Page 5

MID SEPTEMBER

Car loaded up with enough caffeine to make a moose jittery, a shitload of snacks, and a banging road trip playlist, Jesse pulled away from his apartment building for the last time.

Most of his belongings had already been shipped to Connor’s house—and oh, how he’d cackled at the curt emails he’d gotten from Connor about that —but his car was packed with the remainder of his shit and he had an eight-and-a-half-hour trip ahead of him if he didn’t get slowed down at the border or stop anywhere for gas or food or to piss.

Okay, so the last part was unrealistic but if he kept that to a minimum, he could totally pull this off.

He’d originally planned to do the trip in two days—stopping in Albany overnight—but he was running late and they were expecting him to be there tomorrow morning for some stupid PR thing. They were going to trot him and Connor around the Harrier Community Ice Arena—where the team’s practice facility was located—and show off what a good boy he was and how glad the team was to have him there.

Jesse should have left sooner but he had so many people in Toronto to say goodbye to and one final drink or dinner or party turned into another and … yeah.

Now he was going to be cutting it close.

Still, it was a beautiful day when he got on the road and headed for the border into New York state. He belted out some tunes while he sped along the QEW, heading for Buffalo. He’d been tempted to put the top down on the Jaguar F-type convertible he’d bought following their— Toronto’s —Cup win.

He wasn’t a Fisher Cat anymore, was he? Now he was a Harrier. God that felt weird .

But the stuff Jesse hadn’t shipped was crammed into the small convertible and he worried that with the top down, it would all go flying out.

Still, it felt good to get the car on the road again.

He’d always wanted a Jag and he’d immediately fallen in love with the lines of the car and the gorgeous and very, very exclusive shade of green it came in. He loved the power of the old-school supercharged 5.0-liter V-8 engine and he’d paid a pretty penny for all of it.

It was so worth it on days like this though, with the sun shining and the road ahead of him.

Unfortunately, Jesse’s good mood vanished at the border when he saw the line of vehicles at a complete standstill. He picked the shortest line, then watched in dismay over the next half hour when the ones on either side of him sailed ahead while his barely crept forward.

Again. And again.

Fuck . Should he change lanes?

Jesse chewed at his lip as he glanced at the lines on either side. No, they were longer than his and he couldn’t even get to them without being a complete dick and cutting someone off.

He’d never come through the border on his own before. Was this always how it went?

He’d gone through with his parents growing up and then on team busses and shit for games when he was playing in the Ontario Hockey League in Juniors. Which, despite the name, actually had some American teams on it.

He’d driven through with buddies too, on the way to games in Buffalo or whatever but they’d always had the Nexus pass to get through the border quickly. He’d meant to renew his but nooo, he hadn’t gotten around to it and now … yeah, he was fucked.

“Come on ,” Jesse muttered, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Move it, people. I’ve got places to be and people to do.”

The minutes ticked by and he crept forward at a snail’s pace. He let out a noisy sigh of relief when the last car ahead of him finally moved away from the booth.

“How are you doing today?” the border patrol agent said when he pulled up and put his car in park.

“Great,” Jesse said, handing over his passport with a winning smile. “Other than my ass going numb from waiting.”

“What’s your citizenship?”

“Canadian.” Which it said right on the passport in her hand.

“Where are you heading?”

“Boston, Massachusetts.”

“How long will you be there?”

“Uhh, until I get traded again?” he said with a shrug. Because at this point, who the fuck knew?

She narrowed her eyes. “Can you be more specific?”

“I just got a job there,” he explained. “I start tomorrow. This is a long-term move.”

“Anything to declare?”

“Just a load of hookers and drugs,” Jesse said cheerfully, because c’mon, if he couldn’t crack a joke, what was the point of anything?

Her gaze turned sharp. “Sir, are you telling me that you’re engaging in sex and drug trafficking?”

“What? No! I was kidding!” he yelped, alarmed she’d taken him seriously. He’d thought maybe she’d had a sense of humor and would be up for a little fun banter, but apparently he’d totally read her wrong. He shot her his most winning and angelic smile. “In all seriousness, I’m an NHL player. I got traded from Toronto to Boston and I’m driving down to Massachusetts now. PR stuff starts tomorrow.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, buddy.”

Alarmed, because this absolutely wasn’t going the way he’d expected, he straightened, trying to appear as adult and responsible as possible. “No, I’m serious ! I was a goaltender for the Toronto Fisher Cats. I helped the team win the Stanley Cup! I was totally kidding about the hookers and drugs, I swear .”

“Right. Okay. We’re going to have to search your vehicle.” She peered at the interior. “You’re going to need to get out of the car.”

“Nooo,” Jesse wailed, horrified that one little joke had gotten so out of hand. “I was kidding. C’mon. This isn’t necessary!”

She scowled. “Sir, you informed me your vehicle contained illegal substances. We have to take you at your word.”

Fuck ! He was in such deep shit.

“Umm, we’ve got a problem ,” Jesse said as he pulled away from the Canadian border several hours later.

Border patrol hadn’t found any contraband on him because there was nothing to find. He wasn’t dumb enough to get caught with weed or anything and he wasn’t into anything else. But it had taken them forever to get their stupid drug-sniffing dog there. Apparently, it was busy with someone else’s vehicle—though he shouldn’t call the dog stupid. It was very cute and very smart and it wasn’t its fault it had been trained to narc on people.

But they’d also pulled all of his shit out of the Jag and he’d had to repack everything—because they sure as fuck hadn’t helped—and then they’d lectured him for wasting their time by cracking jokes.

He probably deserved all that, but now he was in even deeper shit.

Mac sighed. “What’d you do now?”

“I might have gotten a little delayed at the border. And there may be pictures of me being led off by a customs agent that are going viral.”

Whoops .

“Christ, Webber. Please tell me you didn’t do something stupid.”

Honestly, it was like Mac didn’t know him at all. “Well, it could have been stupider,” he reminded him.

“Jesse …”

“I mouthed off a little,” he admitted. “Like, a tinyyy bit. But the woman had no sense of humor at all. It’s sad, really.”

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

By the time Jesse finished, he could practically see Mac rubbing his forehead all the way from New York.

“Get your ass to Massachusetts as quickly as you can,” Mac said with a sigh. “I’ll call Racine and see if I can smooth this situation out, though God knows, it’s not going to be easy.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Connor muttered. He stared at his phone following the informal skate for the guys who were already back in Boston.

“Who?”

Connor glanced up to see Luke Crawford drag a hand through his wet shaggy brown hair, tattooed arms and chest on display above the towel he had wrapped around his waist.

“Fucking Webber,” Connor said with disgust. “I mean it, I’ll fucking kill him when he finally gets his ass here.”

“Uh, good goaltenders don’t exactly grow on trees,” Luke pointed out. “I think you’re going to have to settle for yelling.”

“Oh, believe me. He’ll get plenty of that,” Connor said through gritted teeth. On the one hand, the less time he had to spend with Webber the better. On the other, this was gonna make Connor look like he didn’t have his shit together. “The kid was already supposed to be in Boston and now he’s gotten himself in trouble.”

There were pictures of him being detained at the border all over social media already. Fucking fuck .

“What kind of trouble?” Luke unknotted his towel, tossing it in the rolling laundry bin.

Connor glanced away.

Luke was one of those guys who was pretty much always fucking naked in the locker room. It had never bothered Connor before but now that he’d had his hand on a cock other than his own, it felt a little weird to see dudes’ dicks all over the place.

Even if he wasn’t the slightest bit attracted to Luke Crawford.

“Uh, he got held up at the Buffalo border,” Connor said, standing and tossing away his own towel. He reached for a pair of underwear, dragging them on over his damp skin. “Sounds like he got searched and everything.”

“Like, full cavity search?” Luke asked with a snicker. “Wouldn’t he enjoy that? I heard he’s into that shit.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “No, numbnuts. His car . And lay off. The kid is LGBTQ and all that and I wanna keep the bullshit to a minimum in the locker room.”

“Yeah, sorry. I forget.” Grimacing, Luke slid on shorts.

Honestly Luke probably had forgotten.

Despite his reputation in the league, Luke had always been a decent guy. Maybe not the most politically correct and all that shit, but he was like most of the guys Connor knew in the league. Oblivious. Occasionally insensitive. At times, downright offensive.

But Connor had never felt like he was trying to be cruel.

Truthfully, Connor had been the same for most of his hockey career. He’d thrown some slurs around without considering the impact. He’d said offensive shit, not because he was trying to be a dick, but because he never thought twice about it what it actually meant and how it impacted people.

After the first guy in the league came out there had been all sorts of diversity and sensitivity training but honestly, it hadn’t hit home until his brother Kelly came out too.

Poor kid. He’d announced it in the middle of supper at a restaurant a few years ago, shocking everyone.

Connor hadn’t even been the Harriers captain then—Pat had been—but after that, they’d both doubled down on cleaning up the locker room. Guys still slipped up sometimes though.

“Hey, are you pissed at me about this?” Luke asked, frowning. “Because I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Huh? No.” Connor shook his head and tugged on a T-shirt. “Thinking about what a fucking mess Webber has made of things. Which seems to be his entire MO.”

Which was maybe the understatement of the century.

Luke snorted. “Right? I mean, not that I blame him for some of the rockets he was stripping off with in June. Damn . The kid can pull some tail.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care how many people he gets naked with,” Connor pointed out, desperately trying to ignore the thought of how naked he’d gotten with Jesse a few months ago. Naked and sweaty and … Connor cleared his throat. “As long as he does it behind closed doors this time.”

“Yeah, you want a parade of that shit in and out of your house all season?” Luke asked, looking amused.

Connor groaned, because he hadn’t even thought about that. Was he gonna have to put up with Jesse fucking every goddamn person in the greater Boston area in his own home?

“No fucking way,” Connor snapped. “He can go to their place.”

Though, he couldn’t decide if that was better or worse. At his place, he’d be able to rein in the worst of it. Theoretically .

“Damn. Tough landlord,” Luke said, oozing fake sympathy. “Wonder why they didn’t ask me to keep an eye on the kid.”

“You’d have him joining a biker gang within a week.”

“Fuck off,” Luke grumbled. “I’m not in a gang. I just like to ride.”

“Yeah, women ,” Connor shot back.

The conversation mostly devolved into pointless chirping after that and it wasn’t until they walked out of the HCI practice facility and into the bright sunshine that the conversation returned to Jesse Webber.

“So when is your problem child goalie supposed to make it here anyway?” Luke asked.

“He’s back on the road now, so later today? I guess?” Connor shrugged. “But who the fuck knows? A lot can happen between Buffalo and Boston.”