Page 17 of Barn Burner (Love The Game #2)
Jesse
“This is wild!” Cooper beams as he sits down and gazes around at the arena. He’s double fisting two beers and grinning from ear to ear. Rhett and I have been sensible and stuck to one beer each, but Cooper couldn’t decide what he wanted, so got both.
“Yeah, fifty bucks for four beers is wild ,” Rhett retorts, then turns to me with a serious expression. “You need to ask your boyfriend for some kind of discount because this is daylight robbery.”
“He doesn’t know we’re here,” I point out. “And I doubt he can provide a discount.”
While I did tell Brayden that I would try and come to the city this weekend when we spoke the other day, I didn’t give a definite answer.
There’s a part of me that wants to surprise him.
He’s been very open about where he frequents, and since seeing him on TV the other night, I’ve been able to put together the pieces of his whereabouts.
It sounds very stalkerish when I think about it, but I plan on making it a pleasant surprise.
Then Rhett and Cooper found me looking up the price of tickets for tonight’s game after I watched Brayden play in Vancouver and jumped at the chance to come along with me.
It means we’re going to have a lot of work to go back to, but I’m grateful for the company and the respite from the ranch.
Settling into my seat, I take a sip of my overpriced beer and glance around at what is Brayden’s workplace.
The lights are dimmed but bright enough that people can still get around safely.
The two Zambonis work in tandem to resurface the ice as the jumbotron plays video clips from previous games, along with some fun behind-the-scenes pop quizzes and interviews.
At one point, it shows a live view from the locker room, and my throat tightens at the sight of Brayden in front of his stall.
He’s fully dressed on the bottom half, but he’s only wearing his chest protector over bare skin.
He turns his back to the camera, completely unaware he’s in the shot, and the sight of his muscles rippling as he pulls on his jersey has my mouth watering.
Fuck, how is this man real?
No. How is this man mine ?
“Hey now.” Rhett chuckles, interrupting my hypnotic state by forcing my mouth closed with his hand. “No drooling in public.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, shoving his hand away. My brothers burst into laughter, so I flip them off.
When the arena lights come on and illuminate the ice, my pulse kicks up.
Our seats are at centre ice, but a few rows back.
The price of tickets was eye-watering, but Rhett made the decision for us that we don’t get to do this as often as we should, if ever, and considering this is to watch Brayden, we should go for the decent seats.
The players of both teams filter through the tunnels, knocking off the stack of pucks from the bench wall as they step onto the ice. My eyes track the numbers on the sleeves, trying to spot Brayden. When number 71 comes into view, my heart practically thumps in my chest.
“There he is!” Cooper says, pointing to where Brayden does a few laps around their side of the ice, circling the back of the net and back to the blue line, then back round again.
He comes to a stop at the blue line and bends forward, resting his stick across his thighs. His back is to us. The “ NIELSON ” on his jersey is clear as day, and a sense of pride courses through me.
He’s so majestic. And so fucking handsome it hurts.
I can imagine he’s feeling anxious about me finding out this side of him, especially given the spotlight on him.
I ended up reading all of the articles, and not just the recent ones, but from when he was drafted.
He’s had this pressure on him since before he played his first game in the National Hockey League, and the expectations of him have only continued to grow.
I also found the photoshoot and article he did for Queervolution magazine, along with a group of athletes from other sports around the globe. Not only is he in the top five greatest hockey players of his generation, but he’s openly bisexual, and that in itself has come with additional attention.
So, I don’t blame him for being wary, or for withholding this from me, or us, and I’m going to make sure he knows that.
I’m unable to take my eyes off him as he goes through various drills, both solo and with his teammates, and then when he moves down onto the ice and begins to go through his stretches, I forget to blink or breathe.
Brayden leaves the ice before the end of warm-ups, but he’s soon back in my sights when he comes back out for the national anthem.
We all stand up, and just as he did on TV, he stands on the blue line and shifts from skate to skate.
His stick bounces ever so slightly, like his arm has its own vibration, but it doesn’t touch the ice.
He stares up at the pennants hanging in the rafters, and the second the song ends, he’s off.
He pivots on his skates, grabs his helmet from the bench, then does a lap around the net.
He crouches down, shimmies his hips, then lines up to take the face-off.
My heart is in my throat the entire time Brayden’s on the ice. I swear I don’t blink. I just keep my eyes fixed on him, not wanting to miss a single nanosecond of him in action. I’m on the edge of my seat as he takes shots on goal, but the goaltender for Vegas bats away every attempt he makes.
The first period goes scoreless, but when they come back out for the second period, the camera pans over Brayden’s face, and I’ve never seen him look so serious.
Those soulful brown eyes are ultra focused, a small crease between his furrowed brows as he chews on his mouth guard .
And what I wouldn’t give to slide my mouth over those slightly parted lips.
Rhett and Cooper are animated beside me, cheering and chirping the other team. But I’m silent. I can’t speak because I’m vibrating with so much energy right now, I’m either going to explode with pride or explode with frustration every time a player comes into contact with Brayden.
A Vegas player gets a penalty for slashing, and then the Bobcats are on a power play.
Brayden’s presence dominates the ice. He passes the puck to his teammates and repositions himself.
Vegas are preoccupied with the others, and then the puck is sent to Brayden, who is lined up perfectly and sends it flying into the top right corner.
I’m on my feet, pumping my fist in the air and clapping so hard my palms sting.
Brayden raises his arms in celebration as his teammates swarm around him as the goal horn sounds.
Then, to my complete surprise, Big & Rich’s “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)” blares through the speakers.
Brayden separates from his teammates, skating back up the ice before squatting down.
He puts his hockey stick between his legs and waves his left arm in the air, just like he did when he was on that mechanical bull.
I can’t stop the laughter that spills out. He might not have told me that this is his life, but he’s still brought a little bit of the Huxley life back with him.
“He’s so fucking amazing,” Cooper shouts over the cheering crowd.
All I can do is nod in agreement, unable to tear my eyes off the man who is quite possibly the most incredible man I’ve ever met.
We make our way to the first bar on the list, hoping it’ll be the right one. The Bobcats won the game, so I’m certain Brayden will be making an appearance.
Sliding onto one of the stools, Cooper orders us some drinks while we look over the menu.
After the price of the beers, I didn’t want to risk Rhett having a fit over the cost of food at the arena, so we all agreed to grab something here.
I’m assuming it’s going to take a while for Brayden to get out, so we have time to eat and for me to mentally prepare on how I’m going to let him know we’re here.
We eat our food and chat about random shit for almost two hours when the doors open, letting in a blast of frigid air.
I shiver at the cold, and then my brain short-circuits when I hear it.
The sound of Brayden’s laughter. My spine straightens, and I glance over at Cooper and Rhett, subtly shaking my head.
I don’t want to make a scene. I want to approach him when he’s on his own.
Let him decide how he wants to play this, because while he might be out, he might not want to have his relationship made public.
I card my fingers through my hair, feeling a little lost without my hat. We all ditched the cowboy hats tonight, opting to leave them at home as we weren’t sure what the vibe of these places was, but now I miss having something to hide beneath.
Subtly looking over my shoulder, my eyes find him instantly. He’s with a group of five guys, all of them laughing and looking genuinely pleased.
As they should be.
Brayden says something to one of the guys, then points toward the corridor for the washrooms. His friend nods, and then Brayden disappears, and I slide off my seat.
Leaning my shoulder against the wall, I wait outside, not wanting to be a complete creep. My heart is going a mile a minute in my chest, beating like an erratic drummer. I wipe my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans, then cross my arms over my chest.
He steps out minutes later, mouthing along to the song that’s playing throughout the bar. When he catches sight of me, he freezes. His eyes widen, and his mouth opens and closes a few times, like he can’t quite comprehend what he’s seeing.
“Jesse?” he finally manages, but he doesn’t move any closer.
Fuck. Please don’t say I’ve messed this all up.
Uncrossing my arms, I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans and give him a half smile. “Hey, Brayden.”
He blinks at me a few times, his dark brows furrowing in confusion.
“Wait, are you really here right now, or did I end up taking a snooze in the hot tub, and this is some kind of weird heat-induced hallucination I’m having?”
I chuckle, and he peers up at me in disbelief as I close the distance between us.
“I’m really here,” I say, then drop my head slightly until my mouth is close to his ear. “And I really want to fucking kiss you right now, but I don’t want to fuck things up for you. So tell me what you want, Brayden, and I’ll do whatever you say.”
Brayden manages to tear his eyes away from me for a moment to glance around the darkened corridor. He must be happy with our surroundings because he grabs a fistful of my shirt and hauls me closer. Then his mouth crashes against mine, and I groan.
It’s been seven weeks since I’ve tasted him.
Seven weeks since I’ve held him against me.
Seven weeks since I truly felt whole.
Gripping his waist, I guide him back until he’s pressed up against the wall. He moans. His other hand grips the back of my head as his tongue devours every inch of my mouth. I grind my hips against his, our cocks thickening inside our jeans as they slot together.
“Bloody hell,” he gasps when we break apart, his lips swollen from my kiss. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Fuck me, I’m shook,” he says with a grin. “When did you get here?”
I laugh under my breath and nip his bottom lip. “This afternoon. I… uh…” I trail off, a sense of uncertainty washing over me. I know I need to do this, but I really hope he isn’t going to freak out that I found out before he had the chance to tell me.
“I know… about your job,” I confess.
He blanches, and my heart sinks a little. “You do?”
“Yeah. I don’t want you to be worried that I’m annoyed or angry, because I’m not. I completely understand why you kept it to yourself.”
He chews on the inside of his cheek, and I lift my hand, running my thumb over his jaw. His eyes are filled with guilt, and I hate that he’s feeling like this.
“I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you, like the next time I saw you, because I didn’t want to hide it from you any longer.”
“It’s okay, you don’t need to explain yourself.” I press another kiss to his lips, hoping it will give him some reassurance. “I promise you, I’m not mad.”
“How did you find out?” he asks.
“Cooper wanted to watch the first game of the season, and while my mom was singing along to the national anthem, there you were, looking like the fucking heartbreaker you are.”
He dips his chin, trying to hide his smile.
I take it between my thumb and forefinger and tilt it back up to me, not wanting him to hide from me when I tell him, “You amaze me, Brayden Nielson. I’m so fucking in awe of you, and I want you to know that I will protect you in every way I can for as long as I’m here. ”