Page 68 of Temptation On Ice

Tucker

One month later

The entire Combat Companions organization, along with several of the veterans we’ve matched with service dogs, stands behind me on the carpeted portion of the ice as Ajax is once again tasked with dropping the ceremonial puck to start the game. I look up at the Jumbotron and take in the sight of ten full-grown service dogs in front of their handlers, all decked out in their military uniforms or Combat Companions shirts, and realize the magnitude of what I’ve built.

I thought I was broken beyond repair when I left the police force. But it turns out I could take those ruins after losing two partners and whatever was left of me, and transform them into something beautiful.

I thought I was a failure for not protecting my partners, but there was something I could do with the skills I’d built as a K9 officer after all, even if I wasn’t in that career any longer. This is the fruition of those fragile dreams and hard work, finally coming together after years of struggling and believing in the cause, even when I didn't think I was worthy.

Rowan is wearing his Army Ranger beret and green fatigues, Atlas at his side. Hayden stands with Lux, Ava with Ruger, and Cami with Ivy. The veterans who make up the remainder of the group have traumas that are both visible, like prosthetic limbs or scars, and invisible wounds that only they can tell you about. Whether or not you can see what they struggle with, they’re all united by the dogs at their sides that my little group of trainers has worked with. Storm, a husky-mix who is paired with a man missing limbs. Wren, a Labradoodle who specializes in calming her female veteran through intense anxiety and CPTSD. Timber, a pit-mix with the dopiest personality that brings his handler joy after a dark decade. Orion, a hound-mix who helps a blind veteran. And Tonka, the sweetest pit bull I’ve ever met who calms his handler and helps him through disturbing mission-related flashbacks.

Pride fills me for the work we do, the mission this organization fulfills every day to end Veteran suicide and help our service men and women who return forever changed after protecting our country and giving more than most of us can even fathom. Combat Companions service dogs give wounded service members a way to regulate, adapt, and have a best friend to help them through the lows as well as the highs.

A shit ton of hard work, a little creativity from the people who believe in us, and some luck at the right time were everything we needed to see growth that’s led to success. Cami was right about this partnership after all. Once the initial novelty of Sebastian and me being together wore off, we started getting more training requests. Turns out there are a lot of local hockey fans with dogs that wanted to say they were trained by the Hydras’ captain’s boyfriend. The donations roll in fairly regularly now, as well. Business is booming, our partnership is going strong, and I love seeing my boyfriend right in front of me as he stands with the other team’s captain for photos to celebrate Military Appreciation Night.

“Better smile pretty, Country Boy. These photos will be all over socials again,” Sebastian says before turning back to the cameras.

“Worry about yourself, City Boy. You’ve got a job to do tonight that’s bigger than mine,” I chide, holding back a chuckle.

“I’ll show you what’s bigger if you don't watch yourself,” he growls, leaning toward me and winking.

Fucking swoon.

This man never stops flirting with me, even though I’m a sure thing.

“You really are a temptation on ice.” I shake my head, laughing in wonder. He turns back to me, face softening into a smile as he takes my hand.

“You're the temptation that disrupted my whole life. You tore apart what I knew, brought down my walls, and revealed everything that was missing just by walking into my life with that fucking puppy,” he says, sobering from the flirty banter, threatening a good time later.

My cheeks heat, trying not to melt into a puddle right here in front of almost nineteen thousand people.

“What’re you doing?” I ask, attempting to lower our hands so he can go back to his face-off and the game can officially start. This wasn't in the programming for the night. McKenna is going to be pissed if we screw up her plan.

“Letting everyone know you’re mine,” Sebastian replies.

He drops his stick as he leans in, pulling me close by palming the back of my head. He slants his mouth over mine and kisses the hell out of me. The noise in the arena rivals the decibels it hits when they score a goal as his tongue slides along mine, lips insistent and demanding I kiss him back. I cling to his jersey over the protective padding that has made him bigger than ever as he towers over me, making me feel small in his strong arms. I can't fight him, so I give in, wrapping my arms around his neck. He dips me back, surprising a moan out of me as I grip him tightly and let one leg come up along his hip before he straightens back up. We part breathlessly, and I stare at him in shock.

“You can't be serious right now.” I gasp, fighting for the breath he stole. “That was insane.” I look around and catch the cameras focused on us. My face is plastered on the Jumbotron, my cheeks heating while so many people watch us. This is going to make it onto SportsCenter, the media will have a field day again, and there will inevitably be more people wanting to get in my business, maybe even try to show up at my house again.

“I’m more serious about this than winning the game tonight, and you know I want that because Les Monstres here,” he says, thumbing at the other player, “think they rule hockey, being the oldest professional hockey team in the league. We gotta remind them that even if Atlanta is the youngest team, we’re still bigger and better than Montreal, and we’ll wipe the ice with them.”

The other team captain scoffs. “Fils de pute,” he says, and begins to argue in French, when Sebastian cuts him off.

“Excusez-moi, it’s rude to speak another language. Besides, I’m busy loving my guy here, Benoit.”

“Allons-y, fifs,” the captain says, spitting on the ice and rolling his eyes.

Sebastian scoffs and turns back to me, but I’m stuck on the way the captain looked at us, like our love and kissing so publicly was shameful. It reminds me of the way I was treated when I came out. This is what being with me is bringing to Sebastian. He may want to let everyone know I’m his, but they don't always want to see it, and it could mean a lot of horrible things for him.

My hands shake, and it feels like I have cotton shoved down my throat, blocking my airway. I grip Sebastian’s hand tighter, focusing on only him while trying to take in even breaths so I don't lose sight of what’s real as the tumult of intrusive thoughts spins in my brain, cycling through everything that could go wrong. Every mistake I’ve ever made flashes in my mind’s eye, making promises of how I’m going to fuck up now to push him away, or fail him, somehow.

Sebastian places his gloved hands on either side of my head, blocking out everything but his face, and leans in.

“I got you, baby. We’re good.” He inhales deeply, coaxing me to do the same. I grip his wrists, letting him anchor me in the moment instead of spiraling with my racing heart and winding up higher with my anxious thoughts. My lips tremble and my vision hazes, going black at the edges as I begin to hear the familiar pounding of running feet that always reminds me of where I’ve fucked up.

STOP.

I blink hard. It’s not the shout I usually hear from my disjointed memories. Instead, it’s my present voice telling me to stop imagining the worst.