Page 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

RYAN HAS STARTED throwing a puck to Louie all the way across the ice during warm-ups the way they did at the rink during the summer. Every game, always right before he heads off the ice. It’s gotten to a point where Louie wouldn’t dare get off the ice before Ryan.

Louie isn’t wildly superstitious like some other guys are, but it’s part of the routine now. Hopefully, Ryan knows they can never stop doing this. Not because it’s working (some of the guys insist that it is), but because Louie likes having this thing that connects him to Ryan.

Yes, he understands that he’s absolutely hopeless. He’s been very successful in ignoring that fact. Hockey is all that’s allowed on his mind.

This is their fourth game of the season, their home opener, and Louie has a point streak going. He’s had point streaks in the AHL, long ones too, but they didn’t mean as much as this one does. This is the one he’s been waiting for and he wants to keep it going for as long as he can.

His mom sent him a text this morning and said her and Dad unfortunately wouldn’t be able to make it to the game, acting like Louie invited them. He didn’t reply; he was about to walk into morning skate. Then he forgot all about it until he hit the ice that evening and found Dominic and Cameron behind the glass two minutes ago.

The people Louie wanted here came. They’re wearing his jersey. They brought a sign. Louie waves at them in passing and Dominic holds up his phone because he wants a picture. Ryan photobombs them, then tells Louie to wait, only to return with a random phone a moment later to snap another picture from the other side.

“Did we really need that one?” Louie asks, skating back to the bench with Ryan to make sure that picture doesn’t end up anywhere Louie doesn’t want it.

“Of course we did,” Ryan says. “One for him, one for you.”

Ryan still tosses his puck to Louie before warm-ups end, only this time Louie doesn’t hurl it at the net but passes it on to Dominic afterwards. Dominic grins and waves, and when Louie scores his first goal that evening, he’s glad that he invited him.

And when he scores his second goal, he’s also glad that Dominic came, even though he tried so hard to leave hockey behind. He came here for Louie. Maybe a little bit for Cameron.

Louie doesn’t think about scoring a third one. When you think too hard about it, it doesn’t happen.

And, really, it shouldn’t have happened.

Louie would have taken the two-goal game. That’s good; it’s excellent. It’s proof that he belongs here. But then Ryan is… well, he’s Ryan. And when he snatches the puck away from a Carolina Comet in the third period and takes off with it and finds that Louie has caught up, he doesn’t shoot. He passes. The Cardinals are up 4–2, so it’s not the worst mistake of his life, but it’s still a mistake.

Louie could miss and throw away a damn good chance.

The thing is, Louie didn’t just spend all summer training with Nick. Ryan was there, too.

Ryan knows exactly what kind of pass will connect here. He took a calculated risk and it pays off. The puck lands right on Louie’s stick blade. Too late for him to properly shoot it, so Louie goes behind the goal with it, scoops it up the way Nick taught him and it’s in before Louie can even think too much about what he’s doing .

The goal light turns on, the horn blares, the arena erupts.

Ryan barrels into him first, screaming into his ear while hats start raining. The rest of the guys join in. Nick and Liam and Waldo. Santa dumps an entire water bottle on him when he skates to the bench for fist bumps.

This is it.

This is what he wanted. And it’s even better than Louie imagined it would be.

“I’m just saying, it would have been a better play if you’d just taken the shot,” Louie says, following Ryan into the house. “I’m not mad because you let me have it. But you would have had it, too. You gave away a goal.”

“You still scored,” Ryan says, his keys jingling as he picks out the house key. “I didn’t give away anything.”

“I’m talking about your stats,” Louie says. “Goals look good on stats. What if, one day, you’re about to hit a franchise record, but then you’re missing one goal? And it’s this one?”

“Then,” Ryan says and opens the door to let Louie in, “I’ll think of today and I’ll remember that the reason I’m missing that one goal is because I wanted my friend to get his first career hat trick and I’ll be fine.”

Louie doesn’t know what to do with that. So he does the only he thinks he can do: he pushes the door shut. With Ryan against it. And he kisses him.

Ryan makes a surprised noise and his keys hit the floor, which is when Louie briefly reconsiders whether or not this was a good idea, but then Ryan grabs Louie’s sides and pulls him close. Louie’s brain shuts down. He was going to focus on hockey; wasn’t going to get distracted. Getting swept up in his personal bullshit was one thing in the summer, but he was going to push all of that far, far away when the season started. He almost managed .

Now here he is and it feels so good.

Ryan’s fingers find Louie’s and he gently takes the bag with Louie’s hat trick pucks to set it down on the small table by the door. That’s where their keys usually go. Ryan’s stay on the floor while Louie kisses him. Louie completely forgets about them when Ryan’s hands start to move, first up Louie’s chest, to his neck, where they stay still for a moment. Ryan must be feeling Louie’s wild heartbeat, out of control, flying away.

He’s giving himself away, but he doesn’t care.

Louie holds on for dear life.

He wanted the roster spot. He wanted the hatty. He also wants Ryan.

“Hey,” Ryan says as he pulls away. “Hey, hey…” With care, he pries Louie’s hands off his suit jacket.

Maybe Louie was holding on too tightly. “Sorry,” he says. He doesn’t know why he’s apologizing. He’s not actually sorry. Maybe for kissing Ryan without a warning, again , but not for holding on this time.

Ryan’s thumb taps Louie’s chin. “Look, you could have just said thank you. I wasn’t expecting—”

“Thank you,” Louie says. Then he leans back in, stops a breath away from Ryan’s lips to see if he’ll pull away, if he’ll stop him. He doesn’t. A second later, Ryan is the one who closes that minuscule gap between them.

He pushes himself away from the door, nudging Louie along with him easily. As they go, Ryan pushes Louie’s suit jacket off his shoulders. He throws it over the back of one of the dining room chairs together with his own. Ryan’s wearing his new forest green suit tonight. Louie already stared at him way too much when Ryan first came home with it, which Ryan at first interpreted as Louie silently telling him that he hated it. It’s very much the opposite.

Ryan parks Louie against the big archway between the dining and the living room. He hasn’t turned on the lights, so Louie can barely see his face in the glow of the streetlights. Slowly, he runs his fingers down the row of buttons of Louie’s dress shirt and Louie squirms, his breath coming quickly by the time Ryan’s fingers come to a halt at Louie’s belt buckle.

He stills there for a moment, like he’s trying to give them another chance to put a stop to this.

Louie doesn’t. He wants to know what happens next.

Ryan ignores the belt buckle, pulls Louie’s shirt out of his pants instead and steps closer. He kisses Louie, slow and languid, coaxing his mouth open while he undoes the top button of Louie’s shirt. He kisses the line of Louie’s jaw and all Louie can do is stand there and breathe, breathe, breathe.

With the utmost patience, Ryan opens the next button, then dips his head down to press his lips to Louie’s collarbone and Louie’s breath hitches in the quiet. Ryan looks up, his nose nudging Louie’s chin. Louie wants to tell him to keep going, to do that again, but the words all get jumbled in his throat and come out in a low moan.

Louie feels his control starting to slip. Maybe he should let it. He grabs Ryan by his sleeve. “Let’s, uh…” He feels too exposed here, even with the lights off.

“Hmm…” Ryan grabs him by the hips. “Your place or mine?”

“Um,” Louie says because he’s not exactly prepared for this, although he’s not sure Ryan is either. Ever since he moved in here, Ryan’s never brought anyone home.

“My place,” Ryan decides. “But…” He starts undoing the rest of the buttons, quicker now. “We don’t need this.”

Louie gets involved now as well, tries to get Ryan’s shirt open in turn and makes it as far as two buttons. He gets distracted when Ryan pushes his shirt away and kisses the top of his shoulder. Louie’s pretty sure no one has ever kissed him there, has never even thought of anyone kissing him there and it makes him shudder.

Ryan’s paying so much attention to him, to making him feel good. Louie has done nothing at all in return. Two buttons. The rest was Ryan, who kisses the top of Louie’s shoulder again when he realizes Louie liked it the first time.

They move through the kitchen, Louie’s shirt landing on the tile floor and staying there. They bump into the doorway, Ryan too busy with Louie’s belt to pay attention to where he’s going. Louie laughs when he stumbles over his own feet and Ryan catches him around his waist. For a second, he thinks Ryan’s about to pick him up. He doesn’t hate the idea, except he doesn’t want Ryan to mess up his back by carrying Louie around the house.

Instead, Ryan holds him there, searching his face. “You sure about this?” he asks.

Louie nods. “I’m sure.”

He isn’t, but he’s frayed, coming apart, and he had no idea that coming apart could feel so good. He’s the one who opens the door to Ryan’s room, he’s the one who pulls him inside. Ryan follows, smiling as he undoes the rest of his buttons, shaking off the shirt.

“Lights?” Ryan asks.

He didn’t bother opening his curtains this morning. “Okay,” Louie whispers. No one’s ever asked him if he wanted the lights on. He never asked either.

Ryan plugs in the string of lights he’s wound around the curtain rod and it casts a soft glow on him. He’s still in his forest green suit pants and they hug him in the exact right places. His thighs are—Louie is staring and for the first time, he feels like he’s allowed to.

Ryan doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He grins and slowly undoes the button, then the zipper, and pushes his pants down. He’s got a fading bruise on his left thigh where he blocked a shot a few games ago and Louie suddenly wants to put his mouth right there. Or… Ryan’s wearing dark briefs, but they don’t hide that he’s hard and maybe Louie would rather kiss him there.

“Your turn,” Ryan says and comes back to get Louie out of his pants, his hands lingering on Louie’s ass when he pushes them down. “Lou…”

“Hm? ”

“What do you—I’m assuming you haven’t done this. With a guy.”

“I haven’t.” Louie frowns at him. “Is that a problem?”

“Not for me,” Ryan says. He walks Louie to the bed and pushes him down, straddling his hips. “Just tell me if—”

“Yeah,” Louie says and pulls Ryan down against him, one hand on his back, the other one at the waistband of Ryan’s briefs, slowly sneaking under before he pushes them down and they end up somewhere around Ryan’s knees. Louie tries to help him get them off all the way, but he can’t reach with Ryan on top of him, so he nudges his shoulder. “Can you…”

Ryan moves off him, letting out a surprised huff when Louie gets between his thighs and pulls off his briefs. He gives himself a moment to take in Ryan in the soft glow of the lights: his parted lips and the trail of hair on his stomach and the bruise on his thigh. Louie has been thinking about these thighs. He slowly dips his head down and starts right there.

“Oh, okay,” Ryan breathes. “You’re… yeah.”

“Yeah?” Louie says and kisses him carefully, Ryan’s choked-out moan sending shivers down his spine. Ryan here is like Ryan everywhere; he doesn’t hold back. He throws his head back and grabs Louie’s hair when he kisses every inch of skin between that bruise and Ryan’s hipbone.

Ryan’s skin is soft, except for that thin scar just under his collarbone that Louie pays some attention to next. “Where’d you get this?”

“I… hmnng.” Ryan’s fingers dig into Louie’s back. “Tree.”

Louie makes a noise to tell him that he heard as he moves back down his chest, to his stomach. Ryan squirms.

“I fell,” he grits out, “and got caught on a branch. And I…”

Louie hovers just above Ryan’s dick and waits for the end of the story.

With a deep breath, Ryan says, “Also broke my ar—ghh fuck .”

Louie kisses the tip, just a quick touch of his lips. He did wonder briefly if it would feel weird—Ryan was right, he’s never slept with a man before. It’s different, sure, but it’s different with everyone. He figured he’d find his way; he knows what he likes anyway and he’s sure Ryan would tell him if Louie did something he didn’t like.

He’ll take it easy tonight, though. He sits up and slowly runs his knuckles from Ryan’s pelvis up to his collarbone. “Do you have lube?”

Ryan nods and there’s something so eager about it that sets Louie’s cheeks on fire. He glances at his bedside table—he got a new one, one with drawers. Now Louie knows why.

“What about you, hmm?” Ryan says before Louie can go for the drawers. He doesn’t take any detours, his fingers finding Louie’s cock, still trapped in his briefs.

Louie almost tells Ryan to just go ahead and do whatever he wants with him, but he had a plan and he wants to watch Ryan fall apart under his hands. “You first,” Louie whispers. He grabs the lube and starts to stroke Ryan slowly. Like this, he can watch the way Ryan’s face changes when he changes his grip, when he goes faster, slows down again.

Since Ryan can’t grab onto Louie’s hair anymore, he grabs the sheets, throws his head back, the words all gone. Someone should paint him. Make a sculpture. Next time, Louie wants to suck him off, and after that, Louie wants him on his hands and knees, or maybe he’ll just do whatever Ryan wants, or he’ll ask Ryan to—

“Louie, I’m…” Ryan reaches for him, grabs his free hand. “Lou.”

“Yeah,” Louie says and speeds up. “I’ve got you.”

Ryan’s answer is a drawn-out moan as he comes over Louie’s hand. Louie strokes him through it, watches him catch his breath. Ryan blinks at him and props himself up on his elbows. “Wow, okay,” he says, voice low. His eyes travel from Louie’s face down his chest to his dick before they snap back up and he bites his lower lip. “Hi,” he says.

Louie can’t help but laugh. “Hi.”

“That was very nice,” Ryan says earnestly.

Louie almost chokes on the noise that gets stuck in his throat at that.

Ryan sits up, reaching for Louie and pulling him into his lap to kiss him. Louie still has come on his hand, but Ryan doesn’t seem to give a crap. He grabs Louie, no small feat, and gets him on his back, upside down on the bed. “Your turn,” he says and pulls Louie’s briefs down just enough so he can get his mouth on him.

Even though Louie was so close already, Ryan somehow manages to draw it out, pulling away just when Louie thinks this is it and then diving back in. Louie can’t even say anything; can’t think. The heat of Ryan’s mouth is all there is, his hands, fleeting touches, Louie’s heartbeat in his own ears. Maybe he says things. Maybe he just… feels things.

“Ryan,” he says, a warning that has Ryan resurfacing to finish him off with his hand. Louie’s breath stutters and he crashes.

Ryan plants a gentle kiss on the inside of Louie’s thigh, like a period at the end of a sentence, but doesn’t move afterwards, grinning up at Louie, who’s not even sure he can move. Featherlight fingertips draw unrecognizable patterns on Louie’s thigh, Ryan giving him a moment, his breath warm against Louie’s skin.

“You okay?” Ryan whispers.

“Yeah,” Louie says, “I just… can’t move yet.”

Ryan laughs under his breath. “You’re welcome,” he says and slowly gets out of bed. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Louie nods and closes his eyes. He’s not sure he could go anywhere even if he wanted to. His bones are liquid and his brain is foggy. Ryan returns with a washcloth, gets him cleaned up, tugs Louie’s briefs back into place, and then he disappears again. Kitchen cupboards open and close, the door clicks shut, and a low thunk finally has Louie opening his eyes.

“I got you some water,” Ryan says, nodding at the bedside table as he climbs back into bed. “You know, if you wanna stay the night.”

Louie’s still upside down, his lips twitching when Ryan’s fingers curl around his ankle. “Thank you.” He sits up and nods at the lights. “I’ll get those.”

He’s almost by the window when Ryan says, “I wasn’t gonna say this out loud, but you’re so fucking hot.”

Louie stops in his tracks and looks back at him, finding Ryan smiling at him. He’s leaning against the headboard, still completely naked, his hair a total mess. Louie smiles back at him and pulls the plug on the lights. “So are you,” he says and shuffles back to Ryan’s bed.

Ryan lifts up the covers for him. “Louie,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” Louie says.

In the dark, Ryan’s arm snakes around Louie’s waist. “Nothing,” he says and snuggles close. “I’ll be asleep in two minutes and then you can scoot away.”

He wasn’t kidding; he’s fast asleep almost instantly. Louie doesn’t scoot away. Before he can even think about why he doesn’t want to, he dozes off as well, still boneless and content.