Tyler opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it. It wouldn’t ever work, right? Couples had to make time for each other. They had to make each other a priority. There was a formula for what worked.
Except, in reality, there were a million exceptions to that. He thought about Layla and Mila, the wives of professional athletes whose work took them away from home for over half the year. He didn’t know Mila well, but Layla? She was someone who clearlyloved her husband and, even more than that, had her own life, and interests that she’d cultivated on her own.
“I just don’t know, Jamie,” Tyler finally whispered, and he didn’t try to hide the way his voice wavered, vulnerable and uncertain.
Jamie nodded, a sad but understanding smile on his face. “Okay. Take as much time as you need to think about it. I’ll be doing rehab on this stupid hand and thinking about how much I’m blowing my first season as the captain.”
Tyler scoffed, reaching out his foot to nudge the side of Jamie’s thigh.Hard. “None of that bullshit. Your team loves you. Even now, when you haven’t been playing, it’s obvious those guys look to you as a leader. They need you, Jamie. Get your head out of your ass and show up for yourself the way you show up for them.”
Jamie’s mustache twitched, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he shot Tyler a playful grin. “Did you seriously just captain me?”
Tyler laughed. “You’re damn right I did.” And then he added, “Are you sure? You really want me as your neglectful boyfriend?”
Jamie’s smile softened, andfuck,Tyler wanted to know what those lips felt like. He watched as Jamie shifted, leaning toward him and tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “I think you’re exactly what I want,” Jamie said, his voice gentle. “I’m going to head out and let you get some sleep.”
Jamie stood, shaking out his legs before moving to the door. Tyler followed him, not entirely sure what was going to happen next as Jamie slipped back into his tennis shoes.
When Jamie straightened and turned to face him, Tyler took a step forward, hands reaching out. “I want a hug,” Tyler said, flushing as he realized it hadn’t come out as a question.
Jamie obliged, moving like he’d been waiting and ready to gather Tyler up against his strong chest and hold him tightly. Jamie smelled like deodorant and a faint hint of clean sweat that reminded Tyler of naked skin.
“Take your time,” Jamie repeated, the words a low murmuragainst Tyler’s hair. “And whenever you want to talk, you tell me, okay? You tell me you’re ready, and I’ll be there.”
Tyler nodded, pressing his cheek against his firm chest, and the world was so quiet, then, quiet enough to hear the echoingthump-thump, thump-thumpof Jamie’s heart.
“Today was amazing,” Tyler whispered into the soft fabric. “Thank you for teaching Rowan to skate.”
Jamie hummed above him. “I had fun, too.”
Tell him you’re in.
Tell him he’s already proven himself, proven that there was enough time for them. Tell him all the excuses are falling through your fingers, weak and without merit.
Tell him you’re ready and you want to fall.
No. Not yet.
CHAPTER 13
JAMIE
JUST BE SULLY
Jamie pulled his beanie down as a sharp, cold wind whipped around the corner of the modern, stone house. He rapped his knuckles against the door again.
“Come on, Sharpie,” he muttered under his breath, shifting on his feet in an effort to keep his blood moving.
Finally a shadow passed behind the door. As soon as it opened, Jamie crowded in, not waiting to be invited. “Took you long enough,” he said as he nudged his boots off beside the pile of shoes by the front door.
“You know I retired to get away from you, right?” Aaron Sharpe shook his head with an amused smile. “I am supposed to sleep in, spend time with my beautiful wife, and enjoy some peace and quiet. Instead I am sewing these sequined and sparkly dance costumes, learning K-pop dances, and barely have time to exchange more than a high-five with Celina, now that she’s working.”
Jamie followed his captain–even retired, Sharpie wouldalwaysbe his captain–into the sleek slate and tile kitchen. “Coffee with all the sweet crap in it, no?” Sharpie always teased Jamie in a way that made him feel seen, like his former captain really, truly knew him.
He watched Sharpie make coffee, grumbling under his breath as he poured hazelnut creamer into one mug while leaving the other black. Once they both had their coffees, Sharpie led them over to the leather L-couch where they’d spent hours and hours talking over game video and the team and, well, anything. Jamie had always been able to talk to Sharpie about anything.
“How’s the hand?”
“Close,” Jamie said. The brace was just a precaution at that point. He was still doing PT daily, and was now putting in an hour of conditioning on the ice in addition to some light stick work without contact. Unless he did something else idiotic, he’d be cleared to practice in time to join the team on the road after Christmas. He’d get a few games under his belt before the Winter Classic, when all eyes would be on the Muskies. Onhim.
