Page 172 of Game Misconduct

Leif considered the idea. “We did fine at the North Atlantic tournament when he was assistant coach. And it’s not like it’s the first time something like that has happened in the league.”

“True. Well, I know they have a lot of candidates, but he’s definitely one of them.”

“That would be great,” Leif said. He knew becoming a head coach was one of his father’s goals. He liked being an assistant coach for Boston, but it didn’t seem like Hoyt Kent would be going anywhere any time soon and a chance to be a head coach for New York would be tempting.

Oh, but there was the Hawke situation.Thatcould get messy.

“So, you don’t have to come up with anything tonight,” Nicky said. “But if you have ideas for how to increase team cohesion—other than tossing all the homophobes in the East River—I’m all ears.”

“What about some captains’ skates later this summer,” Ian said slowly. “Before camp starts?”

“I like that idea.” Nicky pulled out his phone and tapped something into it. “Something informal, just to get things rolling.”

“I know Boston has a lot of team events throughout the season,” Leif offered as he thought about things Tanner had told him. “They all have this bar they go to. Not O’Shea’s, but something like it. O’Neill’s, maybe? Anyway, it’s their team hangout spot. I think we should find a place.”

“Yeah, I like that.” Nicky typed some more. “Shame it can’t behere.”

Leif glanced around to the bar. It was getting packed. The music was louder now—a distinctly queer anthem playing in the background—and across the room, a drag queen caught his eye and blew him a kiss.

Leif smiled back at her before he faced his teammates. “Can you imagine?” he said. “Renner and Palmer would lose their shit.”

Ian giggled and Leif wondered exactly how much he’d had to drink so far. Ian didn’t drink much during the season either and he was probably as much of a lightweight as Leif was.

They brainstormed for a while longer and Leif offered to ask Tanner for suggestions.

Nicky got that faraway look in his eyes again and whispered, “Tanner Clayton on the Rockets. Can you imagine?”

Leif snorted because yes, he very muchcouldimagine. He’d turn the team upside down in every possible way. Good and bad.

“We don’t know anything yet,” he warned.

But oh, how Leif desperately hoped it could become a reality. No matter how long it took, Leif wanted to play with Tanner instead of against him.

Wanted to have Tanner hogging the bed and talking in his sleep every night.

Wanted to see Tanner’s wild hair in the mornings as he stood in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Yeah, maybe he’d call him tonight. He couldn’t wait any longer.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“Oh, thank fuck,” Tanner muttered when Leif’s call finally came in later that evening.

Mickey frowned at him and nudged him with his elbow, probably telling him to shut up.

The team was in Florida, watching a movie in Mickey and Rafe’s room. Tomorrow they’d play game one against the Miami Tides.

Tanner scrambled off the bed, nearly kicked Erik Wyatt in the head because he was camped out on the floor beside the bed—muttered an apology, and finally made it outside into the hall.

Thankfully, his phone was still vibrating, so he accepted the call, pacing as he waited for it to connect.

“Hey,” Leif said.

“Hey,” Tanner echoed. “How are you doing?”

Leif sighed. “Still sad. Still hate the way the season ended. But better, I think?”

“Good.”