Chapter One

“…you all for coming today. I know there have been plenty of rumors flying around about me and my teammate Victor Kalinski over the past week or so. I’m here today to set things straight.”

I almost choked on Dan using the word straight, but I behaved myself. If we were straight, none of this media horseshit would be taking place. I folded my arms over my chest and visually challenged any of the press gathered in the dressing room at the Capri Lake Ice Rink in scenic Capri Lake, Minnesota, to say one off-color word during this coming-out escapade. Daniel, the smart, sexy shit that he is, had buffered me nicely with the only two people on this planet who could maybe keep me in check.

One was Heather Pavlick, the hot blonde nursing student who was carrying my maybe-baby. Heather had flown up to lend her support to Dan and me. That gesture notched her up several pages in my “you are one okay chick” book. The other was Mrs. Arou. Truthfully, while having Heather on my left kind of made me feel sort of protective and somewhat respectful because of her delicate condition, it was the tiny but formidable mother of my man on my right who was making sure my mouth remained firmly shut. Mrs. Arou brooked no bullshit. I glanced down and found her sharp black eyes trained on me. My gaze went back to Dan as he rambled on about how thankful he was to the Boston Barracudas for their support of the gay and bisexual players in their organization.

Several members of the media were staring at me. I bit down on the inside of my mouth. When the scrutiny got too strong, I placed my hand over the stitches on my left forearm, an injury courtesy of Phil Prescott, the homophobic fuck-weasel who outed Dan and me via Twitter, and squeezed the stitches. It hurt like a ham up the ass but it kept me from mouthing off. Dan had begged me to keep my mouth shut and let him, the team and Mike Buttonwood, the Cougars captain, handle all press communication. Since I had just managed to get Dan back into my life, I’d signed off on giving the media my two pennies, even though the reporters were creaming their shorts to get to me. I give good sound bites as well as killer blowjobs. My point shot is fucking impressive as well. Dan had made the bloodsuckers wait until we had finished our conditioning camp with Ailo Grahn. It suited me. Any time I get to watch the press squirm is fun times for old Victor K.

When Dan concluded his bit, Buttonwood took over talking to the press, telling them how supportive the team was of having LGBT players in its ranks and yadda-yadda-yadda. I followed Dan out of the dressing room as we had arranged. Heather and Mrs. Arou stayed on my heels as we stepped out into the corridor. As soon as the door shut on the media, I took Dan in my arms.

“You fucking rocked that, sweets,” I whispered into his hair.

“That sucked so much,” he murmured, then drew in a shaky breath and stepped out of my embrace to hug his mother. I looped an arm around Heather and led her to a small couch where we—we meaning Dan, as I was muzzled until we left Minnesota—would meet one chosen member of the press for a short filmed interview.

“You okay?” I asked as she sat down and ran her hands over the flouncy dress she was wearing. Is flouncy the right word? It was flowery and had lacy shit on the hem and across the V of her tits. “I still think you flying up here wasn’t smart.”

“Vic, it’s fine. I’m only six months along, so stop being such a mother hen.”

“Okay, Miss Sunshine, I am not nor will I ever be a mother fucking hen.”

“Victor, such language,” Mrs. Arou chided as she fixed her son’s gray tie. Dan gave me a quick wink.

“Sorry, Mrs. A.,” I muttered, and made a face at Dan. “I’m a rooster, one of those big red ones.” I reached up to stroke the hair that now covered my cheeks and jaw. Give me a month and I would have one hell of a sexy crimson beard. I had playoff plans this year.

“You’re cocky for sure.” Heather giggled, then leaned back on the sofa and toed off the flat white shoes she was wearing. “God above, my feet are killing me.”

“Poor thing,” Mrs. Arou cooed, then left her son, tie askew, to flutter over and sit down next to Heather. “You need to get some rest. Victor, why did you let her stand for so long?”

I gaped at the ebony-haired woman in the sedate blue dress. “What was I supposed to do with her? Hold her on my hip like a toddler?”

“Don’t be sassy,” Mrs. Arou warned with a finger shake, then returned to fussing. I sensed that Dan’s mom felt some lingering anger at me. I didn’t blame her. I had hurt her son pretty badly. While Mama Arou futzed with Heather, I stepped over to Dan and redid his tie. The man was all sorts of thumbs today. “Your mother does know that you had nothing to do with making the kid, right?”

“Well yeah, deep down she does, but she never thought she would have a grandbaby, so she’s kind of steamrolled over my lack of participation. Can you just go with it?”

“For your mom, sure.” I tucked his tie back into his jacket and grabbed a quick kiss. Dan tensed. It was going to take him some time to get used to being able to partake of the PDA that all the hets took for granted. “Shame your dad couldn’t make it.”

“He needed to work, and someone has to stay home with Kurt.” Dan sighed, his deep blue eyes moving from me to the two women whispering on the sofa. “I just want this week over. I want to go home, curl up in our apartment and not face anyone until training camp begins in September.”

“You play hermit. I’ll go forth into the community and dare anyone to say word one,” I said, then placed my lips to his worried brow. “I love you,” I murmured against his forehead.

The door to the dressing room opened. One thin dude with a pencil mustache and a kind smile stepped out with Mike Buttonwood and some dude from legal that the Barracudas had sent, bless their Boston-bred hearts. A big man with no neck and a bald head the color of a cue ball stepped up behind the reporter with a handheld TV camera on his shoulder.

Dan tried to skip back. I placed my hand to the back of his thick neck and held him in place.

“If we can have Dan for about ten minutes,” Mike asked but didn’t ask. I gave Dan’s neck a squeeze, then released him. “Mrs. Arou, Bill here would like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Mrs. Arou replied, then pushed to her tiny feet. “I’m proud of my son.”

Off she went with the men in her wake. My belly was all filled up with fuzzy warm kitten kisses. What must it be like to have parents who were proud of you? Fucked if I would ever know.

“Wow, talk about having great parents,” Heather said as an office door closed. I flopped down next to Heather, who was resting her petite hands on her baby bump. “Mine kind of suck.” She sighed deeply. “I mean, they were okay when I was toeing the line, but they’re like crazy religious, and when they found out I was pregnant they kind of flipped out. That’s why I needed to find you and ask for you to pay for my last year of college. They cut me off.”

“That sucks a dick,” I replied, and stretched out my legs.

“Yeah, it does. A donkey one.” Heather turned sideways on the couch to look at me. The press was being shown out of the dressing room via a side door. We could hear them filing out. “I never meant to push you against a wall about things.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I knocked you up. The least I can do is cough up some cash to make things better for you and Junior.”

“Jackie Blue,” she said with a serene Lady Madonna smile as she caressed her swollen belly. “The baby is going to be named Jackie Blue Kalinski.”

“What the hell kind of name is Jackie Blue for a kid?” I asked after I got my jaw up from my chest.

“You know, it’s from the song by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. I just love seventies music! And that song is one of my favorites,” she exclaimed. I stared dully at her exuberant, puppy-like enthusiasm.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“You bet I am! I always wanted to name my first baby Jackie Blue, and now here he or she is.” She continued stroking her stomach. “Do you want to feel my belly?”

“Why the hell would I want to touch your belly? Your tits, sure, because they seem to be getting bigger, but your belly? Yeah, no thanks.”

“Oh come on, Vic, everyone likes to touch baby bellies,” she cajoled sweetly.

“Not this dude.” I tried to leave the sofa but the little pregnant woman growled at me as if she were a stand-in for Megan Fox in Jennifer’s Body or some shit.

“Just feel my belly!”

I placed my palm on her stomach, not certain what to expect. It was hard, like a melon.

“See, it’s not so bad.” She beamed at me. I nodded, because I feared if I didn’t the demon inside her would rip me a new asshole. “Can I bum a ride home with you? I don’t have the money to fly again. Oh!”

Something writhed under her skin. I jerked my hand from her stomach and shot to my feet.

“Okay, that there is some fucked-up Monsters Inside Me shit like Dan watches all the time.”

Heather giggled. “Stop being such a dork. Sit back down. It’s just the baby.” I glanced over my shoulder when the dressing room door opened and Brooks, Dan’s cousin, jogged out. “Hi, Brooks,” Heather said in that singsong way that women use when they’re interested. I watched Brooks, all suited up as Dan and I were, stumble over saying something as his gaze latched on to Heather’s incredible boobs.

“Oh, hey, Heather,” the twit finally managed to cough up. He’d been acting like a complete fuckup since he’d been introduced to Heather a couple hours ago. “Your belly looks really big.”

I slapped him upside the head. Heather tee-hee-heed as Brooks rubbed the back of his buzzed skull. Heather was patting the seat for me to come feel the baby again when Dan, Mike, Mrs. Arou and the chosen one emerged from the rink manager’s office. The reporter shook all our hands, then rushed off, eager to get his exclusive into print and into the hands of the greedy throng.

“How you doing, sweets?” I asked Dan when he walked to my side.

He shook his head, his usually vibrant blue eyes dull. Every time I saw that sad look overtake Dan, my vow to wreak havoc on Phil Prescott doubled. Over the past week, my hatred had grown to the size of a fucking dirigible. Payback would come. I hoped they would make Prescott feel the same amount of humiliation, pain and shame that Dan had. If Dan and I could pull off the ideas we had discussed late while lying in each other’s arms, Phil Prescott was going to Rue. The. Day. One did not mess with a venomous Pole and a sexy hobbit.

“I’m ready to go home,” he said again. I took his hand in mine. “Why don’t we go back to the hotel, get packed and head back to Cayuga?”

“I’m riding with Victor,” Heather announced as she pushed to her feet with my assistance. “If that’s okay with you, Dan?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I told Brooks to take my Jeep back home and gather up his shit— stuff,” he corrected with a quick glance at his mother, “so he’ll bring my ride back to Cayuga.”

“Works for me,” I said as we all turned in unison to get the fuck out of Dodge.

“Can I have a minute, Victor?” Mrs. Arou called.

I gave Dan a long look. “Meet you at the cars,” I told my man.

Dan nodded, gave his mother a stern glare, then walked outside with Heather jabbering into his earhole. I watched them disappear, then faced Mrs. Arou.

“You know I like you, Victor,” said the little woman from Fort Gregg, Winnipeg. She crossed her arms over her breasts and visually pinned me to the wall.

“You still like me?”

“Yes, I do. I just don’t like your behavior. You make my son happy, most of the time.” I glanced from those piercing black eyes to the tiny purse dangling off her wrist. “Will and I, we think you and Dan could be a good thing if you would stop being so greedy and Dan stopped letting you be so greedy.” I thought to point out that Dan never let me push him around, either mentally or physically, but they didn’t see that side. All they saw was Dan and how shredded he had been after we’d hit that rough patch. So instead of mouthing off, I just bowed my head and mumbled an apology for being a jerk.

“I know you’re sorry. I saw how many texts you sent to Dan begging him to forgive you. They were sincere, I could tell, so I nudged him to talk to you because it was obvious that you two love each other. That being said, if my boy ever comes home to me again in the shape he did a month ago, I will come down to Cayuga and punch you in the nose. No one hurts my sons—not even the people who love them. Do you get me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you, Mrs. A.,” I said as I battled down a smile. “I promise that I will treat Dan like the amazing man you raised for evermore.” I drew an X over my pectoral.

Her brow furrowed but the anger left her eyes. “Okay, I’m going to take your word, because Dan says that you might be lots of things but you aren’t a liar. Now come down here and let me kiss you for making my grandbaby.”

It was on the tip of my tongue, but I kept it to myself. If Mrs. A. wanted to call the kid her grandbaby, then so be it. I hoped she wasn’t in for too much heartache if the blood test came back to show the kid was someone else’s. My gut was telling me the kid was Kalinski, poor thing, but DNA would prove me right or wrong. I bowed down for my kiss. I also got an ear tweak for good measure.

“We good?” I asked the woman as I straightened.

“We’ll see how you behave.”

She walked off with her dark head high, leaving me chuckling softly as I jogged to catch up with her. Home sounded good. Real, real good.