Page 3

THREE

TYLER

The puck slid onto my stick, right in the sweet spot. A quick head fake left, then a sharp pass zipped across the crease to Lawson. Tap in. In my head, the goal horn blared. Perfect.

“That’s it! Good timing, Bennett! Do it again!” Coach Ryan’s voice echoed off the boards.

Circling back, my skates cut grooves in the freshly surfaced ice. Across the rink, Kevin caught my eye. A fleeting glance before we focused on the next drill, but enough to send a jolt straight through me.

In the couple of days since we’d been back, trying to play it cool on the ice was turning into an Olympic sport.

Hyper-aware. That was the only way to describe it. Every time he moved into position, every sharp stop spraying ice, every crisp pass—I noticed. He looked my way again, a ghost of a smile touching his lips before his game face slid into place.

For the rest of practice, I focused on executing the drills with all I had. Henderson noticed, as captains always do. During a water break, he glided over, bumping my shoulder.

“Someone’s fired up today.” His eyes crinkled under his helmet.

I forced a grin, tipping my water bottle back for a long pull. “Just feeling good. Everything’s clicking.”

He nodded, already skating backward. “Maybe getting stuck in Detroit was good for you.”

If only he knew. The memory—Kevin’s mouth, his hands on me, the low groan against my lips—hit me hard. I shook my head sharply. This wasn’t the time for thoughts like that.

* * *

After practice, and back home, the silence of my condo pressed in. Normally, I didn’t mind the quiet, needed it even. Since I got back, though, it was lacking.

Standing in the kitchen, I debated. Give Kevin space? Let him set the pace? That was the smart play.

Patience wasn’t my strongest stat, though.

Before the rational part of my brain could stage a comeback, my phone was in my hand, thumbs flying across the screen.

Tyler: Any dinner plans tonight? Join me for stir fry?

I put my phone on the counter face down. I refused to watch it. Opening the fridge, I surveyed the contents, forcing my mind onto chicken, vegetables, sauce. The chicken needed marinating first.

Buzz.

My hand snatched the phone before the vibration stopped.

Kevin: No plans. Your place?

Relief hit me. I couldn’t fight the grin playing at my lips.

Tyler: 7 PM? I’ll text the address.

Kevin: See you then.

Okay. I took a deep breath to try to not go out of my mind before he got here.

The next couple of hours were a blur of activity fueled by nervous energy. Straightening cushions. Chopping onions with maybe a little too much force. Marinating chicken, setting the table. Changing the sheets. Not assuming anything. Just being prepared. Checking the phone. Still an hour. Pacing the living room. Checking the phone again.

By six forty-five, I’d showered, changed into dark jeans and the blue henley, and worked on dinner so it would be ready shortly after he arrived. I checked my reflection. Hair okay? Casual enough? Not trying too hard?

The clock ticked, each second stretching.

The doorbell chimed two minutes early. My heart kicked against my ribs. Taking a breath, I pulled open the door.

Kevin stood there. Charcoal sweater that made his eyes look impossibly dark, jeans that fit just right. Hair slightly styled. A bottle of wine in one hand. He looked... devastating.

“Hey.” His gaze swept over me, appreciative, sending a jolt straight down my spine.

“Hey yourself.” I stepped back so he could enter. “Come on in.”

He crossed the threshold, close enough now that the faint, woodsy scent of his cologne wrapped around me. “Brought wine. Hope it’s okay. Wasn’t sure what kind of stir fry we were having.”

“Perfect.” I reached for the bottle, our fingers brushing. Electric. Heat curled low in my stomach. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

We stood there, a beat of silence stretching, the air thick with unspoken things. Then I set the wine down. The hell with awkwardness. I closed the distance, one hand finding the back of his neck, warm skin beneath soft hair, and pulled him in.

His response was immediate, arms locking around my waist. The kiss deepened, a mutual surrender against the entryway wall. My hands tangled in his hair, while his leg slid between mine, pressing close. Solid muscle, undeniable heat.

“Missed you,” I murmured against his mouth, the words raw, honest.

Kevin pulled back just enough, his pupils blown wide, breath coming fast. “Missed you too. Been thinking about you.”

“Yeah?” Joy shot through me, warm and sharp.

His thumb brushed my lower lip, a featherlight touch that made me quiver. “Had to actively not stare during practice.”

A laugh escaped me, and I pressed my forehead against his. “Same. Henderson asked why I was so fired up.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“That everything was clicking.” My grin widened. “Wasn’t exactly a lie.” Reluctantly, I stepped back, threading my fingers through his. “Come on. Stir fry waits for no one.”

My kitchen opened into the living area, modern and maybe a little too clean right now. Kevin leaned against the island, watching me as I brought the meal together.

“Nice place.” His gaze swept over the skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Great view.”

“Thanks.” I handed him a glass of the wine he’d brought, pouring one for myself. “Took forever to find. I wanted somewhere that felt like... mine. Not just a crash pad between road trips.”

“It feels personal.” He nodded toward the photos. “I think you succeeded.”

“Tried to.” I stirred in some final seasoning. “What about your place? Getting settled?”

Kevin took a sip of wine, leaning back against the counter. “It’s getting there. Still navigating boxes. The trade, the road trips... it’s been a whirlwind.”

“Need help unpacking?” The offer slipped out, easy and genuine. “My rates are reasonable—usually involve beer and pizza.”

A soft smile touched his lips. “Might take you up on that. Fair warning, though—it’s not this nice.”

“Don’t care about nice.” I slid a plate piled high with chicken, rice, and vegetables across the island. “Just looking for any excuse to see you.”

The honesty hung there. A faint flush crept up his neck. “You don’t need excuses, Tyler.”

We ate at the dining table, sitting across from each other with the platter of food between us. Conversation flowed between bites of food and sips of wine. He told me more about Minnesota–hockey coach dad, teacher mom, older sister running her own graphic design business. I shared stories about growing up with Shane, how we navigated going from brothers to him being my agent.

Kevin stabbed some chicken and vegetables with his fork. “So he ran the auction you missed?”

I nodded, swirling the wine in my glass. “He didn’t organize it, but he helped a lot. The Children’s Sports Foundation helped me out big time when we were kids. They covered equipment, fees, everything.” Another sip. “We’re both on their board, and he does a lot with them. They do amazing work around the city.”

“That’s really cool.” Kevin’s enthusiasm was genuine.

“What about you? Any causes close to your heart?”

He set his fork down, leaning back slightly. “Volunteered with an LGBTQ+ youth group back home. Hoping to find something similar here.”

“I need to connect you with Lawson. He does a lot of work with queer youth groups. Me and some of the other guys join him sometimes.”

“I’d like that.” His smile reached his eyes, creating those little crinkles at the corners that made my heart flutter.

When dinner was finished, and the plates cleared, we migrated to the couch with refilled wine glasses.

“This is nice,” Kevin said. He settled beside me, closer than strictly necessary. “Wasn’t sure... you know... what it’d be like back here.”

“Thought Detroit might have been a snowstorm anomaly?” I turned, stretching one arm along the back of the couch.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, his gaze steady on mine. “Things happen. Weird circumstances, forced proximity... doesn’t always translate back to the real world.”

“And now?” My voice was lower than intended.

He set his wine glass on the coffee table, shifting closer still. “Now I think Detroit was just the start.” His hand rested on my knee, warm through the denim. “This feels real. Is that crazy?”

My hand covered his, fingers lacing together. “If it’s crazy, we’re both losing it. This is already more real than most of the relationships I’ve had.”

Surprise flickered in his eyes.

“I’m not usually this direct,” I admitted. The words felt true as they left my mouth. The charged air, the way he looked at me… it pulled the honesty right out. “But life’s short. Especially this life. Could get traded tomorrow.”

He chuckled. “Don’t jinx it. I just got here.”

“All the more reason.” I leaned in, our faces inches apart, his breath warm against my skin. “I like you, Kevin Kogan. A lot.”

“I like you too,” he murmured. His gaze dropped to my lips before snapping back to my eyes.

That was all the invitation I needed.

The kiss started soft, but grew urgent. I couldn’t get enough of him. His hand slid under my shirt, palm flat against my stomach. I pulled him still closer, deepening the kisses.

Somehow, we made it to the bedroom. This wasn’t like Detroit’s frantic energy. This was slower, deliberate. An exploration. Appreciating each other.

His skin was smooth, soft over hard muscle. The sounds he made were quiet—intimate sighs and muffled groans—that undid me.

Once we were spent, Kevin rested his head on my chest and I caressed his arm, the simple contact grounding.

“Definitely not a Detroit anomaly.”

He laughed, a low rumble against my ribs. “Definitely not.”

“I can’t believe just a few days ago you were the quiet new guy. Now you’re the guy I think about all the time and whose head is using my chest as a pillow.”

His expression softened into something incredibly warm. It’d be easy to lose myself in his eyes. “Same here. What’s your schedule tomorrow?”

“Team meeting at 10. Nothing before.”

“Same.”

My fingers continued their slow exploration of his back. I had a necessary question. “Stay the night?”

Kevin lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting mine. No hesitation. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

I pulled him closer. He settled in with a contented sigh, pressing a soft kiss to my hand. The simple trust in the gesture warmed me.