnaud carried a sleeping Rachelle upstairs. Scott and Francois moved to the kitchen and sat around the counter. Francois poured a couple glasses of wine.

“Everything seems to be going really well for you lately, Scott,” Francois said. “The Admirals are top of the league. You have to be the clear favorite for MVP. And you have that wonderful boyfriend in Boston.”

Scott nodded. His face betrayed a brief wince of pain. Francois noticed.

“What?” Francois asked. “Is there something wrong? From what you’ve told me, everything seemed to still be going strong.”

Scott hesitated for a few moments in order to gather his thoughts.

“It is,” Scott said. “Going strong, that is. I’m as madly in love with him as I’ve ever been. And he is with me.”

Scott looked down to the countertop.

“But I think that I’ve let him down. Again.”

Francois frowned. Arnaud came back downstairs after laying Rachelle down in her crib. He joined them at the counter and poured his own glass of wine.

“What do you mean?” Francois asked.

“He finished his degree. He had a job offer. He was all set to move back to New York. To be with me. To be together.”

Arnaud’s brow furrowed.

“Did he break up with you?”

Scott shook his head.

“No. But when the time came to move he …”

Scott took a deep breath.

“He just couldn’t. He didn’t want to live every day being reminded that he was a secret.”

A look of sympathy crossed Francois’ face.

“Even worse,” Scott continued, “he renewed his lease and appears ready to settle in Boston for the long haul. I guess he figures this is the only way he won’t go insane while I get my shit together.”

Francois rested a hand on Arnaud’s arm.

“So he’s still a secret. To your teammates and coaches and to everyone who knows Scott Hunter the hockey player.”

Scott nodded, then quickly tried to correct himself.

“Not my agent. I told him about Kip a month or so ago. I told him about me.”

Francois sat up. His eyes widened. A smile came to Arnaud’s face.

“Scott,” Francois said. “That’s huge. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you did that.”

“We’re so proud of you,” Arnaud added.

Scott nodded quietly.

“Thank you,” he said. “But it’s almost like it didn’t matter. It didn’t really change anything. He didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.”

“And what did he tell you?” Francois asked.

“Don’t let it come out until I retire. Can’t let the fans find out. It’ll kill my endorsements. Don’t let anyone in the organization know until my contract extension is done.”

“Well of course he said that.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s an agent. He wants to maximize your income,” Francois said. “His, too.”

Scott frowned.

“It’s not malicious,” Francois added. “It’s just the way it is.”

“I mean, the contract thing makes sense, doesn’t it?” Scott said. “It’s just about waiting a little while longer.”

Scott saw the look on Francois’ face. Maybe it was pity. Or maybe disappointment.

“How long has Kip already been waiting?”

“I’ve talked to him. The extension won’t take much more than a year.”

“And then what?” Francois said. “You’re not old, there may be another extension. Or you’ll want to get into coaching. And then there’s endorsements, public engagements, and more.”

Arnaud raised his hand to the base of the back of Francois’s head and gave his neck a little massage. Francois continued.

“There will always be another reason to wait.”

A lump formed in Scott’s throat.

“I mean it’s not as if hockey would accept me.”

“Do you really know that?” Francois said. 

Scott didn’t respond.

“You’ve been so certain for so long. But it’s not as if you or anyone else really knows.”

“I know what gets said on the ice. In the locker room.”

“I don’t doubt there are a lot of jerks. But I also doubt that everyone is. Especially not the people you’ve chosen to surround yourself with. Has anyone actually told you they’d reject you?”

Scott opened his mouth but then closed it again.

“You think you know what’s going to happen. But that’s fear talking. That’s not proof.”

Scott shook his head from side to side.

“I’ve been playing this game a long time,” he said.

“Have you ever talked to anyone about this?”

“I talk to you,” Scott said.

“I mean someone else in hockey. Another player. Or a coach. Anyone who’s lived in that same culture that you’re convinced has no room for you.”

“No. I haven’t.”

“Surely there’s someone in the game you think you can trust.”

Scott considered the hundreds of teammates and coaches he’d had over the years. Where would he turn if he decided he had to?

“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe there is.”

 

Choosing Hockey (March 2017, New York)

 

“You’ve been having a heck of a season, Hunter,” Coach Tierney said.

“The team’s come together nicely this year,” Scott said into his phone. “I hope we sustain it through the playoffs.”

“I mean you specifically. Those guys who thought you were done a few years ago really have egg on their face.”

“Thanks a lot, Coach. But I didn’t call just to hear you stroke my ego.”

“Consider it stroked. But I hear you. What’s on your mind?”

Scott had known Coach Tierney longer than just about anyone else still in his life. This was a man he’d respected since he was a child. If he couldn’t talk to him, what was the point of it all.

“So I wanted your opinion about something,” Scott began. “I wasn’t really sure who else to ask.”

“All right. I’ll do my best,” Coach replied.

“It’s about hockey.”

“I’m sure you could have talked to tons of people about hockey.”

“Well, it’s not about the game. It’s more about the people.”

“OK,” Coach said. “I’m listening.”

Scott’s nerves started to fray. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“You’ve been around the sport a long time. You’ve experienced a lot and have had to deal with many kinds of people. How do you think people would deal with someone who is  … different,” Scott said.

Coach Tierney didn’t answer right away. Scott could almost hear the gears turning.

“I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘different’,” Coach Tierney said.

Scott figured he had to come right out and say it.

“I mean someone who is gay.”

There was a long silence. Scott felt that it went on for hours, but it was really only for a few seconds. When Coach Tierney finally spoke again, it seemed he was choosing his words carefully.

“I think such a player would find it very hard. Lots of people in and around the game would make life difficult for him.”

Scott’s heart sank. This was a waste of time.

“There would be some ugliness. Way more than there should be,” he continued. “I’m not going to pretend otherwise. And whoever this person is, would have to be strong enough to fight through it without giving up.”

Scott could almost hear the slurs he’d encountered for twenty years in his head. At least, when he’d heard them, no one realized at the time they were directed at him.

“But I do think, at this point, he wouldn’t have to fight through it alone. He’d find some support. Probably more than you think. And most of the rest of the guys just want to play hockey.”

“Eventually, he’ll put on his pads, tie up his skates, and step out onto the ice. Life would go on.”

Maybe there was a tiny glimmer of hope after all.

“But I gotta ask, Hunter. Are you telling me what I think you’re trying to tell me?”

Scott supposed there was no use denying it any more.

“Yes,” he said. “I am.”

There was another long pause before Coach Tierney finally spoke up again.

“I’m proud of you, Scott. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

Scott breathed a little sigh of relief. His heart was pounding but he felt a little lighter in his chest.

“You know, I’d always been a little worried about you,” Coach Tierney said. “You’ve always been so focused on hockey. Nearly to the exclusion of everything else. It made you a fantastic player. But maybe at a pretty steep cost.”

“I’ve been keeping this hidden from just about everyone for almost my whole life,” Scott said. “Even from me.”

“I always thought you were the way you were because of what happened with your parents,” Coach said. “It was your way of coping. But I guess there was more going on than I realized.”

“I always believed there was no place in the game for someone like me.”

There was silence for a few seconds before Coach Tierney continued.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Coach said. “You’ve kept this to yourself for so long. Why are you bringing this up now?”

Scott reflected for a second and continued.

“There’s someone in my life now and he deserves so much better. I don’t want to hide him anymore. And I suppose that would mean I can’t hide myself anymore either.”

Scott could hear Coach Tierney taking some deep breaths on the other side of the line.

“That’ll be a big deal,” Coach said.

“I know,” Scott replied. “I don’t want to lose him. But I don’t want to lose hockey either.”

“Let me tell you about something that’s been going on,” Coach said. “Remember that kid from the camp over the summer? Luke. Talented player. Couldn’t go to nationals. Left the camp early. Quit hockey.”

“Yes, of course.” Scott said. “I heard you recruited him to St. Thomas.”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

“Well right before nationals,” Coach continued, “he was seen kissing a boy. A classmate of his from Niagara Falls. It kind of blew up and he was harassed and bullied by a few of his peers. He was in no shape to go to nationals to try to impress anyone with all that swirling around him.”

Scott’s heart ached for Luke.

“I’d been one of the evaluators that recommended him. So I was shocked when I’d heard he dropped out of nationals. I did a little digging and I found out the story.”

“I reached out. Invited him to the camp we held at St. Thomas. Reassured him things would die down by then and he could get his hockey career back on track. So he came. You saw him there. He was great.”

“Yes, yes he was,” Scott said.

“But I was wrong,” Coach continued. “Things hadn’t died down. You know how word gets around. And a couple of the boys there decided to take it upon themselves to play a pretty cruel prank on him. Ended up in a fight.”

“When we found out what happened, we kicked them out, of course. But Luke also decided he’d had enough and left too. He went home. He hung up his skates. He said exactly what you just told me - he didn’t think hockey had a place for someone like him.”

That had been teenage Scott’s greatest fear. He could choose the freedom to be himself, or he could choose to keep the one thing holding him together.

Scott had chosen hockey.

Luke had chosen Luke.

“I talked to my players. I talked to coaches and the administration. I asked whether we could make St. Thomas a place that Luke would feel he was welcome, or at least safe. And, while it wasn’t unanimous, I thought the answer was yes.”

“I spent six months trying to convince him to come play for us here at St. Thomas. To not let his talent and potential go to waste. In January, he agreed. We’ve been working to get him back into form ever since.”

“You asked whether hockey had a place for someone like you. No one has really tried to answer the question. Each kid, each person has had to try to figure it out for himself. For every Luke who barely makes it to the other side, there have got to be dozens or hundreds who don’t.”

“So you should know, what you do is going to have an impact beyond you and this guy you’ve been seeing. You might not see that right now, but it will. It will make a difference on whoever comes after you too. Someone like Luke.”

Chapter 30: CHAPTER 30: I Like You / Hunter's Date

CHAPTER 30

I Like You (March 2017, Boston)

 

Gordon came out of his bedroom and placed a cardboard box with a few items in it on the floor next to the entrance.

“Is that the stuff Jimmy left?” Kip asked.

“Yes,” Gordon said. “Make sure Jimmy doesn’t forget it when he leaves later tonight.”

“Thanks for letting us all hang out here again,” Kip said. “This apartment has a lot of happy memories.”

“I like your friends. Jimmy and Robbie and Chuck are great.”

Kip developed an amused expression.

“I noticed you skipped someone,” Kip said.

“I’m teasing. Reid is fine. He just seems like he can be a bit much.”

“That’s very true. But he has a heart of gold,” Kip said. “And he’s bringing a lasagna.”

There was a knock at the door. Kip went to open it. All four of them were outside and everyone exchanged greetings and hugs. Reid and Chuck put what appeared to be two lasagnas on the kitchen counter.

“There’s six of us now,” Reid said looking straight at Gordon. “So I didn’t think one would be enough.”

They made themselves comfortable around the living room, Robbie passing out beers while Kip pulled out the PS4 from beneath the TV. Chuck put the lasagnas in the preheated oven and, soon enough, the smell of garlic and roasted tomatoes began to fill the apartment.

Reid sat on the couch next to Gordon. He stared at him for a few seconds. Gordon turned his head to look at him, smiled, and gave a brief wave.

“So did you like that bar we all went to together last time?” Reid asked.

“You mean Crave?” Gordon said. “Yeah, it had a nice vibe. I’m new to Boston, so I appreciate you guys inviting me with you.”

“Did you go to places like that in California?”

“There were some cool bars in Santa Barbara. Before my advisor moved to BU, the whole research group would go out sometimes.”

“I meant a gay bar.”

“Reid,” Kip said. “What are you doing?”

Reid turned to Kip.

“I’m just trying to get to know your new roommate better. Is there anything wrong with that?”

He turned back to Gordon.

“You know some of the guys at Crave were asking about you.”

“Do any of them play rugby?”

“I don’t think that’s quite what they had in mind when they said they wanted you to pin them to the ground.”

“Reid!” Kip said, quite a bit louder this time. “Leave the poor boy alone.”

Jimmy chuckled. Chuck rubbed Reid’s back.

“Kip!” Robbie shouted from across the room, attempting to change the subject. “How’s work these days?”

Gordon laughed. Kip turned to Robbie.

“It’s been really interesting,” he said. “Graham had been dropping some hints that we might be collaborating with this other gallery owned by a friend of his. But it looks like it’s actually happening.”

“What does that mean?” Jimmy asked.

“Well, we’re starting off small,” Kip said, “We’re cross-promoting each other and swapping a few pieces from our shows.”

“But in June, we’re going big. We’re planning to jointly put on a group show. Multiple artists from both Boston and New York. Back-to-back openings, one in South End, one in Chelsea. Mixing and matching collectors lists and trying to get critics in both cities engaged.”

“That is pretty cool,” Robbie said. “Collaborating with a Chelsea gallery will really expand GK’s reach.”

“So are you going to have to go to New York for this?” Chuck asked.

“I haven’t heard anything specific,” Kip said. “But who knows.”

“Wait a second,” Reid said. “The place you’re working. The art gallery. It’s working with another one in New York. And you’re putting on joint shows together.”

“For now,” Kip said.

Reid shook his head.

“Honey, the universe is telling you something. The wheels are in motion. It’s trying to send you running back into his arms in New York.”

“I think you’re reading way too much into this, Reid,” Kip said.

Reid turned to Gordon.

“You know Kip has a boyfriend back in New York, right?”

“He did say that, yes. Hopefully I get to meet him someday.”

Reid’s eyes darted briefly from side to side.

“Did you have a boyfriend back in Santa Barbara?”

Jimmy coughed. Gordon laughed.

“That’s ridiculous. I spend way too much time in the lab to date anybody.”

“So you are gay.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So you’re straight.”

“I didn’t say that either.”

Reid stared at him and pursed his lips.

“Yes or no. Do you like men?”

“I like you,” Gordon said.

Kip and Jimmy and Chuck and Robbie all burst out laughing. Chuck stood up and pulled Reid up with him.

“OK,” Chuck said. “I think the lasagnas are just about ready.”

 

Hunter’s Date (April 2017, Buffalo)

 

The team bus dropped everyone off at the hotel in Buffalo. Scott, Carter, Huff, and Bennett were huddled together in the lobby. Morning skate was over, the game wasn’t until the evening, so the  afternoon was free.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I need to run,” Scott said. “My prep school hockey coach from Rochester brought some of his players to a showcase event at the University this weekend. I told him I’d come by to see him today.”

“Any of these kids gunning for our jobs?” Huff joked.

“I think that’s at least a couple years away,” Scott said.

“You’ll be retired way before then,” Bennett added.

Huff gave Bennett a light shove.

“You too, Bennie.”

Scott shook his head.

“I’ll see you losers later.” He took a step to leave.

“Hey Hunter, wait a second,” Carter said. Scott turned around.

“There’s a small change of plans for next week,” Carter said. “Gloria went out with some girlfriends last night and got absolutely mobbed by some fans. She was pretty annoyed. So she rented a private room for all of us instead.”

They had planned a group dinner for after next Sunday’s game. It was the final game of the regular season and their last night to relax before the intensity of the playoffs. They were one win away from clinching the top seed in the Eastern Conference and best record in the league.

“Where at?” Bennett asked.

“Liuna’s. It’s a steakhouse in Midtown. I hope that’s OK with you all.”

“Fine with me,” Scott said. The others agreed.

“Oh, and Huff,” Carter said. “Did you sort out whether Laura is going to come?”

Huff nodded.

“She is. Her parents will be in town. They’re going to babysit,” he said. “Laura has been absolutely dying to get out of the house.”

“All right,” Carter said. “So it’s six of us.”

“I guess this means I’m going to be Hunter’s date again,” Bennett said.

The others laughed. Scott gave an awkward smile.

“Just kidding, Hunter,” Bennett said. “Have fun with your coach.”

Carter, Bennett, and Huff went up to their rooms. Scott called for his Uber.

As he rode in the backseat to the hockey center at the University of Buffalo, Scott thought to himself - this was getting old.

Chapter 31: CHAPTER 31: Showcase / Blue / Manly Hugs

CHAPTER 31

Showcase (April 2017, Buffalo)

 

Scott scanned the hockey center looking for Coach Tierney, but there were people everywhere. On two of the rinks, full-ice scrimmages were underway. Older boys on the main rink, a group of younger ones on the second sheet. It seemed there were enough players for three or four shifts per team.

An equal number of boys were just hanging out, standing by the glass or sitting in the stands. They were chatting with each other or keeping an eye on the competition. A few were in full gear getting warmed up on the practice rink.

One, maybe two hundred adults in street clothes milled about. Parents. Families. Friends. Coaches. Some were watching intently. Others just stared at their phones. A small queue was in the lobby by the vending machines.

And then there were the two dozen or so men holding clipboards and tablets and taking notes. Scott could see a variety of college and junior hockey logos on the clothes they were wearing.

“Hey! Hunter!”

The voice came from behind him. Scott turned around. The boy was wearing hockey pants, sneakers, and a St. Thomas hoodie.

“It’s Kolton, right?” Scott said. “I should have figured you’d be here.”

“Yeah. Coach brought four of us.”

Kolton turned around and gestured to a nearby boy to come on over.

“Brady’s from St. Thomas too,” he said.

Brady was speechless with his eyes wide as Kolton introduced them.  Scott shook both of their hands. Kolton elbowed Brady in the ribs.

“Pretend like you’ve met an MLH MVP before,” he said.

“I think you’re jumping the gun a little there,” Scott said.

Kolton rolled his eyes.

“You’re gonna win,” he said.

Scott smiled. He took another look around the facility.

“I’m looking for Coach Tierney. Do you know where he’s at?”

Kolton pointed across the rink.

“Last I saw,” he said. “He was talking to some scouts near the bench.”

Scott thanked the boys, wished them luck, and started walking over to that general area that Kolton had pointed to. He glanced back briefly as he left and saw Brady return Kolton’s elbow to the ribs.

Coach Tierney standing next to the glass. He was talking with a man in a Penn State quarter-zip jacket. They had their eyes on the rink, watching the scrimmage. Scott stopped about fifty feet away. He didn’t want to interrupt. Occasionally, he’d see them gesture at the players on the ice.

Their conversation continued a few minutes more. The man wrote something down on his pad. They exchanged some final words, shook hands, and then the man walked away. Scott closed the remaining distance and called out.

“Coach Tierney.”

Coach looked up and grinned.

“Hunter,” he said.

He came forward and he hugged him. He used both arms this time.

“Glad that I found you,” Scott said when they pulled apart. “Two of your boys pointed me in your direction.”

“Probably Kolton and Brady,” he said. “They’re in the three o’clock game.”

Coach looked around.

“Which reminds me, I’m gonna need to find the Clarkson scout.”

“They’re getting some traction?”

“Kolton, definitely. Hopefully a D1 offer after the summer shakes out. Brady’s probably headed to D3, but he’s been coming on strong this year, so who knows.”

He turned around and pointed towards the secondary rink.

“I got a sophomore here too. Jackson. He’s with the younger group. Pretty high ceiling for him. He’s going to regionals next month.”

Scott nodded.

“Kolton told me there were four,” he said.

Coach Tierney looked Scott in the eyes.

“Yep. I wasn’t sure if he’d be ready until late last week.”

He turned to the scrimmage happening on the ice in front of them.

“Luke’s here too.”

Scott scanned the ice. He didn’t see anyone he recognized as Luke. But, then again, it was hard to tell.

“Number twelve. Blue team,” Coach said. “He’s on the bench right now, but his shift should come in soon.”

Scott spotted him. Helmet on. Visor down. Stick in hand. One boy among a dozen waiting for his turn. 

“Spent the last three months just conditioning and getting back into form. Practiced with the varsity but didn’t get into any games. This is his first meaningful action since last summer.”

”I’m sure you wouldn’t have brought him here if you didn’t think he was ready.”

”Still has a bit to go,” Coach said. “But he needs to get out there. Get on the radar again. Most of these scouts and evaluators haven’t seen him on the ice in almost a year.”

There was a line shift. Luke hopped the boards. Scott turned his focus to the action happening on the ice.

Luke received a pass near the blue line. He saw an opening and cut diagonally into the high slot, leaving the defender behind. The net was there. Scott smiled.

The puck bounced awkwardly off Luke’s stick. It rolled away. A different defender picked it up and skated up ice to the other zone. Scott winced.

He was OK. Probably still a bit rusty. But it didn’t matter.

He was there.

Scott turned to Coach Tierney.

“What have the scouts been saying about him?” he asked.

“They all see he’s rusty. But they also see the flashes of what he once was. They’re going to be watching very closely over the next year. The draft is off the table, of course, but if he progresses like I think he should, I can see him going to a major D1 program.”

There’d been another line change and Luke went back to the bench. Scott’s attention drifted away from the game and he glanced around the rink. There were a couple boys and quite a few parents looking his way. They were whispering to each other and trying not to point.

Yep. He’d been noticed.

Scott spent the next few minutes signing a few autographs, taking a few photos, and chatting with a few star struck fans. One of the hazards of being Scott Hunter. Could have been worse.

Scott turned back to the scrimmage. Luke’s line was back in. Let’s see what else he’s got.

Luke grabbed a loose puck along the boards. A defender was right there. Luke lunged to the inside. The defender bit. Luke quickly cut back to the outside and easily skated by.

Luke crossed back over to the middle. Another defender bore down on him. Luke threaded a pass through traffic to a teammate. Breakaway.

“That boy belongs on the ice,” Coach Tierney said.

“Yes,” Scott agreed. “Yes he does.”

Kolton and Brady joined Coach Tierney and Scott.

“I hear you guys play next,” Scott said.

“Yeah,” Kolton said. “Last game of the day.”

“We’re on opposing teams, though,” Brady added.

“That’ll be fun to see,” Scott said.

He looked at them both and Coach Tierney.

“You all headed back to Rochester afterwards?” he asked.

“That’s the plan,” Coach said. “But probably dinner first.”

“Do you all want to come to the game tonight? It’ll be on me, of course.”

Kolton and Brady looked up at Coach, clearly communicating their approval.

Coach Tierney nodded. 

“I’m going to need to check with Luke and Jackson first, but thanks for the offer.”

“Just let me know. I’ll have tickets for all of you at will call.”

The scrimmage wrapped up and the players on the ice began to disperse. Some went down to the locker room. A few stayed on the ice, chatting with their families through the glass.

Scott saw Luke approach their general direction. Their eyes met. Scott gave a little wave. Luke waved back.

Two adults, a man and a woman, were also standing next to the glass a few feet away from Scott. Another boy about Luke’s age was with them. Luke stopped when he reached where they stood.

“Those are his parents,” Coach said. “And that’s Carl. From Niagara Falls.”

Scott gave Coach a knowing nod. He turned his gaze back to Luke.

Luke chatted with his parents and Carl through the glass. The parents were smiling. Scott understood the looks Carl and Luke quietly gave one another.

And Luke was doing something else Scott hadn’t seen from him before.

He was laughing.

 

Blue (April 2017, Buffalo)

 

Carter pulled Hunter, Huff, and Bennett aside as they returned to the hotel after the game.

“My room. Ten minutes,” he said. “I’m opening the Blue.”

The Admirals had won their game against Buffalo, wrapping up top seed in the conference and best record in the league. After a tame celebration in the locker room, Coach Murdock said they’d just stay in Buffalo for the night. There’d be no practice and no meetings tomorrow, and they’d take a short, mid-afternoon flight to Toronto for the second half of the back-to-back. Murdock also mentioned there’d be a few healthy scratches for tomorrow night’s game, looking directly at Scott and Bennett when he said that.

They went to their separate rooms. Scott threw off his suit, put on some shorts and a long sleeve tee. He wanted to be comfortable to end the night drinking scotch and hanging out with his closest teammates.

Scott knocked on Carter’s door. Huff and Bennett were already there. There was a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label on the dresser. Four sparkling rocks glasses were next to it. Carter had asked guest services to send them up to his room.

“We reached one more milestone today,” Carter said, grabbing the bottle of scotch and opening it. “A few more left to go.”

He gave each glass a pour and then passed them around.

“The real season’s about to begin,” Scott added. “But when you accomplish something, it’s OK to take a moment to celebrate it.”

Everyone took a sip.

“Hey, I want to do a little something,” Carter said. “I want everyone to say something about this team. Something you’re happy about or proud of or thankful for. It’s good juju.”

The others looked at Carter with puzzled looks on their faces.

“I’ll go first,” he said.

“Matti Jalo. Best off-season acquisition in my nine years here. He really helped plug the holes in our defense.”

The others agreed. A few more sips were taken.

“Made my life a hell of a lot easier,” Bennett said.

“Probably cost you the goaltender trophy though,” Scott said.

The others laughed.

“I can live with that,” Bennett said. “But if we’re talking about things I’m grateful for … it’s all of you. We’ve been together as a group a long, long time.”

He looked at them one by one.

“Hunter and me, twelve years together. Carter came here three years after that. And Huff, two years after that.”

“I’m the baby of the group,” Huff said. They all laughed.

“I got one,” Huff continued. “I won a Cup with Detroit. But whether we get the job done this year or not, I’ll remember this as the best team I’ve ever been on.”

“Well, let’s get the job done then,” Scott said.

There was another round of sips.

“So I guess it’s my turn.”

Scott turned to Carter.

“I just want to say, Carter, you really kicked it up a notch this season. If there’s any truth to me being the MVP favorite, it’s only because you made it possible.”

Huff and Bennett grunted their approval.

“You got that backwards, Hunter,” Carter said. “If you think I’m the one who kicked it up a notch this season, it’s only because you did too.”

“Guys, guys,” Bennett said. “You can both claim credit for each other’s success.”

They laughed. They finished their glasses. Carter gave everyone another pour.

“You know what?” Carter said. “I take a little of that back. If you really think I kicked it up a notch this season, at least part of it is thanks to Gloria. She’s brought a lot of happiness into my life. Calm and excitement at the same time, if that makes any sense.”

“And, she makes it so that you’re only the second-most famous person in your relationship,” Bennett said.

Everyone laughed.

“All right, wise guy,” Carter said. “We’re doing one more round. Something you're thankful for or happy about or proud of. But this time, it can’t be about hockey.”

He turned to Bennett.

“I already went, so you’re next.”

Bennett shook his head.

“You know, this is going to sound strange, but it’s the truth. I’m thankful for Holly.”

A few eyebrows were raised. Bennett continued.

“It wasn’t working. It hadn’t been working for a long time. She knew it. I knew it. But she was the one who had the guts to do something about it.”

Carter gave Bennett a pat on the back.

“Not many men would be strong enough to say that,” Carter said.

He turned his attention to Huff.

“OK, you.”

“This one is going to be easy for me,” Huff said.

He pulled out his phone and brought up a picture.

“This little girl,” he said. “Less than two months old and I’m her number one fan.”

“As long as you don’t tell any more dad jokes,” Carter said.

Huff reached over and playfully shoved him. Everyone laughed.

All eyes turned to Scott.

“What about you, Hunter,” Carter asked. “Anything or anyone special you want to talk about?”

Scott looked at his teammates. His friends. His family.

He didn’t want to tell them.

No. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes there is.”

 

Manly Hugs (April 2017, Buffalo)

 

The few seconds of silence Scott endured were torture. The laughter. The voices. The occasional clink of glass against glass. Absent. 

Scott studied their faces. Not hostile. Not overly warm. Just frozen in time as he imagined their minds going in a million different places at once.

“You’re serious?” Carter said. “Not yanking our chain?”

“Nope,” Scott said. His pulse was starting to quicken. A small bead of sweat on his brow.

”So let me get this straight,” Huff added. “You’re gay. And you’ve secretly been in a serious relationship for a while.”

”That is correct.”

”And this has been going on … how long?” Bennett asked.

”The gay part or the relationship part?” Scott replied.

”Um, both.”

”Pretty much my whole life and three and a half years. On and off.”

”Holy,” Huff said. “Three and a half years.”

”On and off,” Scott repeated.

Bennett shook his head.

“No one should have to go through that.”

“Like, I’ve got a million questions,” Huff said. “But I just want to get this out of the way first.”

He came forward and gave Scott a hug. Bennett joined in.

Scott turned to Carter. He hadn’t said or done anything in a little while.

”Carter?” Scott offered. “We good?”

”Yeah,” Carter said. “I’ll give you your nice manly hug in a few minutes. I’m just still in a little bit of shock. You gotta give me some time to digest this.”

He looked at Huff and Bennett.

”Meanwhile, why don’t you boys go in for a round two.”

Huff and Bennett obliged. Scott’s nerves started to ease. This was going to be all right. Eventually.

“So what’s his name?” Huff asked, when they pulled apart.

“Kip,” Scott said.

”Kip!” Carter exclaimed. “That’s a fun name. Now lemme see a picture.”

He looked pleased with himself.

Scott got out his phone. He looked for a good picture. G-rated, of course. He passed it around.

“Way too good looking for you, Hunter,” Bennett said.

“Looks athletic,” Huff added.

Carter took the phone, studied it a few moments, and handed it back to Scott.

“OK,” he said. “I gotta know his story. What does he do. Where and when do you see each other. How did you meet. And was it his dimples or his abs that did it for you first.”

They all laughed.

And so they all sat on the floor. They returned to sipping their scotch. And Scott began to tell them about everything.

The smoothie shop. Their secret affair. Breaking up after the Olympics and Kip moving to Boston for grad school.

The reunion. Kip’s job at the art gallery. Giving their relationship a go from far away. The precious, far too infrequent moments when they were able to be together.

Trying, and failing, to make the distance between them go away.

“So, yeah,” Scott said. “He’s living his life in Boston hoping that someday I’ll stop pretending he doesn’t exist.”

Scott turned his gaze elsewhere.

“And in order to do that,” he said. “I first have to stop hiding who I am.”

Carter and Huff and Bennett were quiet. The liquor in their glasses was almost gone. None of them suggested another round.

“God, Hunter,” Carter said. “It just breaks my heart. That you thought you had to hide from everyone.”

His face turned sullen.

“From us.”

Scott hung his head.

“It was never about you,” he said. “It was just the way I thought it had to be.”

“I guess it shouldn’t be that big of a surprise,” Bennett said. “You’ve never been connected to anyone.”

“I just always thought you were married to hockey,” Huff said.

Scott smiled.

“So what are you going to do now?” Carter asked. “Tell the rest of the team? Management? Come out publicly?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said. “I know whatever I do, shit’s gonna hit the fan. Maybe I’ll talk to Murdock soon.”

Scott looked his friends in the eye.

“But I do know I needed to tell you guys. And I will need to do right by Kip.”

“Whatever you do,” Huff said. “You know we’ve got your back.”

Scott smiled. He stood up. He was thinking he should go.

“All right,” Carter said. “I think I’m gonna give you that manly hug now.”

Chapter 32: CHAPTER 32: News / With Me / Steakhouse

CHAPTER 32

News (April 2017, Boston)

 

“So it’ll be on Sunday, May 21,” Kip said. “The department ceremony is in the morning. Anyone can come to that. The all-university commencement is in the afternoon, but I have to get the tickets in advance. Do you think you can make it?”

“Let me check,” Elena said.

There was silence on the line. Presumably she was checking her calendar.

“My dad said he’d drive you,” Kip said.

“I guess it’ll all depend on when he’s willing to drive back.”

“You have his number. Why don’t you talk to him directly,” Kip said. “And then let me know what you decide.”

“OK,” Elena said.

After a few moments she continued.

“So when are you coming back to New York anyway?”

Kip started to say something, but Elena quickly cut him off.

“Just to visit. Don’t worry. We’re not opening that can of worms again.”

“Well, I was kind of hoping to talk about that with Scott. We didn’t get around to it when we chatted earlier this week.”

“Oh come on,” she said. “What could possibly be more important than trying to figure out when you can see your boyfriend next.”

Kip hesitated.

“Well …”

“Well what?”

“Well, we kind of got distracted by other things.”

“Kip,” Elena said. “You guys have phone sex all the time. It’s never stopped you from having boring discussions about logistics at the same time.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Kip nearly shouted. “I mean, yeah, the phone sex happened too, but there also was, well, there also was news.”

“News.”

“Umm, well, yeah.”

“Spit it out, Christopher.”

Kip had spent the past couple days trying to figure out what it all meant.

“So Scott may have come out to some of his teammates.”

There was a long pause on the line.

“May have,” Elena said.

“OK,” Kip replied. “He did.”

There was another long pause.

“Which ones.”

“Umm, Carter Vaughn, Greg Huff and Eric Bennett. I think I got the names right. He says they’re his closest friends on the team.”

It seemed Elena was taking a long pause after everything Kip had to say.

“What else did he say?”

“He said they were surprised but supportive.”

“And what else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did he mention you?”

This time it was Kip who hesitated.

“Well I wasn’t there, but, yes, he said he did.”

Kip could hear her breathing on the other side of the line.

“So how is he doing? How does he feel?”

“I think he’s kind of happy and relieved.”

“Kind of?”

“OK. Very happy and very relieved,” Kip said. “I could practically hear him smiling.”

“And what about you?”

“I guess I’m pretty happy for him.”

“Is that it?”

“OK, I’m very happy for him.”

“Seems to me like he took a pretty big step, Kip.”

“I know. I told him I was proud of him.”

“That’s good,” Elena said. “You should tell him I’m proud of him too.”

“I will.”

“Or maybe I’ll tell him. I think you gave me his number a while ago.”

“Elena …”

“Just kidding, Kip.”

The line went quiet again for a few moments.

“So what happens next?” Elena asked.

“I don’t know,” Kip said. “I guess that’s up to him.”

 

With Me (April 2017, New York)

 

By the time Scott and Carter had returned from the media room, the majority of their teammates were already leaving.  Huff was just finishing putting on his shoes. Bennett hadn’t dressed for the game and was long gone.

The Admirals had lost the Friday night game, but that was beside the point. Not even the home crowd seemed to care. And almost none of the questions Scott or Carter had to answer from the press were about that night’s game. Staying healthy was all anyone had on their minds at that point. Things would get real again soon enough, starting with Game One of the first round against Pittsburgh Wednesday night.

“OK, I’m out of here,” Huff said, stopping by the bench where Carter and Scott were getting dressed.

“And I’m giving you all advance warning that Laura might be acting all weird Sunday night,” he said. “It’ll be her first night out while leaving the baby at home.”

“She’s not gonna bail, is she?” Carter asked.

“I don’t think so,” Huff said. “But I guess we’ll find out on Sunday.”

Huff took off. The last of the stragglers trickled out. Carter and Scott finished putting on their suits and grabbed their bags.

“Shame your man can’t join us,” Carter said, quietly, as they walked toward the exit.

“He is in Boston right now, after all,” Scott replied.

“I hope I get the chance to meet him sometime.”

They went their separate ways and Scott headed home. The driver made quick work of the trip, but it was still almost midnight when he got there.

Carter was right. It was a shame Kip wouldn’t be there. Scott wanted him to meet Carter and Bennett and Huff. He thought it would be fine. It would just have to wait. He was sure it would happen someday.

Wait a second, Scott thought. What was he waiting for? Why couldn’t he invite Kip? Why couldn’t he join?

What if ‘someday’ was now?

“You still up?” Scott texted.

A minute or so later he had his answer.

“Is this a booty call?” Kip replied.

Scott called Kip back right away.

“Someone’s a little eager,” Kip said.

Scott laughed.

“This isn’t that,” he said. “I want you here Sunday night.”

“Scott,” Kip replied. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going out Sunday night. Me and some of my teammates. We got a private room at a steakhouse.”

Scott swallowed.

“I want you there. With me.”

Kip didn’t say anything right away. Scott wanted to know what was going on in Kip’s head.

“Who’s coming?” Kip asked.

“Carter and Gloria. Laura and Huff. Bennett,” Scott replied.

”I’m not sure if I can borrow Jimmy’s van this weekend.”

”Take the train. Rent a car. I’ll buy you freaking airplane tickets,” Scott responded immediately.

“I want to make sure you’ve thought this through, Scott.”

”I’m sure, Kip. I’ve put this off long enough. Please come. I can’t think of when there might be a better opportunity.”

Scott could barely tolerate Kip's hesitation.

“Please,” he said once more.

Finally, Kip relented.

”Yes,” he said. “I’ll come.”

Scott relaxed. His breathing calmed down. He pictured himself in the room with his friends with Kip by his side.

”I can’t wait,” he said.

They worked out the logistical details. They had some extracurricular fun. They kissed each other good night from afar.

Scott texted Carter.

”Tell Gloria there’s gonna be one more.”

 

Steakhouse (April 2017, New York)

 

The Admirals won their final regular season home game. Scott had played effortlessly and loose all afternoon even though, for all intents and purposes, it was a meaningless game. He’d put two pucks past the keeper and distributed two more. He smiled for the camera on more than one occasion.

In the media scrum that followed, he was asked about his noticeable excitement and enthusiasm. He said he was eager to put the regular season behind him. He looked forward to taking another shot at the Cup.

In reality, he’d spent the whole afternoon trying to impress the man in the sixth row. The one sitting next to Elena. The one who would be joining him for dinner with his teammates that evening.

Kip’s flight Sunday morning had been late. Scott had had to leave for the arena before Kip arrived. So it was with a full day’s worth of anticipation that Scott hurried into his building, cursed the slowness of the elevator, and bounded down the hallway to his apartment door.

Kip was standing there in his living room. He wore a fitted striped button down and dark charcoal trousers. The collar was open. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, but that was by design. The scruff was neat, hugged his jaw, and blended into the curls of his hair.

Scott wanted to devour him.

“I missed you,” Kip said.

Scott didn’t say anything. He dropped everything he was carrying and went straight to Kip, pulling their bodies close and feeling the fullness of Kip’s warmth against his skin.

“I missed you too.”

He let his hands linger over the small of Kip’s back. He felt Kip run his fingers from his shoulders, down his side to his waist. He felt their growing erections rubbing against one another through the fabric of their pants.

“What time do we need to be there?” Kip asked.

Scott ran his mouth across Kip’s face. He took a deep sniff. He let his hand drop down to the buckle of Kip’s belt.

“We’ve got plenty of time.”

✦

The cab ride through the streets of Manhattan to the steakhouse was torture. Scott wanted to wrap his arm around Kip’s shoulders so badly. To reach out, take his hand, and let their fingers intertwine. To lean over, take his face in his hand, and give him a few dozen more kisses.

All he would let himself do was let their knees touch. Accidentally.

“So Huff’s wife is Laura. She’s the new mom,” Kip recited.

“If she doesn’t back out, that is. Huff wasn’t quite sure what to expect.”

“And Gloria’s the famous actress who is dating Carter.”

“You’ll recognize her from TV,” Scott said.

“I’ll recognize Carter and Huff from TV, too,” Kip said. “Bennett’s the one who is always wearing a mask.”

The cab pulled over to the side of the curb. They were a few minutes late. Scott looked up at the black awning with the gold letters. “Liuna’s” it said. They tumbled out of the car and walked through the tinted glass doors.

The hostess wasn’t at her station. Scott could see her leading the group to the private room in the back.

Huff was there with Laura. She had decided to come after all.

Behind them was Carter, holding hands with Gloria. She was still wearing sunglasses, trying not to be recognized.

And then there was Bennett, walking with …

Fuck.

Bennett and Matti Jalo were walking into the private room together. And behind them were Brisebois and his wife Martine.

The color drained from Scott’s face. This wasn’t the plan. Jalo and Breezy weren’t supposed to be here. He ran back out the doors of the restaurant and onto the street. Kip was right behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Kip asked.

He could see the terror in Scott’s eyes.

“Hold on a sec,” he said and pulled out his phone.

There were a half dozen unread messages from Carter waiting for him. Scott read them all. It seemed Bennett had invited Jalo and Breezy and Martine at the last minute. He hadn’t been told that Scott was bringing Kip.

“Let me know if you need to bail,” Carter’s last message read. “I’ll come up with an excuse for you.”

Scott put his phone away. He looked up at Kip. Kip’s face was full of alarm and confusion.

“Scott, what’s going on?” he asked.

Scott felt like he was going to cry. He was going to break Kip’s heart. He was going to let him down. Again.

“There’s just a few more teammates here than I expected,” Scott said. He didn’t need to fill in the rest.

Scott’s lips were trembling. His eyes were red. He was beginning to hyperventilate.

“That’s OK,” Kip said. “I know you tried.”

Scott hung his head. He was broken and lost and defeated.

“I wanted to do this so bad.”

“We don’t need to go, Scott. Or, I can just leave.”

Scott couldn’t bring himself to look at Kip. The man he’d hidden for years. The man he’d pretended didn’t exist. The man he’d disappointed over and over again.

“Hey, I’m over here,” Kip said.

He lifted Scott’s head by the chin until they were staring at each other face-to-face.

Scott expected to see anger, frustration, and dismay.

Yet all he saw was worry, compassion, and concern.

And love.

Scott straightened himself up. He smoothed out his jacket. He rubbed his hand briefly across his face.

“No,” he said. “I’m not leaving. And neither are you.”

He went back to the tinted glass doors and held them open for Kip. He went up to the hostess, told her Gloria’s name, and walked through the restaurant to the entrance to the private room. Kip was right beside him.

“I guess we’re going in,” Kip said.

Scott’s hand was on the door.

“I guess we are.”

Chapter 33: CHAPTER 33: Done / Getting on the Same Page

CHAPTER 33

Done (April 2017, Brooklyn)

 

“How did it go last night?” George asked when they pulled apart from their warm embrace.

But George didn’t really need to ask. It was easy to tell. The gleam on Kip’s face as he’d bounced up the steps that morning gave everything away.

“About as well as could be expected,” Kip said.

“You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

The Admirals had officially entered playoff mode. Scott would be at practice or in meetings for much of the day. Kip said not to worry about hurrying back. He’d spend the day with his dad, go back to Scott’s apartment in the late afternoon, and return to Boston on an early flight tomorrow.

As they moved to the kitchen, Kip described everything that had transpired the previous evening. Scott’s panic when he realized things weren’t going to exactly follow the script. The deer-in-the-headlights looks from Jalo and Brisebois when they realized what, exactly, was going on. And who, exactly, Kip was. Scott’s apology for not saying something sooner. The immediate work the others made to make everyone at ease.

The numerous, but polite, questions from Scott’s teammates. Carter’s gleeful look when Kip corroborated the smoothie shop story. Apparently, he’d not quite believed Scott when he’d first learned. It seemed way too cute, he’d said.

Huff wanted to know about Kip’s favorite pizza place in the city. Bennett had surprisingly well-informed takes on the contemporary art scene. Jalo and Brisebois wanted to know when they were all going out to the Kingfisher together.

Huff and Brisebois ordering the twin giant tomahawk chops. Jalo getting the porterhouse steak for two for one. Bennett getting ribbed when he ordered the grilled salmon.

Martine asking a million questions for Laura about the baby. It seemed she and Breezy had started trying too. Gloria saying how grateful she was to be able to enjoy the dinner in peace. She and Carter getting badgered about making those tabloid engagement rumors true.

Scott gently placing his hand on Kip’s as they ate dessert and no one saying a word.

“And when we got home,” Kip said. “Scott said he was done.”

“Done?” George asked.

“Done hiding. Done pretending. He said he wanted to tell the rest of his teammates, tell his coach, and team management.”

Kip’s eyes widened a tiny bit.

“And then,” he said, “Tell the world.”

Scott was going to march off into uncharted territory. The game needed to be changed, and he was the one who was going to do it.

“That’s going to be a pretty big deal,” George said. “With the media, with the fans. Is Scott going to be ready for that? Are you?”

“What he did say was that he did not want any kind of public disclosure until the off-season. He thought coming out publicly now would not be fair to the rest of the Admirals. They’re trying to win the Cup, after all.”

George nodded.

“So he’s still going to work hard to keep it out of the media until summer. But he wanted to deal with things internally right away.”

“How do you feel about that?” George asked.

“I told him I’d support him no matter what he decides to do or when he decides to do it.”

“So what does this mean for you? Does this make you think differently about Boston?”

Kip grimaced a tiny bit. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about that. The opportunities at AFAM and the Brooklyn Museum were likely already gone.

“I haven’t thought about it at all yet,” Kip said. “But it’s probably best for me to stay there for now. I don’t want to be more of a distraction than I already am until the playoffs are over.”

For as long as Kip needed to do whatever he had to do to support Scott, George was going to do the same to support Kip.

“I’m sure you’ll do the right thing,” he said.

Kip and George hung out together the rest of the day. They went out to lunch, they did some work in the back yard, they talked about Kip’s graduation ceremony next month. George had already made arrangements with Elena to drive up together.

By late afternoon, Scott’s practice was likely done and he was on his way home. Kip and George said their goodbyes and Kip left. George watched Kip head off to the subway with a spring in his step. He hadn’t seen him this happy and determined in ages.

He got out his phone, typed out a message, and hit send.

“Scott,” it said.

“Thank you for taking care of my son.”

 

Getting on the Same Page (April 2017, Westchester County)

 

The meeting at the Admirals training facility finally broke up. Scott, a few other players, and the coaching staff had stayed behind after practice to discuss strategy before the opening game of their first round series against Pittsburgh. Scott had done his best to concentrate on the task at hand and not dwell on what he planned to talk about afterwards. A lifetime spent compartmentalizing everything was apparently coming in handy today.

Scott walked with Coach Murdock to his office. He followed him in and shut the door. They sat opposite one another at the desk.

“So what did you want to talk about, Hunter?” Murdock said. “I hope this isn’t bad news.”

Scott didn’t hesitate.

“It’s not,” he said. “At least, it isn’t to me.”

Murdock lifted his eyebrows.

“Go on.”

Scott nodded his head.

“You’re going to find this out sooner or later. So I’d rather you heard it from me. And I want to make sure this doesn’t cause issues during the postseason.”

“OK,” Murdock said, cautiously.

“I’m gay. I have a boyfriend. His name is Kip. And I’m planning to come out publicly in the offseason.”

Murdock reached over, picked up his bottle of water, took a sip, and put it back down. His gaze returned to Scott.

“Would you mind repeating that?” he asked. 

“I’m gay. I have a boyfriend. His name is Kip,” Scott repeated.

Murdock’s expression didn’t change.

“Well, that’s not quite what I expected to hear when I woke up this morning,” he said.

Scott watched as Murdock stood up and walked over to Scott’s side of the desk. He leaned down and put one hand on Scott’s shoulder.

“Thank you for telling me. And congratulations. I imagine it’s been hard for you living with this secret.”

“You have no idea,” Scott said.

Murdock returned to his side of the desk and sat down.

“I’m sure I don’t. And when the time comes, I’d love to meet this boyfriend of yours, happily stand next to you, and say how proud I am of you.”

Murdock leaned back a bit in his chair.

“But, can I be honest for a minute here?” he said.

Scott swallowed.

“Of course,” he said.

“Now I know this is probably some big weight coming off your chest and there will never be a perfect time for this. But I have a job to do.”

Murdock’s expression was stoic.

“Our first game of the postseason is in two days. We’re in a great position to make a run. You’re our captain. You coming to terms with yourself and letting the world know has serious potential to be a major distraction and derail our whole season.”

“I know,” Scott said. “That’s why I came to you. I wanted to work out a plan.”

“Good,” Murdock said. “Now let’s get on the same page.”

Scott agreed.

“First of all, who else have you told?” Murdock asked.

“On the team? Carter, Huff and Bennett. And, as of last night, Jalo and Breezy know as well.”

“Last night?”

“It wasn’t planned. But it made me realize this could really go sideways if I don’t try to get ahead of it.”

“Good thinking,” Murdock said. “OK, who else.”

“My old prep school coach. This gay couple in Montreal I'm friends with. My boyfriend’s dad and some of his friends.”

“What about your agent?”

“I told him a few months ago,” Scott said. “He wasn’t real happy this morning when I told him I was going to talk to you.”

“Well, I think that’s a little short-sighted. If you’ll agree, we need to bring the front office and PR team up to speed. They’ll need to work together with your agent to prepare for the fallout once you do decide to go public.”

“My intention was to continue to lay low for now. I would make some kind of public statement in the offseason.”

“It’s going to be a media frenzy when the world finds out. I appreciate that you’re thinking about the impact that will have on the team and our postseason chances.”

“My lifelong dream has been to win the Cup. That hasn’t changed.”

Murdock smiled.

“That’s true for everyone else in that locker room too.”

Scott agreed.

“But we can’t always control who knows what and when,” Murdock said. “Especially with a quarter of the roster already in the loop plus a handful of outsiders.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I just think if rumors start to spread or word gets around prematurely, it’ll be really hard for us to recover. Whether or not any of your teammates or any of the other coaches have a problem with it or not, they’re not going to be happy to learn about it from the media.”

“I agree,” Scott said. “They should all hear it from me. I’ll reinforce that I don’t want this to be public for now. I don’t want a circus. We have a championship to win.”

“Good. What do you have in mind? You want to do a speech in the locker room or something?”

Scott pondered that for a moment. He could just get this whole thing out of the way tomorrow.

“No. I’m the captain. I want to speak to everyone one-on-one,” he said. “I want to hear what everyone has to say. Tell them who I am. Tell them what I plan to do. Hear their concerns. And personally reiterate that we’re on the same team and we have the same goal.”

Coach Murdock nodded.

“You’re a brave man, Hunter. I’m sorry if I’ve been more focused on what this means to us than what this means to you.”

“I don’t expect anything less from you, Coach.”

“You realize that if you do come out this summer, you’re going to be a pioneer. You’re going to be a lightning rod to some people, but be held up as a hero by many more.”

“To be honest, I think I’m being a little selfish. I’m doing this for me. I’m doing this for Kip. I’m doing this because I love him so much and I just can’t hide it anymore.”

Scott continued.

“But if this helps some other players be honest with themselves. If this helps some young scared hockey player realize he belongs in the game. All the better.”

Coach Murdock stood up.

“All right Hunter. I’m glad we had this chat. I trust you to handle this the right way.”

Scott stood up too. They gave each other a brief hug.

“See you tomorrow, Coach,” Scott said as he left the office.

He went to the locker room to pick up his things. He saw Tommy Andersson, the backup goalie, coming out of the trainer’s room.

“Hey Andersson,” Scott said. He looked around briefly.

“You got a few minutes?”

Chapter 34: CHAPTER 34: Delegate / The Louvre / PowerPoint / Rugby

CHAPTER 34

Delegate (April 2017, Boston)

 

Kip was really hoping the meeting at the gallery wouldn’t take too long. Tonight was the Admirals’ first game of the postseason. He was going to meet with everyone at Crave at seven. Gordon too. They were going to beg and plead with the bartenders to put on the hockey game. They would just all try not to be too obvious about who they were rooting for. And why.

It would be Scott’s first game since the steakhouse and everything that followed. Scott had told him last night on the phone he felt great. Everything and everyone had been clicking in practice. Kip was pretty sure he was a lot more nervous than Scott was.

But hockey would have to wait a bit longer. There was the small matter of his job to attend to.

The collaborative exhibition between GK Modern and Saint-Georges was beginning to take shape. There would be a June 2 opening in New York, followed by one in Boston a week later. Graham and Jeanette had gone back and forth several times. They’d talked to many of the artists they’d worked with and ultimately identified six. There would be three from the Boston area and three from New York. Graham and Jeanette thought they made a good mix, and all had agreed to participate. They’d all be highlighted at both galleries simultaneously and featured in all the publicity.

In the meeting, Graham was identifying tasks and delegating responsibilities. He wanted Bianca to focus on the collectors and press. She’d need to work with her counterpart at Saint-Georges to introduce GK Modern to the New York critics and Saint-Georges to the ones in Boston.

There would be brochures to print, materials to ship, lodging to arrange. Graham leaned on some of the other assistants to get that done.

With Kip, he asked him to get everything ready in support of making the final curatorial decisions. Kip would need to communicate with the Boston artists, collect images of their relevant works, and organize everything into a final presentation. He’d also need to contact Jeanette and do the same for the artists in New York. When everything was assembled, he’d join a working meeting to make the final selections about which pieces would be shown and where. Graham hoped they’d be done no more than two weeks from now.

The meeting ended right at seven. As he’d done several times before, Kip hurried through the streets of South End to make his way to Crave. It was a Wednesday night, so it wasn’t very full. But Jimmy and Robbie and Chuck and Reid and Gordon were gathered together at the bar. The TV was turned on and the game had already gotten underway. Kip looked at the score and saw New York was already up by one.

“What did I miss?” Kip asked.

Robbie leaned over and whispered in Kip’s ear.

“Scott scored. Thirty seconds in.”

 

The Louvre (April 2017, New York)

 

Scott toweled off and sat up on the couch. He pulled up his underwear and put his earbuds back in. He strolled over to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

“So, I had a chat with Gillis after practice today,” Scott said. “Rookie winger. He was the last one.”

It had taken two weeks, but Scott had finally managed to have one-on-one conversations with everyone he’d wanted to. Each one of his teammates, everyone on the coaching staff, and a few folks in the front office. If it had caused any issues, the results on the ice didn’t show it. The Admirals had closed out Pittsburgh two nights ago in six games.

“So who was the most difficult?” Kip asked from the other side of the line. He hadn’t bothered putting any clothes back on yet. Scott could see on the screen he was still lying in bed naked.

“I mean, not everyone’s gonna be like Jalo,” Scott said. “He wants to know when we can all go out clubbing together.”

“Have you ever been clubbing?” Kip asked. “At least the kind where it’s a room full of sweaty shirtless men getting in each other’s personal space?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure, no,” Scott laughed. “But back to your original question. I mean, one guy just said OK and left. A few had a million questions and wanted my life’s story. And then there were a couple who wanted to know if they’d ever said or done anything that was hurtful or offensive. So we had a few uncomfortable conversations about the F-word.”

“Well, I guess at least they’re aware of it now.”

“I suppose. But I don’t want to think about it. In practice tomorrow, Murdock’s going to reiterate to everyone that, whatever anyone thinks, this has to stay in-house at least until we’re done playing.”

“Let’s hope that’s mid-June at the earliest,” Kip said.

“I talked to Todd too,” Scott said. “He’s come down from the ledge. He and Admirals PR have been chatting. We’re thinking about a print article about a month before training camp begins.”

“Interesting.”

“One thing he did say, which I think is a good idea, is he thinks you should get some media training too.”

“Me?” Kip asked.

“Yeah. I mean, when this comes out, it’s going to be an absolute shit storm. And it’s not just going to be me that the reporters are going to hound. It’s going to be you too.”

Kip hadn’t even thought of that. He hadn’t quite fully appreciated what he was getting himself into.

“So he said he’d ask around and see if he could find someone who could coach you. We’d get that started as soon as the season ends, too. If you agree, of course.”

“I guess that’s a good idea.”

“Another thing Todd suggested was that maybe you and I should take a vacation right around the time article comes out. Somewhere far away. Be conveniently unavailable when everything come to a head.”

“Is that what you want?” Kip said.

“I can see it both ways. I’ll have to think about it some more, but there’s time. But I do think we should still take a vacation somewhere regardless.”

“Where were you thinking?” Kip asked.

“We could go to Europe. Visit the Louvre or the Prado or the Vatican Museums. As many of those famous art museums as we can fit in.”

“You know I’ve never been to any of those,” Kip said. “And I’ve always wanted to go.”

Scott looked down at his phone screen and smiled at Kip’s handsome face.

“I know.”

 

 

PowerPoint (April 2017, Boston)

 

In the two weeks since the previous planning meeting, Kip had contacted all six of the artists who Graham and Jeanette had decided to feature in the June exhibition. He’d visited the three based in Boston and arranged video conferences with the three in New York. He compiled all the images of candidate artwork, and gave Bianca a dozen examples she could incorporate into the publicity campaign.

He spent a couple days poring over the works, identifying unifying themes, visualizing how he might group them, and considering which would be most attractive to GK’s existing customer base. He also had a call with Jeanette so he could learn a bit more about what appealed to her New York clients as well.

Jeanette had travelled up from New York for the meeting. She and Graham were waiting for Kip in the office at the gallery. He’d printed out two copies of the document which inventoried the main collection for each of the six artists. He’d also put together a summary with his own suggestions. That was kept in a PowerPoint on his laptop.

Graham and Jeanette started studying the printouts. They reviewed the notes Kip had written about most of the works. They had a few questions, like whether something he’d written was his opinion or if it was based on something the artist had said.

After they’d reviewed the works in the collection, Kip told Graham and Jeanette he’d been compiling his own thoughts and suggestions. He wanted to know if he could share them.

“You know, I didn’t ask you to do that,” Graham said.

“Oh,” Kip said. “I didn’t mean to overstep”

“No, no.” Graham continued. “What I meant was that I didn’t make that part of the assignment.”

“By all means,” Jeanette said. “Let’s hear your thoughts.”

Kip brought up the PowerPoint on his laptop. He gave examples of several works from all six artists that he thought would work well together, tied by a consistent theme. Then he shared another grouping, this one a bit more varied in content, but with a bit more in common visually. He ended it with a drawing of the GK Modern gallery space and his suggestion for layout.

“I’m not so familiar with the physical layout at Saint-Georges,” Kip said, “So I couldn’t quite do the same thing for you, Jeanette.”

Graham smiled. Jeanette looked pleased as well.

“You put a lot of work into this,” she said. “It’s quite good. Maybe there’s a few small modifications I might make, but it’s very comprehensive. What do you think Graham?”

“I think Kip saved us a few days of work,” he said. “But let’s sit on this for a night and meet up again tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Jeanette said. She turned to Kip. “If you don’t mind, Kip, could you start working on the artist bios?”

Kip turned to slides eighteen through twenty of his PowerPoint. He had them already written.

“Well. I have two comments,” Jeanette said.

She turned to Kip.

“I want you to get a sense of the layout of Saint-Georges. The physical space. Hopefully you can come to Chelsea within the next few weeks.”

Then she turned to Graham.

“You say he’s still just a gallery assistant?”

Graham looked at Kip, then back to Jeanette.

“I think I’ll have to take a look at that,” he said.

 

Rugby (May 2017, Boston)

 

Kip was laying on the couch in his living room. He had both of his legs extended. That didn’t seem to work. He bent his knees and extended his arms above his head. He stayed in that position for a while, but decided it really wasn’t any better.  He used all of his energy to sit up. He grimaced all the way through.

Kip heard a knock on the door and looked at it angrily.

“Hey Gordon,” he called out. “Do you think you can get that?”

“Sorry,” came the muffled reply from the bathroom. “Taking a dump.”

“Too much information,” Kip called back.

Kip put his hands on his knees and slowly pushed himself into a standing position. He gingerly walked over and opened the door. Chuck and Reid were standing there holding a couple bottles of wine. Reid leaned over to give Kip a hug. Kip put up his hand.

“No, that’s OK,” he said. “I don’t think I can handle that right now.”

Chuck and Reid entered the apartment and put the wine down. Kip waddled back to the couch. He let out a small yelp as he sat down.

“What’s wrong with you?” Chuck asked.

“I went to Gordon’s rugby practice yesterday,” Kip said. “I think that may have been a mistake.”

Reid snickered.

“Is this why you weren’t at his game today?”

“I didn’t even get out of bed until noon.”

They heard a flush coming from the bathroom. A few moments later, the shower began to run. Reid opened a bottle of wine and poured a couple of glasses. He brought one over to Kip.

“Just water for me, thanks,” Kip said. “And maybe ibuprofen.”

There was another knock and Chuck went to open it. This time it was Jimmy and Robbie. They had a couple bags between them.

“What are you making?” Kip asked without moving from the couch.

“Chicken marsala,” Robbie said. “If you help, maybe we can finish before the hockey game starts.”

“I’ll help you, Robbie,” Reid said, walking over to him. “Kip is being a princess today.”

“Hey!” Kip shouted and glared at Reid.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jimmy asked.

“Apparently he went to Gordon’s practice yesterday,” Reid said. “He’s a little sore.”

“You should have just watched like the rest of us,” Robbie said. “Not tried to play.”

“I just hope I’m recovered enough to go to New York,” Kip said.

“Yes. So Scott can make you sore again in all kinds of different, better ways,” Reid said.

“I’m going for work, Reid,” Kip scowled. “Three days at that Chelsea gallery I told you about.”

Reid shrugged.

“You can do both.”

“Where is Gordon anyway?” Jimmy asked. “Did he get back yet?”

Kip turned his whole body to gesture to the bathroom.

“Shower,” he said.

“That boy was intentionally toying with us,” Reid said. “I can’t count how many times he was grabbing some guy's ass, or some other guy was grabbing his.”

“I think you’re just reading into things,” Kip said. “It’s rugby. Happens all the time.”

“And then there are the times his face would be all up in some other guy’s groin,” Reid continued. “I mean, come on.”

“Just part of the game.”

“He knew we were there. He knows it’s getting a rise out of us. He was doing all that on purpose.”

“I think it’s just you, Reid.”

The sound of the shower stopped. A few moments later, Gordon emerged from the bathroom. He was naked except for a towel around his waist. He walked through the living room to his bedroom.

“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Reid said, gesturing at Gordon.

Gordon stopped and raised his eyebrows.

“Gordon, there are five gay men in this apartment,” Reid continued.

“There are?” Gordon said with a smile.

“Or maybe there are six?”

Gordon didn’t respond.

“You have to know that walking around like” - Reid gestured at Gordon with his arms - “is going to be very distracting.”

“Hey, I live here. I’m just heading to my room.”

Reid gave Gordon a look, then turned around to continue helping Robbie with the chicken. A second later, Gordon’s towel hit Reid in the back.

Reid spun around in time to see the door to Gordon’s room slam shut.

✦

Everyone was still glued to the TV, watching the final minutes. There was a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Kip was grinning from ear to ear. And it wasn’t from the pain.

“I guess it’s a sweep then,” Chuck said.

“On to the Eastern Conference Finals,” Jimmy added.

“You and Scott are going to have some amazing phone sex tonight,” Reid said. “Gordon, you might want to use some earplugs later.”

Kip glared.

“It still kind of blows me away that you’re dating this super famous hockey star, Kip,” Gordon said. “I wasn’t even a hockey fan a few weeks ago and now I’m totally invested.”

Kip made an approving grunt from the couch.

“Who do they play next?” Gordon asked.

“The other series is tied two-two,” Robbie said. “So it could be Detroit, or they could be coming here to Boston.”

“That would be cool,” Gordon said.

“Yeah,” Kip said, finally mustering the energy. “It really would.”

Chapter 35: CHAPTER 35: Quads & Glutes / Tote Bags / Eastern Conference Finals / Commencement / Turning Around / Conference Champions

CHAPTER 35

Quads & Glutes (May 2017, New York)

 

Scott looked over his shoulder to see Kip letting himself into the apartment. It was his second favorite sight in the world. His favorite was coming home to see Kip already there waiting for him.

Kip strolled over to where Scott was sitting on the couch, dropped his shoulder bag on the floor, and kicked off his shoes. He took off his shirt, loosened his belt, and pulled down his pants.

“Um, what are you doing, Kip?” Scott asked.

Kip smiled. He bent over and gave Scott a kiss. Then he sat next to Scott on the couch, lifted his left leg, and plopped it on Scott’s lap.

“Quads,” Kip said.

Scott looked at Kip with a bemused expression.

“You can’t still be sore,” he said.

“Maybe I am. Or maybe I just like it when your hands are on me.”

Scott took a firm grasp of Kip’s thigh. He started working the muscle in a smooth, rhythmic motion.

“So how was your day?” he asked.

“Had to run around the city all day,” Kip said. “I met with the artists that we’re featuring in next month’s show. Visited their studios. Started making arrangements to ship the pieces we’re going to need in Boston.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Scott asked.

“I’ll be at Saint-Georges most of the day. Jeanette wants to start planning the layout for June. I’ve never seen the space empty before, so I'll just be helping out.”

Kip pulled his left leg off of Scott’s lap and replaced it with his right. It took a few beats before Scott got the hint. He grabbed a hold and started massaging it too.

“So I wanted to tell you,” Scott said. “Some of the guys are going to meet up at Carter’s condo to watch Game Six of the Boston-Detroit series tomorrow night.”

“Okay …” Kip said.

“You’re not leaving until the next morning, so do you want to go?”

This sounded dangerously close to a normal couple doing normal couple things.

“Sure,” Kip said. “What time do we need to be there?”

“Game’s at seven. Maybe leave here five-thirty?”

“Where does he live?”

“Upper West Side.”

Kip slightly adjusted his weight to make himself a little more comfortable.

“Do you think you can meet me in Chelsea? We can leave straight from the gallery. It’ll be a lot faster from there. I don’t want to have to trudge over here only to then get stuck in traffic for another hour.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Scott said. “I can meet you there at six.”

Kip pulled both of his legs up and brought his knees to his chest. Scott gently put his hands on Kip’s legs and started to push.

“Ooh, that feels good,” Kip said.

“Feeling that in your glutes?” Scott asked. Kip nodded.

Scott slowly started to increase the pressure. Kip let out a sound that made it clear he approved.

“If the Raiders win tomorrow, you know what that means,” Scott said.

Kip stretched his legs out again, wrapping them around Scott’s body. He leaned up, took Scott by the shoulders and pulled him on top of him.

“Yep,” Kip said. “You’re coming to Boston.”

 

Tote Bags (May 2017, New York)

 

Scott looked through the glass windows of Saint-Georges Art Gallery in Chelsea. He could see Kip sitting at the small desk chatting with a woman who looked to be in her forties. There didn’t seem to be anyone else there.  There were a couple bags filled with papers on the floor at Kip’s feet.

The old Scott - probably the Scott of a month ago - might have bailed. At least walked down to the corner and sent Kip a text to let him know he was here. Today, Scott just rapped on the glass door and waited until he was let in.

“This is Scott,” Kip said, turning to Jeanette. “He’s my…”

Kip glanced at Scott for a second.

“I’m his boyfriend,” Scott said, and shook Jeanette’s hand.

Kip’s cheeks turned a slight rosy pink.

“Good to meet you. I’m Jeanette. Director of Saint-Georges Gallery. Are you also visiting from Boston?”

“No, I live here in New York. He’s been staying with me.”

Jeanette turned to Kip.

“Well all the more reason for you to come back for the opening next month.”

”I’ll have to check with Graham,” Kip said. He turned to Scott.

”We should probably get going.”

Jeanette thanked Kip for helping out for the three days he was there and said they’d see each other soon. She went back into her office, said she had a little more work to do, and would close up in about an hour.

Kip gathered up the tote bags at his feet.

“What’s all this?” Scott asked.

“Oh. It's the exhibition catalog and the press packet,” Kip said. “We haven’t received them in Boston yet, so I’m bringing a few copies back with me.”

Kip also held up the tote to show to Scott.  On one side the Saint-Georges Gallery logo; on the other, the one for GK Modern. “Chelsea” and “South End” written prominently at the bottom on either side.

”Pretty cool,” Scott said.

He took the totes from Kip.

“I can carry these.”

They decided it would be simpler to hail a cab than call an Uber. So they walked out of the gallery to wait on the street.

“Scott Hunter?” A voice called as they stepped onto the sidewalk.

They turned to see a man in running shorts and a tank top approach them. Scott recognized him. It was Wolf Kruger, Admirals beat reporter for the New York Sentinel.

“I didn’t know you were such an art critic,” Wolf said, looking at the totes.

Scott took a glance at Kip. Kip could tell Scott was squirming a bit inside.

“Oh,” Scott said. “I’m just helping out my friend. He’s just visiting.”

Kip stood there as calmly as he could.

“Okay,” Wolf continued. “Well I live around the corner. Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you.”

“I’ll see you at the practice facility tomorrow I assume?” Scott asked.

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

Wolf nodded at Kip and Scott one more time, bid them a good night, and continued walking.

Kip turned to Scott.

“Was that weird?”

Scott didn’t answer right away. He just looked both ways down the sidewalk, maybe a little more aware of his surroundings than a few minutes before.

“He’s a reporter. But it’s fine. Let’s just get to Carter’s place now.”

 

Eastern Conference Finals (May 2017, Boston)

 

“At least you’re coming to the games in Boston, right?” Scott asked.

“Of course,” Kip said. “I just can’t make it to the ones in New York right now.”

Kip had returned to Boston just as the Raiders wrapped up their own series. Games One and Two would be in New York, but the Admirals were scheduled to come to Boston for the whole weekend. Game Three would be Saturday, with Game Four Monday.

“You were just here. It’s fine. How many tickets do you need?”

“I was thinking three tickets for Game Three.”

“Who are you bringing?”

“That would be Elena and my dad,” Kip replied.

“Elena and your dad? What are they doing in Boston?”

“They’re driving up for my graduation.”

“I thought you graduated in December.”

“Well, technically you’re correct,” Kip said. “It’s just that BU only does the ceremony once a year.”

“And that’s this weekend? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Until two days ago I had no idea you’d be playing here.”

“What time is the ceremony?” Scott asked.

“The all-university commencement is Sunday afternoon. There’s also a smaller ceremony for the art history department at nine in the morning.”

The line went quiet for a little while. Kip assumed Scott was thinking about it.

“I want to come,” Scott said. “I want to be there for you.”

“Isn’t that kind of a risk? What if someone recognizes you? How are you going to explain what you’re doing there?”

“There’s going to be hundreds of people there,” Scott said. “All focused on their own thing. I’ll slip in, see your name called, and slip out.”

“You don’t have to,” Kip said.

“And even if I’m recognized, so what? It’s not like we’re going to start making out in front of everyone.”

Kip laughed.

“Our schedule is tight, and I can’t really promise,” Scott said. “But it’s not a game day, BU isn’t out of the way, and we probably don’t have practice until later in the day.”

“Like I said, I’m not expecting you to be there.”

“Duly noted,” Scott said. “But I’m going to try.”

 

Commencement (May 2017, Boston)

 

Scott had checked with Coach Murdock after Game Three the previous night. Murdock didn’t have any problems with Scott heading off to BU Sunday morning. It certainly didn’t hurt that the Admirals had won to take a 2-1 series lead. But he just cautioned Scott to not draw unnecessary attention to himself. And to be back at the arena by noon for meetings and practice.

The Uber dropped Scott off in front of the performing arts center a little before nine. Scott quietly walked into the building, grabbed a program, and made his way to the auditorium. There were maybe three hundred people in all, mostly already settled into their seats. The lower seating section was fairly full. Six rows of students in bright scarlet robes were seated up front facing the stage.

There were a few rows of empty seats toward the back. Scott walked over to one, about to sit down. That was, after all, the plan. Slip in, slip out. Just to be able to say he came.

But after he turned into the empty row, he stopped. This didn’t feel right, he thought to himself. He turned around. He continued walking down the aisle. He scanned the room for a familiar face.

Scott’s gaze was drawn to a woman in a silk blouse and light-colored blazer. Elena. She was a few rows ahead, in the center section, just to the left. She was standing, looking right at Scott, a warm smile on her face. To her right, sitting down, there was George. And next to him, George’s coat lay draped over an empty seat.

Elena gave him a hug. George did the same. There were five additional guys sitting in the row in front of them, paying Scott a great deal of attention, looking at him with curiosity. Scott recognized two of them as Jimmy and Robbie. He greeted them warmly. They told him they were glad to see him again. The other three - Chuck, Reid, Gordon - introduced themselves. They all said they were happy they were finally able to meet.

The faculty assembled. The ceremony began. There were a series of speeches and stories and inspirational remarks. Names started to be called.

And Christopher Grady walked across the stage.

✦

Scott stood in the group with Kip and George and all of Kip’s friends. Hugs were shared, congratulations were said, cameras came out. There were a few rounds of photos of Kip and George or Kip and Elena or Kip and Jimmy and Chuck and so on.

Scott and Kip stood together. They threw their arms over one another’s shoulders. Elena took the shot. Scott gave Kip’s shoulder a little extra squeeze before letting go.

“I should probably get going now,” Scott said.

“Thank you for coming,” Kip replied.

After another round of hugs and good-byes, Scott went outside. He walked toward the street and pulled out his phone.

“Small world, isn’t it?”

Scott looked back. A man was walking up to him. He looked familiar.

“Spencer Prayde. MLH Network,” the man said. “I thought that was you in there.”

Scott was a bit surprised and didn’t know what to say.

“What brings you here?” he asked.

“It’s my niece’s graduation. Since I’m here for the series anyway, I took the opportunity to go.”

Scott nodded.

“I’m glad that worked out for you,” he said.

“I guess it’s a similar story for you?” Spencer asked.

Scott swallowed.

“Yes. Friend’s graduation. Right time, right place.”

“Fair enough,” Spencer said and pulled out his own phone.

“Share an Uber to the hotel?” he asked.

Scott shook his head.

“I’m going straight to the arena. You know, practice and all.”

“Makes sense.” Spencer said. “I guess we’ll just see each other again later.”

“Yes,” Scott responded. “See you soon.”

 

Turning Around (May 2017, Boston)

 

Kip looked down at the ice. The post-game ceremony was just wrapping up. He was there in the cold arena enjoying the company of his friends, a small, but loud, contingent of Admirals supporters, and a few thousand disappointed, subdued, yet polite Boston hockey fans. The lump in his throat was starting to dissipate, and the proud tears that had started to well in his eyes no longer came.

“Did you send him a text message yet?” Robbie asked.

“As soon as the horn sounded,” Kip smiled. “He’ll see it when he gets back to the locker room.”

“You should sneak into his hotel to give him a victory blow job,” Reid said.

Kip glared at Reid.

“I think we can head out now,” he said. “I’m not sure if they’re staying here or going back to New York tonight.”

They worked their way out of the stands. The home fans had, by then, already thinned quite a bit. The night, after all, belonged to the visitors. New York Admirals. Winners of Game Six and Champions of the Eastern Conference.

“You should check in with him,” Chuck said. “I’m sure they’re staying here to celebrate.”

“Scott didn’t tell me anything about what they had planned.”

“Of course he wouldn’t have,” Gordon added. “Bad karma. That’s like begging the universe to make them lose.”

They passed through the exits and made their way to the station. With the throngs of fans, they still had to wait a while. Finally, they were able to squeeze their way onto a train.

“Are you going to go to New York for the finals?” Jimmy asked.

“Scott’s going to want you there,” Robbie said.

“I’m going for the gallery opening in Chelsea anyway,” Kip said. “We’ll work out the rest once we know the schedule.”

As the train made its way to Kenmore, Kip felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. The incoming message, of course, was from Scott. The Admirals were staying the night. He, and several teammates, were going to celebrate in the hotel bar. He wanted Kip to come.

“So what’s up?” Gordon asked.

“I guess I’m turning around,” Kip said with a smile. “I’m meeting Scott and his team at midnight.”

Reid looked at Kip and smirked.

“So I guess it’s victory blow jobs after all.”

 

Conference Champions (May 2017, Boston)

 

It was just past midnight when Kip made it to the hotel where Scott and his teammates were celebrating. The bar was in a large open lounge adjacent to the lobby. Kip could see a section near the back had been roped off by hotel staff. There were many Admirals players and their guests gathered in groups, sitting on couches, standing next to cocktail tables, or leaning up against the bar.

Kip walked into the bar and up to the ropes. A hotel employee looked at him suspiciously. Kip wasn’t sure what to do.

“Hey, he’s with me,” Matti Jalo shouted out.

Kip breathed a sigh of relief, stepped past the ropes, and thanked Jalo for helping him out.

“Hunter’s over there,” Jalo said, pointing to a couch in the corner. 

Kip made his way there, Jalo right behind him. Scott was seated next to Huff and Laura. Bennett was standing next to them. They all had drinks in their hands. Huff had his other arm around Laura’s waist. Laura let her hand gently stroke Huff’s leg.

As he approached, Kip finally caught Scott’s attention. And then, at that moment, everything stopped. Scott looked Kip straight in the eyes. Kip walked up to him. Words seemed so unnecessary right now. They held each other’s gaze. Scott inched his face closer.

“Careful now,” Jalo said from behind them. “This hotel is crawling with press.”

Kip stepped back. A slight tinge of sadness crossed Scott’s face. They gave each other a one-armed hug and a slap on the back.

In all, there were a little more than a dozen of Scott’s teammates in the hotel bar, along with a fair number of folks from the coaching staff and front office. Kip met Coach Murdock and his wife for the first time. Bennett passed Kip a drink from the bar, and then a refill a half an hour later. Somewhere along the line, Carter and Gloria showed up, walking hand-in-hand through the lobby and past the ropes.

Kip set his empty glass down on one of the cocktail tables.

“Need another one?” Bennett asked.

“I’m good, thanks,” Kip said. “I just need to head to the restroom.”

He headed back out past the ropes and through the main part of the bar, on his way to the lobby. Near the front were two men sitting together at one of the tables. They each had a drink in front of them. Kip thought he recognized one of the men. The man’s gaze followed Kip as he passed, and they made eye contact as Kip walked out into the lobby and over to the restrooms.

When Kip returned, the two men were still sitting there and Kip made eye contact with the man again. He also noticed that the second man was looking at him closely too. He tried not to stare back, so he turned his head away. He headed to the rear of the bar and back into the roped-off area to rejoin the Admirals celebration.

Kip found Carter standing alone just past the rope.

“Hey, do you know that guy?” Kip asked. He gestured towards the two men at the table near the front of the bar. “The one on the left. He looks familiar.”

Carter took a glance.

“That’s Wolf Kruger. New York Sentinel. He’s at Admirals press conferences all the time. You’ve probably seen him on TV.”

Kip looked again. He and the other man appeared to both be looking at him and talking with one another.

“Who’s the guy he’s with?” Kip asked Carter.

“Spencer Prayde. MLH Network. He’ll probably be sticking around for the finals too.”

Kip nodded and turned around.

“Jalo wasn’t kidding about this place crawling with press,” Kip said.

“It’s not that we’re a rowdy bunch,” Carter said. “But still. Definitely puts a cramp in our style.” 

Scott was still in the corner, chatting with Huff and Breezy and Bennett. Laura and Gloria and Martine appeared to be a small group of their own. Kip worked his way back there and sat next to Scott.

“You don’t have to go home tonight,” Scott said, turning to face Kip.

Kip blushed. He tried to suppress a smile but failed. He felt the electricity between them as they looked into each other’s eyes.

“You know,” Kip said, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Chapter 36: CHAPTER 36: Opening / Game Two / Scrum / Second Opening / Distraction / Don't Come

CHAPTER 36

Opening (June 2017, New York)

 

It was just before eleven. A sizable crowd still lingered in the gallery, though the thirty-odd patrons did represent a considerable reduction from the peak. By all accounts, the opening of the joint exhibition in Chelsea had been a success. Six artists with six networks from two separate cities ensured a lively, festive atmosphere all night. The wine had flowed, they’d been forced to open the spillover rooms, and Kip made a mental note to order some more catalogs.

Kip had come down to New York two days ago. He helped put the finishing touches on the installation at Saint-Georges and took care of a few last-minute tasks. Tonight, he’d been on his feet for hours. He’d answered questions all night and had to constantly keep an eye on Graham and Jeanette, just in case they might need him. Bianca had come down from Boston as well, and Kip sent any notable New York collectors or arts reporters he’d chatted with her way as well.

But a reminder of what Kip had missed that night came strolling into the gallery. Elena walked in wearing a silk blouse, navy blazer, and dark slacks, low heels on her feet, and a delicate gold necklace around her neck.

“Did you really go to Game One dressed like that?” Kip asked.

“What choice did I have?” Elena said. “I wasn’t about to come here looking like I just came from a hockey game.”

As fate would have it, San Francisco won their series the night after the Admirals had clinched theirs. And then the league went ahead and scheduled Game One of the Finals for Friday night in New York, the same night as the gallery opening at Saint-Georges. Kip had cursed his bad luck, but Scott had been very understanding, insisting on getting tickets for Elena anyway. She promised Kip she would head straight to the gallery as soon as the game was over.

“It’s just as well you couldn’t make it,” Elena said. “Frustrating night.”

Kip had stolen glances at his phone several times during the night, so he already knew the Admirals had lost. San Francisco had gotten a goal early in the first, and the Admirals were left playing catch up all night. Every time the Admirals would score to tie the game, they’d give the lead right back a minute or two later.

“They’ll get them in Game Two,” Kip said.

“I hope it ends up working out better for you and your dad than it did for me,” she said.

Elena lingered for only about twenty minutes before heading home as the crowd continued to thin. As it approached midnight, it was down to just the artists, a few regulars, the Saint-Georges team, Graham, Bianca, and Kip.

Graham came over and put his hand on Kip’s shoulder.

“You did some very good work, Kip,” he said. “Keeping both sides organized.”

“I did what I could,” Kip said.

“Well it worked. This was the biggest opening I’ve ever been part of.”

“I wasn’t sure if that was just because this is New York,” Kip said.

“Chelsea openings are rarely like this,” Jeanette added. “I’ll bet the one in Boston next week will be the biggest one GK Modern has ever had.”

“We can hope,” Graham said.

They cleaned up the wine glasses, got everything straightened up for tomorrow, and gathered near the door. They discussed plans to head out to a nearby late-night wine bar.

“You think your boyfriend will mind if we keep you out late?” Jeanette asked Kip.

Kip wanted to get to Scott’s apartment. He’d be getting home soon and he wanted to console him after the loss. But he knew this was important too.

“He’ll understand.”

 

Game Two (June 2017, New York)

 

Kip and George arrived at the arena fairly early. The crowd was still sparse, and warm ups weren’t going to start for at least another ten minutes. They walked down the stairs and made themselves comfortable in their seats in the sixth row.

Laura Huff was already there, two rows ahead, sitting next to two people who looked to be a bit older than her. This was the friends and family section, the area designated by the team for the partners and official guests of the Admirals players for the duration of the playoffs.

Laura turned around and smiled warmly at Kip. Then she stood up, stepped over her seat into the empty row between them. She introduced herself to George, gave them both a hug, and turned back to Kip.

“I guess we both brought our parents here tonight,” she said.

“Who’s at home watching the baby?” Kip asked.

“My brother Colin and his husband Jason are visiting. They came to the game Friday, so I’m sorry you missed them.”

“Maybe we’ll meet them someday,” Kip replied.

Laura waved to someone walking down to their section. Kip turned and saw it was Martine Brisebois. She had a bottle of water in her hand.

“Glad you could make it today,” Laura said to her. “I heard you hadn’t been feeling well.”

“I’m doing much better today,” Martine said.

“You know, I noticed you weren’t drinking any alcohol at the party in Boston,” Laura added. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

Martine blushed and gently nodded her head. She turned to Kip and back to Laura.

“Shhh. We’re not telling anyone for a few more weeks.”

Hugs were shared and congratulations said. Even George joined in on the fun.

“Hey don’t leave me out of this,” Gloria said, apparently sneaking up on them while they’d been engrossed with Martine.

“What did you hear?” Martine asked.

“Enough,” Gloria said and gave her a hug of her own.

The Admirals players came out on the ice to start their warmups and the stands started to fill up more. Carter skated by and waved to Gloria.

“Are you coming to San Francisco?” Gloria asked, looking at Kip.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “There’s stuff in Boston I need to be there for.”

“That’s a shame,” she said. “I don’t think Laura or Martine are coming either.”

“I should be back here for Game Five,” Kip added. He did not mention that that was assuming there would be a Game Five.

There was a rap against the glass from directly in front of them. Kip looked up and saw Scott, smiling and holding his stick. Kip returned the smile and he and George waved. Scott waved back and then skated away.

George turned to Kip.

“They’re definitely winning tonight,” he said. “Guaranteed.”

 

Scrum (June 2017, New York)

 

There was a sea of microphones and electronic recording devices shoved in Scott’s face or held up in the air nearby. Nearly two dozen reporters crowded around him in the scrum at his locker. They represented all manner of the New York sports media with a few from the San Francisco Bay Area too. There were journalists from national outlets across the United States and Canada, and a couple European writers there too.

The Admirals had tied the series in emphatic fashion. Scott had had a hand in all but one of New York’s six goals. They would head to California the next day tied at one game apiece.

Scott was peppered with questions from all over. He gamely tried to answer each one.

“Possibly the most complete game we’ve played all post-season.”

“When the defense is shutting them down like this, it just creates a lot of opportunities for me.”

“Carter and I have been in sync all season. You’re not seeing anything we haven’t done all year.”

The questions moved to what they expected to happen as the series moved to the West Coast.

“Coach Murdock will certainly look at tweaking the lines, but that’s his call.”

“They’ve got passionate fans there too. I expect the crowd to be just as enthusiastic for them as Admirals fans have been for us.”

“As long as we play like we know we’re capable of, we stand a good chance.”

Finally, Scott was asked whether this would finally be the year he would win his elusive MLH title.

“Still a long way to go. I’m not going to respond to that.”

After about fifteen minutes, the reporters began to drift away, some of them seeking out Jalo or Bennett or someone else. Eventually, all of them were gone except one. Wolf Kruger from the New York Sentinel.

“Is there something I can help you with, Wolf?” Scott asked. “I need to get showered. You can ask whatever else you might need in the press room later.”

Wolf made a show of turning off his recording device and putting it away. He leaned in to Scott just a bit closer than normal.

“I have one more question, Hunter. I didn’t want to ask in front of the others,” Wolf said.

The hairs on the back of Scott’s neck began to bristle.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Your friend from the art gallery. The one you were with when we ran into each other near my house.”

“What about him?”

“I’ve seen him around a lot. He was at the game today. In the players’ family section.”

“He’s my friend.”

“And he was at the hotel bar when you clinched in Boston.”

Scott’s expression hardened and his eyebrows narrowed slightly.

“What’s your point, Wolf?”

Wolf looked to either side and brought his mouth closer to Scott’s ear.

“Who is he?” he asked.

Scott waited a moment before turning his back and facing his locker.

“Wolf,” Scott said. “I think you’d better leave.”

 

Second Opening (June 2017, Boston)

 

Just as predicted, this was the biggest opening in GK Modern’s history. The energy was palpable. All six artists mingling again with the throng of visitors for the second time in a week. The crowd, several times, spilling out onto the streets of South End. Bianca scheduling appointments with collectors for the next week. Graham fighting off the press. Jeanette and some of her Saint-Georges staff making newfound connections within the Boston arts scene.

Everyone connected to either gallery was all smiles. Everyone, that is, except one.

As fate would have it, Game Four of the MLH finals was tonight. The Admirals had lost Game Three in a nailbiter. Another loss tonight would push their season to the brink. Kip knew he’d be unable to catch even a glimpse on TV. He figured he’d be a nervous wreck all night.

Kip made sure to stay distracted as best he could, keeping himself busy as ever. He again answered questions, practically non-stop, and ran around to ensure the event was operating smoothly. His friends dropped by, briefly, earlier in the evening, but Kip couldn’t find the time to interact with them much at all. Only Robbie hung around for any length of time, talking to the artists, and doing some networking in his own right. Kip also saw him periodically checking his phone.

Kip knew that Robbie was monitoring the game. And he could tell from his expression that things were not going well. Kip knew better than to ask. But when San Francisco took a three-goal lead early in the third, Robbie dejectedly came up to Kip.

“Tonight’s not their night,” he said.

Kip swallowed and nodded.

“It’s not over yet.”

When Robbie finally left, Kip’s focus returned to the event. He saw Graham and Jeanette laughing and drinking wine. Bianca called over to Kip to help her answer some more questions from a buyer.

He would call Scott later, console him about the loss. And later travel to New York to be there in person for Game Five. To witness the Admirals live to see another day. He hoped.

But there was no time to dwell on it. He had a job to do.

 

Distraction (June 2017, Westchester County)

 

From the way things looked at practice, there didn’t seem to be any hangover from the pair of losses the Admirals had suffered in California. The locker room was light, the players were loose, and everyone was feeling confident. No one would have ever guessed they were the ones facing the possibility of elimination tomorrow night.

Reporters crowded into the locker room after practice. A small scrum formed around Scott. He parried the questions as best he could.

“We know who we are.”

“We don’t need major adjustments.”

“We expect to win and take the series back to California.”

Scott looked over to Carter’s locker. It looked like the reporter from the Post had cornered him one-on-one. An uneasy feeling welled in Scott’s stomach. He’d noticed Wolf chatting with Jalo alone a few minutes earlier too. 

In San Francisco, Wolf had tried to talk to Scott privately again, but Scott had refused.

“Got a second, Hunter?”

Coach Murdock came up to Scott when the reporters were gone. Scott nodded and the two of them walked into his office. Coach Murdock shut the door.

“What’s going on?” Scott asked.

Murdock sat down. A sad expression came over his face. He gestured to Scott to take a seat as well.

“I hate to have to tell you this,” Murdock said. “But I guess you have a right to know. And it’s best if you hear it from me.”

Scott straightened in his chair. This didn’t sound like good news.

“An inquiry came in to Team Services earlier today,” Murdock said. “It was a bit of a strange request.”

“Okay,” Scott said, his curiosity rising.

“It came from some intern at the New York Sentinel. They said they wanted to know who the people in the family section were. Who was the team inviting to the game?”

Scott’s pulse quickened. He began to understand.

“They wanted to know if Scott Hunter left anyone any tickets.”

Scott closed his eyes and grimaced.

“They said it was for some kind of human interest piece the paper was working on,” Murdock continued. “But I have a feeling that’s not the whole story.”

“What did we tell them?” Scott asked quickly.

“Absolutely nothing,” Murdock said. “Told them we’re in the middle of fighting for a championship and we don’t have time for that.”

Scott let out a small exhale.

“But we’re so close, Hunter. I hate to think this is causing a distraction right here at the end.”

“I’m just as upset as you are, Coach,” Scott said.

“I know, Hunter. And, I’m sorry I have to ask for this, but I’m going to ask anyway,” he said.

Scott didn’t need to hear it. He knew what was coming.

“You think you can keep him out of sight for a few more days?”

Scott felt anger and sadness and frustration and nausea all at once.

“I’ll do what’s best for the team,” he said.

He walked out of Murdock’s office and back to the locker room. All the reporters were gone. Carter and Jalo and Bennett were sitting there waiting for him. They looked queasy and uncomfortable.

“We have to tell you something,” Bennett said. 

“Wolf Kruger came around,” Carter continued. “Said he saw all of us talking to some guy he didn’t recognize at the hotel bar in Boston.”

“He asked who he was, how we knew him, and for how long,” Jalo added. 

His face dropped as he continued.

“He was asking about Kip.”

Scott became filled with a little quiet resignation.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I already know.”

 

Don’t Come (July 2017, New York)

 

When Scott returned home after practice, Kip was already there. He’d travelled down from Boston that morning, arrived at the apartment just after one, and let himself in. From the looks of things, he’d already unpacked and made himself comfortable.

Scott watched Kip’s face light up as he saw him enter. A lump started to form in his throat. He put his bags down, walked over to Kip, and wrapped his arms around him. They held each other without moving for more than a minute.

Kip gently pulled away. He ran a finger across Scott’s face. He saw the sadness in Scott’s eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Kip asked. “You’re going to win the game tomorrow. And the game after that. And the game after that one, too.”

Kip’s earnest concern that this was really about hockey was heartbreaking. It was in moments like these that Scott truly felt how deeply he loved this man.

“I know,” Scott said. “We’re going to win. I have every confidence we will.”

He stepped back and took both of Kip’s hands into his own.

“But that’s not what this is.”

Kip frowned. A worried expression came across his face. He leaned forward and gently placed a kiss on Scott’s lips.

“Tell me,” he said. “Whatever it is. We’ll get through it together.”

Scott led Kip over to the couch. They sat down and Scott cradled Kip’s body in his arms. They gently rocked one another before Scott finally continued to speak.

“There’s a reporter,” Scott said. “The one we saw outside the gallery in Chelsea last month. He’s been asking a lot of questions from a lot of people.”

“About what?” Kip asked.

He leaned back. He saw that Scott could barely look him in the eye.

“About you,” Scott said. “He’s seen us together a lot and is trying to figure out why.”

“Oh,” Kip said.

Scott pulled Kip back into him.

“Yeah,” Scott said. “And the Admirals organization is really worried that it’s going to blow up any minute now.”

Scott continued to hold Kip, stroking his back.

“Seems like really bad timing,” Kip said.

“So they want us to lie low. Not do anything to raise any more suspicions until the series is over.”

Kip just lay there in Scott’s arms. He didn’t want to move.

“And the first thing I have to do,” Scott said, “is ask you not to come to the game tomorrow night.”

Scott’s arms tightened around Kip. He felt the heaviness of Kip’s body leaning against his chest.

“I guess I understand,” Kip said.

“I don’t want to give him any more ammunition,” Scott said. “And I certainly don’t want anyone coming down to the stands to harass you and ask who you are.”

Kip looked up again. Scott could see the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry, Kip. I promise, this will be over real soon.”

“I know, Scott. I’ll do whatever you ask,” he said.

Kip would bear one more indignity in what had been three and a half years of them. 

“Thank you,” Scott said. “I love you so much.”

Hopefully, this would be the last one.

“Scott,” Kip said. “I love you, too.”