Have a good day, baby. -T
Graham cocked his head, studying the note. Wait. No, it wasn’t adashbefore Thad’s initial, it was a small heart. A funny, lopsided little heart that made Graham swallow thickly and press his fingertips to his mouth.
Thad, he thought, his chest aching with a sweet softness he’d never imagined feeling for another man.
Graham had felt so much tenderness in Thad’s touch last night.
He’d done everything in his power to give Graham the best possible experience bottoming for the first time. But it had beenmorethan that. Some unspoken but tangible connection between them that had made Graham’s head spin.
It buoyed Graham still, his mood light as he shut off the alarm, threw back the covers, and went in search of Murphy. He scooped the dog up, spinning him in the air before he pulled him close and kissed the top of his head.
Murphy gave him a look as if to say, “What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?”
Graham’s good mood continued despite the cold snap outside and heavy traffic on the way to practice.
Graham could hardly sit still in video review or while he did his workout and when he took a seat at a table to eat lunch with the guys, Connor squinted. “What is up with you today?”
“Just feeling good,” Graham said cheerfully.
Connor’s look of grumpy suspicion deepened.
“Sooo,” Jesse said, plunking down his food across from Connor and next to Graham. “What did you decide on for a Halloween costume? Party’s tonight.”
“Uhhh,” Graham said because, fuck, he’d totally forgotten. He’d been too wrapped up in hockey and Thad to think about Halloween. “Um, Greek toga.”
His fraternity had held a themed party one year and the costume had traveled with him to his current apartment. He was pretty sure it was buried in the back of his closet and wrinkled all to hell, but he could probably steam the wrinkles out before his pre-game nap.
“Basic. Low effort,” Jesse said, wrinkling his nose. “But you’ll look good in it.”
“What’s yours?” Graham asked.
“It’s a surprise.” Jesse winked.
“What’s yours?” Graham asked Connor.
“I don’t know, and I am fucking terrified to find out,” Connor grumbled, glaring at his boyfriend.
Oh boy.Tonight was going to be interesting.
As Graham tore up the ice and sliced around one of Ottawa’s defensemen with less than two minutes left in the game, Thad held his breath.
Holy shit. Graham had been on fire all night, with two goals already. If he pulled this off …
The puck rocketed off Graham’s blade, sailing over the goaltender’s shoulder and landed in the upper left corner of the net.
Top fucking shelf.
The roar of the crowd was deafening, not only the building, but Thad’s chest reverberating with the noise as hats sailed down onto the ice.
Thad tried to focus on filming it, on capturing the jubilant celebration of the crowd, but his gaze was drawn to Graham’s face, and he zoomed in on his triumphant expression as Anker and Connor and Tanner and Crawford smothered him in a celly.
He re-appeared a few moments later, red-cheeked and sweaty and still beaming. He skated toward the bench for glove taps, his gaze lingering on Thad, and thus the camera lens, as he went.
Thad felt shaky when he finally lowered the camera. Fuck. He loved that man. He loved his skill and his talent. His hard work and his kindness.
He loved the way he smiled and his openness.
He loved every goddamn thing about him.
