Egotistical Puckboy (Puckboys 1)

If management thinks us being together is bad for the B’s, they wouldn’t hesitate to ship one of us off.

I have to believe we’re playing well enough that they’ll want to keep us.

And if not, well, there’s a good chance we’ll have to face that eventually.

So while we’re here, I want to make the most of our time together.

We fly back to Boston and each go our separate ways. Only, instead of heading back to my car, I catch Coach in his office.

I knock lightly on the doorframe, and Coach looks up.

“Hayes, what can I do for you?”

“Nothing, actually.” I shift, trying not to let my nerves show. “But I figured I should give you the heads-up I’m planning to come out.”

“That’s good. Do you need me to set anything up? We can get the PR department onto it.”

“I can go to them next. I want to go low-key about it and don’t want to make it a big thing. But … it’s probably going to be a big deal.”

He leans back in his chair. “Is there a reason for doing it now? You know you have all of our support.”

“There is a reason. You might not like it.”

“Hayes, I’ve been in this industry for a long time, and when a player tells me I won’t like something, I know it’s going to be bad.”

“Could be a PR nightmare.”

“If it’s something illegal, we’re not going to stand behind that.”

I laugh. “Not illegal. Well … I mean, it’s always hard to tell when it comes to Ezra.”

“What does Palasz—wait. Tell me you’re not sleeping together.”

“I’m not sure how it works in your household, Coach, but that’s something I like to do with my partner.”

“Your—fuck. You two are dating?”

“Yep. And this is me letting you know, not coming to you for permission. It’s going to get out, so I thought you might want to get ahead of things and …” This is the hard part. “I really hope it doesn’t impact our places on this team.”

Coach shakes his head. “You’re both playing the best hockey of your careers. Keep that up, and keep the team a drama-free zone, we’ll have no problems. I’ll talk to management and make sure they know.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, when I said for you guys to play nice and get along, this isn’t really what I meant.”

“It’s not in us to do anything by halves.”

“Apparently not.” He picks up his phone. “So when are you planning to do this?”

“I haven’t worked that out yet.”

“If a press conference is out, how are you going to do it? Social media?”

That still seems like too much. “No, I don’t want to feel like I need to announce it. I’m going to do what any other teammate does when they’re seeing someone … I’m going to take Ezra on a date.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

“And I have to warn you, because I know the history you two have, I don’t care if things get messy or you break up or whatever, but that shit stays out of my locker room and off the ice. Got it?”

“Neither of us want to risk our careers, so that’s a given.”

“Good.” He points at me. “And no funny business on these premises.”

“It’s like you know Ezra or something.”

“I’ve been coaching him far too long to think he wouldn’t sneak you in here to fuck with me.”

Poor choice of words. My lips quirk, because sex in here actually sounds like fun. “I’ll let him know.”

That’s one conversation done, and once I’m done telling my agent and the PR department the same thing so they can prepare the team’s statement, I only have one more awkward conversation to go before I can pick Ezra up for a date tonight.

On the way home, I call and make a reservation at a restaurant Diedrich recommended to me when I first moved here. It’s always busy, which is exactly what I want.

The more people who see us, the better.

Back home, I put on a load of laundry so I didn’t actually lie to Ez, then grab my phone and flop back onto my couch. I have a great view of the city from here, but I’m still not sold on the place. It’s pretty sad when I feel more at home at Ezra’s bachelor pad than here. Though that could be the Ezra factor.

Which is why I need to do this. I’m serious about him, and I don’t want some stupid stigmas holding me back. It’s that reminder that makes me hit Dad’s number.

It only rings a handful of times before he answers with a cheerful “Anton.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“I caught the game last night. You were amazing. Never thought I’d see my boy top of the points board for the season.”

“I never thought I’d be there either,” I agree.

“Clearly that trade was good for you. We were worried at first of course, but I shoulda known you would make it work.”