It’s selfish, but hockey is the only thing that’s ever stayed.
If I lose it, I lose the one place I know exactly who I am—crease, angles, breath, silence.
The league has already treated me like luggage: shipped, unpacked, shipped again.One whisper in the wrong ear, one photo, one rumor that I’m not the man they want selling jerseys, and they’ll just stop calling.
And the worst part is my body doesn’t care about any of that when he looks at me like this.
He moves closer—slowly.Like a predator that already knows the ending.
“You keep saying no,” he says softly, licking his lips, eyes locked on my mouth, “which I respect.But your body is asking for something else.And I’m really good at giving people what they need.”
“I didn’t say?—”
“I won’t cross the line,” he cuts in.“But say the word, babe, and I’ll fuck you until you remember how to breathe.”
My resolve cracks.
I shake my head, trying to ground myself.“You don’t understand.”
“I understand plenty.”His gaze drifts along my jaw, not touching, almost touching.“Being alone feels safer.Nobody gets hurt.But every time you shut people out, you break them a little.Ves won’t say it because she’s scared you’ll disappear on her the way you did on me.”
The words hit.
“You left me,” he says quietly.
“I didn’t.”
He laughs without humor.“Sure felt like it.As if I wasn’t enough.Like I was a mistake you wanted gone.”His eyes narrow.“You fucking used me—and left me.”
“I never used you,” I snap.“We left each other.It was mutual.”
“No,” he says, stepping in.“It wasn’t.You regretted that night.You made me feel like I imagined everything.You punished me for wanting you.”
“You pushed for it.”
“I thought we were ready—” he presses his lips together, looking at me as if searching for something— “The three of us.”
“Ready for what?”
“For loving each other.For giving you everything I had—my body, my heart—both of you.”His voice shakes.“I’d already done it.”
“It couldn’t happen,” I say, and the words taste like failure.“Men like us don’t get that.Hockey players don’t love men.We survive.We shut it down.”
“You chose the jersey over us,” he says.“You sound just like my fucking family.”
“You think we would’ve survived?”
“We’ll never know,” he fires back.“You made the decision for us.”
“It wouldn’t have worked.”
“Still won’t.Not until you stop hiding and start loving the two people who never walked away.”
“You failed me too,” I growl.“All those jokes and punches the next morning just proved that I was right.”
“I defended myself,” he snaps.“You looked at me like I was nothing.Like I repulsed you.”
“You don’t,” I breathe.“You never repulsed me.I looked at you like that because if I didn’t—if I let myself look at you the way I wanted—there was no going back.”
