Page 79 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

Harrison rested his chin on Jett’s other shoulder, being mindful of the bruises from his injury. “Not like that, good lord.”

“Stud?”

“Jesus.”

“Grumbles?”

“Jett.”

“Harry?”

Harrison pinched his cheek. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Jett grinned. “I’m sensing some trauma surrounding that name.”

Groaning, Harrison let go of his cheek and nuzzled into his neck. “I got bullied a lot as a kid because my family had money, and you know our town didn’t have the wealthiest community.”

“Yeah,” said Jett. “I used to be one of the unwealthy ones. ”

“Exactly.” Harrison started massaging his thighs, needing to do something to distract himself.

“It’s not the biggest sob story you’ll ever hear.

Before hockey made me cool in everyone’s eyes, I think a lot of kids in my age group were listening to their parents talk about me and where I came from.

The anger directed toward my parents was also directed toward me through my peers, and it made it hard to make friends.

I didn’t know I had money until I told my parents everyone in my class hated me, and they had to explain why.

I didn’t want to escalate things because fuck that, so I took their cold looks and name calling.

and found something else to do—which happened to be playing hockey. ”

Hockey was the rich-kid sport, so it made sense that Harrison found more acceptance on the ice than in a classroom filled with elementary kids.

“They used to call me Harry and add on words like kids do because they’re dumb,” Harrison continued. “Harry feet, Harry nose, Harry wiener, Harry butt, I swear I’ve fucking heard it all.”

“That’s a legit reason to dislike being called Harry.” Jett cupped Harrison’s cheek and drew him in for a kiss, stunning the sadness out of him. “I’m leaning toward Grumbles.”

He got an eyeroll for his cheekiness, but Harrison didn’t argue his name choice.

“I missed you,” said Harrison, and this time it was Jett’s turn to be stunned. “I know you’re not okay, but I’m happy to be able to talk to you again. I can’t understand half of what Robert says sometimes.”

Jett laughed because he knew what he was talking about. His dad had a funny way of communicating.

“We haven’t had the best start relationship-wise,” Jett said, chuckling. “We jumped in without thinking, so we didn’t have time for a lot of the hard conversations.”

“Hard conversations?” Harrison kissed his aching shoulder. “Is this the part where you explain why you thought I would hate you for what Chase did?”

Jett sucked in a sharp breath. Had he said that out loud at some point?

“Also, if this relationship were easy from start to finish, I wouldn’t trust anything about it.

You don’t know a person until you see them at their worst, and you won’t know how to navigate situations until you’ve gone through hard shit together.

Struggle builds strength, so what we’re going through now will make us stronger in the long run. ”

Harrison’s explanation was so simple, but that’s what made it so perfect. Jett logically knew that Harrison was too deep in feelings to abandon him for a stupid reason, but it was difficult to shake the thought sometimes.

His mother had abandoned him. His brother had betrayed and abandoned him. His father—who he loved dearly and could never hate—had to work multiple jobs to keep him in hockey, leaving him alone a lot of the time.

In short, it didn’t matter how solid any of his relationships were; he constantly felt like he was one moment away from losing everyone he loved.

“You don’t…” Jett stopped to gather himself so he didn’t fuck this up. Harrison waited patiently, still rubbing the soreness out of his muscles. “You aren’t weirded out by the fact that my brother was a killer?”

Harrison’s hands left his thighs, and he wrapped his arms around Jett’s waist, tucking him impossibly closer. “I mean, I would be a little concerned if it was your brother I was dating, but I’m with you, so I’m not sure why it would affect us.”

Jett could accept that explanation.

“But in the context of like, kids and stuff.” Jett held Harrison’s hands, playing with his fingers. “There’s nothing about my DNA that freaks you out? You wouldn’t be worried if we had a kid using me instead of you?”

“Are you kidding me?” Harrison closed his calloused hands over Jett’s and squeezed them. “I would prefer you as the bio parent. I don’t think you understand how perfect you are, Sunshine. Could you imagine having a baby who looks like you? Fucking adorable.”

The stupid thing was—Jett could see it. The thought of Harrison helping him raise a child was something he desperately wanted, even if it was too soon.

It didn’t stop him from picturing it; Harrison holding a mini version of him behind the bench, coaching the team through the glass like the badass he was.

Not even paternity leave would slow a man like Harrison Killinger down .

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Harrison said softly. “You are not your brother, Jett. You never were, and you never will be. There’s no darkness lurking inside of you, take it from a man who has looked darkness in the eye and told it to get fucked.”

Jett didn’t know if he would ever believe that, hence he needed therapy, but the important thing was the unspoken acceptance Harrison had of him. He had seen him at his worst, and he hadn’t left him. He didn’t care about what his brother did, and was willing to look past it because he loved him.

And maybe— maybe that could be enough .

Jett placed his hand on Harrison’s knee, slowly sliding it down the front of his leg, fingers tracing the jagged scar. Harrison’s breathing turned unsteady, but he didn’t stop his wandering hands or tell him to stop.

Jett was careful when he reached the worst part of the scarring. He could feel the metal screws under the skin if he pushed hard enough, but he didn’t have the stomach for it.

He was touching the remnants of the injury that ended Harrison’s career. The man he once thought of as untouchable was only flesh, bone and metal in his hand. He was holding the weakest part of the man he loved, and he felt nothing but strength radiating between them.

Harrison was his. Harrison Killinger belonged to Jett fucking Fraser.

“Jett?”

He drew his hand back so Harrison would relax and turned in his arms so he could kiss the pouty frown from his mouth. “Thank you.”

Harrison raised one dark brow, his lips quirking into a smile. “You’re welcome for whatever you’re thanking me for.”

Jett might tell him someday, but for now, he would keep him guessing. Because, according to Killinger himself, if it were too easy, then how could they trust it was real?