Free Point Shot 02 - Game Misconduct by V.L. Locey Page A

cat turd in sugar won’t make it a doughnut.
    “That don’t mean nothing, though, Vic. Not in context of the trust issues we got now.”
    “No, I mean, I know it doesn’t. I just wanted you to know that I was trying to do better for the kid.” Dan winced as if I had driven a sword into his liver. “We have to talk about the kid, Dan. It won’t just go away, if it turns out to be mine.”
    He lifted his head to the painfully blue sky. I so wanted to hold him.
    “We got more to work on than just the kid, Vic. I love you, I do, but you lied to me.”
    “It wasn’t a lie. You never asked me if I screwed some chick behind your back when I was shitfaced.” He gave me a dark look but I stayed on that track. “If anything it was an act of omission because it meant shit and jack to me. I don’t recall much of the night. I didn’t think I would ever hear about it again. I was wrong, okay, I know that, but you have to give me a chance.”
    “No,” he said, and pushed off the hood of the car. “I don’t have to do anything, Vic. Can you just back off for right now? I need to go back to the hotel and be by myself.”
    “Sure, sure, I can give you what you need.”
    I backed away when all I really wanted was to go forward. Get closer, touch, hold, taste, and claim him as mine in front of all those knuckleheads inside now that the gay-and-bi cat was out of the rainbow bag. We could do that now. We could be a couple in the locker room. It made me slightly giddy. Dan, though, was obviously having a different reaction to his coming-out event.
    “Thanks.” He gave me a smile. It was a pathetic one but it made my fucking day.
    I nodded as he went back inside. A couple of minutes later Dan and Brooks came out. Thinking that my behavior could be a little unsettling if not downright stalkerish, I tore my gaze from Dan and went back into the rink. An awkward kind of hush fell over the team when I walked into their midst. I looked at one player, then another.
    “Enough of the Will and Grace histrionics—let’s get ready for a new season,” I said.
    The team hooted in agreement and we headed off to get dressed.
    “You okay?” Mike Buttonwood asked as we gathered inside the Zamboni doors about thirty minutes later, geared up in our Cougars scrimmage uniforms. We were still waiting for Ailo Grahn to grace us with his presence. I hoped the Cougars weren’t paying Grahn by the hour. “Talk about being drug out of the closet kicking and screaming.”
    “Yeah, it’s all good.” I said, acutely aware that Dan and his cousin had missed the first session. “Bring on the hockey.” I crammed my mouth protector in and skated out to whip my pathetic pale ass into shape.

Chapter Eight
     
    There was not one part of me that didn’t hurt. Even my toenails ached. It was a good pain, though. It was the pain of working the body hard. I’d gotten soft over the summer, even though I’d visited the local gym twice a week. Living and loving Dan had changed how I viewed life. Seemed I was more content to stay home and cuddle on the couch when I had Arou around.
    That complacency and contentment combined with the surge in drinking lately had really shown today. I’d struggled to keep up with the other Cougars, who, it seemed, had trained steadily over our downtime. It was all good. Let them be a tick faster than me. By the time training camp opened, I would be skating circles around eighty percent of those hacks on skates.
    My leg muscles were in open revolt as I entered the elevator in the hotel the Cougars had lined up for us. It was a nice place—not five-star by any means, but clean and cheery. The clerk was a bouncy brunette with round, brown eyes. She batted her lashes as I checked in. I could have told her to save the come-hither, but bless her heart, she was trying so hard. I took the key card, thanked her and hefted my hastily packed Boston Barracuda duffel back onto my shoulder. Miss Eyelashes pouted prettily when I stepped