“Urgh,” Jacob grumbled, slowly coming around and sensing that the morning wasn’t going to start quite like he’d want it to.
A dull throb pulsed behind his left eye—sharp enough to make him wince when he rolled over to silence his phone alarm.
The digital clock read 6:47 a.m.
Puck drop was still twelve hours away, but the headache already felt like it had been waiting for him.
Jacob lay there for a minute, staring at the beige ceiling, willing the pain to ease. When it didn’t, he reached for the one thing that usually quieted his mind: the bright yellow Nintendo Switch on the nightstand. He powered it on, loadedAnimal Crossing, and tried to lose himself in watering virtual flowers and chatting with villagers who never judged his life choices.
But ten minutes later the cheerfulboopsounds only made the throb worse.
Jacob tossed the console onto the duvet with a frustrated huff and scrubbed both hands over his face.
Fuck this.
I can’t go into game day like this.
Nope. Not happening…
Jacob swung his legs out of bed. The carpet was rough under his bare feet. He didn’t bother pulling on pants—just the black briefs with the tiny white bears printed across the ass, the ones Tane had bought him as a teasing callback to that first disciplinary spanking. They were soft now, worn from too many secret sleepovers, and right now they were all he had the energy for.
He cracked the door, scanned the empty fifteenth-floor corridor… standard Enforcers road-trip protocol: entire floor booked, security at both ends—and slipped out.
Tane’s room was four doors down. Jacob padded along the hallway, heart picking up speed with every step, the cool air-conditioning prickling his bare skin and raising goosebumps along his arms and chest.
He knocked twice.
Soft but urgent.
The door opened so fast a rush of warm air hit him. A large hand closed around his wrist and yanked him inside. The door slammed shut; the deadbolt clicked into place.
“Jesus Christ, Jacob,” Tane said, voice still rough with sleep. He wore nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants, hair mussed, chest rising and falling like he’d crossed the room at a sprint. “You trying to get photographed half-naked in the hallway on playoff morning?”
Jacob blinked up at him. Even through the headache he registered how unfairly good Tane looked—his broad shoulders filling the doorway, silver threads catching the low light at his temples, the faint scar through his left eyebrow from an old hit in Vancouver. Thirty-eight suited Captain Tane in ways that still made Jacob’s stomach flip.
“Sorry,” Jacob mumbled, rubbing his wrist where Tane’s fingers had gripped. “I just… couldn’t stay in there by myself.”
Tane studied him for a beat, then the hard line of his mouth softened. He cupped Jacob’s face with one warm palm, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “Headache?”
Jacob nodded miserably. “Bad one. Switch didn’t help. Nothing’s helping. And I know we talked about… morning stuff before the game, but I’m not—” His voice cracked. “I’m not in the mood. I’m sorry.”
Disappointment flickered across Tane’s face for half a second, quick enough that most people would have missed it. But Jacob saw it, and a sense of guilt twisted in his gut. Then Tane’s expression settled into the steady, protective calm Jacob had come to rely on more than air.
“Hey. None of that,” Tane said as he pulled him in, wrapping both arms around him until Jacob’s forehead rested against his collarbone. “You’re allowed to not be in the mood, boy. Especially today.”
Jacob melted against his man, breathing in clean soap, his arms sliding around Tane’s waist to trace the old scar along his rib. Tane pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
“Come with me,” Tane said, commanding as ever.
He steered Jacob toward the rumpled bed, climbed in first, then tugged Jacob down so they were spooned together—Tane behind, one thick thigh hooked over Jacob’s, hand settling warm and heavy on his stomach. Slow circles with his thumb. Soothing with every movement.
“Room service,” Tane murmured against his hair, already reaching for the phone. “Honey and lemon, extra honey, no caffeine. Yeah?”
Jacob nodded, this throat tight.
Tane ordered in that low, no-nonsense captain voice that still sent a shiver through him even when he felt like garbage. When he hung up, he pulled the duvet higher and drew Jacob closer.
“Talk to me,” Tane said quietly.
