Page 9 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to be done so he could get away from him.

That was a lie.

As much as he enjoyed playing hockey, it was starting to feel more like a chore with every passing day he spent in Mike’s presence. He was never doing this again, not because he didn’t like anyone there, but because everything felt too forced.

Fuck, he owed the guy a beer. Maybe a lobotomy, so he could function with Mike as a captain because the guy was a hot mess. He didn’t know how or why Mike bothered with hockey instead of focusing on a career or preparing himself to take over his dad’s company like he would undoubtedly do.

Captains were supposed to pick you up and make you fight until the last buzzer goes off, but all Mike wanted to do was bark orders at Townsend, even when he was on the opposing team.

Jett had tried to say something several times to get him to back off, but Mike acted like he never heard him and kept running his mouth.

Yeah, their friendship was officially over after this game.

At least Townsend wouldn’t be stuck under Mike’s rule for long. Not after seeing a guy in an expensive suit approach him when their game finished yesterday. It could be nothing, but fuck, Jett hoped for his sake that it was something good .

“At least Townsend has finally been put in his place,” said Mike, grinning at Jett while heading toward the rink where the others were warming up.

“That annoying bitch has been barking ever since he got here. He acts smug and important, but we all know he’s getting bent over the coach’s desk after every game. ”

“Mike, seriously ?” Jett tugged hard on his arm, forcing him to stop so fast he nearly tripped. He knew he wasn’t supposed to do anything that would sour his image with the media, but he didn’t think he would be able to stop himself from punching Mike this time.

“The fuck, dude?” Mike glared, his eyes flickering to Jett’s mouth and back up, making him squirm uncomfortably.

Mike had gone rigid under his touch, and Jett didn’t know why he had the sudden urge to back away, but he didn’t like this feeling. It was like he had just spooked a caged animal, and it was about to turn and rip his throat out.

Mike’s eyes darkened when he stepped forward, forcing Jett close to the wall.

“Why do you keep running your mouth lately?” Mike asked in a tone that instantly made Jett feel like he was back in high school, letting Mike push him around like he always did. “You were never like this. You were always good at keeping quiet.”

How could Jett have run his mouth when they were in school? How was he supposed to talk around the mouthful of worms that Mike had made him eat on a dare? Or underwater when Mike challenged him to a breath-holding competition in the pool, and held his head down until he almost drowned.

All the adults laughed because it was supposed to be funny.

Boys were expected to rough each other up and drive their mothers crazy when they came home with bruises and broken bones.

Mike had done things to Jett and their friends that he brushed off and excused as a prank or a joke, but looking back, it was obviously not okay.

Jett had no idea why he was here. He used to put up with Mike’s bullshit because he was rich and acted cool, but after leaving Nova Scotia and learning how to adult for a while, he was finally seeing Mike for who he was .

And even though he wasn’t the same kid who Mike used to push around, being alone with him in a narrow hall—nearly pinned to a wall—had that same anxious feeling bubbling inside his gut again.

“You think you’re better than me now, do you?” Mike asked, taking that final step that forced Jett into making solid contact with the wall. “You think now that you’re some big shot, you can tell me what to do, and I’ll just listen?”

“Chill out, dude.” Jett pushed his hands against Mike’s chest, trying to signal that he wanted space, but like every other boundary he tried to put up, Mike ignored it.

“I might have to find something else for that mouth to do to shut it up,” Mike growled in a whisper, making Jett’s skin break into goosebumps.

“Mike, seriously—”

“Hey!”

Neither had heard Gates approach, but Jett had never been so grateful to see another person.

“Are you two done whispering about your super, secret friendship?” said Gates, pulling up beside Mike so he could clap a hand on his shoulder. “Because you guys aren’t going to believe who just fucking showed up.”

Mike shrugged the hand off and stepped away from Jett, giving him room to breathe.

“Are you going to tell us, or are you trying to kill us with suspense?” Mike asked, his eyes staying locked onto Jett.

Jett knew that look without needing to be a mind-reader. He had seen it a thousand times.

“Keep your mouth shut and don’t talk about what happened.”

“I think it’s better to see for yourselves,” said Gates, giving them an easy smile. “I’m sure you’ll be thrilled, Cap.”

Mike let out a dismissive snort of laughter and began walking toward the rink without saying anything else.

Jett watched him go, not realizing he was holding his breath until Gates gave him a friendly shake. “Are you okay, Fraser?”

Jett tried his best not to let anything show on his face, but he knew it hadn’t worked when Gates frowned, and his expression turned pinched and angry .

“Look, I know I shouldn’t have to say this out loud,” said Gates. “But the guys and I won’t be offended if you never hang out with us again. We wouldn’t blame you.”

“Thanks,” said Jett, ignoring how shaky his voice sounded. Fuck, what the hell was that? What was wrong with Mike? “Let’s just enjoy this last game. Kicking your ass on the ice is my favourite part of the day.”

Gates laughed, and his hand left Jett’s shoulder to give him a playful smack on the back of his head. “I thought you were supposed to be humble like all the media folks keep pushing.”

Jett smiled, feeling lighter as they walked down the hall toward the rink.

Gates left him as soon as they made it to the bench, and Jett distracted himself by checking his skates and finding his helmet. He was so frazzled after what had happened between him and Mike that he forgot why Gates had interrupted them.

There was a crowd in the stands today, like every day that week. The news of his visit had travelled fast to the point where the rink owners had to hire security to manage the number of people coming in. Every seat was full, and cheers erupted when he stepped onto the ice.

It helped cheer him up, and he forgot about Mike. It was difficult to linger on the bad things when there were hundreds of screaming fans there for the same reason he was; they fucking loved hockey.

He started his warmup quickly since he was already behind the others. This wasn’t an official game, but he wanted to give everyone a show since this was his last day playing, which meant stretching properly and warming his muscles. He was not risking an injury for Mike, friend or not.

He was taking turns shooting the puck at the net to get in the zone when he saw Townsend standing in front of the opponent’s bench, talking to a person who was more beard than man.

He completely missed his next shot. The puck hit the iron and ricocheted into the shielding with a clatter. The group of kids behind the glass started cheering excitedly, allowing Jett to recover and escape with dignity.

He couldn’t keep from sliding up beside Townsend if he wanted to, even when two pairs of blue eyes landed on him in the most intimidating way .

“What’s up?”

The words left Jett’s mouth before he could rein them in, and he could already feel the heat creeping up his neck as Townsend raised an eyebrow at his casual greeting.

Killinger scoffed and ignored him, instead focusing his gaze on Townsend. “Repeat what I fucking said, because until I hear the words, I’m not agreeing to stay.”

Townsend’s posture straightened. “I’m not going to hold back. I’m going to win .”

The cousins shared a moment of silence that felt too personal for Jett to be a part of. He was about to leave and give them their space when Harrison pointed at him and barked, “You, stay where you’re at.”

Jett froze in place.

“And you,” Harrison lifted his hand for a fist bump, which Townsend gave him. “Play the best damn game you’ve ever played.”

The way Townsend lit up made it impossible for Jett not to smile. He could take home the Stanley Cup if Killinger talked to him like that before a game.

Townsend saluted his cousin and skated away, joining his selected teammates in line as they took turns at the net.

Jett tried to play it cool when Killinger’s gaze locked onto him, those blue eyes bringing every brain cell in his head to a halt so fast he could smell burnt rubber.

Even with the lumberjack vibe he had going on, Killinger had to be one of the sexiest men Jett had ever seen.

He had lost a noticeable amount of muscle mass during the last five years, but he was broad-shouldered and tall, still towering above Jett even though he was in skates.

He didn’t think a man-bun could have so much sex appeal, but now all Jett could think about was untying it so he could tangle his fingers in his black hair.

Everyone had their crushes, and most grew out of them. Jett thought he had reached that point with his tiny fascination with Killinger, but standing so close to him in this setting, standing close enough to smell his cologne and see the pissed-off expression on his face?

Fuck, he was half-hard so fast it physically hurt. Apparently, his cock liked it when he was being glared at with a look that could easily strip paint.

“You think you have what it takes to impress me, Fraser? ”

Oh fuck. Why did he have to say those words in such a gravelly tone?

“I think I’m about to blow your mind,” said Jett. “By the end of this game, the Killinger will be renamed the Fraser .”

For some reason his mouth wouldn’t stop trying to pick a fight with Killinger, but it was worth it to see the cocky smile he got in response. All the butterflies in his stomach started frantically trying to escape, leaving Jett feeling unsteady on his skates.

For once, Mike’s interruption was a good thing. Jett took a second to get his mouth and his dick under control as Mike came to a stop next to him, giving Killinger a quick once-over.

“Harry Killinger, I can’t believe you came to watch today,” said Mike, extending his hand so Killinger could shake it. “I see you all the time when you show up to save Townsend’s ass from his shitty car, but we’ve never had a chance to talk.”

Killinger’s arms didn’t move from where they were crossed over his chest. He didn’t even look at Mike’s hand, which was still outstretched and waiting.

“It’s Harrison,” said Killinger. “Who are you again?”

A thrill of excitement raced up Jett’s spine as he watched Killinger take on Mike. This wasn’t helping his problem of being less attracted to the man, but he couldn’t turn away.

He watched in shock and delight as Mike gave up on the handshake and pulled the front of his jersey to point out the C that had been in plain view this whole time.

“I’m the captain of the Acadia Wolves. You know, the team your cousin plays on?”

Killinger’s expression never shifted from his usual look of mildly annoyed indifference. “You want a gold sticker or something?”

It took everything inside of Jett not to react to the shock on Mike’s face. No one talked to him like that, not even his parents. But all humour vanished when Mike squared up, his expression twisting into a fury that Jett didn’t know he was capable of.

Killinger didn’t so much as twitch, which only made Mike angrier.

“You and your cousin talk a lot of fucking shit,” Mike spat, still looking like he was ready to leap over the low wall to start a fight. “But just remember that I’m standing out here while your crippled ass is sitting on the bench.”

Mike’s words did not have the effect that Jett assumed he was hoping for. He watched as the corner of Killinger’s mouth slowly pulled into a smirk, showing off some of his white teeth.

The smirk goaded Mike into faking a lunge at Killinger, who didn’t flinch or say a word, even when Mike spat on the ice.

“Fucking wannabe cripple,” said Mike, angrily skating away to bark orders at his teammates.

Jett didn’t miss how Mike sped toward Townsend, skating close enough to brush shoulders with him intentionally.

Townsend was as stone-cold as his cousin. He didn’t blink at the aggressive gesture, instead choosing to ignore everything as he focused on putting pucks in the net.

“I hope you know that I’m judging the shit out of you for claiming that tool as a friend,” said Killinger.

Jett frowned as he turned away from Mike’s path of destruction to Harrison Killinger, who was smiling like he’d found Mike’s behaviour amusing.

“He’s not my friend,” Jett admitted, maybe for the first time out loud.

He left Killinger behind and glided back onto the ice to finish his warmup, wondering why it suddenly felt like all the butterflies in his stomach had caught on fire.