Page 30

TWENTY-EIGHT

SWEETHEART

I get a confirmation text from Gab about my brothers watching the game with her as soon as I walk out of the resort’s lobby.

Thank God she sent me that weird message yesterday. I even talked about it with Nikolay, how unnecessary it felt for her to let me know she’d be here for tonight’s game as well as Sunday’s against Atlanta.

I am grateful for how she and the team have rallied around me in preparation for our game against my old team, but I never expected the owner of my team to text me about her whereabouts.

I hurry to hand my valet ticket over so hopefully I can get my ass back to the house ASAP.

To say I have some explaining to do would be a fucking understatement .

I’m blaming abject terror and sticking with it when the time comes to talk to Nik about it.

My car is brought up then and I get in quickly, tipping the valet generously. I peel out of there, willing traffic to be on my side so I’ll have some time to talk to Nikolay before we need to get to the arena.

Now that I’m finally alone—something I haven’t been in a month now—I can hear my thoughts, and it’s like that moment when you jump into a pool and it’s the perfect temperature.

Could it be that Nik and I have just been too close for too long?

Do we need to have a bit more space between us?

I don’t actually want that, I’m pretty sure, since my hands tighten on the steering wheel at the thought.

I park the car, still having no clue what the conversation with Nik will be like. It’s going to be tough, though, I know that much.

“Nik,” I call out as soon as I cross the threshold.

“In the kitchen,” comes his deep voice. I find him standing by the sink, pouring our protein shakes into the two tumblers we always use.

I stand there and watch him focus on the task, his arms moving slowly but without hesitation. The way his bicep pops just a little reminds me of how he woke me up. His words this morning... I still want him to do dirty, dirty things to me even though I fucked up and then he fucked up thanks to my fuck up .

Well, if we’re getting technical, the reason I fucked up is because he fucked up a week ago and has had me feeling all kinds of shitty ever since.

But that’s neither here nor there.

“I’m sorry,” I say simply. He clearly hears me, since he puts the blender down and leans his palms on the counter, hanging his head.

“Me too.” He speaks so quietly I barely hear it. “I wanted to make a joke. I never meant to insult your brother.”

I have to swallow hard to get rid of the rock lodged in my throat.

“I’m just protective over him,” I explain lamely.

An adorable snort comes out of him and he shakes his head but doesn’t say anything else. I guess it’s my turn to explain myself, even though I have no idea how I could possibly do that.

“I haven’t told anyone about you,” I start, stating the obvious, and curse myself for it. “I just felt panic this morning.” That’s better. “I have no idea why it was so strong, but I panicked, and since last week—” I stop myself.

I control my actions.

I’m the one who’s swallowed their doubts and fears all week, he didn’t make me do that. My reaction this morning wasn’t his fault. At least not entirely.

He winces, though, and I feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper again. What else can I say ?

It takes him a moment, but eventually he turns to me and looks a lot more settled than I feel.

“Everyone who I consider family is in the team or part of it. I can’t tell anyone, sweetheart. But you have this whole family who, from everything you’ve told me, would be perfectly fine if they found out you were with a man. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think they’d care that I’m also your teammate.”

“No, they wouldn’t care. They’d be happy, actually,” I whisper truthfully.

Michelle and Kelly come to mind in that moment, and I realize he’s right, but...

“I can’t talk about Max yet, sweetheart,” he confesses with a pained expression. “I promised you I’d tell you everything when I could, but I can’t .”

I want to scream “why?” at him, but I don’t.

He’s made himself clear, and the explanation is probably part of the problem he—for whatever reason—can’t bring himself to talk about.

I need to decide now if I can live with that, and then move on.

Which is what I should’ve done last week, but I didn’t.

I think about what a day without him by my side every minute would be like, and boy, that is one bleak day. There would be less laughter, definitely less orgasms, and less life .

“Okay,” I tell him simply, deciding I’m accepting this—him.

“Good. Now I didn’t mean to imply that you have to tell anyone anything,” he clarifies. “I want you to feel comfortable with maybe doing so, that’s all. If it weren’t for the fact that the team could be impacted if they react badly, then I’d tell them all in a heartbeat.”

“You would?” I ask in wonder.

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffs. “Of course I would. Charlie Heart is my boyfriend .” His eyes are wide open as he waits for me to see how impressive that is. I don’t see it, but in any case I get stuck on that word.

“I am?” I ask, leaning back.

“Of course you are,” he shouts. “What did you think this was? I sucked your dick for fuck’s sake.”

I take his words in and then I have to snicker.

“Jesus, you’re ridiculous,” I say between laughs. He smiles, clearly pleased with himself.

“But I’m your boooooyfriend ,” he teases like a middle schooler.

“I guess you are,” I tell him softly, the smile permanently etched on my face now. I walk to him, take a hold of his hips, pull him to me, and capture his lips with mine for a slow kiss. Damn, I really want to go back upstairs and have him do those dirty things to me.

But then life barges into our moment once more.

My alarm that’s set for five minutes before we have to leave for the game goes off. Nik groans loudly and drops his head all the way to my shoulder.

He’s very dramatic, my boyfriend.

God, I have a boyfriend .

The striking realization stays with me while we get our shit together and manage to get on the road just a couple of minutes late.

We’re halfway to the arena when he speaks again, after taking a big gulp of his protein shake.

“So, can I know who you gave your tickets for tonight’s game to?”

“Oh,” I mumble, surprised by the question. I’d forgotten all about it. “Of course you can know. I gave them to my neighbors, Michelle and Kelly.” His brow furrows in concentration. I bet he’s trying to remember if he’s ever heard me mention them before. “They’re the ones I went to talk to when you went to Bear’s place for your fake traditional dinner,” I remind him.

“Ah,” he says with a nod.

“They’re cool,” I assure him. “And they don’t know I was talking about you, but if you feel good about it, we could ask them to come to dinner sometime next week?” Then I start word vomiting because my nerves get the best of me. “They work mostly weekends, but I don’t think we have a game on Wednesday, right? I can check with them, see if they’re free.”

I don’t shut up until he puts one of his big hands on my thigh.

“Why don’t you think about it this weekend, and if you want then of course I’d love to meet them. But your brothers are here, so let’s focus on that and on beating the crap out of Atlanta this weekend, okay? ”

I suck in a lungful of air and nod.

“Okay.” I take his hand, maybe grip it harder than normal, and then bring it to my lips. “Thank you,” I whisper. And no other words are needed after that.

“I have an idea for later,” Nik whispers right by my ear while we’re getting our bearings in the locker room.

It’s the second intermission and we’re tied at two against Pittsburgh. We’re better than them, have the better team, so it’s been frustrating to see them get two goals on us. It won’t stop us from winning, though, but I am surprised that Nik wants to talk about something other than the game right now.

“What idea?” I ask, speaking just as quietly.

“For where to take Beau to feel better. What if we go to Chris’s club?” His eyes are alight with excitement.

“Isn’t it a gay club?” I ask with a frown. Why would Beau want that? “You know he’s straight, right?”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes in the over-the-top way he always does. “We thought we were straight too. Besides, tonight isn’t about him hooking up with someone, it’s about him getting shitfaced and feeling all his feelings.”

“I don’t know if that’s healthy,” I hedge.

“Fuck healthy,” he says a bit louder. “The guy needs to get angry and stop being sad.”

I open my mouth to answer, but Laney comes into the locker room and starts tearing us apart just enough to put us in our place and remind us who the fuck we are.

It works.

We spend the third period with a ridiculous percentage of possession, and Spiderman gets a beautiful goal thanks to an assist from Nik. Pittsburgh has no answers, and with just a minute to go, Jules puts the nail in the coffin and scores again—there’s a reason why he’s legendary even before he’s hit his thirties.

We come out of the locker room feeling higher than Mount Everest, and though my smile dims a little when I see just how subdued Beau still is, it comes back when they congratulate us over the win. They look sideways at Nik, so I stop that right there.

“Don’t ask,” I warn Beau, who I could tell was about to do just that.

“We are going out,” Nik says happily when we climb into the back seats of the SUV I rented for my brothers. Nik insisted we ride with them after asking them to call him Santa. I rolled my eyes but didn’t say anything to that. “Benny has a boyfriend who owns a club in the Winner resort. We will go there after dinner and Beau can drown his sorrows.”

I look out my window and bite my lip to snicker at how thick he’s laying on the accent.

Finn and Beau don’t protest, thank God, and we end up at the steakhouse inside the same resort.

Nik and I mostly listen while Finn—with minimal commentary from Beau—tells me everything that’s happening back home. His dark eyes, the same as mine, keep shifting to Nik, though, so I pat his arm discreetly before I stand. “Going to the bathroom,” I announce, happy I don’t have to say anything to Nikolay, he just follows me.

“What?” he asks as soon as we’re inside the bathroom.

“Why aren’t you talking?” I demand.

“I’m listening to your brother,” he protests, putting his palms out. “He’s talking about your home so much, and I want to hear about it.”

“Okay, now I feel like an asshole.”

“What am I even supposed to talk about?” he mumbles and his shoulders droop.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly, feeling defeated. I just want him to get to know my brothers and for my brothers to get to know the real him. “Just be yourself and say whatever you want. Don’t hold back.”

He raises one eyebrow and I relent.

“Okay, hold back a little. We’re almost done here.”

And it’s only twenty minutes later that we’re in the elevator going to the top floor. The club’s named Lure, and I understand why when we enter and I see all the writhing bodies, hear the sensual music.

I’ve never been the club type, but this one makes me want to pull Nik onto the dance floor, press my whole body against his, and grind like I’m getting paid for it.

I resist.

Barely .

Instead, I follow Nik, my brothers in tow, to the VIP area, where he’s greeted like a celebrity—which I suppose he is—and ten minutes later two big-ass bottles of vodka are put on the little glass table in front of us.

“Here you will get a lot of attention,” Nik tells Beau with an amused smirk, and gestures to the whole club. “But you won’t be tempted to get over someone by getting under someone else.”

I’m surprised at the insightfulness, but still shake my head at him with that smile he always brings out of me stamped on my face.

Beau looks a little bit less depressed with each drink, and Nik loses the accent little by little the more he drinks. I haven’t seen him drink since he brought that ridiculous bottle of vodka to my house when he moved in, but I can tell he can pack them away like no one’s business.

Beau taps out early and waves off our offers to walk him to their room. He’s sober enough to promise me he’ll text when he’s safely in bed, and I do get that picture ten minutes later, so I can’t complain.

Finn, on the other hand... well, he’s taking advantage of the scenery and having the time of his life.

We finally drag him out of there at four in the morning and get him to the floor of their room safe and sound. I can’t wait to get to bed and I know how long the drive home is going to seem in a cab or an Uber, but we have a late practice tomorrow so I’m not that worried.

But Nik has other ideas apparently .

He pushes the button to the third to last floor wordlessly and still says nothing when he sees my questioning gaze. I can’t find it in me to ask out loud, because I’m damn tired, so I don’t protest when he takes my hand, leads me down the hallway, and opens a door with a key card I didn’t see him take out of his pocket.

Did he get us a room for the night? He looks ahead, my boyfriend. This is something I didn’t know about him...

And that’s when I notice there’s something different about this room.

First off, it’s a suite with a living room and kitchenette, but also there are paintings and picture frames everywhere . I can’t seem to focus on any of them for too long, but I know this isn’t usual for hotel rooms. I’ve been in more than my share of them.

“What’s this?” I finally find my voice.

“This is my place.” His voice is way too low. He was shouting the lyrics to whatever songs they were playing at the club not twenty minutes ago.

I turn and see him looking down and... is that a blush on his cheeks?

It hits me then.

But I can’t say anything until I confirm.

There’s only one detail Nik has told me about the place where he lives, so I sprint to the bedroom, find the door that I guess leads to the bathroom, and stop in my tracks when I see the huge—as big as promised—hot tub disguised as a bath .

“Well damn,” I whisper to myself. Still not quite sure how to interpret what this means.

“Yeah.”

I jump on my feet at the sound of Nik’s voice right behind me, then spin to watch him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“ This is your place?” I emphasize just to make sure.

“Mm-hmm.” He nods. I... don’t know what to say. I have too many thoughts, too many feelings. “I know,” he mumbles without looking up. “Pathetic, huh?”

That snaps me out of my stupor in zero-point-two milliseconds.

“Nikolay Brotnik,” I start sharply and slap my hands on my hips. He finally looks up, his icy blue eyes guarded. “You are a lot of things—stubborn, infuriating, sometimes ridiculous—but you are not and never have been pathetic. I better never hear you say shit like that again.” I point a finger at his face. “Do you think I’d have a pathetic boyfriend?” I demand.

He doesn’t answer, his jaw hanging somewhere by the tiled floor.

“No I wouldn’t. Because I know I deserve the best, and that’s exactly what you are. So pick up your jaw, and let’s go to sleep.” I walk past him and choose the right side of the bed—same one I use at my place—flip the duvet back, undress, then get the fuck in.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks as he starts taking off his pants. He sounds confused but not hurt, so I don’t start another rant but I do soften my voice.

“No, I’m not mad at you, Nik. Get in for God’s sake.”

“You sound mad,” he mumbles.

“Well, maybe I am a little mad,” I confess in a mutter. “But not at you.”

“Then at who?” He still looks confused, and I swear I want to stay on topic, but then he takes his shirt off and I get to see him in all his naked glory and well... I get distracted. “Sweetheart,” he says loudly and I snap my eyes back up to his face.

“What?” It takes me a second to remember what he said. “Oh, I’m mad in general.”

“Why?” He finally gets under the covers and as always scoots to the middle and pulls me forcibly until we’re touching from head to toes.

“Because you don’t have a home,” I explain. “I’m mad that for whatever reason you think living in a hotel is something you deserve. Even if you did make it very homey with all the paintings and pictures. I didn’t know you liked art.”

“They were all my mother’s,” he whispers as his eyes close. The exhaustion of the day—physical and emotional—finally catching up to him. I got a second wind after seeing the suite, but now it’s hitting me again.

“I like them,” I tell him, and then it’s lights out.

I feel like I’ve been running all over the place and haven’t had a second to breathe the whole day when practice finally finishes at eleven and I can sit in front of my cubby. Nik is reading something on his phone, totally engrossed, and so I reach for my own.

That’s when I see about a million messages and another hundred missed calls from Beau.

“Fuck,” I snap. Fear grips my mind in an unbreakable vise as I hit the screen to call him back.

“Fucking finally, Charlie,” Beau snaps.

“What happened?” I demand. “Are you hurt? Where are you? I can?—”

“Finn never came to the room last night. I’m not hurt,” he snaps at me.

“What?” I shout. “We left him at your floor. It was the twelfth, right?” I’m standing, still in full gear, but my stupid panicked brain still thinks everything will get fixed if I stand. “I saw him walking down the hallway, and he wasn’t stumbling that bad.” I close my eyes, trying to recall every single detail of last night, but I was distracted by Nik pushing another button before the doors were even closed. If I’d only?—

“Oh,” Beau says, relieved. “Well then, he can’t be far.”

Why is he suddenly so calm?

“I’m gonna go walk the hallway, see if he fell asleep on the floor or something.

“What? Beau—” But the line is already dead.

I turn and see Nik looking at me with worried eyes .

“Finn’s missing,” I explain.

“How? We left him on his floor.” He says the exact same thing I just did.

“I don’t know, but we need to go.”

“Okay.”

He starts shedding his gear without hesitation, and I’m flooded with so much emotion for him in that moment that it freezes me for a few seconds. He’s fucking amazing.

But then I snap the fuck out of it.

At the house, I’m pacing up and down the foyer while Nik is on the phone with Sterling, asking for the resort manager’s number. Since his residency is there, he’s our best bet to get some people who are actually there to help.

I, on the other hand, have been trying to get Beau to call me back, but he doesn’t. It’s fucking infuriating and?—

My phone rings, and it’s Finn.

“Fi,” I answer, sounding so much like my father that it catches me off guard long enough for him to interrupt me.

“Before you give me a lecture just remember, you should’ve taken me all the way to our room, so this is kind of your fault, okay? Also, maybe skip the lecture and hear me out. Is there any way you can get us another ticket for the concert tonight?”

“Yeah, Sterling told me there’s a bunch available,” I answer without thinking, because he did. Well, Jules did when I asked before practice but he’s Sterling’s husband, so he knows.

“That’s great. Wait, are you coming too?” he sounds excited.

“I don’t know . . .” I make him sweat because I’m still fucking pissed and he still hasn’t explained himself to me. I hope he told Beau where the hell he’s been, though. “We have a game tomorrow,” I hedge.

“Yeah, but it’s a late game and the concert has to end before midnight, surely. You can get a room here so you’ll be asleep earlier,” he cajoles, not knowing I’m pulling his leg. And hell yeah, I can get a room at the Winner. I wanna suck Nik off in that room. I don’t know why, but it’s been too damn long since he got hit by that damn puck over a week ago.

“Yeah, okay.” I cave, and he cheers obnoxiously, but I pipe in with what Nik said this morning. “Santa wants to go anyway.” It’s weird how unnatural it feels to call him by his nickname. I’ve never called him that, but he did ask Finn and Beau to call him that yesterday and I don’t feel like hearing anyone else call him Nik so, yeah. I’ll just go with it.

Finn, on the other hand, seems to be having some trouble.

“Uhhh, don’t you two hate each other?” From his point of view I guess it does seem weird as hell, and that’s my fault completely, I know that. But after giving it some thought this morning, I realized I do want to tell them, only not this weekend. Beau’s going through it, and I feel like it’s a good time to just let him be.

“It’s complicated,” I tell him finally, and sigh heavily.

“You know you can tell me, I won’t tell another soul.” God, I love him so much, even though more often than not he is a little pain in my ass, but I really do love him.

“Thanks, Fi. I know. Now . . .” I change my tone dramatically. “Gab told me she offered you guys the suite for Sunday’s game too.” She did so this morning, after not exchanging a single word with Nik— again . “But you said you wanted tickets?”

“Uh, yeah.” It takes him a second to get the words in his brain out of his mouth. “I need to ask Lou first??—”

“Who’s Lou?” I ask, very alert now.

“Just a guy.” He’s the one hedging now.

“Sure,” I snort. “Just a guy you want to impress. I know that tone.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe I want to impress him. Whatever. Shut up,” he hisses when I outright laugh at him. “Let me just check with him. I don’t know yet if he’s the crowd type or the silent type.”

“Fine,” I tell him, sarcasm dripping from the word. “I’ll just be here eagerly waiting for your instructions, master.”

“That’s the way it should be. It’s nature’s way,” he says with a hoity-toity tone just to be a little shit, and dammit I can hear the smile on his face.

“Ugh, you’re??—”

“I need to go now, but we’ll see you for dinner before the concert so we can actually work on cheering Beau up?” He speaks lightning fast.

“Yes, fine. Come by my place.” I shake my head at him.

“You got it, bye.”

What am I going to do with him?

“So everything’s okay?” Nik asks, and that’s when I notice he’s no longer on the phone.

“Yeah. I actually don’t know what he did, but he’s fine. And he has a date he wants to bring, apparently?”

“To the concert?” he asks, brows raised. I only nod. “Let me call Sterling back then.” He gets to work on it when I think to ask.

“Oh, and can you give me the name of whoever’s in charge of PR? I need to ask for another ticket for tonight.”

“PR is a shitshow since Gab came in and she hasn’t hired a new director, but sure,” he mumbles, attention firmly on his phone because he’s helping me put things together for my brothers.

Again, the monumental wave of affection for him rushes over me and takes me under.

“Thank you,” I whisper, staring at him like a fool.

A lovesick fool?