“At least you weren’t pulling a prank on me then,” Quinn said, laughing awkwardly—so fucking awkwardly. “Forget it. We’re not kids anymore, so we can be adults about this.”
August finally turned to look at him, still pale, still wincing from pain, but the hint of a smirk was enough to send tingles through Quinn’s body.
“Adults?”
Quinn nodded, no longer feeling sure of himself. “We could…start over? As friends—not boyfriends.”
Fuck, what was his brain doing to him? He was usually more articulate than this, but just like when he was a teenager, being near August made him stupid.
“It’s kind of impossible to avoid each other since you’re a part of my captain’s life,” said August, gaze flicking from Quinn’s eyes to his mouth and back so fast that Quinn almost missed it. “Friends. That’s good with me. I would also understand if you didn’t want to talk to me after tonight.”
Quinn swallowed, feeling like there was a rock caught in his throat.
“And about tonight,” August added, his cheeks flushing and gaze lowering. “Thank you. I haven’t had to deal with a nosebleed in a long time, and when I saw myself in the mirror…Yeah, I looked like something out of a horror scene.”
It wasn’t the blood that had worried Quinn the most, but the behaviour that accompanied it. But if August claimed he was okay, and if he really had been checked out by a doctor and they couldn’t find anything wrong, then he was happy to drop the subject and call it a fluke.
“There was no advantage to letting you die in your car from blood loss and hypothermia,” said Quinn. “I need you to help Eren win a cup, so don’t thank me.”
August peered at him through white-blond lashes, and the dangerous smirk that never failed to make Quinn’s heart flutter returned. “Oh? You’re using me, are you?”
Quinn put on his best act of appearing nonchalant while he checked his nail polish, but he couldn’t stop grinning either. “What, can’t handle the thought of being a tool at my disposal?”
August’s chuckle was just as dangerous as his smirk, and hearing it heated Quinn’s blood and made his hair stand on end.
“I would let you use me any way you want,” August said, groaning as he got more comfortable in his spot and reclined the seat. “It’s the least I can do considering the past between us. Use away, Harlow.”
August had no idea what he was doing by giving Quinn that sort of power.
“Feel free to light the fireplace and watch something until Niko comes back,” said August. His eyes were closed, and his speech was already beginning to slur. “I know you’re too stubborn to leave.”
“You don’t have to stay here with me,” said Quinn. “You have a bedroom with a bed that’s big enough to fit your giant body.”
“House is haunted,” August replied, the corner of his mouth curling into the tiniest of smiles. “Wouldn’t want you to get scared.”
This was too familiar. The banter, the headbutting—Quinn may as well be bickering with his high school boyfriend all over again.
“Quinn…”
Quinn drew his knees to his chest, curling in on himself as his eyes burned. He couldn’t stop staring at August’s sleeping face. It shouldn’t be this easy to be around him, not after everything, but somehow itwas.
August said what they’d had was real, even if he was dodgy about his answer, and maybe that was enough. Maybe that could beenough for him. Quinn could get up now, walk out, and never speak to him again. He could choose the version of himself that wanted to heal instead of cutting open old wounds.
He could.He should.
But no. He had to hold firm because he couldn’t stop thinking about thelookEren sometimes got in his eyes, and it terrified him.
Quinn loved his sister, and he knew Esme never would have made Eren promise to win the Stanley Cup if she thought the pressure would crush the man she loved—but it was. The only thing getting Eren through his grief right now was that promise, and Quinn didn’t know what would happen if he failed.
The day she died, Esme had made Quinn swear he’d look after Eren and the girls; that he’d make sure they were safe, loved, and happy. It was the last promise she’d ever asked of him, and while it wasn’t as difficult as winning the hardest trophy in sports, it still felt impossible sometimes.
All of his thoughts settled into a simple line of reasoning. He needed to make Eren happy. Winning the cup would make Eren happy. To win the cup, Eren said they needed August. August was struggling. August had told Quinn that he played better when he was watching. August had told Quinn that having sex regularly helped keep him out of his head. Quinn could offerhim sex. Quinn could get a little payback by choosing to be the one to break things off with August once they won the cup. Winning the cup meant Eren would be happy because he would have kept his promise to Esme. Eren being happy meant that Quinn would also have kept his promise to Esme.
And they all lived happily ever fucking after.
Sighing, Quinn pushed himself off the couch, careful to keep his footsteps light so he wouldn’t wake the man sleeping nearby. He slipped into the office, rummaged for a pen and something to write on, and jotted down his number as he made his way back to the living room.
It felt like he was breaking his first rule by leaving the door open for August to reach out, but it was already January, and Quinn didn’t have the luxury of moving slowly anymore.
