Jacob smiled and took a bite. Warm and sweet, the faint vanilla hit just right. He chewed slowly, watching Tane move around the kitchen like it was the most normal thing in the world. Jacob didn’t want to say it out loud, but they truly were a couple now. it just felt so perfectly normal.
After a minute he set the fork down.
“I’ve been thinking about that night,” Jacob said.
Tane turned off the burner, plated the last pancake, and slid it onto Jacob’s stack before sitting across from him. “Yeah?”
Jacob nodded. “I can’t lie. It really was exciting. On some level. The rush, the chaos, you charging in like that… it felt like something out of a movie. But that high? It’s gone now. And I don’t want it back. Not like that.”
Tane took a slow sip of coffee, eyes steady on Jacob’s face.
“I want tofocus,” Jacob continued. “On the ice. On winning. On us. Not on… whatever shadow games are going on out there. I don’t want to be the guy who gets off on the danger. I want to be the guy who scores the Cup-winner and then comes home to you.”
Tane set his mug down.
The corner of his mouth lifted—just a fraction, but enough.
“I’m with you,” Tane said. “All the way. From now until the final buzzer, we keep our heads down. No unnecessary outings. No parties. No solo walks. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you out of the limelight. A security detail if Antonio insists, private entrances, whatever. You’re not going through that again.”
Jacob exhaled, shoulders loosening. “Thanks.”
Tane reached across the island, palm up. Jacob placed his hand in it; their fingers laced together.
“There’s something else,” Jacob said quietly.
Tane waited.
“When I was a kid… twelve, maybe thirteen… I used to watch your games on TV every chance I got. You were my guy. The way you played… smart, tough, never flashy for the sake of it. You made it look like hockey was about heart more than talent. I wanted to be like that. I still do.”
Tane’s thumb brushed over Jacob’s knuckles. “You already are. Fuck. You’re more skillful than I ever was already.”
Jacob shook his head. “Hey, no way. Not yet. But I will be. And that means I’m following your lead on this. Whatever you say.Where I go, who I talk to, how low-key we stay… I’m in. No arguments. No sass. Just trust.”
Tane studied him for a long moment. Then he squeezed Jacob’s hand once.
“I’ll guide you,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe, keep us both safe. But it has to come from you in the end. You decide what kind of player you want to be, what kind of man. I’ll back you either way. Always.”
Jacob’s throat tightened. He nodded.
They sat like that for another minute—hands linked across the island, pancakes cooling, coffee going cold—until Jacob finally cracked a small grin.
“Deal.”
Tane released his hand, stood, and offered a fist across the counter.
Jacob bumped it with his own. It was firm, solid, the same way they tapped gloves before a shift on the ice. Jacob truly wanted to grow and develop a career he could be proud of. And in Tane, he had the perfect man to do it with.
“Training in thirty,” Tane said. “Gosling skate. Film. Then home. No detours.”
Jacob pushed back from the island. “Yes, sir.”
Tane rolled his eyes, but the fondness in them was unmistakable.
They cleared the plates together in a quick, efficient, domestic in a way that still felt new and precious. Jacob rinsed while Taneloaded the dishwasher. When the kitchen was tidy, they moved to the bedroom to change into training gear.
Jacob pulled on his compression shirt, wincing slightly at the lingering tenderness in his ribs. Tane noticed and stepped behind him, hands gentle on Jacob’s sides.
“Still sore?”
