Page 88 of Two for Roughing

Kilian closed his eyes and hugged her in return. The bridge of his nose burned, and his throat ached with unshed tears. “Hi, Mom.”

“Are you okay?” she asked right beside his ear. “Has anyone been harassing you? Have the other players been nice?”

He laughed wetly. He had no idea how to begin explaining to her that in a list of NHL player qualities, “nice” would not make the top fifty. “I’m fine,” he told her, and was surprised to find it was true.

“Have you talked to your coach?” Dad asked, halfway out of his jacket. “It’s his job to keep the players in line, and you’ve been solid on the PP. I bet he’d listen to you…”

Kilian let the familiar words wash over him as he led them both to the living room. “Can I get you anything to drink?” He was supposed to ask that when guests were over, right? When did his parents start counting as guests?

“Some water would be great actually,” Mom said. “Or tea? Do you have tea?”

Kilian didn’t, but he knew who did. “Damir’s got some. It’s probably going to be Russian though.”

“Anything herbal will do.”

“Herbal,” Kilian repeated so he would remember. “Dad?”

“Diet soda?”

Kilian laughed. “Sorry, no, too much sugar for the meal plan. We’ve probably got some sugar-free somewhere?”

“It’s diet. There’s less sugar,” his dad protested but waved off Kilian’s attempt at a response. “Whatever. Anything’s fine as long as it’s not orange-flavored.”

Kilian left them getting settled on the couch, extremely thankful Damir had indeed cleared up the lube. In the kitchen, Damir stood at the stove again, putting a pot of wild rice on to boil. He had four steaks sitting on a board on the countertop, waiting.

“Why do you have four steaks?”

Damir shrugged. “I always keep some extra around. Meat freezes well.”

Kilian tried to keep the smile from his face, but some things were simply impossible.

Damir ignored him.

Kilian had never particularly enjoyed not being noticed, being a youngest child, so he sidled up closer to Damir. “Nice shirt.”

The deep plum color made Damir’s skin shine rich and golden. It was also a collared, button-up shirt, paired with charcoal-gray slacks.

“Who are you trying to impress?”

“Your parents,” Damir said in a low, hurried voice. “Obviously.”

Kilian laughed.

“Don’t laugh. Your father looked like he hated me.”

“That’s just his face. Also, he probably remembers you punching me last year.”

Damir swore under his breath.

He was so cute. How was Kilian going to be his roommate and his teammate and nothing more when he knew how cute Damir could be? Maybe they should nip the phone sex in the bud while they still could. Much more of this, and Kilian wouldn’t be able to draw a line.

At least Damir wouldn’t be able to date anyone else openly, so Kilian would be spared the jealousy, but he doubted Damir would stay celibate. He was too good at sex.

Kilian underlined finding his own place after Christmas twice on his mental to-do list.

“Hey, do you have any herbal tea?”

Damir turned away from the stove to pull open a drawer. Never having had cause to look inside before, Kilian was amused to see the perfect organization of each box of tea bags, neatly in its own place, and looseleaf sorted into labeled jars.