Role Model by Rachel Reid

Common Goal

by Rachel Reid

Chapter One

“I’m going to be thinking about that all night,” Eric Bennett confessed. “Should’ve had that one.”

His goal posts, as always, didn’t reply.

Eric grabbed his bottle off the top of the net, then squirted some water into his mouth before glancing up at the scoreboard screen, where they were showing the goal that had just sailed past him. It looked even worse in slow motion.

“We’ll get the next one, right, guys?” Eric tapped each of the goalposts with his stick, then shook out his shoulders. It was now 3-1 for the opposing team and still only the first period. This game was a disaster. Eric could imagine what the commentators were saying on television about him right now. That Eric Bennett couldn’t keep up with the pace of the NHL these days. That he was past his prime, and ready for retirement.

Fuck them. They’d been saying that about Eric for almost ten years now. Every time he had an off game, or a minor injury, it was time to put him out to pasture. As if Eric hadn’t had off games when he’d been twenty-six and winning every goaltending award. As if he hadn’t, at the tender age of thirty-eight, played a major part in winning the Stanley Cup with the New York Admirals two seasons ago.

The Admirals’ captain, Scott Hunter, skated up to him and tapped his pads. “Tough one, Benny. You good?”

“I’m good. I’m shutting the door now. Think you’ve got a couple of goals in you?”

“Absolutely.”

Eric crouched forward, ready for play to resume. “Nothing else is getting past me tonight,” he promised himself.

The promise lasted exactly one minute and forty-three seconds. That was when Shane Hollander, the stupid goddamned superstar forward for Montreal, fired a textbook perfect shot that flew over Eric’s left shoulder.

Fuck.

Eric glanced at the bench and was not at all surprised to see Coach Murdock gesturing at him to come to the bench. He could also see New York’s other goaltender, Tommy Andersson, putting on his mask.

Fuck!

“Sorry, guys,” Eric told his posts. “I guess I’m watching the rest of this one. Be nice to Tommy.”

He skated toward the bench with his head down. He could hear the crowd’s weak applause, which was maybe a showing of support for Eric, or maybe relief that he was being replaced.

Tommy tapped Eric’s pads as he passed him. “Don’t worry about it, Benny.”

Eric didn’t reply, because of course he was going to worry about it. Not just this game, but the whole rest of this season.

Which could very well be the whole rest of Eric’s career. Eric’s teammates greeted him with cautious words of support as he plopped down on the bench. He hauled his mask off and gave it to the equipment manager, who handed Eric an Admirals ball cap to wear instead. Eric hated wearing ball caps. They looked weird on his head.

Play resumed, and Tommy, barely warmed up, had to stop two quick shots. He stopped both, which earned him a roar of approval from the crowd. Tommy was a good goalie. Too good to be Eric’s backup, and everyone knew it. Eric was sure Tommy had only stuck with the Admirals this long because he was waiting for Eric to retire. Maybe this entire team was waiting for Eric to retire.

His wife hadn’t waited.

Eric frowned. It wasn’t a fair thing to say or even think. Holly had had plenty of reasons for ending their marriage, and he understood all of them. He had known for years that their marriage hadn’t been working; the spark that had been there in their youth had died a long time ago. Eric had told himself that his schedule was to blame, and that he and Holly would have a chance to fall back in love once he retired. Maybe she had hoped for that too for a while, but the truth they both eventually acknowledged was that they probably never were going to fall back in love. Their best years as a couple were behind them, and it was time to move on. Eric knew their divorce was the best thing for them both. Knowing it didn’t make him feel any less lonely, though.

His teammates didn’t talk to him much for the rest of the game, even during the intermissions in the locker room. They knew he preferred to be left alone for now. Tommy played a hell of a game, stopping all but one of Montreal’s shots on goal, but the Admirals still lost by two goals in the end.

Long after the game had ended, and after Coach Murdock had talked to the team—which included praising Tommy for his efforts—Eric was sitting in his stall wearing half of his navy Ted Baker suit. The shirt collar was unbuttoned, and his tie hung loose and open around his bent neck. He absently rotated his wedding ring, which he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop wearing.

“Hey.”

Eric didn’t need to raise his head to know that Scott Hunter had sat himself next to him. “Hi.”

“You doing okay? I mean, besides the game tonight. Anything bothering you?”

Nope. Being freshly divorced and staring down the barrel of my forty-first birthday is awesome. “No. Just an off game.”

Scott clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be back on top in the next game.”

Eric nodded. He would make sure of it.

“You’re coming tomorrow night, right?” Scott asked.

As much as Eric did not feel like going to an engagement party for Scott and his fiancé, Kip, he forced a smile and said, “Definitely. Of course. Can’t wait.”

Scott beamed at him. Scott had been doing a lot of smiling in the past couple of years since he’d fallen in love with Kip Grady. It had been a lonely, closeted life for Scott before he’d decided to risk it all for a chance at happiness with the man he’d met in a smoothie shop. Eric was one of the first people that Scott had come out to, and Eric didn’t take that lightly. He was thrilled for Scott, even if the institution of marriage hadn’t been Eric’s favorite thing lately.

“Good,” Scott said, still smiling. “Let’s put this game behind us, all right? And we’ll all have fun tomorrow night.”

Eric gave him a wry smile. “Even me?”

Scott laughed. “Even you, Benny. I’ll make sure of it.”

Kyle Swift glanced across the table for the millionth time that morning. He couldn’t help it. These study dates with Kip were always completely unproductive for him. He spent far more time studying Kip’s face than his own notes.

Kip was engrossed in something on his laptop, his hazel eyes darting back and forth as he read. He had dark stubble on his cheeks and jaw today, which Kyle liked, even though it made Kip’s dimples less noticeable. And, oof. Kyle had spent too much of the past couple of years contemplating those dimples.

Kip’s face turned up, and Kyle quickly dropped his gaze to his own laptop screen.

Kyle wasn’t sure why he tortured himself like this. Just because he and Kip were both working on their MA degrees in history didn’t mean they needed to have these ridiculous study dates. They weren’t even going to the same university. Kyle would spend most of their first hour together stealing glances at Kip, and then Kip would get bored and start asking Kyle questions that had nothing to do with their academic pursuits. It was the conversations that always did Kyle in. The easy way they talked to each other and laughed together, because they had so many things in common. Because Kip was funny and warm and a total sweetheart. Because he was absolutely perfect for Kyle in all the ways the men Kyle usually dated weren’t.

Too bad Kip was engaged.

“Kyle?”

Kyle glanced up and was attacked by one of Kip’s cute, dimply smiles.

“Hey, there you are. I’m going to get a refill.” Kip waved his empty coffee mug in the air. “You want one?”

“Actually,” Kyle said slowly, “I need to get going.”

“Oh.” Kip frowned.

“But I’ll see you at the party tonight.”

Kip’s smile returned. “I can’t believe I’m engaged!”

“I don’t know what you see in that guy,” Kyle said dryly.

Kip sighed dramatically. “I know. But a man reaches a certain age, sometimes he has to settle, y’know?”

“Twenty-eight. Is that the age you mean?”

“I don’t want to be a spinster.”

“It’s kind of you to marry that gorgeous millionaire athlete.”

“I know,” Kip said solemnly. “I’m very brave.”

They both laughed, and Kyle did his best to ignore the ache in his heart.

“Maybe you’ll meet your future husband tonight,” Kip suggested playfully.

“Uh-huh. I’ll see you later.” Kyle shoved his laptop into his backpack and slung the bag over his shoulder.

“Your dream man might be there! Keep an open mind.”

My dream man will definitely be there. That’s kind of the problem. Which, of course, Kyle did not say. Instead he said, “I’ll wear something nice just in case.”

“You always look nice.”

Kyle’s heart clenched. “Don’t make Scott jealous.”

Kip snorted like that was the most absurd idea in the world. Kyle supposed it was. Anyone—Scott included—could see that Kip only had eyes for his husband-to-be.

Kyle flipped the hood of his sweatshirt up to protect his hair and glasses from the drizzle outside. He supposed he could use the party tonight as inspiration to finally, and firmly, close the door on this pointless crush on Kip Grady. Kyle had volunteered to work the bar tonight, mostly because it would give him something to do other than listen to his heart shrivel and die while Kip and Scott smooshed their perfect faces together.

This would be it, Kyle decided as he hurried down the stairs to the subway. Tonight he would stop pining for Kip and maybe have fun making straight hockey players uncomfortable by flirting with them. And then he would focus his efforts on finding a nice, available, and, most importantly, appropriate man to live happily ever after with.

Or a cute guy with a tight ass. Whichever.

Don’t miss Common Goal by Rachel Reid,available wherever books are sold.

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Copyright © 2020 by Rachelle Goguen