Page 108 of Forbidden Hockey

“We used to call Trav the saint,” he says, focusing on Dirk, and my damn cheeks heat. “He didn’t let anyone mess with crew. He rained hellfire if you tried. He was our protector and their nightmare—that’s why he was so revered. That’s why Dom gave him privileges he doesn’t give to anyone else.”

Dirk nods, still not forgiving Blaze for being a crude asshole, but I can see the wheels turning in his head. The weight of both worlds boxes me in—Trav, the saint, and Trav the dad and restaurant owner—competing for dominance. They can’t runparallel to each other; my past will bleed over to my present if I let it in.

Even thinking about calling on my old life opened some universal door and look who walked through.

“Not how I am anymore,” I argue.

“Bullshit, Trav. Okay, so maybe you’re a little different.” His eyes flick to the fuzzy pair of slippers I took from Maxwell’s spa. My cheeks heat. “But protecting people’s in your blood—and you somehow managed to get away without real blood on your hands. That’s rare.”

I’ve never killed anyone, is what he means. I’d come close, and it wasn’t off the table; I just hadn’t needed to. But there’s a message in there.

The weight of his palm settles on my shoulder, steel gaze pinning me. “If you do need our help, don’t get your hands dirty, Nolan. I’ve already got more than enough blood on mine; no one will ever tell the difference.”

Something substantial settles in my chest. It’s nice to know they’ve got my back, even if I never ask for their help again.

“Alright, time for me to go. I can tell you don’t want me anywhere near him, and I don’t blame you. I’m totally his type.” He winks at Dirk. Dirk scowls. “See you soon, brother. Bring him if you want.”

Yeah, no fucking way. Dirk’s not coming within a foot of the clubhouse.

“I don’t have a crush on Leather Jesus, Trav,” Dirk says as soon as he’s out the door. “But even he thinks you shouldn’t do this. That’s what he meant, right? With all the ‘don’t get your hands dirty’ talk?”

I curl a finger. “C’mere, pretty boy.”

He wanders into my arms, and I grip him tightly, burying my nose in his hair, inhaling him, making sure I’m still here in thisreality. Dirk calms my nerves without ever having to do a thing—just by being here. I exhale into relaxation.

“Yeah, that’s what he meant.”

“Great, so let them deal with it and be done with it.”

“If you think it’s that easy for me, you don’t know me so well, baby.”

Dirk sighs. “Yeah, I know, but it was worth a shot. Man, that guy was a dick.”

“Mhm. You sure you don’t have even a little crush on him? He’s a walking red flag, which is totally your type,” I tease, letting my fingers crawl up his shirt and toy with the area below his navel that makes him shiver.

“I like my red flags with splashes of green,” he says, head dropping back, eyes fluttering closed as I continue to make him feel good with touches alone. Haven’t even gotten near his dick yet. It’s only now that I remember he’s in the middle of a shift, but fuck it. I need him. Need to claim him again.

“Consider me crimson for the next twenty minutes, baby. I’m about to do some very red-flag things to you.” I drag him to my bed, but my gaze can’t help but snag on the couch as we pass by.

The mud left behind from Blaze’s boots taunts me, and there’s even a little blood on one of the cushions, proof that the visit was real, and a metaphor for how messy and stained my life would get.

May

We settle into a rhythm, thank fuck, but maybe settle is too strong a word. We’ve carried on, but there’s a bowstring between us, wrought tight with tension.

His face that morning about killed me. Over rubbery eggs and rapidly cooling coffee in my tiny kitchen, there were several heartbeats I couldn’t move, sure it would startle him right out of my life. On the one hand, I don’t blame Dirk, who would? No one wants a partner who's always one beat away from his criminal past.

But.

But.

He said he loves me. What if “criminal” is what I am? What I’ll always be? Shouldn’t he love all of me?

No, now you’re being a fool, Trav.

If I go through with my plan for vengeance, Dirk needs to be far away from me. That’s the right thing to do. You’ve got to love someone enough to let them go.

I think. I’ve heard it said anyway.