Page 89 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

NHL playoffs

Six months later

Jin swung an arm over his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “Would you chill the fuck out? I’m here to cheer you on, not mess up your game.”

“Is Arlo here too?”

Jin rolled his eyes, cringing with disgust. “The whole group is here, although Blanchard said he’d be sitting in his own seats because he has a date, and he doesn’t want to scare her away.”

Blanchard was a moron for mentioning he had a date.

“I’m guessing you’re taking that as a challenge?” Jett asked.

“Damn right.” Park released him and folded his arms, puffing his chest out like he was some alpha fuckboy. “I’m going to torture the fuck out of him. I won’t stop until he starts crying—or punches me.”

“Dude, you need a life.” And because Jin was smaller than him, Jett patted him on the head like a puppy.

Jin slapped his hand away, scowling. “So do you, poodle-boy. I couldn’t believe it when Harrison said you were here already. The game doesn’t start for hours .”

Jett flushed so hard his skin felt prickly. “I…have a date.”

Jin blinked rapidly, like he was struggling to process the information. “A date? Aren’t you two already married? Married people don’t date.”

“We’re not married!” Jett hissed between clenched teeth. “The bastard still won’t propose to me, even though I’ve been waiting patiently—”

Jin threw his hands up to stop him. “Okay, I don’t want to hear about your relationship crap. This is why I’m chronically single.”

“I’ve had enough of you.” Jett shoved him, smirking when Jin shot him an offended look. “Go pre-game drink with the others and leave me be. I’ll see you after the game.”

Jin flipped him off as he walked away. “Don’t forget to bring Stanley to the celebration.”

Jett tried to cover his ears, but it was too late. He glared at Jin’s retreating back, irritation simmering inside his already nervous belly. “You’re an asshole, Jin Park!”

Laughter echoed through the halls, and cameras flashed. Jett turned and hurried to the rink before any of them got brave enough to approach.

It went without saying that the media had been thirsty for the story of what happened that night at the lake house, but thanks to court orders and a tight-lipped community, they could only find crumbs of information.

The only facts they could confirm were that Mike had drowned on Harrison’s property, and that Jett and Harrison were injured during an altercation.

They couldn’t hide the physical evidence of that night, not when Harrison’s limp was more pronounced, and he was wearing sunglasses indoors to help with his concussion.

Jett, too, bore the signs of that night, though his were more discreet. Beneath his gear, his forearms were wrapped to hide the still-healing cuts that had been sliced into them by sharp ice.

Jett had only taken two days off to recover, but Harrison was out until February. His concussion and broken ribs had kept him bedridden, and even four months later, he still suffered awful headaches that debilitated him.

Jett had been rushed into therapy, but his coping mechanism was, and always would be, hockey.

He threw himself into his job with so much anger and determination that they had sailed to the playoffs, and then, when things kicked up a level, he doubled down and helped the Sunbursts get to this day. The final day.

People who knew hockey always said that the previous season’s second-place winners never made it to the end, but Jett was going to break that curse tonight. He was going to do it for him and Harrison, because they needed this. They needed something good to happen after the last five months of hell.

That night haunted them. The police did a thorough investigation and discovered that Mike had chopped down the tree to cut their power off and trapped them.

He found the axe in the woodshed, and when Harrison had gone to collect some, he had hit him on the back of the head hard enough to knock him down—but not unconscious.

The rest of the events Jett remembered, but Harrison had lost most of his memories of him and Mike on the lake. He woke up screaming some nights, calling for his brother or kicking his arms and legs like he was fighting to get to the surface of the water.

It had scared Jett at first, but the episodes occurred less often and were less violent as time passed. Most wounds had healed, and the nightmares were fading. And with Mike’s body dragged out of the lake, soon it would be like nothing had happened at all.

Jett wasn’t against returning to the lake house, but if that was going to be their secondary residence, they were getting a fucking dog. A big one—something that could bite the arm off an intruder.

The ridiculous thought had him laughing by the time he got to the ice, pausing to remove the guards from his skates. He didn’t know why Harrison chose the rink for this date, but he assumed there was a dinner table waiting for him, with romantic lighting to set the mood.

The perks of being a Sunburst player with tons of money, he could afford to rent home ice for an hour.

But there was no romantic dinner, or a table with dim lighting. Harrison Killinger was on the ice in athletic gear, leaning on a stick while he worked through stretches like they were second nature.

Once upon a time, they had been second nature.

He was wearing Sunburst colours, and it wasn’t an official jersey, but it gave the illusion of what could have been .

Jett’s chest tightened as he watched Harrison maneuver his muscular body. He had lost weight after being stuck in bed for so long, but he was quickly gaining it back.

He was still the most gorgeous man Jett had ever seen. Tall and dark-haired, with those teasing blue eyes and cocky smirk he loved so much.

It was dumb, but he had to stop all the time and pinch his hand to remind himself that this man belonged to him. He, Jett Fraser, had locked down a guy who was arguably one of the hottest hockey players in history.

He was a lucky, lucky boy.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to limber up?” Harrison shouted across the rink, startling Jett from his daydreaming.

Grinning, he skated over to Harrison, where he was doing push-ups on center ice. “I thought you said this was a date? I didn’t think it was going to be last-minute coaching.”

Jett was in athletic gear too, but he had one of his spare sweaters on and his gloves. He hadn’t brought his stick, but he spotted a second one next to Harrison’s and scoffed.

“Coaching?” Harrison pushed himself up and wiped the sweat from his face. He had his hair down, and Jett kept getting distracted by black strands tangled in dark lashes. “Who said I was coaching? We’re playing one-on-one.”

Jett heard the sound of his brain short-circuiting.

“We’re…playing?”

Harrison used his stick to flick the spare one at Jett, and he caught it. “Scared you’ll lose?”

Not even fucking close.

The nets were set up, and the arena was empty. They were the only two there, standing on Sunburst ice—gazing at each other.

And then a thought occurred to him, and the words were leaving his mouth before he could stop them.

“Harrison, this is the first time you’ve stood on NHL ice.”

A smirk slid onto Harrison’s face, sexy enough to make Jett’s knees feel weak. “Want to show me around?”

Oh god, he was totally fucked .

Harrison retrieved a puck from his pocket and set it on the ice. “First one to three points wins, Sunshine.”

Jett bent low at the same time Harrison did. “Try to keep up with me, Grumbles.”

Harrison was laughing as he counted down to one, and then they were scrambling for the puck.

Jett didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t Harrison winning the face-off and tearing down the ice three paces ahead of him to score the first goal.

When Harrison winked and skated away, Jett needed to take a second to pick his jaw up off the ice.

“I didn’t stretch!” he yelled, cheeks burning when Harrison chuckled. “I’m also taking it easy on you, Sir Limps-A-lot.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harrison stopped at center ice, holding his stick behind his shoulders, looking perfectly at home. “Excuses, Fraser. It’s almost like you want me to win.”

Jett made sure to get the next face-off.

Harrison was right behind him, his long legs eating up the ice separating them until he was close enough to reach out and touch him. He almost knocked the puck off his blade, but Jett sent it flying into the net for his first point.

He celebrated and shot finger guns at his boyfriend, making Harrison laugh and shake his head.

This continued for a little while, but as time passed, Jett could tell Harrison was hurting. He hid it well, but he was slowing down and grunting in pain whenever he had to take a turn too fast. It had barely been ten minutes, and already the pressure on Harrison’s bad leg was becoming too much.

When they took center ice for the last time, Jett gazed into determined blue eyes and allowed the fierce protectiveness for his boyfriend to wash over him. Harrison was pale and drenched with sweat, but he was giving them this moment together, and it was perfect .

“Ready?” Jett asked him.

Harrison nodded, but then his knee abruptly buckled and hit the ice .

Jett dropped his stick and clasped the fabric of Harrison’s shirt so he could drag him back up, but Harrison lifted his hand, and his eyes locked onto the black box resting in his palm.

“Jett Fraser.”

Jett let go of Harrison and jerked away, taking a step back.

“I’m a bit out of breath, so I don’t think I can get through my entire speech, but you told me my actions speak louder than words.

” Harrison opened the box to reveal a gorgeous ring to match his gorgeous smile.

“You are the only star I want to orbit for the rest of my life—however long that life may be. I want to share every moment with you until our last, whether it’s marriage and children, or axe murderers chasing us through the woods. ”

Jett laughed and covered his mouth, impatiently waiting to hear the rest.

“The good and the bad, I don’t care what happens. I want every second on the clock we’re given, and I’m stubborn enough to find you in our next life to ask you for more. So, with all that, and the rest pending, will you marry me?”

“Goddamn it, Harrison.” Jett returned his hands to Harrison’s shirt and pulled him up before he passed out from pain.

“Yes, I’ll marry you. The leg didn’t need to be sacrificed to ask the question.”

“I said I had big plans.” Harrison grimaced as he waited for Jett to remove his gloves so he could give him the ring. “I’m going to need a big amount of Advil later too.”

Jett took the ring from him and slipped it onto his finger, holding it up to show it off until Harrison was satisfied. “No shit, Coach. I’ll text Max and ask him to bring your old man candy to the rink, so you’re not suffering through the—”

He was swept into a bone-crushing hug, and Harrison’s mouth crashed onto his.

The force of the kiss had them drifting backwards, and Jett clung to him to keep them both steady.

They kept it chaste since they were in public, but even though it was lacking the hunger they usually shared, it was one of the best kisses he’d ever had.

“There.” Harrison drew back, but he lifted Jett’s hand and kissed the ring. “Now that you’ve had your pre-game kiss…go win us a fucking cup.”