Blind Spot by Declan Rhodes

Everyone knows the Rook and Varga Show.

Varga talks. Rook shuts him down. They chirp, they shove, they get in each other’s space like it’s part of the game. Five years of locker room performance rehearsed so long neither of them remembers when it stopped being a joke.
Off the ice, behind a closed door in the quiet house Rook chose for its incurious neighbors, there’s a version of them nobody has ever seen — Rook the verbal one, the openly affectionate one, the one in love and unembarrassed about it. Varga finally allowed to be quiet, in the only place he’s ever been allowed to set the noise down.
Then a reporter shows up asking the wrong questions, and Rook recognizes the name before Varga does. Because Rook knew him first. A bar in Toronto, six years ago, a conversation that went on too long and said too much. Nothing happened. Nothing needed to. The reporter isn’t chasing a story — he’s confirming one Rook handed him, drink by drink, before Varga was ever in the picture.
Rook can manage the leak. He’s spent five years managing harder things. What he can’t manage is Varga, who has watched teammates Heath and Kieran live an out life across the dressing room and quietly decided he wants what they have — not after retirement, not as a footnote, but now, while it still counts. He hasn’t said it. He doesn’t have to. Rook has always been able to read him.
The cover is going to fail. It has to. And underneath the panic of being caught, Rook can see what Varga has been carrying alone — the quiet, dangerous wanting of a man who has decided he is done waiting for the version of his life that he can have right now.