Common Goal (Game Changers #4)- Rachel Reid Page 0,45

of what Kyle had so casually offered him.

No strings attached.

Eric knew that was a thing. Friends with benefits, or whatever. He’d just never had that before and he wasn’t sure he could have that. He might not be built that way.

But he also couldn’t ask Kyle for more. Sex with an older man was one thing, a relationship with someone fifteen years older than you was another. So last night he’d convinced himself that he would not take Kyle up on his generous offer. Then he’d gotten himself off in his usual, efficient manner. Even that relief hadn’t been enough to lull him to sleep, though, and he’d been left tossing and turning for hours.

Eric needed to focus. His team was fourth in their division and they were heading out on a road trip tomorrow morning against some tough opponents. His personal goals against average was far from his best, but it wasn’t abysmal either. He was still on track to finish this season—finish his career—with dignity.

He’d like to keep some dignity in his personal life too. Dating a much younger man would pretty much make him a walking midlife crisis, and Eric really didn’t want that kind of attention. He couldn’t stomach the idea of being a recently divorced man rebounding with a pretty young thing. And then there was the fact that Kyle was a man.

Coach Murdock blew his whistle. “Let’s bring those nets in. Farmer, Woody,” he barked at two of the rookies. “Grab a net. Push them to the edges of the circle here.” He pointed his stick at the circle in the corner to Eric’s left.

Eric skated over to Carter, just to get out of Woody’s way. Carter fist-bumped Eric’s blocker and said, “Tiny rink!”

“You love tiny rink.”

“Because I’m the best at it.”

Eric snatched a puck with his goalie stick and started batting it back and forth on the ice. “I’ve been shit this practice.”

“Did someone keep you up last night?”

The puck got away from Eric. “No,” he lied.

“In the locker room you looked a little...” Carter waved a hand around in a manner that suggested absolutely nothing Eric could decipher. “Dreamy.”

“You’re making shit up.”

Carter pointed at his own eyes. “These don’t lie.”

“Apparently they do because—”

“Okay, gentlemen,” Coach bellowed. “Get to the circle. One goalie in each net, and we’re doing one-on-one drills until I tell you to stop.”

Eric skated off to the far net. When he passed Tommy, he nudged him and said, “Give ’em hell.”

“You know it.”

The players gathered to one side of the circle, and Coach sent two players in to battle each other for the puck and to try to take shots on one of the nets. Eric usually enjoyed these drills, but the small ice surface meant he could never relax. He had to stay focused on the action because it never moved more than a few meters away from him. Today it felt exhausting.

Eric didn’t like being scored on during practice any more than he liked it during games. But his ability to stop pucks was far more dependent on his mental state than his physical state, and today his mental state was a shitshow. Even the rookies were scoring on him.

When the drill was finally over, the goalie coach, Quinn Cameron, gestured Eric over to the bench. “What’s going on, Eric?”

Eric flipped his mask up. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Explains why you look like shit.” Quinn studied him, frowning. “Not sleeping. That’s not like you.”

“I know.”

“Is that all it is?”

Eric shrugged one massive, padded shoulder. “I think so.”

“How’s your head? That shot from Matti looked like it stung.”

“It wasn’t that bad. I’m just cranky today.”

Quinn smirked. “Comes with getting older.”

“Yeah yeah.”

Quinn only had ten years on Eric, but he looked much older. He walked with a noticeable limp thanks to a slap shot that had shattered his ankle when he’d played in the NHL himself. He’d had a hip replacement when he was about Eric’s age, and, thanks to years of taking shots to the head like the one Eric had just downplayed, he was prone to dizzy spells. Eric had had his share of injuries himself over the years; his left shoulder was a frequent source of grief but had been relatively fine since the last operation he’d had. He did as much as he could off the ice to balance the punishment his body endured on the ice. He was teased by his teammates for being a health nut, but Eric didn’t want to end