now he was on the ice in full hockey gear, looking like a gladiator as an arena full of fans cheered him on. It was hard to believe he was the same man who’d shyly asked Kyle to boss him around a bit in the bedroom.
It was an afternoon game against New Jersey, so the building was rowdy. The score was now 2–0 for New York in the third period, thanks to some amazing saves by Eric.
“I want him to get a shutout,” Kyle said.
Kip nudged him hard. “Don’t say it out loud! You’ll jinx him!”
“Wow, Scott has really rubbed off on you.” Kyle regretted saying it immediately because he knew what was coming.
“All the fucking time,” Kip drawled.
Kyle looked at the clock. Six and a half minutes left.
Come on, Eric. You’ve got this.
He hadn’t gone to a game with Kip in a while, and he’d never been this on edge watching one. His stomach twisted with nerves, not just because he wanted the Admirals to win, but because he didn’t want Eric to get hurt. How did Kip deal with all this stress?
“We picked a venue,” Kip said, casually stealing a handful of Kyle’s popcorn. “For the wedding.”
“Really? Where?”
“We found an inn near Bay Shore—more of a resort, with a main building and cottages around it. We booked the whole thing.”
“That sounds...” Expensive was the first word to pop into Kyle’s head, but he finished with, “awesome.”
Kip smiled. “I know. It’s a total dream wedding. We wanted to do it out of the city, but not too far. And we wanted somewhere private. We’re hoping we can do the ceremony outdoors, near the water.”
“So no center-ice wedding?”
“Fuck no. Scott loves the fans, but this is for us.”
Kip gazed dreamily at the circle where Scott was now bending to take a face-off. Kyle’s eyes locked on Eric, crouching at the top of his crease. Kyle indulged in a brief fantasy of dancing with Eric at the wedding. It could happen, even as friends.
The crowd started yelling angrily, and his attention turned back to the game. One of the Admirals players had gotten a penalty.
“Total bullshit,” Kip grumbled. “That wasn’t even close to slashing.”
Kyle hadn’t seen it, but he agreed. “Fucking ridiculous.”
Now the Admirals would be short one player, and the face-off was happening in their zone, close to Eric. Kyle wondered if Eric was stressed about that. Or maybe this was fun for him. Maybe this was the hockey goalie equivalent of a skier standing on the rim of a headwall. Kyle had lived for that feeling once, and still loved it whenever he got the chance.
New Jersey won the face off and, for the next fifty seconds or so, unleashed a barrage of hard shots at the Admirals’ net. Eric was unbelievable, shutting down a scoring chance at one side of the net, then quickly sliding to the opposite side to stop the rebound shot. A slap shot came from the blue line that hit Eric so hard in the chest that Kyle could feel it. The crowd roared their approval. When the play finally stopped, they chanted Ben-ny, Ben-ny and the DJ started playing Elton John’s “Benny and the Jets.”
“He’s so fucking good!” Kyle said, beaming with pride like he was somehow responsible for Eric’s talent.
“He’s amazing,” Kip said. “I’ll bet he could play another five seasons at least.”
Kyle wondered. Eric seemed healthy and, based on his impressive upside-down yoga abilities, very fit, but how much longer could a body endure this level of punishment?
On the ice, Eric seemed to be shaking off that last save. As if being hit with a hundred-mile-an-hour slap shot was the same as stubbing your toe. The jumbo screens showed a close-up of Eric’s face as he flipped his mask up. He looked remarkably calm as he squirted water into his mouth, as if he was hanging out at a park instead of throwing himself in front of rocket-fast hockey pucks.
There were now less than four minutes left in the game, and one minute left in the penalty. Kyle handed Kip the rest of his popcorn because he was too nervous to eat anyway. Besides, he needed to clasp his hands together even though he didn’t believe in prayer. It just felt right.
He wanted Eric to get this shutout.
He wanted Eric to invite him over to celebrate tonight.
The possibility that Kyle might get to again have this man—the same man who was right now being loudly adored by an arena full of