Page 110 of Game Misconduct

Tanner plunked himself onto Leif’s lap, forcing a groan from the back of Leif’s throat because Tanner might not keep weight on any better than Leif did during a grueling season, but he was still densely muscled for his size.

“Kiss me,” Tanner said, smiling as he cupped Leif’s cheeks and stared down at him.

Leif kissed him.

He got his hands up under Tanner’s hoodie and kissed him like he didn’t know when he’d see him again. Which … he didn’t.

Sure, there was one last game New York would play in Boston before the regular season was up but who knew if they’d have another opportunity like this then. So he kissed Tanner and held him close and tried not to think about what he’d said earlier.

Because it didn’t mean anything. Obviously.

And it didn’t mean anything that just for a second, Leif had wanted to say it back. He’d thought about saying it back.

He’d thought about saying it last night.

But he wasn’t in love with Tanner, no matter what Tanner’s mom said and … Leif broke off with a gasp, burying his face against the soft fabric of Tanner’s sweatshirt. He wanted to hate the Harriers logo on the upper left-hand chest area, but he couldn’t.

Because it was a part of who Tanner was.

They’d hated each other on the ice last night and they’d hate each other the moment they went up against each other again, but in this moment Leif didn’t hate Tanner.

Not even a little bit.

Leif clung to Tanner, shaking, and Tanner ran his hands through Leif’s hair and, for once, didn’t say anything at all. He just sat there, his weight a welcome pressure on Leif’s thighs, and he didn’t ask why Leif was acting like that or tease him about it.

He just let Leif cling to him.

When Leif’s phone buzzed with a reminder that his car would be arriving soon, he was the one to finally coax Tanner to stand up. He kissed Tanner goodbye, said, “Thanks, this was nice. We should do it again,” picked up his bags, and left the apartment.

In the hallway, Leif groaned because that was quite possibly the stupidest thing he could have said. The entire ride down to the first floor he ran through the other things he could have said instead that would have been infinitely better.

But when Leif stepped out of the building, the cold driving rain was coming down hard enough to snap him out of everything but the thought of protecting himself from it.

He realized he’d left his umbrella in the apartment as he strode through the courtyard and flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt. It would get soaked quickly, but it was the best he could do.

The ride was still a few minutes or so away, stuck waiting to turn left at the light at the intersection, and Leif waited a small distance from the bus stop, impatient for the SUV to arrive.

A guy waiting for the bus glanced over at him a couple of times, then looked away.

The wind snatched at Leif’s hood, dragging it back off his face, and he felt the cold spatter of rain on the back of his bare neck just as the guy’s face lit up.

No, fuck no,Leif thought.Not this. Notnow.

But as Leif fumbled to get the hood up again, the guy stepped closer, hollering to be heard over the rain and the speeding wet tires on pavement “You’re Leif Rasmussen, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Leif admitted a little grudgingly. He was half tempted to lie to the guy, but he wasn’t that good at it and if someone got apicture of him and posted about it online, it might blow up into something even bigger.

“Fucking hell. That’s awesome. I was a huge fan of your dad’s growing up,” the man said.

Leif got that a lot, especially here in Boston. They’dlovedAksel before he’d been traded. And they loved him even more now that he was back home coaching for the Harriers.

“I’ll let him know,” Leif shouted back. “What’s your name?”

“William Sullivan.”

“I’ll pass that along.”

William frowned. “What are you doing here, man? Traveling teams don’t stay here, do they?” He glanced back at the building.