“Look, I know I shouldn’t have to say this out loud,” said Gates. “But the guys and I won’t be offended if you never hang out with us again. We wouldn’t blame you.”
“Thanks,” said Jett, ignoring how shaky his voice sounded. Fuck, what the hell was that? What was wrong with Mike? “Let’s just enjoy this last game. Kicking your ass on the ice is my favourite part of the day.”
Gates laughed, and his hand left Jett’s shoulder to give him a playful smack on the back of his head. “I thought you were supposed to be humble like all the media folks keep pushing.”
Jett smiled, feeling lighter as they walked down the hall toward the rink.
Gates left him as soon as they made it to the bench, and Jett distracted himself by checking his skates and finding his helmet. He was so frazzled after what had happened between him and Mike that he forgot why Gates had interrupted them.
There was a crowd in the stands today, like every day that week. The news of his visit had travelled fast to the point where the rink owners had to hire security to manage the number of people coming in. Every seat was full, and cheers erupted when he stepped onto the ice.
It helped cheer him up, and he forgot about Mike. It was difficult to linger on the bad things when there were hundreds of screaming fans there for the same reason he was; they fucking loved hockey.
He started his warmup quickly since he was already behind the others. This wasn’t an official game, but he wanted to give everyone a show since this was his last day playing, which meant stretching properly and warming his muscles. He was not risking an injury for Mike, friend or not.
He was taking turns shooting the puck at the net to get in the zone when he saw Townsend standing in front of the opponent’s bench, talking to a person who was more beard than man.
He completely missed his next shot. The puck hit the iron and ricocheted into the shielding with a clatter. The group of kids behind the glass started cheering excitedly, allowing Jett to recover and escape with dignity.
He couldn’t keep from sliding up beside Townsend if he wanted to, even when two pairs of blue eyes landed on him in the most intimidating way.
“What’s up?”
The words left Jett’s mouth before he could rein them in, and he could already feel the heat creeping up his neck as Townsend raised an eyebrow at his casual greeting.
Killinger scoffed and ignored him, instead focusing his gaze on Townsend. “Repeat what I fucking said, because until I hear the words, I’m not agreeing to stay.”
Townsend’s posture straightened. “I’m not going to hold back. I’m going towin.”
The cousins shared a moment of silence that felt too personal for Jett to be a part of. He was about to leave and give them their space when Harrison pointed at him and barked, “You, stay where you’re at.”
Jett froze in place.
“And you,” Harrison lifted his hand for a fist bump, which Townsend gave him. “Play the best damn game you’ve ever played.”
The way Townsend lit up made it impossible for Jett not to smile. He could take home the Stanley Cup if Killinger talked to him like that before a game.
Townsend saluted his cousin and skated away, joining his selected teammates in line as they took turns at the net.
Jett tried to play it cool when Killinger’s gaze locked onto him, those blue eyes bringing every brain cell in his head to a halt so fast he could smell burnt rubber.
Even with the lumberjack vibe he had going on, Killinger had to be one of the sexiest men Jett had ever seen. He had lost a noticeable amount of muscle mass during the last five years, but he was broad-shouldered and tall, still towering above Jett even though he was in skates. He didn’t think a man-bun could have so much sex appeal, but now all Jett could think about was untying it so he could tangle his fingers in his black hair.
Everyone had their crushes, and most grew out of them. Jett thought he had reached that point with his tiny fascination with Killinger, but standing so close to him in this setting, standing close enough to smell his cologne and see the pissed-off expression on his face?
Fuck, he was half-hard so fast it physically hurt. Apparently, his cock liked it when he was being glared at with a look that could easily strip paint.
“You think you have what it takes to impress me, Fraser?”
Oh fuck. Why did he have to say those words in such a gravelly tone?
“I think I’m about to blow your mind,” said Jett. “By the end of this game, theKillingerwill be renamed theFraser.”
For some reason his mouth wouldn’t stop trying to pick a fight with Killinger, but it was worth it to see the cocky smile he got in response. All the butterflies in his stomach started frantically trying to escape, leaving Jett feeling unsteady on his skates.
For once, Mike’s interruption was a good thing. Jett took a second to get his mouth and his dick under control as Mike came to a stop next to him, giving Killinger a quick once-over.
“Harry Killinger, I can’t believe you came to watch today,” said Mike, extending his hand so Killinger could shake it. “I see you all the time when you show up to save Townsend’s ass from his shitty car, but we’ve never had a chance to talk.”
