Stephani Hecht Blue Line Hockey 06 Playing the Point

While growing up, Zimon always lived in his older
brother’s shadow. While his sibling went on to join the
military and came back a war hero, things grew even
worse as Zimon’s life spiraled out of control, and he
found himself in a dark place where he came close to
losing his life.

When Zimon’s brother fell in love, all the rules

changed in their once nice, neat life, and Zimon finds
himself in the role of supporting his brother in his
newest dream, opening and running the biggest hockey
rink in the metro Detroit area. While Zimon had never
envisioned his future being the manager at the front
service desk of a rink, it beats working as a shot-boy at
the gay club, so he jumps at the chance for the new job.

Bryce never imagined that, while at the height of his

NHL career, he’d find himself becoming part owner of a
rundown hockey rink. Yet that’s exactly what happens
when a group of his friends get it in their crazy heads to
start the new business. One day when he’s in town, he
decides to check the place out. When he clashes with the
bratty, yet cute, man running the front desk, Bryce is
both annoyed and intrigued.

Will Zimon and Bryce ever be able to get over their

differences? Or will the final buzzer sound before they
find a way to happiness?

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entirely coincidental.

Playing the Point

ISBN: 978-1-77111-131-7

Cover art by Martine Jardin

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Playing the Point

Blue Line Hockey

Stephani Hecht

Chapter One

Zimon let out a sigh as he gazed over the empty lobby of
the hockey rink.

The place was much like how he felt inside. Run-

down, too-old-too-soon, and just plain busted. Most of
all, it was boring.

Drumming his fingers over the counter, he mumbled,

“Boring, boring, boring. Can it possibly get any more
boring?”

Either by coincidence or just from some sheer

cosmic joke from the gods, Zimon’s brother Nobel
chose that moment to walk in. As always, he was all
business and didn’t even seem to notice that Zimon was
down.

“We need to get the rosters set up for the new mini-

mite teams,” Nobel said.

“How about we just throw a puck in the middle of

the ice and let it be every little ankle-biter for himself?”
Zimon suggested.

“As much fun as that would be…for you. I think the

parents of said ankle-biters would have an issue with
that.”

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Zimon let out another sigh before grabbing a neatly

stapled stack of papers and handing them over to Nobel.
“Here you go, Captain Happy Pants.”

Nobel frowned. “What in the hell is this?”
“I had all the mini-mite coaches watch the group

skate and rate the kids. I then used the scores to evenly
divide the teams up.”

Fanning through the papers, Nobel let out a low

whistle. “You really did this all on you own?”

Damn it, why did it always surprise people whenever

Zimon performed an act that required more than one
functioning brain cell? Sure, he might look the part of
the airhead club kid, but he did graduate as valedictorian
from his high school. It’s just he hadn’t done much with
his life since then. But he was only nineteen, so he still
had plenty of time to figure that dull stuff out.

Zimon replied, “Yes, I even raised the scores on the

McClaster twins, since we both know they were
sandbagging it in order to get a low score on purpose.”

“How do you know they really play well?”
“I watched some of the pick-up games over the

summer, and those little shits can skate fast.”

Nobel cocked a brow, and Zimon sighed. “Okay,

those little poops can skate fast. Is that better?”

Playing the Point

Instead of answering, Nobel gave Zimon’s body a

once-over. “Why don’t we start with your work attire
instead?”

Glancing down at his FCKH8 shirt and bright blue

skinny jeans, Zimon failed to see the issue. Wondering if
it was maybe his hair, he ran a hand over his auburn
spikes. Sure, he might use a lot of product, but his hair
was stylish, not outlandish.

“What’s wrong with the way I look?” he asked.
“You’re not a go-go boy anymore.”
“I know that. If I were dressing for that gig I’d be

wearing a pair of white boy shorts and a can of body
glitter.”

“Didn’t we already talk about keeping certain things

to ourselves?”

Zimon snorted. “Says the guy who spent half of last

night making the headboard thump against the wall. I
could hear everything going on between you and
Aldrich.”

Not for the first time, Zimon wished that he could

afford to find a place of his own to live. Not because of
the nocturnal noises per se, but because of the whole we-
are-so-damn-happy-and-in-love vibe

coming from

Aldrich and Nobel. While Zimon knew it was shitty of

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him, there were more moments than not where he found
himself jealous of the happiness his brother had found.

All the guys Zimon had ever dated had always

wanted one thing, and once they got it, they couldn’t say
goodbye fast enough. Just once, he’d like for a guy to
shoot him one of the sappy looks Aldrich was always
tossing Nobel’s way. Hell, Zimon was at the point where
he would just settle for a second date.

He let out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll tone down my attire. Is

there anything else?”

“Yeah, can you take some of the piercings out? Not

all of them. Just a few.”

Zimon wondered if he could make do without

wearing bling on both ears, eyebrows, his bottom lip and
his nose. Yeah, he could do that for Nobel. After all, the
guy was paying him way above minimum wage, plus
letting him live rent-free. So, Zimon knew he should
stop being such a brat and follow the few rules his
brother did set up.

“Yeah, is it okay if I keep the ones in my ears in? I

can manage without the rest.”

Nobel looked so relieved that it washed away the last

of Zimon’s resentment. “That would be fine.”

Nobel glanced back down at the papers. “Why did

Playing the Point

you put Edison with Coach Paul?”

“Because Edison is shy, but I think with the right

guidance he has the potential to be a great player. Coach
Paul is the most patient, plus he’s great at seeing raw
talent.”

Nobel shot Zimon a look of admiration. “How did

you figure that out about Edison?”

“Like I said, I’ve been watching the summer pick-up

games. Edison may be small and saddled with a sucky
name, but he has great form. If somebody actually takes
the time to work with him, he could end up being one of
the better players in the league.”

“You really do know a lot about this sport.”
Zimon shrugged. “I never went as far as Aldrich or

his friends, but I did play until high school. I wasn’t the
best player on my team, but I was really good at
watching others and trying to learn from their mistakes.”

While Nobel didn’t say anything, Zimon could see

what the man wanted to reply. It was written so plainly
on Nobel’s face it might as well have been in neon
flashing lights. Yeah, too bad you never did manage to
learn from your own mistakes. Maybe then you would
have made something out of your life.

One of the players from an older league broke the

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tension by coming up to the counter and asking for
change for a dollar, so he could have quarters for the
video games.

As the kid was walking away, Zimon shouted, “I

better not see you kick the machines when you lose,
either.”

“The games here suck,” the kid called back.
“No, your hand-eye coordination does. If you work

on that, you may actually score a couple goals this
season instead of spending most of your time in the
penalty box. From what I heard, you’re in there so much
they may as well put a plaque with your name on the
door.”

Turning back to Nobel, Zimon sighed. “Is there

anything else you need?”

“Can you lock up? I have to go home and check on

Aldrich.”

Immediately, Zimon went from annoyed to

concerned. Nobel’s partner had suffered a career-ending
head injury when he’d played for the Wings. While
Aldrich was doing better every day, there were still
times when it was rough going.

“Is he okay?” Zimon asked.
“He’s been having some pretty bad headaches this

Playing the Point

week. It’s probably nothing, but I don’t want him to be
alone.”

“Are you taking him to see the neurologist?”
“Yeah, we have an appointment in the morning.”
Which meant that Zimon would have to be in early

to open up. While they had a lot of partners, most of
them were still playing at the professional level. Aside
from Frank, who drove the Zamboni and did
maintenance, and Tina, who ran the concession stand, it
was just Aldrich, Zimon and Nobel.

They hoped to eventually be able to hire more help,

but at the moment, they were still struggling to get
things off the ground. Therefore, while Zimon had
actually been putting in way more hours when he’d
worked for the gay club, he made a lot less money now
when he broke things down. Still, he’d do anything for
his brother, so he didn’t mind.

“Make sure you guys call me tomorrow as soon as

you’re done with the doctor. I worry about Aldrich.”

Nobel gave him a weary smile. “Me, too.”
As soon as his brother had left, the first thing Zimon

did was head over to change the radio station. While his
brother didn’t exactly have bad taste in music, Zimon
thought the place could use a more upbeat tempo.

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He then lost himself in paperwork, looking up only

to collect the locker room keys from the teams as they
gradually filtered out. Tina closed up the concession
stand, stopping by to drop off one last cappuccino to
Zimon before she left.

Zimon was just about to shut off the lights, kick the

stragglers out of the game room and lock up when the
door opened. A huge guy wearing a leather jacket, ball
cap, and sunglasses approached the counter, causing
Zimon’s heart began to race.

It was night, so there could only be two reasons for

the dude to be sporting shades—either he was a self-
centered douche bag, or he was there to rob the place.
Neither option was good in Zimon’s book.

“We’re about to close up for the night,” Zimon said,

striving to keep his voice from trembling.

The stranger smiled, his hard lips looking so cruel

that Zimon felt a shiver run up his spine. “I kind of
figured that out for myself.”

“Well, then what do you want?”
Zimon held his breath and prayed that the guy didn’t

demand money. With as little as Zimon had in the till,
the robber would shoot him out of sheer annoyance.

“I’m one of the owners of this place, so it’s only

Playing the Point

natural that I should want to stop by and check it out.”

That comment got Zimon’s attention. “No, you’re

not. I’ve met all the owners, and I would have
remembered you.”

“My name is Bryce Miller. Does that ring any bells

with you?”

Zimon’s stomach clenched as he tried to study the

man’s features, but thanks to the glasses and hat, he
couldn’t see a damn thing. “That’s impossible. Bryce
plays for the Wings, and I know for a fact they have an
away game tonight.”

“And I would be with them had I not gotten myself a

four game suspension.”

The stranger took off his glasses and hat, making

Zimon suck in a breath. While he’d only seen pictures of
Bryce, there was no mistaking the raven hair and
piercing blue eyes. Zimon knew those features so well
because he had a poster of Bryce on the wall in his
bedroom.

Zimon always had a thing for hockey players, and

ever since Bryce had been traded to the Wings, the man
had become front and center in most of Zimon’s
fantasies. Then, when he’d found out the man was going
to be one of the partners in the rink, Zimon’s infatuation

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had only grown. So to say that Bryce’s decision to
become a more of a silent partner had disappointed
Zimon would have been an understatement.

Zimon licked his lips as he continued to study Bryce.

Damn, the poster, newspaper clippings, and interview
pictures really hadn’t done the guy justice. He was sex,
sin, and fuck-me-now-baby all wrapped up in one hot
package. Bryce had this dangerous vibe about him but
still managed to have some boyish good looks, too. Like
the way one raven lock had fallen over his blue eyes and
the fact that he had a small dimple that appeared on his
left cheek as he pressed his lips together in a
disapproving line.

“Are you just going to stand there staring at me all

night?” Bryce demanded.

Zimon shrugged. “I may as well. I have to be back

here in a few hours to open the place up, anyhow. So
why bother going home?”

That finally got him a smile, the first bit of niceness

Bryce had displayed. “Let me guess, you’re Zimon?”

“How did you know that?”
“The Canton brothers warned me about you.”
Zimon frowned. “They wouldn’t have said anything

bad about me. They like me.”

Playing the Point

“I never said it was anything bad.”
More confused than ever, Zimon scratched his head.

“Well, then what did they warn you about?”

“That you are as cute as hell, and I’d want to fuck

you the moment I saw you. They also warned me that
you could be a bit much at times.”

That was such a loaded statement, Zimon didn’t even

know where to start. His cock did perk up and stand at
attention, letting him know where it wanted to begin,
though. Still, Zimon might act the part of a slut, but that
didn’t mean he was easy.

“What makes you think I would let you so much as

touch me?” he challenged.

Bryce leaned his elbows on the counter, moving in

closer. A fresh wave of arousal shot through Zimon as
the scent of leather and grease hit him. Damn it all, why
did this asshole continue to get better with each passing
moment?

“So, are you trying to tell me that if I were to come

behind that counter and try to have my way with you, I
would be refused?” Bryce asked with a cocky grin.

Oh god, no you wouldn’t be. You could take me over

the counter, in the storage room, and then on the
Zamboni if you wanted.

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Then Zimon took in that cocky grin and the look of

pure satisfaction in Bryce’s eyes, and knew that the guy
was always used to getting what he wanted. Zimon also
knew that if he did give in, he’d just be another notch in
Bryce’s belt.

Crush or no crush, Zimon was sick of being nothing

more than a piece of ass. Maybe it came from seeing
how happy Aldrich and Nobel were or how the Cantons
were so blissful with their own partners. It could even be
all the times Tina had told Zimon he was more worthy
than to be some one-night stand. Whatever the case,
Zimon’s arousal died a quick death to be replaced by
good, hard anger.

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last guy on the

earth, and I were suffering a fatal case of blue balls,”
Zimon spat.

Playing the Point

Chapter Two

Damn it! The last thing Bryce had ever expected to find
when he came to visit his old friend, Aldrich, was the
most annoying, fuckable brat in the world instead.

There was no denying it, though, because there stood

said brat on the other side of the counter wearing a face
that was so annoying it was cute. Deciding to see just
how angry he could make Zimon, Bryce upped the ante
a bit.

“Really? From what I heard, you sleep with just

about anybody.”

Zimon hissed at him…actually hissed. Like some

sort of cat who had its hackles up. “I made a personal
vow to never screw jerks, so that leaves you high and
dry. Besides, since when have you been gay? All the
papers show pictures of you and your girlfriend.”

It was true that Bryce had made sure that there were

plenty of pictures of him and Jennifer out there. What
most people didn’t know was that Jennifer was his best
friend and nothing more. She went out and played the

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role as his girlfriend as a favor to him. While the
Cantons and some of their friends might have no
problem being out and proud, Bryce didn’t know if he’d
ever be able to take that big of a risk. He had a lot of
endorsement deals and he knew without a doubt they’d
dry up if it were to come to light that he was gay.

“Maybe I just want to have some fun,” Bryce

suggested.

Zimon rolled his adorable soft-blue eyes. “God, I

hate it when the closet cases come on to me. I have one
rule in life…”

“Just one?”
“I never do guys who still claim to be into girls.”
“Why is that?”
“It causes too much drama.”
“Funny, you strike me as the type who loves to swim

neck-deep in drama.”

Zimon shot him a look that was probably meant to

be menacing, but only came off like a puppy growling to
warn somebody away from its bone. “Do you need
anything? I was about to close up, and since I do have to
open up early, I would like to get home, so I can at least
get a few hours of sleep.”

“I just want to take a quick look around the place.”

Playing the Point

“Now?”
“Sure, why not? After all, I did dump a ton of money

into this rink, so, it’s only right I get to see my
investment.”

Before Zimon could issue any further protests, Bryce

walked around and opened the door, so he could get
behind the counter.

“What are you doing?” Zimon demanded, throwing

his hands up in exasperation.

“I already told you that…taking a look around.”
Bryce began to move some of the paperwork around.

When he heard Zimon let out a sputter and turned to see
him wringing his hands, Bryce knew he’d finally found
one of the punk’s weak spots. Uh, oh. It looked like the
office manager had a titch of OCD in him.

Purposefully messing the papers up more, Bryce

asked, “Are you the only one who works back here?”

Zimon reached around him and began a feeble

attempt at restoring order. “Yes, why?”

“Because it looks like hell. How can anybody figure

out what’s going on?”

Anger flashed through Zimon’s eyes. “I’ll have you

know that everything is perfectly organized. Or at least
it was until you went all caveman and messed it up.”

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“How in the hell can you call this organized?”
“I have the ice times arranged in numerical order,

according to time. To make it easier, I went with the
military method of keeping hours. Plus, I’ve given each
team their own specific number, so we can keep track
and make sure they’re all given equal ice time, but we
don’t double book them. As for the figure skating
groups, I assigned them letters. We put it on a white
board here and in the Zamboni room, so they know how
to treat the ice.”

Wow, the kid actually did make some sense. Despite

what some would think, it was the figure skating groups
who were harder on the ice, so the Zamboni operator
had to take extra care when cleaning up after them.

“Are you the only one who fills out the boards?”

Bryce asked.

“Yeah, I do it every morning or the night before if

I’m coming in late the next day.”

“Does everybody understand your system?”
Zimon tilted his head to the side. “Kind of. It’s a

little hard for some of them to wrap their minds around
it, so they just let me lead and follow what I write
down.”

“What happens when you call in sick?”

Playing the Point

“I never call in.”
“Even if you’re deathly sick?”
“I never get sick.”
Bryce cocked a brow. “Everybody get ill from time

to time.”

“Not me. I have a body made of steel.”
Giving Zimon’s skinny—but hot as hell—body a

once over, Bryce snorted, “Somehow I doubt that.”

Zimon’s mouth parted in shock. “All the papers and

stories about you were right, you are a big asshole.”

Yes, Bryce was, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

He was one of the league’s biggest enforcers. It was a
reputation he’d worked hard to earn, and he wasn’t
going to change anytime soon.

“What exactly did you get suspended for? It must

have been pretty bad.” Zimon asked.

“My stick had the misfortune of meeting another

player’s head. Since the guy didn’t have a puck at the
time and had to spend the night in the hospital, the
league was a bit displeased with me.”

Zimon paled. “That’s not funny. Head injuries are

serious. Just look at what happened to Aldrich.”

Ironically enough, it was because of Aldrich that

Bryce had acted out. The other player had made the

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mistake of asking how Bryce’s fag mental case friend
was doing. Since Bryce tended to be a bit overprotective
of his friends, and Aldrich was one of the very few he
had, Bryce had taken the insult very personally.

“Don’t worry. I made sure that the blow was light. It

only rang the guy’s bell a bit. Since I was one of the
guys who helped carry Aldrich off the ice the night he
was hurt, I know better than anybody what can
happened when somebody takes a bad hit.”

“Oh,” Zimon replied, appearing to be at least

partially mollified. “You still should be more careful.”

“They don’t pay me the big bucks to be careful. I’m

the muscle of the team, nothing more. Trust me, this
wasn’t my first suspension, and it won’t be my last.”

“So, instead of spending this suspension staying at

home, you decided to come here and make me
miserable?” Zimon challenged.

“I figured now was as good as any time to pick up a

new hobby. Now are you going to give me a tour of the
place or not?”

Zimon let out a put-upon sigh. “Fine, if it will get rid

of you, then I’ll do it, but it’s going to be a quick one.”

Watching the way Zimon’s ass moved under those

tight as sin jeans of his as he walked away, Bryce said,

Playing the Point

“I happen to like quick.”

“I never thought that I would be the one to ever say

this, but will you stop being a perv for five minutes?”

Still staring at Zimon, Bryce replied, “I’ll try, but I

can’t make any promises.”

Zimon shook his head, but he led the way. “We have

three full rinks and then one small practice one. During
the summer, we only kept half of them running, but now
that the season is starting, they’re all going to be put to
use.”

Bryce glanced around. While the place looked like it

had seen better days, he could see spots where they were
already beginning to make improvements. Most of the
frayed carpet had been torn up to be replaced with a
thick rubber mat that was not only waterproof but
resistant to skate blades. Plus, half of the building had a
fresh coat of paint on it. Bryce recognized that each
section had different colors that represented the various
teams the owners played for.

As they passed a dark, cavernous room that was

packed with video games, Zimon called in. “Wrap it up,
guys, I’m closing up in ten.”

There were a few groans of disappointment, but no

real argument from the teens. None of them even looked

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up from their games long enough to recognize that
Bryce was standing there.

Wow, after the snobby treatment from Zimon and

the uncaring attitude from the teens, Bryce’s ego was
really taking a beating. It was fortunate he wasn’t as
self-centered as some of his teammates, or he might
have been downright depressed. Good thing he couldn’t
give a shit about stuff like that. So long as the
endorsements and contracts still kept coming through,
that was all that mattered to him.

“This one is the main rink. It’s where most of the

high school and junior league games are played,” Zimon
said, as he gestured into a darkened room.

There was still enough light for Bryce to make out

the neat row of stands on one side and to note how clean
the ground and glass appeared. While they might not
have had much to work with, it was obvious they were
striving to make the rink look as good as possible. How
they managed to do that on the shoestring budget they
were working with was a miracle.

Then he glanced over and saw the bags under

Zimon’s eyes, and he had his answer. They were doing
it by putting in extra hours and working double duty. It
made Bryce wonder what Zimon might have given up to

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help his brother out. It was obvious the kid was too
smart for his own good, so he really didn’t belong
behind the counter of some rundown hockey rink.

“What did you do before this?” he asked.
Even in the dark he could see a small blush covering

Zimon’s face. “I worked as a go-go and shot boy at the
local gay club.”

“Did you go to college?”
Zimon ducked his head. “For one semester and then I

fucked everything up.”

“How did you manage to do that?”
“My grandfather was a raging alcoholic.”
“Yeah,” Bryce replied, wondering where the

conversation was heading.

“Well, you know how they say that stuff is

hereditary. Only with me it was heroin. I managed to get
my shit together and get off the stuff, but not before I
lost my scholarship, and since I don’t have the cash to
afford my own tuition, this is my life now.”

Bryce blinked a few minutes as he tried to digest all

that. Wow, talk about unloading one’s self. Zimon had
basically dumped all his baggage onto Bryce’s lap and
then some.

Zimon let out a soft curse, “Fuck, I didn’t mean to

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tell you that. Could you do me a favor and keep it to
yourself? Nobody knows about my mess-up. I’m just so
tired and stressed out, I’m not thinking right anymore
and saying all kinds of shit I shouldn’t be. Either that or
Tina spiked my coffee again, because there is no other
reason for me to be running my mouth off like this. I
hate you, yet I’m telling you things I’ve never shared
with anybody.”

“Not even your brother?” Bryce asked, deciding to

ignore the I-hate-you part.

“No, I told him I hated college and it bored me.”
Bryce wondered how in the hell Nobel could have

fallen for that story. While Bryce had only known
Zimon for a matter of minutes, even he could tell the kid
would be like a sponge in a college environment. What
little bit that Bryce had seen of Zimon had shown the kid
had sparks of intelligence that he strove to keep hidden
under layers of sarcasm and outlandish behavior.

Then another revelation came to Bryce. Giving

Zimon’s outlandish get-up a once over, he said, “This
whole party boy image—it’s just an act, isn’t it? I’ll bet
you couldn’t wait to leave your old job behind.”

Zimon pursed his lips. “And maybe what you see is

what you get. I used to make damn good money shaking

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my ass.”

“Yeah, but as cute as it may be, that’s not your best

asset.” Reaching out, Bryce thumped a finger against
Zimon’s temple. “This is.”

Zimon batted his hand away. “If that were the case,

then why in the hell would I have messed up my only
chance to better myself?”

“We all make mistakes. It’s just how much we learn

from them that proves what kind of person we are. So,
my question to you is this, are you man enough to start
over, or are you going to keep letting your past mistakes
control who you are?”

“Since when did you become the Gandhi of hockey?

If I wanted therapy, I would do what every basket case
my age does and watch The View.”

Despite the flippant tone in Zimon’s comeback, the

hurt flickering over his baby blues spoke volumes.
Before he even realized what was happening, Bryce
surprised both of them by leaning in and brushing a kiss
over Zimon’s lips.

It was just a soft, brief one, and there was no other

body contact, but it still sent chills down Bryce’s spine
and made him hungry for more. Since he didn’t want
Zimon to think that he was trying to use him as a piece

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of ass, Bryce forced himself to pull back, even as every
inch of him was screaming for more, more, more.

Reaching up to touch his mouth, Zimon asked,

“What was that for?”

“Who takes care of Aldrich?”
Wrinkling his brow in confusion, Zimon said,

“Nobel and Tina.”

“And who takes care of Nobel and Tina?”
“I do. That still doesn’t tell me why you just kissed

me.”

“I thought that maybe it was time that somebody

took care of you for a change.”

Zimon’s jaw ticked. “And what if I don’t want you

to be my keeper? I’ve managed to do okay on my own
so far.”

“Something tells me that okay is not nearly enough

for you.”

Truth be told, Bryce had no idea why he cared about

the little brat so much. Zimon was annoying,
melodramatic, a smartass, and cocky, all things that
Bryce hated, yet Zimon seemed to wear them all so
perfectly. Maybe it was because there was also this sad,
vulnerable side that Bryce suspected few others ever
saw. Whatever the reason, all he knew was that he

Playing the Point

wanted to take the younger man under his wing and
protect him. Most of all, he wanted Zimon to find his
place in the world, and it sure as hell wasn’t supposed to
be in his brother’s shadow.

Stephani Hecht

Chapter Three

Zimon grimaced as he took in a deep swallow of the
sludge that was passing as coffee. A shudder went
through him as the acrid liquid hit his mouth. Usually he
would have just snagged a cappuccino from the snack
bar, but since he’d needed the extra boost, he’d gone for
the hard stuff, the kind that was advertised as Jet Fuel. It
tasted like it, too, despite the fact that he’d dumped in a
ton of cream and sugar.

He laid his head on the counter. Damn it, but he was

tired. This was the fourth day in a row where he’d had to
open the rink, and he was going on little sleep. He knew
that he was young and everything, but it was getting
harder to pull himself out of bed with each passing
morning.

Somebody set something down on the counter,

making Zimon jerk his head up in surprise. When he
saw that it was Bryce of all people, Zimon couldn’t hold
back his groan of dismay.

“Why are you here? Don’t you have some kittens or

Playing the Point

puppies to terrorize someplace?” he asked.

Bryce shook a paper bag. “I thought I would put that

off for a while and bring you breakfast instead.”

Zimon glanced down, his stomach letting out a growl

as he noted the bag was labeled Tim Hortons. He’d
always had a weak spot for their food. “What is it?”

“Since I didn’t know for sure what you liked, I

grabbed some breakfast sandwiches, bagels, and
doughnuts.”

“I think I can eat it all,” Zimon declared, already

digging into the bag.

“Damn, slow down, tiger. When was the last time

you ate something? And by that, I don’t mean stale pizza
or a candy bar from the snack place here.”

Zimon scrambled his mind only to come up empty.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d eaten something
that hadn’t come from a machine or a freezer. “I don’t
know. I had a burrito from the gas station a couple of
days ago. Does that count?”

Bryce wrinkled his nose. “No. In fact I’m deducting

a few nutritional points from you just for eating that
crap.”

Opening a sandwich, Zimon took a huge bite before

answering, “I didn’t know we were keeping track.”

Stephani Hecht

Glancing down at Zimon’s body, Bryce shot back,

“Somebody needs to start doing it.”

Offended and a bit hurt, Zimon looked down at

himself. He’d done as Nobel asked and dressed in a pair
of plain jeans and a Red Wings sweatshirt. He’d even
left out most of his piercings. So, why was he still
getting flack?

“What’s wrong with me?”
“You’re too thin.”
Ouch, that hurt. “The guys at the club never

complained.”

“Really? When was the last time you weighed

yourself? I’m willing to bet you’ve lost some since
you’ve taken over this place.”

“I haven’t taken over this place. I’m just helping

them run it,” Zimon pointed out.

“Then how come whenever I show up here, it’s just

you I see?”

“Because Nobel had to take Aldrich to the

neurologist this morning. Tina’s coming in later, but she
only works part time, and the Canton brothers and
Jochen are all playing games today. Unlike you, they
aren’t suspended.”

“You should be in college, not here.”

Playing the Point

Zimon shot him a dirty look. “I already told you that

isn’t an option.”

“Why don’t you ask your brother for the money?”
“Because he sank everything he has in here, and

what’s left goes to medical costs for Aldrich.”

“Doesn’t the league pick up all of that?”
Zimon shrugged as he dug in the bag for a bagel.

“Most of it, but they do some herbal and metaphysical
stuff that isn’t covered.”

“What if I gave you the money?” Bryce offered.
Zimon froze, bagel halfway to his mouth. “Why

would you do that for me? We just met and, quite
frankly, I don’t think we really like each other that
much.”

“It’s true, you’re a brat, bossy, and a know-it-all,

plus your OCD already drives me crazy, and I’ve only
had to deal with it a little bit.”

Mouth dry, Zimon added, “You forgot airhead, slut,

and boy-toy on that list.”

“No, I didn’t. I happen to know for a fact that you’re

none of those things.”

It bothered Zimon way more than he wanted to admit

that Bryce had so easily seen through him, especially
when his own damn brother had been so willing to

Stephani Hecht

accept all the lies. “You’re wrong about that. Just ask
Nobel. He’ll be happy to fill you in on exactly what I
am.”

“And what’s that?”
“A major disappointment.”
Bryce took out the other sandwich and began to

carefully unwrap it. “What exactly did you tell him
about why you left college?”

“That life is too short for me to waste it cooped up in

some classroom. That I wanted to have fun while I was
still good-looking and young enough to enjoy it.”

“And even though he knew how smart you really are,

he just accepted that.”

Zimon began to shred the bagel into tiny bits. How

was it that Bryce managed to always get to the heart of
the problem? More so, why was Zimon finding it so
easy to spill all his secrets to a guy who both annoyed
the hell out of him, yet still fascinated him in so many
ways?

“Well, Nobel had just gotten back from Afghanistan,

so he really wasn’t in a good place to begin with. Then
he got all caught up with Aldrich and his medical issues,
so Nobel really didn’t have the time to worry about me.”

As soon as he said that, Zimon realized how selfish it

Playing the Point

made him sound, so he hastened to add, “Not that he
doesn’t care about me or anything. I mean he lets me
live with him rent free, and he’s always on me to make
something of myself. It’s just he has his own life and I
kind of…”

Zimon trailed off, realizing he was only making

things worse.

“Do you skate?” Bryce asked.
It took Zimon a couple of seconds to catch up with

the abrupt change of subject. “Yeah, I used to be a
goalie in high school.”

“Do you have your skates here?”
“Yeah. I haven’t used them yet, but they’re in the

back room.”

Bryce set down his food. “Go get them.”
Zimon was so shocked by the suggestion all he could

do was let out a half-laugh. “I can’t leave the front desk
unattended.”

“Why not? It’s six in the morning. The only teams

that are coming in are already on the ice, so they won’t
need you for a while.”

God, but it did sound tempting. It had been so long

since he hit the ice, and Zimon was practically jumping
with excitement at the prospect of having some fun. He

Stephani Hecht

still hedged, looking at the empty white board and all the
paperwork that needed to be done. “I don’t know.”

Bryce reached out and grabbed his hand. “Come on.

Just for a little bit. Then you can get back to all your
papers and numbers.”

Giving the desk one more look, Zimon gave in.

“Okay, but only for a few minutes, and then I have to
get back.”

“I promise not to keep you out too late,” Bryce

teased.

Zimon raced to the back office and grabbed his

skates. Since the main ice was empty, they had it all to
themselves. As they laced up their skates, their breath
making puffs in the cold air, a sense of nostalgia hit
Zimon. He hadn’t realized until that moment just how
much he missed being on the ice.

The surface of the rink was smooth and

unblemished, the lights reflecting perfectly against the
surface. Zimon was almost reluctant to mess it up with
his blades, but his need to be free and skate overtook
that emotion.

He got his skates done quicker than Bryce and raced

for the door, opening it and hopping onto the ice. As
soon as his blades hit the ice, a sense of calm settled

Playing the Point

over Zimon.

He took it slow at first, making a slow easy path

around the ice to warm up, but he soon found his groove
and began to do cross-overs and even turned around to
skate backward.

Bryce skated over to him. “Wow, you move good.

Did you ever think of going pro?”

Zimon gestured to his body. “I’m too short, even for

a goalie. In fact, they could put me in a mini-mite game,
and nobody would probably know the difference.”

“I would. You would be the one who couldn’t stop

running his mouth.”

Zimon flipped him off, before pressing hard, skating

as fast as he could. Of course, Bryce easily caught up
with him. He wrapped his arms around Zimon’s waist
and lifted him off the ground.

Zimon let out a yelp of laughter as he gave a

halfhearted attempt to get away. Truth be told, it felt
kind of nice being held by Bryce. The scent of leather
was so strong that Zimon just wanted to cover himself in
it and never wash it off.

Then Bryce set him down, spun him around, and

pinned him to the boards. Zimon glanced up from under
his lashes wondering what game Bryce was playing

Stephani Hecht

now.

“Do you know how beautiful you look when you

laugh?” Bryce asked.

That was the last thing Zimon expected.
“What would your girlfriend think if she heard you

say that?” he countered even as a thrill went through
him from the compliment.

“Jennifer is my friend, nothing more.”
“You could have fooled me. I’ve seen the way she

hangs onto you.”

Bryce flashed that cocky smile of his. “So, you

follow me in the papers.”

Like Zimon would ever admit to that. He briefly

wondered how big Bryce’s ego would get if he knew
about the poster in Zimon’s room.

“I follow all hockey players,” Zimon said with a

shrug.

Bryce tucked his fingers under Zimon’s chin and

forced him to look up. “Yeah, well, I only follow one
counter boy.”

Before Zimon could ask what in the hell that

comment meant, Bryce pressed their lips together into a
kiss.

Unlike the night before, this time there was passion

Playing the Point

and need behind the kiss. While Zimon knew he should
hold back—Hell, there were a million reasons why this
was wrong—he found himself powerless to do so.

Grabbing onto the sleeves of Bryce’s coat, Zimon

parted his lips and gave the other man full access. An
invitation Bryce immediately took, his tongue darting
out to slide inside Zimon’s mouth.

Zimon let out a moan. Bryce tasted exactly like he’d

expected—wild, spicy and a bit woodsy. In other words,
all man and then some. Wanting an even better taste,
Zimon darted his own tongue out to duel with Bryce’s.

Bryce didn’t seem to mind, he just pulled Zimon in

even closer, so his erection pressed against Zimon’s
stomach. Zimon’s own cock jerked in response, almost
as if it were begging to come out to play, too.

God, but it’d been so long since Zimon had sex. It’d

been even longer since it’d been with somebody that
he’d really wanted. And there was no denying that he
wanted Bryce…bad. So much so, that if asked, Zimon
would have gladly stripped down right there on the ice.

Then just as suddenly as the kiss began, it ended.

Bryce broke away and skated back, putting several
inches between them.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that,”

Stephani Hecht

Bryce said.

“It’s okay. In case you didn’t notice, I was just as

into it as you were.”

“Yeah, but you’re just a kid. I know better.”
That comment stung in so many ways that Zimon

didn’t even know how to respond. So, instead he just
gave a curt nod and skated off the ice. He could feel
tears pricking his eyes, but he refused to give in to them.
Damn it all, he’d cried enough over the past few years,
he wasn’t about to let some man make him start up
again.

As soon as he stepped into the lobby, Zimon knew

his day was going to get even worse. There was a line at
the counter, and the phone was ringing off the hook.
Worse, Nobel was there and he didn’t look happy at all.

“Sorry,” Zimon said as he rushed over.
He didn’t even take the time to lose his skates.

Instead, he reached over to grab the phone, which
proved to be a mistake as a wave of dizziness slammed
into him. He would have fallen flat on his face had it not
been for Nobel reaching out to steady him.

“Were you out late drinking again?” Nobel

demanded.

No, I don’t have time to do anything anymore.

Playing the Point

Zimon wanted to snap. But, he knew that would only
end in a fight so he shook his head and said, “No, I
guess it must be that I’m not used to walking around in
skates anymore.”

“Well, then take them off, and get to work. I have to

take Aldrich to the doctor’s, and we can’t be late. The
only reason I came in here was to make sure you showed
up on time. It was a good thing I did, too, or else we’d
be in real trouble.”

“I’m sorry, I know I messed up. I’ll fix it,” Zimon

assured him.

All the while he wanted to kick himself for slacking

off. He should have known better and he’d ended up
letting Nobel down.

Bryce came behind the desk. “Don’t blame Zimon. I

asked him to help me skate some drills this morning.”

Zimon froze. While that wasn’t exactly the truth, it

was still nice of Bryce to stick up for him like that.
Some of the anger left Nobel’s face. “Oh, I didn’t know
that. Zimon should have written it on the schedule.”

“I kind of sprung it on him and rushed him out of the

office before he had a chance to do that,” Bryce
continued to defend him.

Nobel let out a sigh. “Fine, I guess it’s okay then.

Stephani Hecht

Zimon, can you handle this? Or should I have Tina drive
Aldrich to the doctors?”

Zimon would rather slit his throat with his own skate

blade than let his brother down like that. “No, you go
ahead. I have this.”

“I’ll stay and help him,” Bryce offered.
Nobel seemed shocked and a bit suspicious of the

offer. Narrowing his eyes at Zimon, he said, “Okay, just
make sure you don’t get distracted again.”

Zimon let out a sad sigh as he wondered if his

brother would ever see him as more than some airhead
twink who only thought with his cock. Then Zimon
recalled that he was the one that put that image into his
brother’s head in the first place, so he had nobody to
blame for it but himself.

Damn it, though, what he wouldn’t give to make

Nobel proud of him, even if it was just for one time.

Playing the Point

Chapter Four

Bryce caught up with Nobel just as the other guy was
about to leave through the front door of the rink. “Hey,
can I talk to you real quick?”

When Nobel looked at his watch, Bryce pushed

down his annoyance and added, “It’ll just take a
second.”

“Sure, what’s it about?”
“Zimon.”
Nobel rubbed a hand over his hair. “Oh, boy. Look,

I’m sorry for whatever he said that may have offended
you. Zimon is a great kid, but sometimes he lets his
mouth run without his inner-filter being on.”

For the first time ever in their friendship, Bryce felt

the temptation to slug Nobel. How in the hell could the
guy live, work, and supposedly love his own brother yet
not see him for who he was? Especially when it had
taken Bryce all of five minutes to peg Zimon for the
smart, yet bratty and loyal guy that he really was.

“That’s not what I wanted to say,” Bryce bit out

Stephani Hecht

angrily.

“Then what did he do?”
“The better question should be what doesn’t he do?”
“What, you mean besides pay rent and go to college

like the rest of the kids his age are?”

Bryce took a couple of deep breaths while he tried to

remind himself that Nobel wasn’t privy to all the
information of Zimon’s past. What Zimon had shared
showed a great trust, and Bryce wasn’t about to break it.

“If it wasn’t for Zimon, this rink wouldn’t be

running at all,” he said instead.

Nobel blinked in surprise. “What are you talking

about? We all work our asses off.”

“Maybe, but not as hard as Zimon does.”
“You can’t possibly tell that only from visiting here

twice. I know you mean well, but we all work just as
hard to make this happen.”

Nobel started to turn away, but Bryce wasn’t done

yet. “If that’s the case, then why is it Zimon who hasn’t
eaten a decent meal in days and is operating on hardly
any sleep?”

Nobel gave a small grin. “Zimon has always lived

that way. Even before we opened this place. He likes to
party. He’s a smart kid and can do a lot with his life, I’m

Playing the Point

just hoping he grows up and realizes that someday.”

“You can be a real asshole sometimes,” Bryce spat

out, still trying hard to keep his temper under control.
“Did you ever bother to ask Zimon what really happened
while he was in college?”

“Yeah, he said he grew bored and dropped out.”
“And you accepted that. Even knowing how

intelligent he really is.”

While Bryce didn’t know what Zimon’s IQ was,

going by the way he had the office organized and by
some of the other things the punk had said, Bryce was
willing to bet the number was pretty damn high.

Nobel’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and Bryce

cursed himself for revealing too much. “What exactly
are you talking about?”

Pressing his lips together, Bryce shook his head. “I

can’t get into that with you. You’ll have to take it up
with Zimon.”

“I have a right to know. He’s my brother.”
“Then maybe you should take the time out to

actually talk to him sometime.”

Nobel threw his hands in the air. “Are you serious?

Have you ever tried to have a serious discussion with
Zimon?”

Stephani Hecht

“Yeah, in fact we’ve had a few.”
Nobel froze, a look of hurt passing over his face.

“Why would he talk to you about something serious and
not me? I’m his brother, and you’re just some guy he
met yesterday.”

“Maybe because I’m the only one who has the time

to listen. Plus, he keeps a lot from you because he
doesn’t want to hurt you or make you have any more
stress in your life.”

“Did he tell you that?”
Bryce hesitated before finally deciding it wouldn’t

hurt to reveal some little bits. “Yeah, he did.”

Nobel ran his hands through his hair again. “Shit,

what am I going to do? I have to take Aldrich to the
doctor, but now I realize that I just fucked things up with
Zimon, and I have to make it up with him.”

All the anger left Bryce as he found himself pitying

Nobel. It must be tough, dealing with a partner who was
injured, coming back from a war, starting a new
business, plus having to manage a younger brother who
gave off the impression that he didn’t give a damn.
Bryce realized that he might have been too hard on
Nobel. With all that was going on, it was no wonder
Zimon slipped through the cracks.

Playing the Point

Putting a hand on Nobel’s shoulder, Bryce offered,

“You go with Aldrich, and I’ll stay and help Nobel.
Then I’m going to put an ad out for some extra help. I
can kick in some extra to pay for the additional expense
until the rink can make up the difference.”

“We can’t ask that of you.”
Bryce smile. “Hey, I’m a partner, too. So, don’t

worry about it.”

Nobel studied him a moment before finally nodding.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll make sure to get Zimon to talk to me,
too. Even if I have to pin the brat down and force him.”

“I’d pay money to see that.” Bryce laughed.
“I’ll have Aldrich tape it. The Canton brothers would

probably love to see it, too. Especially, since Zimon
called Trey fat the last time they saw each other.”

Now that was funny in more ways than one. Usually

it was Trey who was delivering the zingers, plus he
could be a bit vain at times. It must have burned him to
have some little brat put him in his place.

Bryce gave Nobel a playful shove. “Go on. Take

your man to the doctor. I have to go help Zimon before
the men’s leagues eat him alive and not in the way he
wants.”

Nobel nodded his thanks before rushing outside. By

Stephani Hecht

the time Bryce made it back to the counter, he found that
Zimon already had everything in order with the
exception of one of the older and bigger players, a man
who appeared to be in his early fifties.

“I was told that we would have ice time this

morning, and now my team is here and we have no place
to practice,” he bellowed, leaning over the counter and
really getting into Zimon’s personal space.

Bryce moved forward to intervene, but Zimon

already had the matter in hand. “I am so sorry that
happened. Tina made a mistake, and I know she’s going
to be so upset when she finds out she let you guys down.
How about I make it up to you by letting you have the
main ice two times next week? Since you were only
going to have the practice ice this morning, it will be a
bump up and our way of saying sorry to you.”

The anger fled the man’s face, to be replaced with a

grin. “That would be great. We’ve been wanting to have
a few scrimmages, but haven’t been able to save up for
the big ice yet.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll even throw in a ref for you,

but you guys have to be nice to him. He’s young and just
started, so he’s not going to be used to being bullied
around.” Zimon pointed a finger at the much bigger

Playing the Point

man.

The guy made a crossing motion over his chest. “I

promise to watch over him like he was my own kid.”

Zimon gave him a droll look. “John, your son is

doing twenty in Jackson for burglary, so that doesn’t
give me much hope.”

“The only reason that little shit is in there is because

he didn’t listen to my advice to only hit houses when the
owners are on vacation.”

The man gave Zimon a parting wave before he left.

Zimon returned the gesture before saying to Bryce,
“And that’s the type of customers we have.”

“Hey, so long as there are rich houses to rob, at least

they’ll have income to spend here,” Bryce teased.

Zimon laughed. “At least not all of them are like

that. The cops and firemen have leagues here, and I’m
pretty certain they are on the up and up.” He tilted his
head to the side. “Although one of them keeps asking
me to have a quickie in the back of his rig. Somehow, I
think that may be against regulations.”

A dash of jealousy went through Bryce. “Did you

ever take him up on the offer?”

“Ugh! No!” Zimon wrinkled his nose. “My slut days

are behind me. I only put out if I get a good meal first.”

Stephani Hecht

When Bryce gave a pointed glance at the Tim

Hortons bag, Zimon snorted. “Not even close, buddy.
It’ll take a place with a valet and black-tie only attire for
you to get into my pants. And since we both know that
would mean you having to be out in public with another
guy, that’s never going to happen.”

While Zimon’s tone was teasing, the comment still

struck hard. For the first time ever, Bryce found himself
wanting to be able to go out with a guy. Not for some
hook-up either, but for a real date. No, better yet, he
wanted it to be Zimon that he took out. He would love
nothing more than to be able to take the younger man
out and spoil him rotten.

Bryce thought back to the look on Zimon’s face as

they’d skated earlier. There had been the cutest mixture
of excitement and happiness on Zimon’s face, and it had
warmed Bryce from the inside out. If he lived a
thousand years, he didn’t think he could ever get sick of
seeing it.

At the moment, Zimon looked more harried than

ever as he stood before the white board. He had a stack
of papers in one hand and a marker in the other. He
would talk under his breath, sometimes pausing to
awkwardly scratch his head, before he put another

Playing the Point

number or letter on the board.

After a few minutes, he stood back, a satisfied look

on his face. “I think that will work. It will make one of
the Pee-wee teams have to skate after the figure skate
club, but I can tell Hank to make sure to go extra heavy
with the Zamboni, plus I’ll tell the hockey coaches to
make sure their players don’t tease the boy figure skaters
as they’re leaving the ice.”

“That still happens?” Bryce asked.
“Yeah, we try to stop it when we see it, but you

know how mean kids can be at times.”

Zimon reached up and tugged at his earlobe, leaving

behind a blue smudge. It was so adorable that Bryce
couldn’t resist reaching out to touch it.

“You know what I hate most about the teasing?”

Zimon asked, turning a bit into Bryce’s hand.

“What’s that?”
“When I was younger, I used to tormente the boy

figure skaters all the time. I was so mean about it, too. I
hate that I used to be like that. It makes me think that
maybe I deserve…”

When Zimon trailed off, Bryce prompted, “What?”
Zimon gave a sad smile. “Nothing. It’s just another

piece of my short, boring life.”

Stephani Hecht

Lowering his hand, Bryce ran the pad of his thumb

over Zimon’s cheek. “There is nothing boring about
you.”

“There’s nothing special about me, either.”
It killed Bryce to realize that Zimon really believed

that. “I have only known you a day, and I could
probably already list a dozen special things about you.”

Zimon took a step back and let out a shaky breath.

“There I go, letting my stress get to me. I swear, I don’t
know what I’m going to do when you go back to
playing. You have been my own little Oprah.”

For the first time ever, Bryce found himself resenting

the busy schedule of a professional hockey player. Even
if he did have the freedom to be with Zimon, what kind
of relationship could he offer? One where he spent
numerous stretches on the road and where they only
time they would get to see each other regularly would be
off season.

No, Zimon was much better off where he was. While

he might need to stand up to his brother more, at least
Nobel would always be there to support Zimon
whenever he needed it. After what Zimon had confided
in Bryce, he knew the kid needed as much support as he
could get, too.

Playing the Point

“So, how long before you have to go back?” Zimon

asked.

“I have to go to some gala event tomorrow, but I can

come the day after to see you. Then I’ll be off
suspension and on the road for a while.”

“So, I suppose that you’ll be taking Jennifer to this

gala with you?”

While the question was put lightly, it still made

Bryce wince.

“Yeah, she attends all those kind of events with me.”
“As your girlfriend?”
“Yes, that’s who we tell everybody she is.”
Zimon began to fiddle with the marker, getting ink

all over his fingers, but he either didn’t notice or care.
“Have you ever fucked her?”

“Do you have to be so crude about it?”
That coming from Bryce was the sheer definition of

irony since he had the biggest potty mouth on the whole
team. But, coming from Zimon’s lips, it just seemed
so…wrong and ugly.

“No, we’re friends and nothing more,” Bryce

snapped.

“Does she know that? Or are you stringing her along

in the hopes of someday becoming a hockey wife?”

Stephani Hecht

Zimon shrugged as if nonchalant, although the hurt on
his face was at odds with the action. “Who knows,
maybe someday you will cave and end up marrying her.
You won’t be the first gay guy who goes down that
route.”

“That’s not going to happen.”
Bryce wondered where in the hell all this was

coming from. What had he done to piss Zimon off? Ever
since Bryce walked into their pit of an ice rink, he’d
done nothing else but try to make Zimon’s life easier.

Zimon tossed the marker to the side and shoved his

hands in his jean pockets. “I can’t blame you. While
there are some gay players who are out, you’re pretty
high profile, so you would have a ton to lose.”

“That still doesn’t mean I would go into a fake

marriage.”

“Why not? You’re already faking a relationship.

May as well take it one step further.”

Before Bryce could even come up with an argument

for that, Zimon walked away. The bitch of it was even if
Zimon had stayed, Bryce knew he wouldn’t have been
able to come up with a good response. He’d been put in
his place and by a nineteen year old kid. Bryce didn’t
know whether to feel proud of Zimon for finally

Playing the Point

standing up for himself or to cuss the brat out for being
so damn right.

Stephani Hecht

Chapter Five

Bryce had never felt like a bigger liar than as he stood in
the middle of the swanky party, cocktail glass in one
hand, Jennifer holding the other. While he had a smile
plastered on his face, the entire time all he wanted to do
was leave and go back to Zimon.

Through the entire day, Zimon and his words had

been playing havoc on Bryce’s mind. He didn’t know
which was worse, that Zimon basically told him that he
was being fake or the fact that it suddenly mattered to
Bryce.

For once, he wanted to go home to somebody. To

have a certain person who was always by his side, on
good days and bad. To know that no matter how much
he was hurt, angry, or grouchy, there would be
somebody there to cuddle up to him and make him feel
like he had a place in life.

What was crazier, the only person he could think of

to fill that role was Zimon. Which just showed that
Bryce must have finally lost his marbles because he’d

Playing the Point

only met the guy a couple of days ago.

“Are you going to tell me what has you so upset, or

do I just need to come out and tell you,” Jennifer
whispered in his ear.

With a tight black dress, long blonde hair, and legs

that went on forever, she’d never looked better, and if
Bryce had been into women, he would never have been
able to take his eyes off her. At the moment, all he
wanted to see was a certain auburn haired brat, with
tight jean and a snarky mouth.

“I’m fine,” he lied.
“No, you’re not. You haven’t been able to stop

thinking about him since you left Flint,” she countered.

“Tell me again why I share everything with you?”
“Because I’m your best friend in the world, and I

would do anything for you. Even play the part of your
girlfriend for the past five years.”

In truth, it had been as much for her benefit as his.

As one of the top models in the industry, she didn’t want
it to get out that she was a lesbian, so they had a mutual
thing going on.

“Is Becky still jealous of me?” he asked.
She took a sip of her wine. “I wouldn’t know. The

bitch left me last week. She said if she wanted to date

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somebody in the closet, she’d become a Scientologist.”

While Bryce felt bad for Jennifer, he was glad to see

the backside of Becky. He’d always considered the
woman a bitch who was only using Linda.

“Do you think she’ll try to sell the story of your

relationship to the tabloids?”

“Oh, I have no doubt she’s already done that.”
“Then we’ll just have to make a few extra

appearances like we did the last time one of your exes
did that. It helped quash the rumors then, so it should
work again.” He took a drink of the wine, wishing it was
one of the frozen drinks from the rink. While those
things might be more sugar than anything, Zimon loved
them, and he’d managed to get Bryce addicted.

“You’re thinking of him again,” Jennifer accused.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re smiling. I like seeing that on you.

You never seem happy anymore.”

“I wouldn’t crack out the wedding invites yet, we

just met a couple of days ago.” Bryce cautioned.

“Sometimes that’s all it takes. My grandparents met

on a Monday and got married that Friday. They’re still
together.”

“Yeah, but are they happy?”

Playing the Point

“Ridiculously, so. They still hold hands and kiss in

public. It makes me want to puke.”

She leaned against a table, studying him carefully.

“What would your parents say if you were to bring
Zimon home?”

“They’d say ‘I told you so’. They’ve known I’m gay

since high school. They’re just waiting for me to fess up.
They keep throwing hints at me that they know, and it’s
okay with them, but so far I’ve refused to bite. Last visit,
they even had a rainbow flag flying out front of the
house.”

She brought a hand up to stifle her giggle. “And how

about Zimon’s parents?”

“I heard that they moved out of state a while ago due

to Zimon’s dad’s poor health, but I hear they’re okay
with it although I think their leaving made Zimon feel
abandoned. Since Nobel had just gotten back to the
States and was a bit of a mess himself, Zimon was kind
of left to fend for himself. The parents helped him
financially and all, but that was about it.”

She frowned. Something she rarely did for fear of

getting wrinkles. “Poor little guy. I just want to go give
him a great big hug.”

“That may not be a good idea. I have a feeling he’s

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not your biggest fan right now.”

Instead of getting offended like she usually would

have, she gave a small nod. “Of course not. I’m standing
where he should be.”

That comment surprised Bryce so much he had to

rewind the conversation in his head a few times to make
sure he heard it correctly. “Since when did you develop
an issue with this arrangement?”

She set down her glass and rubbed her temples. “I

don’t know. I guess losing Becky made me realize
something.”

“That you can do much better than her?”
“Yes, but it also made me aware of how sick I am of

living this lie.”

He cocked a brow at her. “Are you breaking up with

me?”

“You know I would never leave you like that. We’re

best friends, which is why I feel comfortable telling you
that you deserve so much more than what you have.”

“You know as well as anybody what will happen if I

come out,” he hissed out in a low voice, wondering why
in the hell she’d chosen a party, of all places, to have
this conversation.

“Yeah, you may have to deal with some vicious

Playing the Point

hatred, and you’ll probably lose your endorsements. So
fucking what? You already have plenty of money, but
that doesn’t keep you warm at night or love you back.
You deserve to have some true happiness in your life.”

Bryce’s mind immediately went to how he could use

his savings to make the rink even better. Then he’d also
buy a house for him and Zimon to live in. He’d even get
the brat a dog or cat if he wanted one.

Then, just as quickly, reality came crashing down.

He had a contract to ride out for at least the rest of the
year, plus he had other obligations he’d already
committed to. Plus, there was no guarantee that Zimon
felt the same connection. Zimon was only nineteen,
whereas Bryce was thirty. More likely than not, Zimon
didn’t want to be saddled forever with somebody who
was eleven years his senior.

“I wish I could do that, but it’s just not in the cards,”

Bryce replied, looking down into his drink.

She let out an irritated huff. “Fine, just don’t say I

didn’t warn you. Somebody as sweet and caring as
Zimon isn’t going to stay unclaimed for long. Some guy
is going to come along and snatch him away from you.”

The thought of anybody else so much as touching

Zimon made Bryce want to slam the wall in anger, but

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he held it in. “He would be better off without me.”

“I wish you could view yourself through my eyes for

once. You know what I see when I look at you?”

“A washed-up, has-been of an enforcer who is lucky

if his body will survive two more years playing
hockey?”

“No, I see somebody who needs and deserves to be

loved. I think you can have that, too, if you give yourself
half a chance.”

“We just met,” Bryce tried again.
Jennifer just smiled at him as she picked up her drink

again. “Funny, that was the same thing my grandfather
said, too, when he proposed to my grandmother.”

* * * * *

Zimon felt like his heart was being ripped apart as he

watched the TV mounted to the wall above the snack
stand. Since the rink television was always switched
onto the hockey channel, the news was running and it
was reporting the latest gossip on the players.

They ran a story of Bryce’s suspension and how he

would be back soon, but the footage they showed was
from that evening’s gala. Bryce looked as gorgeous as
ever, his raven hair swept to the side and his muscular
body encased in a high-end tux. The blonde on his arm

Playing the Point

looked pretty, too. She had about a hundred pounds of
perfectly brushed hair and a killer body that was barely
covered by the tiny black dress she wore.

Zimon recognized her as one of the swimsuit cover

models from a magazine he’d confiscated from a young
hockey player. Of course, the bitch looked perfect. From
her sparkling green eyes, to her blinding white smile.

Damn it, did she have to drape herself all over Bryce

that way? If they were only pretending, then why was
she acting so chummy and handsy? It made Zimon
wonder, not for the first time, if maybe Bryce had been
downplaying his relationship with the woman.

After all, it wouldn’t be the first time a straight guy

had played with Zimon’s emotions. His first time had
been with the high school quarterback. The guy had
professed his love to Zimon, taken his virginity, and
then promptly dumped him for the head cheerleader.
Even though it had happened a few years ago, the hurt
was still like a raw, open wound, and seeing Jennifer
with Bryce was rubbing salt into it.

“Hey, what are you still doing here? I thought I told

you to leave an hour ago,” Nobel said as he came behind
the counter.

“Since you won’t let me come in till noon, I thought

Stephani Hecht

I better get the whiteboards ready now, or else
everything will be a mess when I get here,” Zimon
replied, never taking his eyes off the TV.

Jennifer leaned in and kissed Bryce’s cheek, leaving

behind a red kissy mark. Anger surged through Zimon,
and he wanted to scratch the bitch’s eyes out. Nobody
should be kissing Bryce but him, damn it!

“We can figure out how to dole out ice time without

your help. It’s not that hard,” Nobel argued.

“Sorry, you proved how bad you were at that the

time you scheduled the Catholic league and the Gay
Men’s league on the same ice. It took forever to clean up
the mess they left behind,” Zimon replied, still glaring at
the screen.

He would bet his next paycheck that bitch was

wearing extensions. There was no way those boob were
real either, and she probably had them done the same
time as all the Botox injections. The tramp probably had
more silicone in her than the entire Real Housewives
cast combined.

“Did you at least eat something today?” Nobel

pressed.

“Tina brought me some of her homemade soup. I

think it was chicken noodle.”

Playing the Point

“You think? Didn’t you even try it?”
Zimon shook his head. “I haven’t been feeling so hot

today. “

“What’s the matter?”
Damn it, what was it with Nobel? All of the sudden

he’d been all over Zimon like white on rice. Last night
he’d even tried to get Zimon to open up and talk about
his feelings and going on and on about how Zimon
shouldn’t stress himself out too much. Zimon had finally
retreated to his room just for some peace.

Zimon shrugged. After the angst fest last night there

was no way he was going to tell Nobel he felt pretty
sick. “Nothing big, just a sore throat and a cough. I think
one of the ankle-biters gave me something. I swear those
kids are walking petri dishes for disease. One of the
McClain brothers threw up in the middle of the blue ice
the other day.”

Nobel scrunched his face up in disgust. “Which

one?”

“Who knows, they all look the same to me. They all

skate the same way too, and they really need to take
some power skating lessons. They would be much better
players.”

“Did you ever consider running a clinic?”

Stephani Hecht

That finally got Zimon’s attention. He turned away

from the screen to shoot his brother an are-you-flipping-
crazy look. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I can’t think of a better skater than you.

Even the Canton brothers have mentioned that you
should do it.”

“Trey also suggested we install a stripper pole in the

lobby, so I don’t consider them the most reliable
sources. Besides, if I did that, who would run the front
desk?”

“Me and Aldrich. He’s been feeling much better, and

we’re putting an ad out for some help.”

Despair crashed into Zimon as he wondered just how

he’d managed to fuck up so badly to get reassigned.
He’d done everything he could to make the rink run
smoothly, yet he’d somehow managed to let Nobel
down.

“Whatever it is, I can fix it,” he blurted.
Nobel’s brows drew together in confusion. “What in

the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t know what I did to make you want to

reassign me, but if you just tell me what it is I’ll fix it, I
swear. I won’t let you down again.”

Zimon was stunned when Nobel reached out and

Playing the Point

pulled him into a tight embrace. “You haven’t done
anything wrong. In fact, you’re the only one who has
been holding this place together.”

“Then why are you taking me off desk duty?”
Nobel pulled back and looked him in the eye.

“Because, we’re worried about you.”

“Who’s we?”
“Me, Aldrich, Jochen, the Cantons, Tina, and

Bryce.”

Zimon’s heart hammered at the last name. “What

exactly did Bryce tell you?”

He realized his blunder as soon as Nobel narrowed

his eyes in that suspicious way of his. “Probably not
what you’re so worried about. Ever since I got back to
the States, I had this feeling that you’ve been hiding
something from me, and now I find out that you’ve
confided in Bryce of all people, yet left me in the dark.”

Zimon thrummed his fingers on the counter, his

stomach clenching in knots as a cold sweat broke out
over his body. “I can’t get into details, at least not yet.
Let’s just leave it that I fucked things up pretty badly
when I was at college.”

For a moment, Zimon was terrified that Nobel would

push it further. In the end, his brother just nodded then

Stephani Hecht

said, “Just so you know, there is nothing that you could
have done to make me love you less.”

Damn it all if that comment didn’t make Zimon

choke up like some chick. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“Unless of course I found out that you voted for

Romney. Some sins are just unforgivable,” Nobel
deadpanned.

Zimon let out a snotty laugh. “I promise it wasn’t

that.”

Nobel nodded up to the screen. “You like Bryce a

lot, don’t you?”

Since he’d already kept so many secrets, Zimon

decided to let this one go. “Way more than I have any
right to.”

“You do realize he’s in the closet and never going to

come out,” Nobel warned in a gentle tone.

Zimon swallowed hard. “Yeah, and that only makes

it hurt all the more.”

Playing the Point

Chapter Six

As Bryce walked into the rink the next morning, he had
to stop himself from running to the front desk.

All night long, he’d been able to think about no one

but Zimon and how much he couldn’t wait to see the
guy. Even Bryce’s dreams had been centered around
Zimon, each and every one of them more erotic than the
one before. It had resulted in Bryce waking up horny
and anxious to see his auburn-haired spitfire.

Just as expected, he found Zimon in his usual

place—behind the front desk, his face buried in some
paperwork. He barely looked up when Bryce
approached.

“I’m surprised you’re here so early,” Zimon said in

clipped tones.

Somewhat surprised by the chilly reception, Bryce

decided not to let it put him off. “I could say the same
about you. When I talked to Nobel, he said that you
weren’t going to be in until noon.”

Truthfully, Bryce had known that there was no way

Stephani Hecht

in hell Zimon would have waited that late to show up for
work, thus the reason for Bryce being there so early. He
held up a bag of Tim Hortons. Since it had worked so
well last time, Bryce hoped it would do the trick again.

Zimon barely gave it a second glance. “Thanks, but

I’m not hungry.”

Bryce eyed up Zimon’s body. Even with the baggy

jeans and heavy sweatshirt, it looked as if he’d somehow
managed to lose even more weight, plus he was pale
with dark circles around his eyes.

“You need to eat something. You look like shit,”

Bryce prodded.

The moment Zimon shot him a murderous glare

Bryce knew that had been the wrong thing to say. Zimon
angrily tossed one of his highlighters to the side and
snapped, “Well, then why don’t you take it to Jennifer?
Of course, she’ll probably throw it up like all those
bulimic super models do.”

“Jennifer isn’t like other models.”
Zimon rolled his eyes. “Of course not, because she’s

soooooooo perfect and beautiful. She probably burps
cotton candy and carries little dogs around in her purse.”

Bryce ran a hand through his hair, wondering what in

the hell had gone wrong. Last time he’d left, things had

Playing the Point

been good between him and Zimon, and now the guy
acted like he couldn’t stand him.

“What is your problem with her? She’s my best

friend.”

“Going by the way I saw her draped all over you last

night, she’s a whole lot more. I thought they were going
to have to use an ice-scraper to get her off you.”

It suddenly struck Bryce that Zimon was jealous. It

was so cute and so annoying he didn’t know whether to
laugh or throttle the brat. A quandary he found himself
in quite a bit while in Zimon’s presence. It was one of
the reasons Bryce was so attracted to the guy.

Leaning in close, he whispered into Zimon’s ear,

“Can you keep a secret?”

Zimon stiffened. “Maybe, what is it?”
“Jennifer is a lesbian. She is no more interested in

me sexually than I am in her.”

Zimon gaped. “But, then why was she all over you

like you were mashed potatoes and she was gravy?”

“It’s all for show. We do it for the sake of each

other’s careers.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of all the pretending?”
Cupping Zimon’s face, Bryce replied, “Not until

recently.”

Stephani Hecht

Zimon batted his hand away. “You can talk all you

want, but I saw the way you were with each other last
night.”

“It was just an act.”
“Yeah, and just how far do you guys take it? Do you

make out with her in the car, so the cameras can get a
picture of it? Have her give you a hummer so the
newspapers can get a photo, like what happened with
Jochen?”

It was still early enough that Bryce could have easily

taken Zimon on the ice to put a chip in his bad attitude,
but he had a better idea in mind. Grabbing Zimon by the
front of the shirt, he dragged the snot to the back closet
and shut the door.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Zimon demanded,

sounding angrier than ever.

Bryce turned on the light in the small room and faced

off against the other guy. Since the room was full of
shelves, old hockey equipment, and office supplies,
there wasn’t much space, but it would do for what Bryce
had in mind.

“I’m shutting you the hell up.”
With those words, he slammed Zimon against a shelf

and began to kiss the breath out of him. At first Zimon

Playing the Point

stiffened, but soon he eased up and began to kiss back.

“I’m still pissed at you,” Zimon murmured between

passes.

“Duly noted,” Bryce replied as he began to undo

Zimon’s pants.

Still kissing Bryce, Zimon asked, “What do you

think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to fuck the brat out of you.”
“You’re not the first guy who’s tried that. It hasn’t

worked so far.”

A wave of anger and jealousy hit Bryce and he

paused long enough to grip Zimon by the chin and force
the younger man to lock gazes with him. “That may be
the case, but I’m going to be the last one.”

“Oh, I love it when you get all possessive like that,”

Zimon teased.

“I mean it. I don’t want to see any other man so

much as breathe on you again.”

“That’s a pretty big order coming from a guy who

just met me.”

“I mean it.”
Zimon rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll stay exclusive. But,

you’ll just get tired of me like all the others have.”

Bryce seriously doubted that. He was pretty certain

Stephani Hecht

Zimon would still find ways to surprise and keep his
interest fifty years from now, but since he didn’t want to
scare the kid away, he kept his yap shut. Well, not
exactly, he did growl, “Turn around and grab the shelf.”

“You’re going to fuck me right here?” When Bryce

simply stared in answer, Zimon gave a sexy smile but
obeyed. He turned and wrapped his fingers around the
edge of the metal shelf. “And here everybody says I’m
the slut.”

“You’re not a slut, and this isn’t just fucking that

we’re doing.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Zimon said, “I would

argue that scrumping in the back room of the office
counts as a fuck.”

Leaning in so his lips were mere inches from

Zimon’s ear, Bryce growled, “What we have is much
more than that. So, don’t demean yourself by making it
sound like less.”

Zimon’s eyes widened in shock and for once he

didn’t have a snarky comeback. He simply nodded, his
tongue darting out to lick his kiss-swollen lips.

“I don’t have any supplies on me,” Zimon confessed

in a much more subdued voice.

Bryce reached into his front pocket and pulled out a

Playing the Point

condom and a travel size packet of lube. “I thought
ahead.”

Those baby blues grew sad and a little bitter. “No,

you just knew I was a sure thing.”

“If that were the case, then I would have fucked you

the day we met. I brought the stuff because I was as
hopeful as some kid on his prom night. Damn it, Zimon,
don’t you realize what kind of effect you have on me?”

“Going by the way you yell sometimes, I’d say I’m

pretty annoying.”

“Well, yeah,” Bryce conceded, before continuing,

“But, you also drive me crazy in other ways. All I can
think about is you and how much I want to be with you.
It was so bad I couldn’t even sleep last night.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t because that blonde bimbo

was in your bed last…ahhhhhh!” Zimon half yelped,
half moaned when Bryce gave his neck a not-so-gentle
love bite.

“The only one who is ever going to be in my bed is

you. Now take down your pants.”

Bryce knew it wasn’t the most romantic of sayings,

and this definitely had not been the place where he’d
wanted their first encounter to take place. It was going to
happen regardless because now that Bryce had gone this

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far, he knew there was no way he could stop. Especially
when Zimon lowered his pants just enough to reveal the
most amazing ass in creation.

Rubbing his hand over one pale globe, Bryce cooed.

“Damn, baby. I can’t wait to get into this.”

Instead of firing off a snappy comment, Zimon just

moaned and leaned back into Bryce’s hand. Since he
knew they didn’t have much time, Bryce took that to
mean he had permission to continue. Using his teeth, he
tore open the packet of lube and squirted the entire
contents over his finger.

“I have been waiting for this forever,” Bryce

declared before he began to nibble on Zimon’s neck.

“Forever? We only met a few days ago.” Zimon

replied with a moan as Bryce slid one finger inside him.

Bryce wanted to correct Zimon. To point out that at

least to him this was so much more than just a hook-up,
but instead he got caught up in the moment. He slowly
worked the finger in and out, taking extra care because
Zimon was damn tight.

“I thought you said you were a slut,” Bryce accused.
All along, he’d known that it’d been just an act on

Zimon’s part, and this was the final proof. Going by
how tight Zimon was, he hadn’t been with anybody in a

Playing the Point

while.

“I’ve been too busy at work,” Zimon panted.
“Liar. Admit it, you’ve only been with a few guys.”
“Just fuck me already. I feel like I’m going to bust

here.”

Bryce added a second finger, spreading them slightly

to further stretch Zimon out. While he would love
nothing more than to already be inside the other man
and pounding away, Bryce would rather slam his own
head into the boards than ever hurt Zimon.

So, he took things easy and slow, working his fingers

in and out, all the while continuing to kiss Zimon’s
neck. Despite the fact that they were in some cramped
room that was no bigger than a closet. Despite the fact
that they were surrounded by smelly equipment. Despite
the fact that they could get caught at any time, it was the
most intimate moment in Bryce’s life.

He added a third finger, crooking them so they

brushed against Zimon’s prostate. Zimon jumped, a yelp
of pleasure filling the room. “Wow, what was that?”

Stunned, Bryce paused a moment. “Nobody’s ever

touched you there before?”

“Nobody ever took longer than five minutes with me

before, let alone took the time to show me all the fun

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stuff.”

That broke Bryce’s heart in so many ways and made

him all the more determined to show Zimon the world.
He would take his guy everywhere, show him all the
beauty that the world had to offer and then some. To hell
with hiding in the closet. Bryce wanted out, and he
wanted Zimon by his side…forever.

Pulling his fingers out, Bryce undid his own pants.

He was so hard that he was surprised his cock didn’t yell
a Hallelujah as it sprang free. Ripping open the condom,
Bryce slid it on and added the extra lube to it before
putting his hands on Zimon’s hips.

“If I hurt you at any time, just tell me and I’ll stop,”

he ordered.

Zimon tightened his grip on the shelf and nodded his

head. Lining the tip of his cock against Zimon’s
stretched opening, Bryce carefully pushed through the
ring of muscle. Even after the tip popped through, he
still took great care, slowly thrusting inside his lover.

All the while he watched carefully for any signs of

discomfort on Zimon’s part. All Bryce saw on the other
man’s face was pure bliss and damned if it wasn’t a
beautiful sight. Zimon even rolled back his head so it
rested against Bryce’s chest, as if showing complete

Playing the Point

trust.

“Stroke yourself for me, baby, I want to see you

come,” Bryce ordered as he began to move in a slow,
steady rhythm.

Even given the awkward angle, since he was so

much taller, Bryce had a good enough view as Zimon
took one hand and wrapped it around his cock, his
slender fingers working in a jerky, almost frantic rate.

The sight drove up Bryce’s lust, and he began to

pound harder into Zimon . So much so that the shelves
began to squeak in protest. Neither of them seemed to
care. Zimon even began to thrust back, to meet Bryce
halfway.

“I’m so close,” Zimon declared in a loud voice.
“Don’t hold back. I want to see you lose control.”
Then Zimon did just that. Arching his body, he

came, at the same time screaming Bryce’s name. After a
couple more thrusts, Bryce came, too, his groan of
satisfaction nearly as loud as Zimon’s scream had been.

Dropping his forehead onto Zimon’s shoulder, Bryce

laughed. “It’s a good thing we’re the only ones here.”

“True, but I think we may have scared away some of

the mice.”

“Aww… I almost feel bad for the little guys,” Bryce

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teased.

“Don’t be. They eat the paper and make a hell of a

mess. I wanted to hire an exterminator a while ago, but
just never got around to it. Maybe now we won’t have
to.”

Bryce gave Zimon’s neck another kiss, noticing the

nice hickey he’d left behind. “Just so you know, that
was incredible.”

Zimon blushed. “I didn’t do much. I just held on and

tried not to fall into the shelves.”

“It was perfect because it was with you, period. Next

time though, we’re going to do it at some fancy hotel,
and I’m going to spoil you just like you deserve to be.”

Zimon blushed. “When you say it like that, I almost

believe it.”

“I mean it. Look, I’m not going to lie and say that

this is going to be an easy relationship since I’m going
to be on the road most of the time, but I really want to
give it a try. That is, if you don’t mind being with a guy
who is older than you.”

Zimon smiled. “You’re not that old, and I would

love to make things a little more permanent, if that’s
what you really want.”

“I do. Being on the road sucks, but now it won’t be

Playing the Point

so bad knowing that I have something great to come
home to.”

“Okay, just don’t go all sappy and buy me a promise

ring or something,” Zimon joked.

“I won’t. Although I may consider a muzzle.”
Zimon stuck out his tongue, and they quickly

cleaned up and got their clothes back in order. When
they opened the door, they found a very shocked looking
Aldrich and Nobel waiting for them.

Zimon flashed a weak smile. “Hey, what are you

guys doing here?”

Adrich held up a thermalbag. “We brought you some

lunch. You left it when you rushed out this morning.”

“Oh, thanks. That was so nice of you.” Zimon

reached out and grabbed it.

“I guess we don’t even have to ask what you two

were doing in the back room,” Nobel said, shooting
daggers at Bryce.

Looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world,

Zimon walked over to the counter and began to look
through his papers. “We were scaring away the mice.
You know what a problem they’ve become lately.”

Aldrich burst out laughing. Nobel, on the other hand,

didn’t look too impressed with the explanation. “Just

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one word of warning, if you’re playing games with my
brother and break his heart, I’ll track you down and skin
you alive.”

While the threat should have angered Bryce it had

the exact opposite effect. It made him like Nobel all the
more because it showed how much he cared for Zimon.
Something they now had in common.

“You have nothing to worry about. I’m not planning

on going anywhere anytime soon.”

As far as Bryce was concerned he wasn’t ever going

to leave. Now he just hoped that Zimon would someday
feel the same way about him.

Playing the Point

Chapter Seven

Zimon stood behind the counter, smiling despite the fact
that the place was packed and utter chaos surrounded
him.

The rink was having its first official youth hockey

tournament, and it had turned out better than any of
them had hoped. Not only had more teams signed up
than they ever expected, but so far everything had come
off without a single hitch. They were even selling out on
all the tournament t-shirts, and that was a huge profit for
the rink.

In fact, business had been booming all around. Not

only had they had to hire more people for the concession
stand, but they had to hire another Zamboni guy. They’d
even gotten Zimon some help behind the counter
although he still hadn’t allowed the guy to touch his
precious white board. While Avin might be one of his
oldest friends, and they’d been through a lot together,
there were just certain things that Zimon didn’t share.

None of those were the reason why Zimon was

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smiling though. No, it all had to do with Bryce. For two
months, they’d been exclusive, and every single moment
of it had been terrific. Sure, Bryce spent a good amount
of that time on the road or at practice, but he and Zimon
made the most of every moment they could get.

While Bryce hadn’t officially come out to the press,

he wasn’t exactly hiding his relationship, either. Zimon
had met some of Bryce’s teammates and even gone to a
couple of his games. Plus, they’d gone out to some of
the fancier restaurants and clubs.

Some of the papers had taken pictures with captions

wondering who Bryce’s new friend was. One of them
had even gone so far as to find an old picture of Zimon
from his go-go dancer days. Since he’d been wearing a
pair of black boy shorts and devil’s horns, it was clear
what kind of work he used to be in, so it hadn’t made
Zimon look good.

Bryce took it all in stride though, and surprisingly, so

did most of his teammates. Sure, Zimon was certain
some of them had made some mean comments, but
Bryce had never shared them with him. As for his
endorsement deals, while some had dried up, others had
popped up, the last one being a condom company of all
things.

Playing the Point

Zimon still hadn’t met Jennifer since she was

overseas on some bimbos-on-the-beach shoot, and that
was fine with him. While Bryce seemed to love the
woman, Zimon still couldn’t get the image of her
pawing up his man out of his mind.

The only negative thing, and it was so tiny it was

hardly worth complaining about, was that Zimon had
been unable to shake his damn cold. Worse, he seemed
to be losing more weight, and he’d been getting
headaches to boot. The night sweats were no fun, either.
His joints had started to hurt, too, so much that he was
popping Motrin the way Judy Garland had popped
sleeping pills.

He was just washing down another handful of meds

when Avin walked behind the counter. The same age
and build as Zimon, Avin had worked as a go-go boy,
too, for a brief spell. With his white blond hair, green
eyes, and dimples, he’d made a killing, but as soon as
he’d been offered this job, he’d jumped at the chance to
change careers, saying he was sick of the clubs and the
way the guys treated him there.

“I thought you said you were going to make an

appointment with the doctor,” Avin chastised, eyeing the
bottle of meds.

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“I am. It’s just I haven’t had time because we’ve

been so busy getting ready for this tournament.”

“If Nobel knew that you were putting your health

second, he’d be pissed.”

Zimon sighed because he knew Avin was right. “I’ll

make an appointment first thing Monday. I promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to it.”
“What are you going to do if I don’t? Tell on me?,

Zimon playfully goaded.

Avin went over to the white board and held a

threatening hand over it. “No, worse. I’ll keep erasing
this and replacing it with random numbers and letters.”

Zimon let out a gasp. “You wouldn’t dare!”
A sparkle came to Avin’s eyes. “You know damn

well I would.”

The thing was, Avin would. One of the reasons why

Zimon hadn’t minded having an assistant was because it
was Avin. The guy could be a major pain in the ass
sometimes, but he was also fun and quirky.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Zimon conceded,

“Okay, I’ll do it for sure.”

After they were both done laughing, Zimon asked,

“Did you get the final score sheet from the Hawks
coach?”

Playing the Point

“Shoot, I forgot. I’ll go grab it now.”
Zimon waved away the offer. “I’ll do it. I wanted to

grab a cappuccino anyway.”

He left the counter and began to maneuver around

the crowd. Despite it being fall, and an ice rink, it
seemed to be so stifling and hot. Zimon raised a hand to
wipe away the sweat beading his forehead, shocked to
see his arm was trembling. Hell, his whole body was
trembling. The lights seemed to be fading in and out too,
and somebody had begun to tilt the ground.

“Now why would anybody do that? It’s just not

safe,” Zimon mumbled.

He took one more step forward, but his foot never

made it to the ground. Instead, his body began to fall.
Zimon’s last thought before he drifted unconscious was
how mad Bryce was going to be at him for not taking
care of himself.

Zimon lay in the middle of the hospital bed and his

body curled in a tight ball. Never before had he felt so
lost. So helpless. So…dirty. He wanted to cry, but the
despair cut so deep that it wasn’t even possible, if that
made any sense.

All the while the doctor’s words continued to ring

Stephani Hecht

through Zimon’s head, “I’m sorry to have to tell you
this, but you have HIV. It’s still in the early stages, so
we will be able to treat it, but there’s no cure.”

So, in other words, Zimon was going to be cursed

forever and marked as some kind of pariah. Already, he
noticed how the hospital staff acted differently around
him. They never, ever, ever touched him unless they had
gloves on, and, whenever they had to take blood, they
acted as if he were some monster who was going to
reach out and bite them.

There had been a couple of times where he’d been

tempted to jump and yell, “Boo!” just to teach them a
lesson, but he was too depressed to even play around
anymore.

The worst thing was he felt so stupid. He should

have seen it coming. First of all because he’d known full
well the all the needles he’d used in his heroin days
hadn’t been clean, but because of the men he’d serviced
in exchange for drugs. He let out weak sniffle and here
he’d thought it had only been college he’d fucked up.
Turned out he’d given his whole life a great big screw
you and now he was paying a heavy price.

The door opened, but Zimon didn’t even turn around

to see who it was. He didn’t care anymore. His life was

Playing the Point

over, so he might as well die now instead of dragging it
out and making everybody around him suffer.

When he saw it was Nobel, Zimon wanted to get up

and run from the room. Unfortunately, at the moment he
was too weak to do that, so all he could do was croak
out an, “I’m so sorry.”

Nobel teared up. “For what?”
“The last thing you need in your life is this.”
“You’re my brother, and I will always be there for

you. Aldrich will, too.”

There was an awkward silence and Zimon decided

that it was as good as any time to fess up. “I didn’t quit
college. I lost my scholarship.”

Bless Nobel, for he didn’t show any judgment on his

face. He just asked, “How?”

“I started using heroin, and, before I knew it, the

drug became more important to me than anything else.
Since you were getting still over being deployed, and
Mom and Dad were gone, nobody knew how bad I was
messing up.”

“How did you stop? I know you’re clean now

because they didn’t find any drugs in your system when
they brought you into the ER.”

Zimon’s throat grew tight. He knew he had to tell

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Nobel the next part, but he also knew that afterward, his
brother would probably hate him forever. “I got most of
my drugs from the owner of the club I danced for. I
ended up owing more than I could pay for, so I had to
work it off in other ways. Some of the guys refused to
wear condoms. I begged them to, but they said that I
didn’t have a choice in the matter, and I better go along
with it before things got even worse for me.”

Nobel’s face grew stormy with rage, and he balled

his hand into a fist so tight that his knuckles cracked.
Zimon let out a small sound of distress, “I’m so sorry. I
never wanted you to hate me.”

Nobel sprang to his feet and pulled Zimon into a

tight hug. “It’s not you that I’m mad at, kiddo. You
didn’t do anything wrong except make some of the same
mistakes a lot of kids your age make. The one I want to
kill is that club owner. He took complete advantage of
you, and if he were standing right here now, I would kill
him with my bare hands.”

Zimon tried to push Nobel away. “You shouldn’t be

touching me. I’m dirty.”

Nobel pulled back, but only far enough to glare

down at Zimon. “I never want to hear you say that about
yourself again. You have a disease, just like somebody

Playing the Point

with diabetes, asthma, or something like that. That
doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“How can you say that even after everything I told

you?” Zimon asked, finally crying.

“Because I know what a great person you are. I’ve

been talking to the doctors. You are going to have to be
on meds for the rest of your life, but this isn’t a death
sentence. Plus, they are coming up with new treatments
all the time. You’re still going to live a long life, so you
can annoy me until we’re both old and in rocking
chairs.”

The image made Zimon give a watery laugh until

another thought occurred to him. “Does Bryce know?”

Nobel gave him a sympathetic look. “Yeah, since he

had sex with you, he has to be tested.”

Zimon began to cry in earnest. “God, now he’s going

to hate me. The only good thing I had in my life, and
now I’ve lost it.”

Once he began to weep, Zimon found he couldn’t

stop. He cried until he fell asleep. The entire time, Nobel
held him, being the pillar of strength that Zimon so
desperately needed at the moment.

The next time Zimon woke up, he could tell that

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somebody was in bed with him, but the body felt a lot
smaller than Nobel. Blinking open his eyes, he was
stunned to find that it was…Jennifer?

No matter how many times he tried to rub the image

away, there she sat in all her blonde goddesshood glory
on the side of his bed. The only thing that was missing
was the bikini. Instead she had a pair of slim fitting
jeans and a plain white t-shirt.

“Are you here to take me to hell?” Zimon asked.
She laughed. “No, I’ve been keeping Bryce

company. He’s refused to leave your bedside since he
got here yesterday.”

“But, what about his games?”
She rolled her eyes. “When he found out that you

were sick, he got into another fight.”

“Oh, no. He didn’t get another suspension, did he?”
“No, but he took a punch to the eye, and now the

thing is swollen shut, so he’s out for a few games.
Personally, I think he did it on purpose, so he could have
time to take care of you.”

Zimon studied her carefully, looking for any signs of

animosity, but she was all smiles and happiness. “Are
you really a lesbian?”

She held up her palm. “I promise. Bryce and I are

Playing the Point

friends and it’s never been anything more.”

She moved in closer, and Zimon inhaled deeply.

“You smell so good. Not that I’m trying to come on to
you or anything, but I am so sick of only hospital scents.
It’s nice to smell coconuts and pineapple.”

She sniffed at him and wrinkled her nose. “I wish I

could say the same about you, sweets, but you reek.”

Zimon lifted his hideous gown and inhaled, pulling a

face when he was hit with his own rank stench. “Oh, my
God. You’re right. I smell like the floor of a bathhouse.”

She held up a huge duffle bag. “Have no worries. I

have everything here to make you look devastatingly
beautiful. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll look
like a patient from a soap opera, instead of a real life
one.”

Zimon laughed. “Damn you. Why do you have to be

so likable?”

She pulled out a mint and shoved it into his mouth.

“I could say the same thing about you. After all, you
stole my best friend from me.”

Sucking on the mint, Zimon replied, “I seriously

doubt that. I’m sure Bryce is going to dump me. He’s
probably just waiting to do it when I get out of the
hospital, so I’m not so pathetic.”

Stephani Hecht

She paused and gave him a droll stare. “Honey,

Bryce is head-over-heels in love with you, and nothing
is going to change that.”

“Did they tell you what I have?” Zimon challenged.
“Yes, I have a few friends with HIV. They still

manage to live full, happy lives, and so will you,
especially with Bryce by your side.”

Damn, how Zimon wanted to believe that, but he

was afraid to hope for fear of getting his heart broken.

“Where is Bryce now?”
“He went with Nobel to pick your parents up from

the airport.”

Zimon groaned. “Shit, so they know, too?”
“Sweetie, I don’t think you realize how sick you

were when they first brought you in here. You had us all
worried there for a while.”

She walked into the bathroom and came out with a

large basin full of scented water. “I would give you a
shower, but you’re still not allowed out of bed.”

Zimon leaned in and inhaled deeply, noting the water

had the same tropical scent she wore. “Okay, I love you
now.”

She laughed and began to help wash him up. Zimon

noticed that, unlike the hospital staff, she didn’t wear

Playing the Point

gloves. For some reason, that simple gesture touched
him. When she got to his private parts, he took over, and
then she got him fresh clothes. It was hard to work
around the IV lines, but she’d had some nursing
experience before getting into modeling, so they were
able to get him into a pair of sweats and a clean t-shirt. It
was one of his favorites because it had a picture of
RuPaul on it.

When they got to his hair, she fingered it up and

made a tsking sound. “I think dry shampoo is the best
way to go.”

She then went about styling his hair. They fell into

easy conversation, just talking about general things. She
asked a lot about the rink, even going so far as saying
that she might ask about investing in it, since models
have such short career lives. Once they were done with
his hair, she helped him brush his teeth before finally
bringing a mirror to him.

“I look horrible,” Zimon declared.
His skin had an ashen tone, and there were huge dark

rings around his eyes, plus his cheeks looked sunken in.
Then he shifted the mirror to his hair and felt a lot better,
“At least this part of me looks great.”

She smiled and pretended to buff her nails. “What

Stephani Hecht

can I say? I’m a miracle worker.”

She paused and studied him. “So, what do you say?

Can we be friends?”

Zimon held his arm open and she rushed forward,

embracing him in a tight hug. Then, as he felt her boobs
crushing against him, he let out a soft curse. “Damn it,
they’re real, aren’t they?”

“Yes, do you still like me?”
They both laughed.
“Am I interrupting something?” a familiar voice

called.

Zimon’s breath caught in his throat as he turned to

look at Bryce. He was leaning against the doorframe and
sporting the worst black eye that Zimon had ever seen.
“Oh, my Oprah! You look horrible.”

Bryce chuckled as he rushed over and pried Zimon

from Jennifers’s arms. “And you look terrific.”

Jennifer stood, clearing her throat. “I’m going to give

you boys some privacy.”

Once she closed the door, Zimon blurted, “I am so

sorry. I never knew I had this. I would have told you
before we were intimate. I swear it.”

Bryce gave him a tender kiss. “I know you would

have.”

Playing the Point

“Please tell me that I didn’t give it to you.”
“I was tested, and so far, everything has come back

negative. Don’t worry, we were always careful, and we
always will be. This isn’t going to come between us.”

A flicker of hope flared inside Zimon. “Are you sure

it’s worth the risk?”

Cupping Zimon’s face, Bryce said, “I love you,

baby. You’re worth anything.”

Zimon felt himself tearing up, but he blinked them

away, not wanting to ruin the moment by becoming too
much of a sap. “I love you, too. But, what if this gets
out? The public is going to tear you apart.”

“I’d already decided I was going to retire after this

year is over. I just hadn’t told you yet.”

Zimon shook his head, or at least he tried to, as it. It

was kind of hard since Bryce was still holding his face.
“I can’t let you do that. I know how much you love to
play.”

“I used to. Then I realized that I didn’t enjoy it

nearly as much as I did the days I spent with you
running the rink. That’s what I want to spend the rest of
my life doing. That is, if you’ll have some washed-up,
old-timer hockey player.”

Zimon grinned, his body so full of happiness that

Stephani Hecht

nothing else mattered at the moment. “Of course I’ll
have you. Like I said, I love you. Even the mean,
arrogant, cocky parts of you.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll take care of you, and you can

take care of me.”

Wow, that was such a simple statement, but it was

exactly the right thing that Bryce could have chosen at
the moment. It showed that not only did he accept
Zimon’s disease, but Bryce was admitting to having his
own faults as well.

It was then that Zimon realized that he’d been

missing the most important part. Love wasn’t about
being perfect. It was about caring about the other person,
thorns and all and damned if he didn’t love every single
one of Bryce’s thorns. So, why should he think that
Bryce felt any differently about him? It was clear by the
raw, vulnerable look in Bryce’s eyes that he truly did
love Zimon, despite the HIV.

Zimon nodded his head in agreement as he tilted his

head up for a kiss. Sure, he might have a rough road
ahead of him, but he not only had his friends to help
him, but also Bryce, and that made Zimon suddenly feel
like the luckiest guy in the world.

About the Author

Stephani Hecht is a happily married mother of two. Born
and raised in Michigan, she loves all things about the
state, from the frigid winters to the Detroit Red Wings
hockey team. You can usually find her snuggled up to
her laptop, creating her next book.

Contact her at:
Email Address:archangelwriter@yahoo.com

Twitter:
http://twitter.com/StephaniHecht

FaceBook:
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?ref=profil&id=11
09353859

MySpace:

http://www.myspace.com/stephanihecht

Blog:
http://stephanihechtauthor.blogspot.com

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