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“Hey.” Jed wished Remy would look at him, but he supposed he deserved the cold shoulder. “I should apologize for last night.”

Now Remy did shoot a glance his way, clearly surprised. “Why?”

“Because you’re playing fine, and I shouldn’t have suggested otherwise.”

“Oh.” Remy dropped his head back against the seat and briefly closed his eyes. “I don’t think you were wrong about that. I know I’ve been tense out there. But⁠—”

“I didn’t have to be an asshole about it.”

Remy rolled his head in Jed’s direction, looking serious.

“I mean—you weren’t that out of line. It’s more that . . .” Remy trailed off again.

“Picking up at a club isn’t the solution?”

“Probably not.” Remy gave him a rueful smile. “I mean, you also weren’t totally wrong about that, in a way.”

“I wasn’t?” That little smile had drawn Jed’s eyes to Remy’s lips, and now he was thinking about how pink they were and what it would take to turn Remy’s cheeks that color.

“Nah. I probably do need to get laid. That’s basically what you meant, right?”

“I did?” Jed knew he sounded stupid, but his brain was still stuck on the idea of making Remy flush all over, and now Remy was actually talking about sex.

“Like, it’d probably be good for me.” Remy sighed. “I was kind of seeing someone in Montreal, but he didn’t want to do long distance, and I need to put that behind me.”

And damn if Remy wasn’t staring straight into Jed’s eyes as he said that, pulling Jed into his gaze. More milk-chocolate at the moment than caramel, Jed thought, before he caught himself and tried to remember what he was doing.

He was supposed to be fixing things with Remy, making sure he was shaking off the last few games. And now Remy was confessing to him that he wanted to find a new hookup? What the hell was Jed supposed to do with that?

When Jed’s phone pinged, he glanced down in relief, needing a moment to figure out how to regain control of the conversation. The text flashed on his lock screen. It was Mike, eloquent as always. And yeah, he’d been ignoring Mike’s last few texts asking how Remy was doing.

Ridder

Yo fuckbuddy why havent u been texting me

Jed grimaced. Mike was not the distraction he needed. Looking back up, he saw that Remy was staring at the phone.

“Where were we?” Jed asked.

Remy ignored his question.

“You and Mike Ridder text a lot?” There was a strange urgency in his voice.

“Sometimes.” Jed’s pulse started to speed up in response. “I think you know we played together in Boston. We’re still friends.”

“Friends?” Remy repeated, eyes still locked on the phone.

“Yeah, more or less.”

“More or less because you’re also fuck buddies?”

“What? No. That’s not what I meant.” Jed wished Remy would look at him.

“So why’s he calling you his fuck buddy, then?” Remy’s face was getting flushed now, but not the way Jed wanted. This looked like Remy getting upset about something.

“Well—” Jed drew the word out, trying to feel out what was making Remy upset, and decided that the direct approach was probably best, even if it meant sharing more than he was used to about his sex life or lack thereof. “I guess because we’re buddies who’ve fucked. He likes to remind me of that sometimes when he wants something from me. I know he was your coach, but this isn’t going to be a problem for you, is it?”

“My coach?” Remy kept his voice down, which Jed was grateful for, but his whisper was furious, and Jed’s whole body stiffened up in response. “Is Mike texting you about me?”