Common Goal (Game Changers #4)- Rachel Reid Page 0,98
a long time, and I’ve had to play on teams with people I didn’t particularly like. Some of them were even star players. Fortunately, the locker rooms are big, and you can choose the people you want to keep close to you.”
Troy’s brow furrowed, then he looked at the floor. He tugged on his jersey and said, “I’m starting to figure that out.”
Eric attempted a friendly shoulder clap—the kind Scott or Carter would do effortlessly. It landed a little awkwardly, but he hoped the sentiment came through.
* * *
Later that night, after the competition was over, a large group of players from both teams were gathered in the hotel bar. Eric was sitting at a small table with Wyatt Hayes—the goalie for Ottawa, and a very funny guy. They were approached by Ilya Rozanov.
“Move, Hazy,” Rozanov ordered. “I need to talk to Bennett.”
Wyatt shook his head but stood up. “No fucking respect for the guy who saves your ass forty times a game.”
Rozanov handed him a ten-dollar bill. “Go buy yourself a beer.”
Wyatt glared at him. “I can buy my own fucking beer. I’m an All-Star too, y’know.”
Rozanov blinked at him, and Wyatt walked away, grumbling about Russian egomaniacs. Rozanov slid into Wyatt’s chair. “You have not announced your retirement,” he said, cutting to the chase.
“Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me.”
“Why not?”
“I wanted to wait until after this weekend.”
“You don’t want a big deal?”
“No, I don’t.”
Rozanov grinned. “This is why we are different. I want a farewell season. A parade. Everyone crying at every game.”
“I’m sure you’ll get it.”
He didn’t miss the way Rozanov’s gaze darted briefly to where Shane Hollander was standing. “Maybe.”
“Scott told me you want him to help out at your camps this summer.”
“Yes. But he is busy marrying that guy he likes to kiss.”
“I think he’ll help in the future. He’s impressed with you. We all are.”
Rozanov looked like he was almost embarrassed. He ducked his head, then glanced up shyly. “Yes?”
“Absolutely. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
“You could sell one of those expensive suits you like to wear and give us the money.”
Eric chuckled. “I can give money without selling the suits.”
“We could use more goalie help, at the camps.”
“I could probably do that. I like that you’ve made an effort to be inclusive at your camps. I assume that’s why you asked Scott.”
“Yes. He is also not bad at hockey.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about him.”
“Don’t tell him.”
Eric wasn’t sure if he should share personal information with Rozanov or not, but something told him to trust him. “Not that it matters, really, but I’m bisexual. I mean, it seems like you already guessed that, but if you want that kind of rep at your camps...”
Rozanov’s face lit up. “Bisexual! This is great. Did you fuck that blond teenager yet?”
“He’s not a—” Eric bit his tongue. “He’s twenty-five.”
“Twenty-five was a long time ago for you. Do you remember twenty-five?”
“Where the hell is Wyatt?” Eric made a show of looking over Rozanov’s shoulder.
“So you did? Fuck him?”
Eric should have been terrified by this conversation, but instead he just found himself wishing he could tell Rozanov that he hadn’t just fucked Kyle. He wished he could say he was dating him. That Kyle was his boyfriend. “I’m not telling you anything.”
“That is a yes.”
At that moment, Shane Hollander approached their table. “Hi, Eric.” Shane was basically the opposite of Rozanov: serious, polite, and quiet.
“Shane. Nice work in the obstacle course.”
Shane smirked at Rozanov, who had not done nearly as well in the same event. “Thanks. It was pretty easy, honestly.”
Rozanov glared back at him with eyes that burned with annoyance and something else. Before Eric could figure out what it was, Rozanov looked away.
Eric spotted Scott talking to Troy Barrett near the bar, which made him happy to see. Dallas Kent was nowhere to be found but, based on his reputation, he had probably found some female fans to keep him company.
“I’m going to head up to my room,” Shane said. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Shane,” Eric said.
“I will probably head up soon too,” Rozanov said.
Shane nodded, then turned quickly and left. Rozanov stayed at the table for about another minute, then told Eric he was going to the bathroom. He went, Eric noticed, in the direction of the elevators instead.
An hour later, Eric was alone in the elevator with Scott, heading for their side-by-side hotel rooms.
“What do you think you’ll do?” Eric asked. “After you