Page 36 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

They won. They fucking won.

“I told Killinger what hotel we’re staying at,” said Ryan from the shower stall next to his. “I offered to pay for his room before he got here, but he told me to fuck off and hung up, so I let him handle it.”

“I would ask if you guys are joining us for celebration drinks, but I already know the answer.”

“Dude, what the actual fuck?”

“You know to use protection, right?”

“Really?!” Jett hissed. “Not that it’s any of your business, Bracken, but I’m on Prep and Harrison hasn’t left his house in five years. I think we’re good, dipshit. ”

Ryan grinned. “I was just joking, but I’m glad to hear that you’re taking your sexual health so seriously. Also, I wasn’t aware that inhabiting the woods counted as a safe sex method.”

Jett grabbed his towel, holding it like he was about to use it as a weapon, and Ryan took off, nearly slipping on the floor in his escape. He shook his head as he listened to Jason laugh at their mutual friend for being an idiot, smiling at how dumb they both were.

Normally, he would wait for the team to finish so he could walk out with them, but Jett knew they would understand if he snuck out. He hurried back to the locker room and got dressed, shoving stuff into his bag, with no thought to organization, and left.

Harrison was waiting for him in the hall, scowling and glaring at the media crew doing post-game interviews nearby.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jett said, breathless and grinning. It was so much easier to read Harrison’s expression without the beard. He stared at Jett and snorted a laugh, holding out his hand.

“I got a rental car. No offence to your team, but I’m not taking a shuttle back to the hotel with them.”

“ Our team,” Jett corrected, walking over to take Harrison’s hand and jab a finger into his chest with his free one, right in the center of the sun emblem on his jersey. “Stop trying to keep yourself separate from this. I swear, you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”

“It’s never going to change,” Harrison muttered. “Get used to it, Fraser.”

“I plan on it,” said Jett. “Where’s the car?”

Harrison’s grip on his hand tightened as he led them down the hall, blatantly ignoring the woman from the press when she spoke Jett’s name and asked him to stop. Jett shot her a sheepish smile, but he was with Harrison on this one. He wasn’t in the mood for media shmoozing.

It was like being led down the hallway by his aggressive attack dog. All sorts of people tried to approach them to ask questions or start up conversations, but Harrison growled at them and they backed off, clearing the way for a quick exit.

Jett thought they might be safe when they made it outside the building, but then they were suddenly ambushed and cornered against the doors by the press .

“Harrison Killinger, we haven’t seen you in so long,” said a redheaded woman wearing too much makeup. “How has life been?”

“Peachy,” said Harrison. “Now fuck off.”

“There are rumours that you’re joining the Sunbursts as an assistant coach. Care to comment?”

“I don’t know,” Harrison said in a sarcastic, biting tone. “Did you take notes on my last comment and learn from it?”

A man stepped forward and shoved a mic in Jett’s face. “Can you clarify if you two are in a relationship?”

Harrison answered before Jett could.

“How is that any of your fucking business? You some kind of pervert?”

More people stepped forward, asking so many questions that Jett couldn’t keep track of them.

“Is your leg healed enough to skate?”

“How did you cope with losing not only your NHL career, but the two people you were closest to?”

“Why were you in hiding for the last five years?”

“Were you drunk on the night of the accident when your brother and your best friend died?”

“HEY!”

A ringing silence followed the shout, and Jett opened his eyes. He hadn’t realized he had closed them.

He thought Harrison yelled, but he was not expecting to see Sébastien Blanchard shoving the press out of the way, elbowing one of the reporters hard enough that he cried out and dropped his mic.

“Esti de calice de tabarnak, c'est pas possible comment que t'es cave! Get the fuck away from them before I beat the shit out of every single one of you fucking vultures!”

It was a threat Jett knew Blanchard would likely follow through with. He had been in altercations with the press before.

The people around them knew it too. Some were eyeing Blanchard’s bruised face and clenched fists, while others were already walking away .

“That’s what I fucking thought, eh? Bunch of fucking ass-licking, arrogant pricks—corner these two in my city again, and I’ll shove my goddamn hockey stick so far up your ass, you’ll taste it!”

Jett squeezed Harrison’s hand to comfort him after the verbal assault of questions, but he was relaxed and smiling as he looked down at Blanchard.

Blanchard glared back for a moment, but then Jett blinked and his expression shifted into a smile that could charm the pants off a nun.

“Fucking dicks, am I right?”

Harrison scoffed. “You’re not wrong, but I’m also starting to understand why you never get picked for interviews.”

“I like it that way. It’s better for everyone’s health and safety.” He gestured toward the parking lot and said, “Come on, I will walk you to your car. I don’t trust those fuckers to leave you alone.”

“We’re good, Blanchard,” said Harrison. “Go back where you came from before your girlfriend finds another hockey stick to play with.”

Jett nudged Harrison hard, silently begging him to stop before Blanchard turned that crazy temper on them, but Blanchard’s smile grew after hearing Harrison’s rude comment.

“Which girlfriend? You have to be specific.”

Harrison ignored him and started walking, tightly holding Jett’s hand as they headed toward the parked cars. People around them were doing the same, but other than glaring because they were Colts fans or waving excitedly, they didn’t bother them.

Jett readjusted his bag, almost jumping out of his skin when he turned his head and saw Blanchard walking beside him.

“Good game tonight,” said Blanchard. “My favourite part was the fights.”

“I believe it,” said Jett. “You drive Wolf crazy. He scribbles on your face with a permanent marker every time we get handed a magazine with your picture inside.”

Blanchard laughed loudly, making Harrison grumble with annoyance.

“Oh fuck, please give me his address so I can send him all the pictures from my future photoshoots. He’ll lose his goddamn mind.”

Jett shook his head. He couldn’t believe this guy.

“Blanchard, you’re fucking insane.”

“Merde, Fraser—call me Bash if you want. I’m getting tired of hearing my last name all the time.”

“You wouldn’t have to hear him say your last name if you made like a horse and fucked off,” said Harrison. He pulled a key out of his pocket and pressed the fob button, lighting up a car nearby. “This is us. Go away.”

“Okay, okay,” said Blanchard. “I get it, Killinger. I’ll go back to my fancy sports car and leave you two alone.”

Harrison had to let go of Jett’s hand when they arrived at the car, but he paused at the driver’s side door before he slid inside. “Don’t come to our rescue ever again. You almost made me respect you, and I hate you for it.”

Then he was gone, and the door shut behind him.

“That means he likes you,” said Jett. “Don’t take him too seriously.”

Blanchard chuckled. “That’s good because I like him too. You got yourself a good-looking guy. No wonder you didn’t want to come home with me.”

“Holy fuck.” Jett fumbled for the door, but Blanchard beat him to it and opened it with a flourish, gesturing for Jett to get in.

Jett quickly opened the back door to shove his bag in and then got in the passenger’s seat, ignoring Blanchard’s chuckles.

“What is he saying about you going home with him?” Harrison asked, leaning close to glare at Blanchard through the open door.

“He didn’t—”

“I offered your boy a ride,” said Blanchard with a wink, because he had a fucking death wish. “But that was before I knew you two were together.”

Jett let his face fall into his hands. His cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“The offer still stands,” Blanchard continued, not caring that Harrison looked two seconds away from throttling him. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had two gorgeous guys in my bed.”

Harrison let out a long, haggard breath.

“Blanchard—in sixty seconds, I will turn on my car. If you’re still here when I put it in drive, I will run you over with it.”

Blanchard laughed and shut the door, strolling away with his hands shoved in his sweater pockets.

“If he ever talks to you again, I’ll kill him,” said Harrison.

“And if you go to jail for killing Blanchard, I’ll kill you.”

Harrison turned the car on. “Fair.”

Jett grinned as he watched Harrison input the hotel address into the GPS.

He felt better now that they were safe in the car, but he still couldn’t believe how volatile the press had been toward Harrison.

He was trying not to think about it because he wanted to focus on how goddamn happy he was right now, but it was bothering him.

“Are you okay after that?”

Harrison froze.

“I mean, not really because the thought of sleeping with Sébastien Blanchard is probably enough to contract an STD—”

“I’m not talking about Blanchard!”

“Or if I were a girl, I’d have to worry about driving away from this parking lot pregnant—”

“Harrison…”

“Even as a guy, pregnancy isn’t completely off the table. I heard his cock is magic—”

Jett grabbed a fistful of Harrison’s shirt and yanked him over the center console, crashing their mouths together. He could feel Killinger smiling against his lips when he shoved his tongue into his mouth—but at least now he wasn’t talking.

It didn’t last long since they were still in a parking lot surrounded by people. Harrison pulled away first, brushing a few quick kisses along Jett’s jaw before settling back into his seat, breathless but grinning.

“When we get back to your room, we’re going to fuck,” said Jett.

Harrison hummed. “You don’t want me to take you on a few dates first? You haven’t even asked me to be your boyfriend yet.”

“Oh, don’t fuck with me, Killinger. I’m not letting you talk me into any more trials to win your jaded heart. I’m not Herakles.”

Harrison pulled the car out of the parking spot and drove toward the line for the gate. “Is this you asking me, or should I keep holding my breath?”

Jett was going to kill him .

“Harrison Killinger, will you please be my boyfriend?”

When Harrison shrugged, Jett laughed and said, “At least our communication skills are on point.”

“I’ll accept your boyfriend request,” Harrison grumbled. “I wouldn’t set foot in fucking Calgary for anyone but you.”

Jett beamed. That was a good enough answer for him.