This was his final season.
One more run at the Cup he’d fought for his entire career. Tane could feel the window closing—it was no longer wide open either, just a crack he was trying to wedge himself through. The body wanted to retire before the mind did. And that felt like the cruel part.
Tane let out a low growl, his animal instincts rising up in defiance.
He paced to the window, glass cool against his palm.
Could he get the form back? Yes, he absolutely could.
Tane still had the hockey IQ, the vision, the shot when the shoulder cooperated. But his confidence was fragile. One bad hit, one re-aggravation, and the doubt would creep in louder than any crowd. Or worse, he could find himself crumpled on the floor in agony, a truly miserable last sight of him on the ice for his legion of fans. Yes, he might have signed the contract extension but Tane knew that a serious injury requiring surgery for a player of his age could spell the end no matter what.
But before Tane could get too deep in his emotions, the front door clicked open.
Jacob stumbled in, his cheeks flushed, hair mussed, jacket half-off one shoulder. The stench of beer followed him. He grinned wide when he saw Tane, the sloppy, affectionate grin that only appeared after four or five pints with the squad...
“Captain Tane!” Jacob sang, kicking off his sneakers in two different directions. “We fuckin’ crushed ‘em. You were abeast. Chef’s kiss! Now let me kiss that delicious cock!”
Tane set the whisky down. “You’redrunk.”
“Celebratory drunk,” Jacob corrected, weaving toward him. “Gooddrunk.Hornydrunk.” He reached for Tane’s waist, fingers clumsy but determined.
Tane caught his wrists gently. “Easy, boy. You’re in no state.”
Jacob pouted, dramatic and endearing. “But I missed you. Everyone was toasting you and I just wanted to come home and climb you like a tree.”
Tane chuckled despite himself. “Pffft. You wish. Bed. Now. Water first.”
He steered Jacob down the hallway, one arm around his waist to keep him upright. Jacob leaned into him heavily, humming off-key.
“I’m not saying you’re not cute like this,” Tane said, a wry note in his voice. “But you’re definitely in no shape to be talking about us getting down and dirty.”
“Yeah yeah yeah,” Jacob replied, seemingly none the wiser as to what Tane was saying, his mind far too scrambled from the chasers that had almost certainly accompanied his beers.
In the bedroom, Tane flicked on the bedside lamp. Jacob flopped onto the mattress face-first, then rolled over and stared up at Tane with glassy, earnest eyes.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Jacob said suddenly, his voice thick with alcohol and unguarded sincerity. “Like…ever. Hockey, parties, all of it… it’s better because you’re here. You make me want to be better.”
Tane froze for a second, hand halfway to the water glass on the nightstand.
He played it off with a small smile.
“That’s the beer talking, kid,” Tane said. “And probably Petrone too.”
Jacob shook his head, slow and stubborn. “Nope. Sober Jacob thinks it too. Drunk Jacob is just brave enough to say it.”
Tane laughed but swallowed hard. Something warm and unfamiliar expanded in his chest… tender, almost painful. He sat on the edge of the mattress, brushed a lock of blond hair off Jacob’s forehead.
“Get some sleep,” he said quietly. “We’ve got a championship to win.”
Jacob caught his hand, held it against his cheek. “Promise you’ll still be here when I wake up?”
“Always,” Tane murmured.
He waited until Jacob’s breathing evened out, soft snores filling the room. Then he stood, turned off the lamp, and walked back to the living room.
The whisky waited on the side table. Tane picked it up, stared at the amber liquid for a long moment, then set it down untouched.
He wasn’t ready to quit. Notyet.
