Page 26 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

“Can someone let me know when Fraser decides to show up? It’s getting boring out here without that little ferret running around, trying to fuck up my defence.”

“Mind your own business, Wolfy! Leave Fraser alone, or I’ll have Coach push you down to fourth line.”

It was easier to steer clear when Bracken and Wolf clashed over something stupid.

Between Ryan Bracken’s fiery Scottish temper and Detlef Wolf’s cold, calculated fury, things could get explosive fast. Most of the time, they were great friends.

But when it came to hockey, all bets were off—and so were the gloves.

Match, meet gasoline.

Jett was glad they had time to work out their aggression before a real game. It was a different vibe when they got down to business. Their friendship and bickering were well known and celebrated, and the fans loved watching their pregame fist bumps and brotherly razzing on the ice.

There were those two, and then there was—

Maniacal laughter ahead wasn’t enough to make Jett stumble, but he knew he had missed his shot when he touched the puck.

Jason Powers was on fire today. He snatched the puck out of the air with effortless precision, making it look so easy that Jett felt like he hadn’t tried .

Fucking goalie.

Good thing he was on their team.

They paused their play, since Wolf and Bracken were still arguing, and Jett took a moment to practice his stick-handling with the puck Powers had tossed in front of him. At this rate, he was the one who was going to end up on the fourth line.

He shouted as someone lifted him off his feet in a quick hug, then dropped him back onto his skates. He wobbled, slipping slightly before regaining his balance.

“Jetty!”

A big glove touched the top of his head and gave him a shake, knocking him off balance again.

“Is everything alright?” Powers asked, spinning Jett around so they could talk face to face. “Ryan was saying you were acting shell-shocked.”

Jett wasn’t surprised that Powers and Bracken were swapping info. Their goalie and captain were best friends and roommates, and despite how close they were and how much time they spent together, they were astonishingly very straight and both single.

Their relationship had fooled Jett when he first joined the team. He and Powers started their rookie year together, and they both had been roommates with Bracken long enough to get settled on the team while they found a place to live.

Okay, Jett moved out, but Powers had been content to stay where he was at Bracken’s house, and they were still going strong.

Bracken and Powers were openly affectionate with each other, and always went around saying they were work husbands. Jett had assumed they were a couple because they were still living together, and it wasn’t like they’d been lifelong friends, but Bracken was quick to correct him when he asked.

“We just clicked.”

That’s what he’d said. And now that Jason had signed another contract for eight years with the Sunbursts, they were practically inseparable. Preston Rose—their previous starter goalie—was happy to let Powers take the lead and help him grow before he retired next year .

The team’s chemistry with Powers in net was electric. He was young, sure—but undeniably talented, and it brought out the best in everyone around him.

In other words, their team vibe was fantastic right now, and Jett was the only thing bringing them down.

“I’m fine,” Jett lied. “I didn’t get much of a break during the off-season. I’m easing back into things so I don’t burn out.”

Powers wasn’t like Bracken, who had been on the Sunbursts since the beginning of his hockey career. He was a new and shiny star—the same age as Jett, young and energetic. Burn out was a foreign concept to him.

“Do you need to come into my crease for a cuddle session?” Jason asked him in total seriousness.

Jett tried and failed to keep from smiling. It was impossible not to laugh with Jason waggling his eyebrows at him like a weirdo.

“Bro, I don’t want anything to do with your crease,” said Jett. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Oh, come on. Rai says crease cuddles always make him feel better.”

And again, Jett didn’t feel bad for mistaking them as a couple. Jesus, Harrison would have a field day whipping these idiots into shape.

He must have made a face because Powers grabbed his arm to steady him. “Shit, that wasn’t offensive or anything, was it? Did I push a boundary?”

Jett loved his team. They were seriously the nicest, most welcoming guys.

“No boundaries were pushed, Powers.” Jett lifted his glove for a fist bump, which Jason happily obliged. “I’ll be okay. I’m just working through some shit. Tell Bracken to put a hold on the Disney sleepover for now, and I’ll get my head screwed on right.”

“Dude, we’re still doing that sometime,” said Powers, smiling wide enough to show off all his perfect teeth. “The day after we win the cup, it’s on .”

Goalies, Jett decided, were a different breed of human.

The yelling settled into mumbled bickering as the whistle blew, signalling the return to their game.

Jett accepted another rough pat from Powers and went to center ice for the face-off. There were still plenty of glares from Wolf and exasperated eye-rolls from the rest of the team, but they were back in sync—more or less.

Bracken won the face-off with a simple flick of his wrist, and Jett took position on his right with Hellstrom on his left. They barreled down the ice, finally getting in sync with each other for the first time that day.

Wolf pushed between them to block, but Jett was ready to catch a pass, using his speed to weave through the opposing team’s defence like he was used to doing. Hellstrom was open, but Jett was feeling good about his position.

He slapped the puck toward the left side of the net, grinning as Jason overcommitted to the block. It ricocheted off the boards and came flying back at him, and Jett took a split second to aim before firing it cleanly into the open gap he’d created.

He was still off, and he wasn’t used to having a goalie in the net, but the shot was heading for the upper-left corner—only until Powers dove for it at the last second and caught it in his glove.

He had failed, but the look of shock on Jason’s face was enough to make Jett laugh out loud, resting his hands on his thighs while he caught his breath.

So. Fucking. Close.

“What the fuck, Jett?” Bracken stopped beside him and stared at the space between him and Jason, who was looking down at the puck in his hand like it had all the answers in the universe.

No, wait. He was talking to it.

Jett shook his head at Jason’s behaviour and turned to his captain. “I told you guys I didn’t get much rest.”

Hellstrom snorted a laugh and skated off, but Bracken continued to frown at him, waiting patiently for Jett to explain.

“Later,” said Jett, pushing toward the new face-off spot as the whistle blew again. He knew Bracken was waiting for him to talk about what happened with Harrison, but he couldn’t right now.

As the practice game moved on, he knew he was being watched. If he were on any other team when he tried Killinger’s trick, he doubted it would be noticed, but he played for the Sunbursts.

This team had watched hundreds of clips and highlights from Harrison’s games before he got drafted, so the guys would easily recognize what he had tried to pull off. There was lingering excitement and anticipation every time he touched the puck, but he didn’t want to try it again.

Coach Zackery Adams was on the ice with him, and his eyes were locked onto Jett no matter where he was on the rink. It was too much pressure right now, and pressure was the last thing he needed when he was still playing like shit.

He was so pathetic. He promised himself he wouldn’t let his relationship with Harrison distract him, but he knew his agitation was showing as the hours passed.

The final whistle blew, and Coach gave Jett a look sharp enough to pin him in place—a silent warning that if he didn’t pull it together, there’d be an office chat in his future. Jett sighed and slumped.

He quickly geared down, cooled down and hit the shower so he could return to his hotel room and sulk, but Bracken stopped him on his way out and pushed him into a small side-hallway.

“Alright, talk,” said Bracken, posturing himself so Jett wouldn’t attempt to get around him and escape.

“I can’t take another day of you listening to Lana Del Ray on your headphones so loud that I can hear the angels weeping in the chorus.

I feel like I’m a part of the world’s sappiest, tragic love story. ”

“How about you fuck yourself?” Jett snapped, hating how warm his cheeks burned. “It’s not a love story, Bracken. Killinger has nothing to do with this.”

“You’re calling me Bracken off the ice, Jetty? Really?” Ryan feigned hurt by placing his hand over his heart. “You’ve wounded me.”

Jett rolled his eyes, which he knew was childish, but seriously .

“And don’t bull-shit me about Killinger,” Ryan went on, slipping back into his serious captain mode.

“You’ve told me about guys before, but you’ve never looked this anxious or wrecked about leaving any of them.

Harrison Killinger is different. And that’s okay.

There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I just want you to trust me enough to talk about it, because I care about you, and I care about this team. ”

He loved his captain, but hell, he didn’t know if he could open up and talk about it yet. There was too much chaos in his head; whispers of truths he didn’t want to admit mixed with guilt and self-hatred .

Jett hated thinking it, but part of him believed that Harrison didn’t come with him because being with him, friendship or more , was not a good enough reason to leave his comfort zone.

“He’s a damn good teacher,” said Ryan, interrupting Jett’s downward spiral. “You’re playing like shit, but I’ve noticed a huge difference—and so have the rest of the guys.”

Jett smiled, allowing some happiness and pride to fill him again.

“We’re waiting on the edge of our seats for you to kick into gear. I don’t know what it is, but I think something is about to change for the better, and it’s because of Killinger.”

Jett’s eyes widened. “Don’t jinx us—”

“I’m not.” Ryan held his hands up to halt Jett’s superstitious rant.

“I’m trying to tell you that there’s been noticeable improvement with you, Jetty.

It’s because you’re a talented player who was bound to grow into this game, but there’s a new air of confidence around you too. Meeting Killinger was good for you.”

Ryan didn’t know the half of it.

“That job I was talking about is open for him,” said Ryan, nudging Jett’s arm with a goofy grin. “If he ever changes his mind, Coach was ready to personally fund his paycheck to get him here—especially after seeing you play over the last few days.”

“I never made the offer,” Jett admitted. “He can be intimidating, and I was caught in the pace of training and conditioning. I don’t think telling him will change anything, but I’ll let him know.”

Ryan’s posture relaxed into something more casual, and Jett took a breath, thankful the conversation was finished.

Jason popped around the corner, startling Jett and Ryan with his sudden appearance.

“What are you guys whispering about over here?” Jason asked, walking over to sling his arm across Ryan’s shoulders. “Did Jetty tell you what’s wrong yet?”

Ryan locked eyes with Jett. “I don’t know. I think he’s sad about leaving his friend behind in Nova Scotia-land, and I’m sad because I didn’t get to play Jett’s wingman.”

Jett groaned and knocked his head against the wall. Was he really that obvious ?

Jason’s baby blue eyes widened comically, and Jett begrudgingly smiled.

“Jett has a boyfriend? Holy shit.”

Ryan smacked a hand over Jason’s mouth, which only lasted as long as it took for him to get licked.

Christ, there was something wrong with them.

“No need for a wingman right now,” said Jett. “But that doesn’t mean anything, so please don’t bring it up or hint at it. We’re just friends—I think.”

“Who’s the guy?” asked Jason, his eyes darting back and forth. “He has to be hot. You’re too pretty to get caught up with—what do they have over there in Scotia? Bearded fishermen?”

“Hockey players too,” said Ryan. “Including Harrison Killinger.”

“Oh yeah, he’s pretty hot.” Jason trailed off, and Jett and Ryan waited patiently, knowing the lightbulb would eventually turn on.

“Wait.” Jason stared at Jett in silence long enough for it to be slightly uncomfortable. “You and—Harrison Killinger? He’s like, a legend around here.”

Jett wished more than anything in that moment that the ground would open under his feet and swallow him.

“How many pucks did you take to the head today?” Ryan asked Jason, knocking his knuckles to his head to check for signs of life. “I was trying to be subtle, but keep talking because I think the people on the other side of the building haven’t heard you yet.”

“Shit.” Jason slapped a hand over his mouth. “I wasn’t being an ass, I swear.” He crossed the space separating them and hugged Jett to his chest. They were almost the same height, so he begrudgingly set his chin on a broad shoulder and sighed.

“You did good, buddy,” said Jason, ruffling his hair. “I have his rookie trading cards. Killinger is hot, and you’re pretty. It’s the perfect combination.”

Ryan sighed loudly and hooked his hand into the back of Jason’s jersey, yanking him away from Jett so he could breathe again. “Stop talking, for the love of fuck, please stop talking . ”

“I’m just trying to support him,” said Jason, stumbling back to his spot next to Ryan like he was being pulled on a leash. “He’s sad because his guy isn’t here, so it’s our job to cheer him up.”

Jett needed to take hold of this situation before they ended up at a random bar, getting shit-faced and table-top dancing.

“I’m going to call him,” said Jett, already pulling out his phone to show them what he was doing. “I told him I would after practice, so you guys can go ahead, and I’ll take a few minutes to talk with him. Tomorrow I’ll do better, I swear.”

And just for good measure, Jett picked a number and hit call.

Ryan and Jason scrambled out of the hallway, giving him thumbs up and silent cheers. Jett waved and watched them go, relief filling him once they were out of sight.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Arlo,” said Jett quietly. “I have to kill some time, and you’re a thirty-minute drive from me. Can we meet for lunch?”

Arlo paused long enough that Jett checked to see if he had been hung up on.

“Yeah, Fraser. Send me the location and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks.” Jett hung up and started Googling somewhere to go. He hadn’t had the guts to contact Harrison other than sending his landing confirmation text, but if anyone could help him sort out his feelings for Killinger—it was Mini Killinger.