Page 54 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

Despite losing the game, the Sunburst team was in high spirits.

They went to a bar walking distance from their hotel to drink and unwind after having such a crazy night.

They didn’t have much time before they had to get their bags checked out to meet Adams for their flight, but it was enough to unwind and get tipsy for the bus ride.

His eyes landed on Bracken across the table, lingering on the mottled bruise blooming across his cheek and the fresh split in his lower lip.

His knuckles were scraped raw, already darkening to the same deep purple as his face.

Every time he smiled, the cut reopened and bled, but he didn’t seem to care—he looked downright pleased with himself.

Jett had earned his own bruises, including a very bad one on his hip from the shove into the boards, but he was still in great shape.

No lasting injuries. Everyone was fine.

“We almost got them,” said Powers beside Bracken. “Next time I’m getting a shut-out. I don’t care what I have to do.”

“I believe in you, buddy.” Jett held up his beer bottle in salute. “You get your shut-out, and I’ll get my hat trick. We’ll fuck them from every angle.”

The four were seated at a booth near the back to avoid the crowd and wandering puck bunnies looking for a new playmate.

Jett insisted on taking the outside seat so he could keep getting up to get their drinks, which Harrison agreed to because he wanted to rest his leg and not get up fifty times as the night went on .

He could have happily returned to the hotel and helped Jett out of his very nice charcoal grey suit, but he resigned himself to being a part of the team instead. He already had a reputation for being an uptight stick in the mud, and didn’t want to make it any worse.

But still…having to look at Jett dressed like this for hours was torture. The casual clothes were distracting enough, but a dress shirt with the rumpled tie and the top button undone? Yeah, that was a look.

If they could sneak away before their three hours were up, Harrison would gladly help him out of it too.

“Wolfy better not bring those girls back to his room with Niko there,” Powers said, nodding to their defenceman who had a brunette on each arm. “Not unless he’s sharing, anyway.”

Harrison tried not to choke on his next sip, but Jett was dramatic enough for both of them as he sputtered and started hacking.

“ Dude ,” said Jett in a hoarse whisper. “Niko is gay .”

Powers’s mouth fell open. “He is ?!”

Bracken didn’t appear surprised, so five points for him.

“Okay, well if Wolf brings those girls back, I’ll kick his ass for sure,” said Powers firmly.

There was no warning—no time to react—when Su-jin Park materialized out of nowhere and threw himself into the spot beside Jett, nudging him hard enough that he bumped into Harrison.

“Your goalie is fucking feisty,” said Park, smiling at them while his captain, Damien Holt, took the seat next to Bracken.

Awkward.

“Our goalie is like, forty years old and has sleep apnea. We can barely keep him awake long enough for a full game.”

Bracken shoved himself against Powers, keeping a foot of space between him and Holt. His posture was stiff, but he wasn’t scowling or punching him yet, which was a good sign.

Holt nodded at Park’s words and let out a disgruntled sigh. “It’s either him or our younger guy who gets distracted by bright colours, sounds, thoughts—pretty much everything but the puck.”

“What the fuck are you doing here, Park?” Jett grumbled, but grumbles turned to curses when Park wrapped his arms around Jett’s slim waist and yanked him against his side .

Harrison sipped his whiskey as he watched the two pretty hockey players grapple with each other. Jett was a little drunk, so he was having a hard time coordinating his arms effectively, and his anger was turning his cheeks red.

“I’m here to hang out with normal people,” Park groused. He took a smack to his cheek and grunted, reluctantly letting go of Jett and rubbing his face. “I have to deal with the Conclave weirdos all day, and I’m tired of it.”

Harrison glanced at Holt, and Holt shrugged. “Jin is our token gay player. I think he’s getting tired of dealing with all of us married straight guys.”

Park shoved a finger at his captain. “Mostly just you, fucking loser. It’s bad enough I have to deal with you liking women, but then you had to go and be gross and knock my favourite girl up. She was perfect before you put your grubby hands on her and gave her shitty baby brain.”

“Evelyn is my childhood best friend,” said Holt. “You’ve known her for like, three years. Calm down, bro.”

“I’m not your bro, dickhead,” Park shot back. “You lost bro privileges when you impregnated my best friend.”

“I would like to point out that my wife and I have been married for a year, and this baby is planned,” Holt said, shooting them all pleading looks. “Jin is just being dramatic because he hates kids.”

“Hate isn’t a strong enough word,” said Jin. “I literally get nauseous when I think about them. Poor Evie. Her life is ruined.”

“I would like to add to what I said earlier and say that Jin is also going to be our baby’s godfather,” said Holt. “And he won’t hate his godchild because it will be half of my wife, so no children will be in danger.”

Park didn’t exactly look scary with his powder-pink hair, but his glare made up for it.

“My god daughter . If she pops out a boy, I’m asking to be traded to an American team so I don’t have to live in the same country as you—and then I won’t have easy access to kill you, gaejasig. ”

“Of course you hate kids,” said Jett. “You are the worst kind of asshole.”

Powers looked like he wanted to melt under the table as Park glared at the rest of the people at the table, landing on Jett last .

Harrison took another sip of his drink and waited.

“Fuck, Fraser. Making you angry is so fun.”

“Don’t you think showing up here is in poor taste?” Bracken said, interjecting himself into the conversation despite Powers tugging his sleeve. “You won the game, and now you’ve come here to gloat, eh?”

Park scoffed and waved his hand around like Bracken was being dramatic. “I don’t give a fuck about winning or losing. I like to have fun. I don’t hold grudges. I came here because I have no gay friends, and there’s like, six of you on this team.”

“Six?” Bracken gestured to Harrison and Jett. “We have these guys and one other person. I don’t know where you’re getting your numbers, but you’re wrong.”

Harrison fought to hold back a laugh as Park slowly raised an eyebrow at Powers and Bracken. There was a long pause filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter around them, and then Park shook his head and held up his hands.

“Okay, we’re not unpacking that shit tonight.”

“I’m going to get drinks,” said Holt, standing awkwardly. “Anyone want anything?”

Harrison raised his hand. “I’ll take a water.”

Holt saluted him. “Sure thing, Killinger.” He was about to walk away, but stopped and grinned at Ryan. “Sorry about your face, Bracken. It had to be done.”

That was funny coming from the guy with two black eyes who lost the fight.

“Fuck off,” Bracken muttered, taking another swig of his beer.

Holt walked away with his hands shoved in his pockets, leaving the rest to deal with Park.

“Ugly motherfucker,” said Park. “Can’t stand his stupid face.”

Jett shot Harrison a pleading look, like he thought there was something he could do to solve their current predicament. Jason and Ryan were already scrambling out of the booth, shooting apologetic smiles.

“We’re going back to the hotel,” said Bracken. “I have…clothes to fold.”

Powers couldn’t even look them in the eye as he followed his best friend away from the table, disappearing into the crowd .

Park waited two seconds after they were gone before saying, “More like he has a goalie to fold.”

Jett barked out a laugh and immediately slapped a hand over his mouth. He frowned, his lips pouty like he didn’t want to find Park funny.

Smiling, Park’s eyes left Jett’s face to slowly drift up and meet Harrison’s gaze. He could see why Park got harassed as much as he did for being pretty, because there was no other word to describe him.

Jett was pretty in a handsome way, but Park looked like a goddamn doll. It had to be difficult to play a rough sport like hockey with a face like that.

“You’re fucking massive, Killinger,” Park said wistfully. “How tall are you? You have to be pushing seven feet.”

“Don’t talk to my boyfriend, Park,” Jett said through gritted teeth. “He’s mine , back off.”

Park gave Jett an award-winning eyeroll.

“Fuck sakes, call me Jin. I get tired of hearing my last name all the time.” He tapped his fingers on the tabletop irritably.

“And I don’t want your boyfriend, Jett .

Anyone could tell by looking at Harrison that he’s not straying from you.

I can practically smell marriage and three kids in the air around you. Fuck that.”

Harrison chuckled and finished his drink just in time for Holt to return to the table with a tray holding a couple of beers, two pink drinks in a glass, and Harrison’s water.

Park took one of the pink drinks and pressed it to his lips, letting out a little groan as he swallowed a mouthful.

“Bracken won the fight, so I’m not sure why he’s so upset,” said Holt as he passed Harrison the water and opened a beer. “I thought you Toronto guys were supposed to be friendly.”

Jett’s eyes hadn’t left the pink drink that Park was holding, which didn’t go unnoticed.

Park scowled and picked up his extra drink, smacking it on the table in front of Jett.

“Truce?”

Jett’s cheeks flushed red as he accepted the glass and took a drink, his eyes going wide at whatever he tasted.

“Aw, look,” said Holt. “He’s finally learned to share. ”

Park’s features twisted into an angry glower. “Why don’t you go outside and play hide and go fuck yourself?”