Point Shot 01 - Two Man Advantage (14 page)

“You want to talk about her?” Dan enquired tactfully. I shook my head.

“Not now. Maybe not for a long time, but I will and it’ll be you I tell, okay?”

He snuggled closer. “That is more than okay,” he murmured.

We stood that way until Mom drew her last breath an hour later. I sat beside her and told her goodbye and God speed. That was all I had in me to say at that moment. I’m not sure I could have said even that if not for the warm, steady pressure of Dan’s hand on the back of my neck. The man had turned into my lighthouse on a stormy shore. I guess maybe we all need someone to steer us to safe harbor when we’re lost? I just hope I can be worthy of the man who I pray will hold my problematic rudder from here on out.

Epilogue

Several months later

“Okay, so yeah, that dog? Really annoying,” I grunted, nuzzling the back of Dan’s neck as he slept. The man didn’t move, snuffle or even twitch as I tried to seduce him into consciousness. I found that to be a real ego-booster. I had loved him into a stupor the night before. Rubbing my hand over his muscular back, my own twinges and aches flared up. It had been too long for both of us. Long-distance relationships blow, but, it was what it was.

I tasted his biceps. It was sticky and salty. The bedding was as well. A warm wind blew in the window, as did the sound of Mrs. Rupert’s toy poodle, Mansfield. I rolled onto my back. The breeze blew the sheers out then tickled my tacky chest and face. Late spring in Cayuga rolled through the screen—dogs barking, kids playing in the street, someone mowing grass a couple of blocks over. It was pretty much as I had envisioned it seven months before. If only the distance thing weren’t still a problem. And the still being closeted. That was an issue we hadn’t been able to overcome yet.

As far as I was concerned, I was ready. I tend to be confrontational, in case you hadn’t noticed. Dan, though—he needed more time to get his career and mind settled. Would he stay on the team? Would they send him down after the championships were over? His future was still up in the air. Add to that stress the burden of being a gay man in professional sports. Despite the outpouring of support from management and our fellow hockey players, coming out was a huge step. It was also a step that few had taken yet. So we waited and pretended to be roommates. I think Mrs. Rupert knows we share more than an apartment, but she’s so cool we bought her a dog as a thank-you gift.

I had gotten a one-year deal from the Barracudas, so I was at least in their minor league organization. Lambert had really saved my ass. If not for him giving the GM of the ‘cudas a good word, I’d have been shipped off to the first team that expressed an interest. Or maybe I would have had to jump to the KHL and play in Russia. Boston to Cayuga was bad enough. Boston to St. Petersburg would have killed this relationship. And that was not a fucking option. I’d have dropped out of hockey before I gave up the dude at my side. It had taken me too long to find him, you know?

Giving myself credit, I
had
cleaned up my act a good deal. I still led the minor league in penalty points, but I had learned to keep my mouth shut. Sometimes. Other times…well, a man just has to express his views. Creative commentary on the ice is one of my fortes, after all. So yeah, that call-up could come any day. Dan usually shuttled more than I did, since he didn’t puke on his shoes when he flew. Now that the NHL playoffs were underway, it was me picking up the frequent flyer points instead of Dan. Our season was over. We had come in fourth out of five in our division. Not great, but at least there was a team that sucked worse than we did. The Barracudas had wiped their asses with the Delaware Sharks and were now grabbing a two-day rest before facing St. Louis.

Dan rolled onto his side, his eyes fluttering open. I glanced over at him.

“So yeah, you need to go down and punt that dog over the fence,” I informed him. He wet those juicy Elvis the Pelvis lips. My mind flashed to memories of the night before.
Yeah. I am totally going to get me some more of that before he flies off to Missouri tomorrow afternoon.

“I’m a hockey player, not a field goal kicker,” Dan countered.

“You gave her the stupid mutt,” I parried as he curled up closer.

“You named it Mansfield.”

“Best two out of three pins. Loser has to go punt the poodle. Deal?”

Dan’s dark eyebrow crept up his forehead. “You know you’re going to lose,” he pointed out.

I wasn’t worried. See, no matter who ended up on bottom, I had already won.

About V.L. Lacey

V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, anything romantic, Greek mythology, New York Rangers hockey, comic books and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a steer named after a famous N.H.L. goalie, a pig named after a famous President and a flock of assorted domestic fowl.

V.L. is a multi-published author. When not writing romantic tales, she can be found enjoying her day with her menagerie with a cup of fresh java in hand, writing or cheering on her beloved Blueshirts. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter and GoodReads.

V.L. welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.

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