Page 71 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

They were separated from the rest of the guys who were getting ready for another play, but that didn’t stop Ryan from placing a hand on his shoulder and shushing him.

“There’s no problem,” said Ryan, sounding far too stiff. “But you waltzed in here without telling anyone, and people are already talking. It won’t take more than thirty minutes for the press to show up and try to sneak their way in.”

“Practice is good,” said Adams. “I understand that it’s something you need to do, but we want to make sure you’re secure and safe. Next time, please warn us so we can prepare.”

Wolf scoffed, folding his arms. “Prepare what? If one person looks at him, I will rip their eyes from their head and use them as hockey puck.”

Warm affection for Wolf spread through him, taking the edge off his anxiety. It was starting to hit him—he had left his house, where he was safe, and stepped into a world that intended to do him harm.

He hadn’t been thinking straight. He blamed his lack of sleep and the stress, but now that he was facing the consequences of his actions, he felt panic surging.

The hiss of blades cutting over ice told him that Harrison had joined them. He could hear the off-kilter slide of his limp .

Jett turned to check on his boyfriend, finding Harrison’s scowling face as he approached. He wasn’t mad at Jett; he was scowling at the group of men surrounding him like they were the enemy.

“Is there a problem?” Harrison said, blue eyes narrowing on Ryan.

Jett heard Ryan’s sharp intake of breath, and then he was moving away from him, gloved hands held high in surrender.

“Jesus, Killinger—we’re not interrogating him, we’re just asking him to tell us when he’s coming to practice next time.”

The way Harrison was holding his stick suggested he wanted to cross-check Ryan in the face. “ Back off .”

They went still, and Wolf let out a whistle. “Big man is grumpy.”

“Big man is wondering why you’re over here slacking when you could be working on that shitty backhand of yours,” said Harrison.

Adams promptly excused himself, and Ryan grabbed Wolf in a choke hold, dragging him away before he started a fight.

A smile was beginning to form on Jett’s face. It was business as usual here, and for that he was glad. He hated the thought of their team dynamic being thrown off because of him, but—

“This is too soon?” Harrison guessed, finishing Jett’s line of thought.

This wasn’t the time or place to cuddle up to his coach, but Jett needed to be near him. He settled for standing shoulder to shoulder with him, leaning against Harrison’s larger frame.

Harrison used his stick to steady himself, and Jett jerked back when he realized he was putting too much weight on his bad side, but Harrison yanked him back.

“My leg is fine.” Harrison positioned them so that he was shielding Jett from the team, giving him privacy. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

“I woke up,” said Jett. “I felt better, so I thought, Hey, I’ll try working out for the first time in forever .

Running on the treadmill put stupid ideas in my head, and I left the house like a crazy person and came here.

I’m not sure there was much thinking behind it because I was running on adrenaline. ”

Harrison hummed, his gaze trailing over Jett’s body, making him feel hot. “You’re a whole bucket of panic mixed with spontaneous ideas. It’s a very interesting combination.”

Jett blew out a laugh. “Interesting or annoying?”

“If I’m being honest, a bit of both,” Harrison said, muttering. “But you do like to keep me on my toes.”

Jett stared at him, and smirking, Harrison tugged one of his curls from under his helmet and twisted it around his finger.

“I want to play on Monday,” said Jett. He hoped his expression showed how serious he was about that statement.

Harrison’s smirk faded, and he let go of his hair. “Two days of reconditioning after a long break isn’t enough—not against Florida.”

“Don’t care.”

“Jett—”

“No,” Jett hissed. “You don’t get to demand I get out of bed and send your minions after me, and then not let me play when I finally come back.”

“I don’t own the team, I’m not head coach, and I’m not a doctor,” said Harrison, brow furrowed with frustration.

“I’m not saying no to be an asshole, but I’m telling you because I don’t think Adams is going to let you back in.

There are only two games before Christmas break, so why not wait until then? ”

Jett didn’t know where the anger was coming from, but it was making him stupid. He felt like smacking his stick against the boards until it snapped.

Instead, he pushed away from Harrison until his back hit the boards. “Are you going to Florida?”

Harrison looked at the inches of ice separating them, and Jett sensed he was putting his boyfriend between a rock and a hard place.

“I should,” said Harrison. “But I won’t if you need me here.”

“I won’t need you because I’m going .” Jett had made up his mind, and he wasn’t going to let anyone talk him out of it, not even Coach.

“I’ll practice the next two days and before the game on Monday.

Tell Coach that he can decide if I’m playing before the puck drops, but I’m not staying in Toronto. ”

Harrison fixed his eyes on him, pinning him in place with their intensity. This was uncharted territory for them because they didn’t know each other deeply enough to understand where boundaries and hard lines stood. This could end up being their first fight, but Jett wouldn’t back down.

“If I plead your case,” Harrison said slowly, putting a stern tone into each word. “I need something from you too.”

Give and take. An equal exchange.

Jett could do that. He nodded and waited for Harrison to continue.

“If you play on Monday, then sometime in the New Year, we’re going to therapy. Separately and together—because we need a strong foundation in this relationship, and I want to make it work.”

Jett was so taken aback that he flinched. Harrison wanted to…go to therapy?

“I know therapy isn’t macho or whatever the kids say these days,” Harrison continued when Jett didn’t say anything. “But if we’re going to get married, have kids and fourteen cats, we should make sure we’re not going to screw any of them up because we’re both a mess.”

Jett gave a barking laugh, cutting Harrison off. “Harrison, why do you always talk like you’re an old man? You’re only twenty-five, get your shit together.”

The flabbergasted look on Harrison’s face was breaking him down. He couldn’t hold in his chuckles.

“I was isolated for years,” Harrison grumbled. “Fuck me for not keeping up with the times.”

Jett was pretty sure macho was a term from the 80s, but he didn’t want to be mean and point it out.

“Therapy is fine,” said Jett. He could suffer through the awkwardness of talking to someone if it would result in marriage. “I’ll agree to it even if I’m not playing Monday, but I need to go to Florida. I need to fight this the way I always have—and I want that goddamn cup this year.”

Harrison wasn’t a smiley person, but he was when he was with Jett. If they didn’t have an audience, he would have obnoxiously kissed the upturned corners of Harrison’s lips until he pushed him away.

“Alright, Fraser,” said Harrison. “Continue with practice, and I’ll talk to Adams. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll see what I can do. ”

Jett grinned and smacked Harrison’s ass playfully with his stick as he skated past him. “Yes, Coach. Thank you, Coach.”

Harrison’s chuckles followed him to center ice, where Bracken and Cote were waiting for him. It was time to perfect their power play line so they could beat the shit out of the Barracudas.

“You done flirting, Jetty?” Bracken teased, holding back laughter when Cote snickered beside him. “Ready to get back out there and show the bastards why you’re the best?”

Jett took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He was where he belonged, and Chase could never take that away from him.

“Hell yeah, fuck yeah.”