Page 52 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

“I don’t think we could have asked for a better first period,” Harrison said, startling Jett from his thoughts as he spoke from the front of the room. A hush fell, and all attention turned to their coaching consultant, eager to hear what he would say.

Jett hadn’t expected his boyfriend to speak, but that was stupid, seeing as it was Harrison’s job. He couldn’t help but be struck dumb every time he saw Harrison, especially when he looked so good in his tailored suit.

“Park seems to be the only one capable of getting the puck past Powers, so we keep the pressure on him. He’ll look for Cote or Fraser to take the next shot, but we’re switching things up.

” His blue eyes landed on Jett. “Fraser, I want you on Park and fighting for the puck, but Bracken will fake and give it to Wolf. It doesn’t need to be flashy, just get it in.

That goes for any guy who has a clear shot. ”

Wolf chuckled lowly with delight. “He’s not going to like that.”

“That’s his problem,” Harrison said bluntly.

“It’s not our fault if we have more talent than one superstar.

Every player on the Conclave fights to get the puck to Park because he’s the only one worth a damn on that team.

We have tons of guys who can score, but Park focuses on Jett because he thinks he’s the only one he has to worry about. It’s time to humble him.”

“He fucked around and now it’s time to find out,” said Powers .

“Exactly,” said Harrison. “Now take a breath and hydrate. We’re getting two points ahead of them next period.”

There were cheers of agreement and laughter, all of which fell silent when Coach Adams stepped forward to stand beside Harrison. There was a long pause before Coach nodded.

“What he said.”

Cheers erupted again, and Jett joined in, his eyes never leaving Harrison’s smirking face.

Fuck, what was he supposed to be doing again? Puck, net, score?

Win or lose, he was going to climb Harrison like a tree when they made it back to their hotel room. And judging by the look on Harrison’s face, he knew it too.

The second period was more intense than the first. Tempers had gone from boiling over to a raging simmer as they followed the plan laid out by their coaches. Park stayed on Jett’s ass whenever he made a push for the Conclave net, and Holt was pressuring Cote on the other side of the ice.

Two minutes in, Wolf pulled off a quick backhand that swept between the legs of the Ottawa goalie, putting them two points ahead with a score of 3-1.

“You think you’re cool, huh?” Park chirped to Jett when they returned to center ice. “Why don’t you fuck off with the mind games and play hockey?”

“We are playing hockey,” Jett snapped back. “It’s not my fault that the Conclaves only have one trump card to play. You’re going to get tired carrying all of them on your back, Park.”

Park spat on the ice, and Jett grinned as he met the Ottawa captain for the puck drop.

“Hello, Jett,” he said cheerfully.

“Having fun, Holt?” Jett asked.

“Always,” said Holt. “Jin is fun to deal with when you guys rile him up. Gives me an excuse to drink after a game.”

Jett could only imagine how miserable it would be keeping Park in line. The guy had to be exhausted.

He lost the face-off, but Cote won the puck back when it was dumped into their zone. They made a series of passes to quickly get around the Conclave defence, which worked until Park bolted forward and caught Bracken’s pass to Jett, and was off.

Jett pumped his legs as hard as he could to catch up, but the Conclave players smothered them the second their star shooter had the puck. He let out a growl of frustration when he saw that Wolf and Powers were left to take on Park by themselves, which ended in another goal for the Ottawa team.

The buzzer blared, and the crowd jumped to their feet, their cheers making it impossible to hear anything else.

Jett returned to the bench, patting Powers on the back for encouragement when he circled near them with a disappointed frown. He looked crushed .

“Chin up, Powers,” Bracken said as he skated past his goalie. “We’ll get them back for you.”

Powers nodded and went to his crease without saying a word. Jett felt bad, but he would point out the fact that they weren’t getting slaughtered during their next intermission.

Last time Ottawa had humiliated them—this time they were holding their own.

Park didn’t say anything to him once they were sitting again, and the game restarted. Jett tried not to look in his direction, but he kept spotting the arrogant smirks through the glass and felt compelled to flip him off several times.

Harrison took his hand the next time he held his middle finger up at Park, returning it to Jett’s side and holding it there until he got the hint. He was about to turn and tell Harrison off too, when he caught Park’s wide-eyed expression through the glass.

“ What? ” Jett hissed loudly.

Park took his glove off and held up his hand. All his fingers were lowered except for his pinkie.

Whatever the fuck that meant.

Jett ignored him and refocused on the game. Bracken took another shift, and everyone held their breath as the Sunburst captain cornered the puck in the Conclave zone, not looking as he flicked the puck to Comier, who tipped it into the net.

The booing went into the two-minute commercial break .

The lines switched around, and Jett was with Cote and Bracken again. While they waited for the break to finish, Jett stood facing his team on the ice, listening to Bracken as he gave a small speech to boost morale. He didn’t notice Park was standing beside him until they bumped shoulders.

“Is that your boyfriend? The coach?”

“You’re over the red line,” said Jett. He took another swig from his bottle and tried to appear bored.

“Killinger is way hotter up close,” Park continued, bumping Jett’s shoulder again. “No wonder that kiss of yours went viral. I wouldn’t have been able to hold myself back around a guy like that either.”

Jett finally spun and scowled at Park’s smirking face. “You really are begging me to put you on your ass tonight, aren’t you?”

Park laughed but was smart enough to step back and put a few inches of ice between them. “You’re such an asshole during game time, Fraser. It’s ruining the golden boy image you whip out for all your interviews.”

Jett fucking hated that image. It was hard to be himself while constantly worrying about upsetting fans and sponsors.

He had Harrison to thank for it because apparently coming from the same hometown meant they couldn’t both be rude assholes.

Jett’s entire NHL career story had been twisted into a rivalry that made no sense since he had never played hockey with or against Harrison.

He was determined not to get scolded by his boyfriend again, so he kept his mouth shut and didn’t engage with Park, even after the game restarted and they were battling it out once more.

With the defence locked down on both sides, neither team could make a solid play.

They were at a stalemate until the end of the second period, and the Sunbursts walked away with a two-point lead just like Harrison told them to.

The score was 4-2, and anything could change, but for now, Jett felt good.

He stripped down to his pads so he could take a second to breathe, and Harrison handed him a bottle to drink from.

“How are you?”

The question threw Jett off.

“I’m great. Am I making a face?”

“Is his face,” Wolf said, pushing into their conversation.

“Is nothing new. Park always makes Jett look like that. They have a…rivalry.” He dropped onto the seat beside Jett and threw an arm around his shoulders.

“Our little ferret gets grumpy every time we play Ottawa. Park gets a kick out of pestering him.”

Jett blew out a breath, not bothering to avoid Wolf’s rough tousling of his hair. His curls were already a sweaty, tangled mess. It’s not like they could get any worse.

“It’s hard to hear everything the guys are saying when you’re at home watching games,” said Harrison. “Knowing Jett as well as I do now, I know he’s not a pushover, but I find his bad attitude adorable after hearing it and seeing it up close.”

“You will enjoy playoffs then,” said Wolf. “Jett has a dirtier mouth than me. Makes for a fun game.”

Jett took another drink and then pressed the bottle to his warm face. He knew he was blushing, but it was hard not to when Harrison had called him adorable to Wolf of all people. He was never going to escape the teasing now.

“I seriously hate that bastard,” said Powers. He flicked his wet hair out of his eyes, receiving a grimace from Bracken sitting next to him. “The flirty shit-talk Park always does makes me want to whack him with my stick.

“Not interested in taking him up on it?” Bennett Ross, one of their other defencemen, asked. “He seems like your type.”

The guys laughed when Powers flipped them off, but Jett couldn’t help but glance at Bracken’s face, examining how blank his expression was.

Max said that he didn’t think they were only friends, and now it was all Jett could think about.

Ryan was giving off an abnormal amount of devil-may-care attitude right now, but that could mean nothing. He sometimes got like this when they played, so it wasn’t out of character.

“He’s not my fucking type,” said Powers. “I don’t like assholes.”

Wolf frowned. “By assholes do you mean…the body part, or personality? I’m having trouble keeping up.”

“Personality, obviously,” said Powers. “Who comes into a guy’s crease like he owns it? ”

Jason was the literal embodiment of a dumb blond. He had no idea that his phrasing sounded bad, even when the room went quiet with stifled laughter. He gave them a weird look and went back to checking his gear.

“I need to quit my job,” Harrison muttered to Jett and Wolf. “I can’t deal with these idiots for the next ten years.”

“Oh, you changed your mind about being my stay-at-home husband?” Jett asked him with an excited grin. “I get to come home to you being all domestic and cooking me dinners?”

“Not on your life, Fraser.”

Wolf cackled, bending to start his ritual of untying and tying his skates back up before it was time to go out again. “You two are funny. I like watching you.”

Jett nudged Wolf playfully in response. The Sunburst guys were amazing.

Plenty of teams in the league wouldn’t have been so easygoing about their locker room conversations. Teams that wouldn’t be willing to deal with Jett and Harrison sitting close to each other, sharing space and nothing else.

But the majority of his teammates were straight, married, and very securely confident in who they were as individuals. Their friendliness was sometimes the butt of jokes in media conversations and fan groups, but they were too well-loved for any negative feedback to affect them.

He was happy here. Jett could see himself playing for the Sunbursts for his entire career and growing up with them.

He could see his kids smiling at him from behind the glass, wearing their blue and white jerseys.

He could see Harrison coaching them until Jett retired, and if Jett had anything to say about it, keeping the job past his career because he was so good at it.

The respect these guys had for Harrison made Jett feel like he was swimming in an ocean of happiness. They didn’t give a damn that he was younger and had never played in the NHL, they were just glad that he was there to have their backs.

“Killinger,” Romy Leclerc, a guy on their fourth line, said in a heavy French accent. “I know you don’t drink, but do you play billiards? Jetty won’t play a game with us.”

“Billiards is the only thing you can do in Nova Scotia besides hunting and fishing,” said Harrison. “So yes, I can play. ”

“You and me against Wolf and Comier then,” said Leclerc. “There’s an imported car from Germany on the table. I’ll let you take it out on weekends.”

“Deal,” said Harrison.

The warm feeling washed over Jett once more. Jesus, he was turning into such a sap.

Wolf gave Harrison a betrayed frown when he finished with his skates. “I only made that deal because I was playing against Bracken and Leclerc, and they had no chance of winning.”

Harrison shrugged. “Next time, make a clause to keep members the same.”

Wolf turned his offended look on Jett. “You really going to marry that asshole?”

Jett nodded. “Unless you’re offering me something better, Wolfy?”

“Ha!” Wolf lifted his water bottle and squirted some at Jett’s face. “In your dreams, little ferret. I’m not into brats…or blonds.”

“Why do you spend so much time in front of the mirror then?”

“Okay.” Harrison picked up Jett’s jersey and forced it into his hands. “Settle down, kids. Intermission is almost over.”