Page 87 of Tough Call

I frowned. “Do you really think the NAL looks at it that way?”

“Do you really think they’ll publicly say they’re cutting a player or an official loose over a gay relationship? Maybe five or ten years ago, they would have, but nobody wants that publicity these days.”

“They don’t have to say that’s why they’re cutting us loose.”

Mülly quirked his lips. “Okay. Okay, that’s true.” He glanced toward Connor before facing me again. “Think about it seriously, Mads. There has to be a way you can have the NAL contract and Connor. But if there isn’t… man, don’t be an idiot and make the wrong decision.”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

Mülly took another drink, then skated back toward center ice, pulling on his gloves as he did. I squirted some more water into my own mouth, hoping the cold would help center me and get past this stupid lump of emotions that I didn’t need right now.

And of course, that was the exact moment Connor appeared beside me. He flashed me a sweet smile as he picked up his water.

Jesus. How did I ever think I wasn’t in love with you?

Fortunately, he couldn’t hear my internal thoughts. Tipping his water bottle toward the goal, he grinned wickedly. “So. You think you two can beat me and Emilia this time?”

Beat—you expect me to concentrate on hockey? Now? With you here and that contract hanging over our heads?

But I managed to laugh, and I bumped his skate with my stick. “Don’t get cocky. That’s when people lose.”

“Oh yeah?” He arched an eyebrow. “Is that why we beat you two so easily? You got cocky?”

“Oh fuck you.” I rolled my eyes, and he cackled, unaware of what that did to my heart.

Yes, playing in the NAL again was my professional dream. As a hockey player, it was everything to me. I was getting a second chance at something few people ever got in the first place.

But sweaty red hair and freckles and blue-gray eyes…

“I don’t want another opportunity like that,” my words to Mülly echoed in my ears. “I want him.”

As we skated out to join Mülly and Emilia, my heart pounded beneath my chest protector.

So did I risk resenting him because I’d given up my dream?

Or sign up for a lifetime of regret because I chose hockey over the man I loved?

What the hell do I do?

CHAPTER 28

CONNOR

If I kept reading, my eyes were going to melt out of my skull, but I pressed on anyway. The NAL’s rulebook was enormous, as were the collective bargaining agreement and several other governing documents. I knew every on-ice rule and regulation back to front. Off-ice wasn’t quite as critical for my job; I’d internalized the code of conduct and strictly obeyed it, but since my job was to officiate games, a lot of it didn’t pertain to me.

Or, well, it hadn’t until this week.

Now it was suddenly very, very relevant, and I was frustrated with my inability to find something—some rule, some guideline—that spelled out what we could and couldn’t do. Just… throw me a damn bone so I had a place to start, for fuck’s sake.

So far, nothing.

When I’d broken into the NAL much younger than most officials, I’d been meticulous about treading very carefully. I’d made absolutely sure I was on the up-and-up with the League that my brother was a player. There were some rules about family members, but they were pretty straightforward. I couldn’t officiate games Michael played in, and I was “strongly encouraged” to recuse myself from those that had significant effects on my brother’s team. This came into play a couple of years ago when Denver and Seattle were neck-in-neck for a playoff position. Every point counted, and in the end, it literally came down to Denver squeaking in with the single point from an overtime loss. During that stretch, I declined to officiate any games Seattle played in order to avoid any accusations that I was tilting things against them to help my brother’s team.

For years, we’d made it work, and aside from the odd whiner, there hadn’t been any issues. Oh, there’d been one sports reporter who insisted that I should be investigated for a penalty-heavy game early in the season, saying Seattle lost because of those penalties, and those two points would have put them above Denver months later. Right. Because I’d had a crystal ball and knew those teams would be locked in a tight race in March, and I’d conspired to give my brother’s team an early edge. I wondered if that guy also thought I’d paid three of Seattle’s players to take high-sticking penalties, including two that ended up being four-minute double minors. Or if I was somehow responsible for the egregious boarding that resulted in an injured player and a five-minute major during which Seattle let in three goals against.

Yep, that was definitely on me, conspiring to help my brother’s team.

So aside from the odd whiner and rumor, I’d navigated just fine as a referee while Michael played in the same league.