Page 16 of Two for Roughing

Kilian rolled his eyes. Lacey couldn’t help herself, always the big sister.

Kilian: I’m fine, chill. He’s just being super intense.

He tabbed over to Instagram. Twenty-eight new messages, Christ. Being mildly well-known in Canada was hard work. The elevator arrived on his floor, squeaking as it settled into place. He unlocked his door, pulling the handle toward him and jiggling the key until the lock gave.

A notification came in from his private chat with Josie.

Josie: seriously, are you okay? Does he know?

Kilian smiled despite himself. Josie, unlike the rest of the family, knew he was gay. He’d told her after she pestered him for a solid hour over the summer while they were mucking out the stables so Mom could have a spa day. He’d been texting his local hookup, an older guy called Sean, about meeting for drinks that night at a gay bar in town, and Josie had kept bugging him about it.

It had been a beautiful day, warm and sunny with a fresh breeze off the Pacific. Being home at the same time as Josie, working outside with the animals, had reminded him so much of big chunks of his childhood, when she was the only one of his sisters who was around most of the time. He’d ended up telling her everything as they lay flat on their backs in the sun-soaked meadow by the sheep paddock.

Kilian: Nah of c not. it’s always about hockey

Josie: he and mom would be okay, you know

Kilian wrinkled his nose. He didn’t want “okay.” He wanted them to be excited, jubilant, as thrilled as he was when he finally understood what he had missed about himself. But he wouldn’t get what he wanted. Dad knew how hockey was. He’d know how complicated it could get.

Kilian: I’ll tell them when there’s something to tell

He snorted at himself as he fell into the overstuffed couch. It wasn’t like he was going to get a boyfriend anytime soon. They couldn’t all be as lucky as Tom and Jax. Queer hockey players didn’t grow on trees, and no one else would be down to keep a relationship secret indefinitely. If Josie pushed him on it, he’d have to invent some shit instead of admitting he hooked up with strangers by night and torpedoed his few friendships by day.

Josie: k. If you need me to get dad to chill I can hard-launch my new boyfriend. He has tattoos.

A rush of fondness overwhelmed him. This was why Josie was his favorite. She knew how to go with the flow. Of all of them, she reminded him most of their mom, even-tempered and hard to shock. It made sense that she’d chosen to study agriculture and stick it out with the farm. It would be hers someday, and Kilian was glad to know it would be in good hands. Hands that wouldn’t make a fuss about him bankrolling any necessary renovations.

Provided he managed to get a decent contract when his ELC ran out, which became less likely by the day.

He sighed and rolled onto his stomach, heading back to Instagram to distract himself.

His notifications were nightmarish: influencers, people trying to get him to take sponsorship deals on shady products, more influencers. Kilian meant to close the app and start thinking about dinner when he found the one message he’d been waiting on for close to a year at the bottom of his screen.

ddenisov88: Did I miss my chance to repeat what we did last winter?

Kilian’s heart lurched up into his throat.

Instantly, his thumbs flew across the keyboard.

No we can repeat it anytime. He erased the message. Too desperate. I’ll get on the next flight to Chicago if you want to fuck me again. Way too desperate. And impractical. The Firecrackers would be in town in a few days.

howza68: depends, why do you ask?

There. That was sort of like playing it cool.

Why did Denisov reach out now? Sure, they’d met up after the game in Chicago briefly, when Kilian’s whole side was throbbing and sore from the hit Denisov had put on him. But Kilian had tried his best to flirt for as long as he possibly could make one awful alcohol-free beer last, and Denisov could not have been less interested.

At the time, Kilian figured their one fuck probably hadn’t been as earthshaking for Denisov as it was for him. Which was okay. He had the memories of how it felt; he’d take that over letting a shitty repeat with a disinterested partner mar it.

But if Denisov was interested, Kilian would be ass up and begging for it instantly.

Why was there no response? Should Kilian have played it less cool? He refreshed the page. Fuck, Denisov had sent his message last night. Who knew when he might check again? Thrumming with restless energy, Kilian rolled to his feet and went to the kitchen to examine the fridge.

Wilted lettuce, a half-empty jar of mustard, some cheddar, and a week-old takeout container.

To Uber Eats it was.

Kilian opened his phone, but the Instagram icon distracted him from ordering food.