Fraser kept his eyes on the left side of the net and took his shot. The goalie slammed his body down on the ice, trying to stop a puck that wasn’t there.
No, because Fraser had feinted the shot, purposely sending the puck past the left side to force the goalie out. And if you had the right speed and angle, and a fuckton of luck, the puck would bounce back and—
Fraser slapped the puck toward the now open side of the net, and Harrison was sure his heart had seized in his chest until he heard the sound of rubber hitting metal at high speed.
Fraser’s aim had been off by an inch. The puck bounced off the pipe and rebounded toward Frost, who was ready to turn the play around.
He didn’t pass the blue line before the buzzer went off, ending the game with Team Arlo’s 1-point lead. Every person who hadn’t been on their feet was up, cheering so loudly that Harrison was sure he would go deaf.
Team Arlo was on the ice the next moment, helmets and gloves flying in every direction as they threw themselves at each other incelebration. Arlo was buried under them somewhere, and Harrison smiled when Frost received his fair share of ruffling and smacking around.
A lone player approached him on the ice, stopping beside the wall. Harrison knew it was Fraser without having to look, so he kept his eyes on Arlo as his cousin appeared from under a pile of sweaty hockey players.
“Perfected it, eh?”
He didn’t know if Fraser could hear him over the cheering that didn’t appear to be ending any time soon, but then he heard a loud laugh respond.
“It needs a little adjusting,” yelled Fraser. “I’ve kept testing new ways to make it better.”
Harrison ran his fingers through his beard, pretending to look lost in thought. “Well, it makes sense now that you wanted to change the name. Epic failures like that deserve recognition too.”
The players were leaving the ice, and the fans were settling down. Harrison saw Mike breaking his stick over his leg in anger, and he would have paid money to see that replayed over again on whatever News channel that recorded it.
“Mike seems happy,” said Harrison, finally looking at Fraser and rewarding him with a smile.
Fraser brightened at his unspoken praise, and Harrison was again struck by how gorgeous he was. Even with his blond curls soaked with sweat and his cheeks red from overexertion, he had to fight back the urge to touch him.
Fuck, what was he? A horny teenager?
He had never been this attracted to another guy in his life. He only existed to play hockey before, so dating and hookups were out of the question. In the five years after his accident, he had never bothered. It was too much work, and people were too fucking annoying.
And yet here he was, possibly the most annoying person in all of Nova Scotia, and Harrison wanted to grab him and kiss the stupid smile off his face.
“You’re proud and youknowit,” said Fraser. “I impressed you. I can feel it.”
“If I’m proud of anyone here, it’s Arlo,” said Harrison. “You fumbled that last shot, and you lost the game.”
Fraser was undeterred.
“I might have lost the game, but I bet I won your heart.” He winked at Harrison before trying to bolt away with a laugh, only to smack into Arlo, who had been skating toward them.
Harrison kept a straight face as he watched Arlo and Fraser untangle from each other, but when Fraser fled from the ice with his ears red, he couldn’t hold back his laughter.
“Was he…hitting on you?” Arlo asked when Harrison’s laughter died, shooting confused looks in the direction Fraser had run off to.
“No, he was trying to get the final say because he’s a damn idiot,” said Harrison. He shook his head in disbelief. Fraser was a walking disaster. “Are you not leaving to get changed?”
Arlo’s complexion was pale, slowly turning green as he stood before Harrison. When the door to the bench opened and two men stepped inside, it was obvious what was going on.
One of the men he knew was Arlo’s coach, but the other was unknown and looked very self-important.
“Townsend,” said Coach Nash. “I want you showered and in my office in ten.”
Arlo turned greener, and he nodded. He looked like he was about to be told he couldn’t play hockey anymore, not that he was about to be told that he could playmorehockey.
He left without saying goodbye to Harrison, keeping his head low to avoid meeting his coach’s gaze.
Coach let out a snort of disbelief. “Kids these days, no ambition.” He turned and motioned for the suit to follow, but the man ignored him and kept his attention on Harrison.
