Page 6 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

This property had belonged to their family since the first dirt road began to stretch from Halifax to Yarmouth.

They were old money in terms of small-town, Nova Scotian families.

And while he had some money left over from his hockey days, he couldn’t afford to turn down his parents’ offers to care for him and pay for most of his expenses.

While they didn’t see or talk to each other to avoid the clusterfuck of pain and misery that accompanied their conversations, he was still their only remaining son, and they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

They were never a close family to begin with.

Too much of his parents’ time had been spent on anything but their kids, which made it difficult for them to deal with emotions when they popped up.

He didn’t even want to think about the warehouse on the property, which included a gym and rehabilitation area where he had done most of his recovery.

His father had even made a custom area that could be turned into a full-sized rink during the summer so that he had somewhere to practice when his leg healed, but that was made before they found out that his career was over.

His father had been hopeful until the end, and now the warehouse’s only purpose was to torment him. That’s why he spent the summer after his parents moved away building a shitty wall to hide most of it from view.

Harrison wasn’t a handy person, but he had learned quickly.

Some locals tried to be neighbourly and check in once he was alone, and the nurses, doctors and relatives stopped visiting. That lasted only until Harrison installed cameras at the beginning of the road and posted private property signs.

He appreciated the gesture, but would rather wallow in his misery and not talk to anyone.

He still got notifications on his phone from the cameras every time Arlo stopped by to visit, which was almost every day when it wasn’t hockey season. Still, he was a paranoid person, so he checked every time because there was no way he was going to be caught off guard by any man, woman or child.

When his camera alerted his phone that afternoon, he absentmindedly looked to make sure it was Arlo, and confirmed it before going back to play his mobile game. When the alert popped up again, he raised an eyebrow and rechecked the camera.

No fucking way. There was another car driving down the road.

Harrison immediately called Arlo, tapping his foot impatiently against the floor until his stupid cousin picked up.

“Hello?”

“Who the hell are you bringing here?” Harrison hissed.

Arlo paused for so long that Harrison swore he could catch a hint of the burning smell of his brain cells being overworked.

“I’m not bringing anyone with me. It’s just me.”

He shoved his finger into the bridge of his nose. “Then who the fuck is behind you, Arlo?”

There was another pause and then a panicked, “Oh shit!”

“Stop right now and turn around,” Harrison commanded. “Don’t you dare let whoever it is near the house.”

“I can’t!” Arlo said in a panic. “There’s nowhere to turn around. I didn’t think he would actually follow me!”

“You didn’t think who would follow you, dumbass?”

“Holy fuck, what if it’s not even him? What some random person is tailing me right now? ”

“Serial stalking murderer or me, it doesn’t fucking matter. I’m going to kill you, Arlo.”

The sound of Arlo’s piece of shit car squealing as it sped up made him cringe, but for once, he hoped it broke down and gave him a chance to do something, like find the shotgun his dad had hidden.

Arlo wasn’t making any sense anymore. He hadn’t hung up the phone, and Harrison had to listen to a chorus of curses come through the line, some of his words foul enough to make Harrison think that the dumbass was truly scared.

“Dude, I’m pulling up. Please come help me.”

Harrison disconnected and took a deep breath. Everything was okay. There was not going to be a double homicide on his property today.

The sound of a dirt road being kicked up reached his ears, and Harrison sighed. He threw his phone on the couch and went to the door, angrily shoving his boots on before stepping onto the porch.

He watched as Arlo wrenched his car to a stop and pulled a hockey stick from his backseat, brandishing it like a weapon as he stepped out and put himself between the approaching car and the porch.

“The fuck you doing?” Harrison said to Arlo, because really, what the fuck did he think a hockey stick was going to do in this situation?

All of Arlo’s theories about murderers went out the window when Harrison caught sight of who was in the unknown car, and in his opinion, he would have preferred the axe murderer over Jett Fraser.

Like literal sunshine and happiness, Nova Scotia’s golden boy exited the car, waving excitedly at Harrison like this wasn’t the weirdest fucking thing to happen in his entire life.

“Killinger! I knew he was running to you. I’m so sorry to drop in uninvited.”

“Then leave,” said Harrison.

Fraser’s smile didn’t falter. Fuck, he was so cheerful and annoying. Who the hell was that damn happy?

“Good to see you again, Townsend,” Fraser said as he closed his car door and strode to where Arlo was standing. “But I think it’s too warm to practice on the lake.”

Arlo’s brain had to be offline because he hadn’t moved or said anything since Fraser popped his golden head out of the car .

Fraser had his hands in his pockets as he looked around at the house, then to the open garage and toward the lake before letting out a low whistle. “It sure is nice and private back here in the woods.”

“It usually is,” said Harrison in a dead tone. “Not today.”

Now Fraser had the gall to look embarrassed.

“Right. In my defence, I told Townsend I would follow him if he didn’t give me your number.”

“I thought you were fucking joking,” Arlo said, squaring his shoulders. “NHL star or not, what the fuck, Fraser?”

Fraser chuckled, and the sound made something stutter in Harrison’s chest. Gods, he was pretty.

Annoyingly pretty. It was hard to look at Fraser’s face on the TV all the time, but seeing him up close?

All those blond curls, that bright smile, those golden eyes and tanned skin.

Hell, even the cute dimples he had on his smooth cheeks.

No, not going there. But it felt like torture as he watched Arlo and Fraser talk, Fraser’s eyes darting to look at him, blinking at him through his long lashes like they were sharing a joke before he focused back on his cousin.

It made him want to hit things.

“Why are you here?” Harrison asked, cutting off their chatter.

He couldn’t fathom what Fraser wanted so badly that he would follow someone to their home.

It had to be important, and if it wasn’t, hands were about to be thrown.

“If you’re pissed about me leaving you at the gas station, tough luck.

You were the idiot who got in my car without asking. ”

Fraser walked past Arlo, who was still standing there holding the stick like a moron. “I’m not pissed about that. We didn’t get a chance to talk, and I was scared I did something to upset you.”

“We didn’t get a chance to talk because I didn’t fucking want to talk,” Harrison said, crossing his arms over his chest. He was trying to look intimidating so Fraser would take the hint and not come any closer, but the guy was like a puppy gaping at him with his big, sad eyes.

Fraser, ignoring the intimidation tactics, walked up the steps and stopped beside him. The height difference was enough for Harrison to feel he had the advantage, but Fraser’s constant smile threw him off.

“I know…you’re probably not interested in talking with me,” said Fraser .

Harrison barked a harsh laugh. “What gave you that impression?”

Fraser’s answering laugh was nervous, and he brushed his hand nervously through his hair, distracting Harrison with his stupid curls.

“I’m an asshole, and I’m really sorry. It’s just—” Fraser stuttered and stopped.

His eyes trailed over Harrison, hesitating before he found the courage to speak again.

“I’ve looked up to you since I was a kid.

It sounds corny and stupid, but I’ve always wanted to meet you and thank you for…

I don’t know, you just inspired me. It didn’t feel right for us to run into each other, and for me to not say thank you. ”

The sound of Arlo’s car roaring to life paused the conversation. They watched the vehicle awkwardly back up and swing around, racing down the road.

Harrison shook his head, watching Arlo run away like a chicken. It was probably for the best because Harrison was still on the fence about finding that shotgun.

When everything went quiet again, Harrison turned back to Fraser, who was giving him a hopeful smile. Telling him to fuck off would be like kicking a puppy. He didn’t know if he could bring himself to use threats to make him leave, even though he desperately wanted him to.

“Look, Fraser,” said Harrison. “It’s great that you feel that way, but get the fuck off my property.”

Fraser’s smile slowly wilted, and he blinked, looking hurt.

“There are signs up for a reason. I don’t want strangers visiting and bothering me. This is private fucking property. Do you know how to read?”

“I do,” said Fraser. He was curling in on himself, like someone who had just been found guilty of stealing cookies from the cookie jar. “But we have shared experiences. I thought it might be an easy reason to be friends, if you were looking for any.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” said Harrison gruffly. “I don’t know you, and I don’t play hockey anymore. The best you’re getting from me is a polite nod if we run into each other, but I’m not interested in getting to know you past hello, and I’m especially not interested in being your friend.”

Harrison waited for Fraser’s expression to crumple, or for him to tell him to go fuck himself and leave.

But when Fraser smiled softly, showing off those distracting dimples, he was left stunned.

The smile didn’t reach his eyes, and there was a moment of vulnerability there that left Harrison feeling like he had seen something he wasn’t supposed to, but then it was covered up by Fraser’s signature goofy grin, and the moment was gone.

“Wow, I heard the rumours that you were a sourpuss, but they weren’t wrong.” Fraser laughed awkwardly as he jogged down the steps and returned to his car.

Harrison watched him go, frowning with his arms still crossed defensively over his chest. He didn’t relax until Fraser opened the door and was about to get in, but then he stopped and gave Harrison a look that oozed cockiness.

“You know that trick you used to pull off that everyone was too chicken to replicate? What the hell was it called…?”

Harrison felt a surge of irritation and anger rise inside him. He had been feeling bad about rejecting Fraser’s friendship offer, but now he was wondering how much shit he would get into if he took his steel baseball bat and smashed in the windows of his expensive rental car.

“Right, the Killinger . Hard to forget that one.” Fraser’s smile was about to split his face. He knew exactly what he was doing. “I’m not trying to brag, but I’ve totally figured out how it works.”

Harrison took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out.

“I’ll be on the ice with Townsend all week if you want to come see it again. Maybe you could watch and give me a few pointers so I can perfect it. I want to use it in my next official game.”

He didn’t give Harrison a chance to respond to his taunt. Fraser ducked into his car, gave a cheeky salute, and then turned the engine and spun out of there faster than Arlo had when he was running for his life.

Harrison was left standing on his porch alone and in silence, taking deep breaths to stop himself from overreacting.

He didn’t care if Fraser tried to copy him. It wouldn’t work since Fraser was a winger and the move was made for an arrogant center with the balls to pull it off. Mr. Sunshine-Golden Boy wouldn’t be able to take the risk of fucking it up, and at worst, pissing off his teammates.

Harrison needed a drink. Maybe he would break his rule and have two drinks.

He went back into the house and slammed the door behind him, ignoring the second crack that appeared in the glass.

He would fix it later, after he figured out how to get over Fraser’s words, and erase every moment of their two encounters from his memories.