Page 17 of Overtime Goal (Buffalo Warriors Hockey #4)

riley

In the first round of the playoffs, we knocked Montreal out in five games.

It was a fucking rush, knowing we’d moved one step closer to the Cup, but we didn’t talk about it.

As much as we all wanted back-to-back wins after last year, we were too superstitious to do more than send crossed-finger emojis in text messages.

The second-round games against the Bethesda Barracudas were grueling endurance sessions.

The Cudas weren’t just good; they were legendary.

For the past decade, they’d ruled hockey in North America.

Their captain, Nick Johnson, was the kind of forward half the players in the league wanted to be and the other half wanted to punch.

His linemate Tyler Jensen wasn’t far behind.

Kev Moore was the defenseman I’d watched on YouTube back in juniors, analyzing his gap control like my career would depend on it.

Still, the Warriors weren’t underdogs anymore.

We’d grown into a force of our own, and the series quickly turned into such a war that one sportswriter called it a clash of titans.

After five games when every shift felt like an Olympic race, the Cudas were up three games to two.

Now, with two days to catch our breath before game six in Bethesda, it was do or die.

Either we’d claw our way back, or the Cudas would send us packing and advance to the Finals.

Logan and I decided to fly to Bethesda a day early. The excuse was to go before the team arrived so we could clear our heads, but really, it was about having more time alone. The day before the game, we took the seven a.m. flight to DC.

We landed in Washington on a perfect May morning and took an Uber to the Ritz-Carlton.

It wasn’t the nearest hotel to Bethesda, but the team liked to stay downtown to be closer to the action.

Logan and I had adjacent rooms on the eighth floor.

It was quiet when we arrived, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Once the rest of the Warriors got there, the entire floor would be lively as everyone tried to work off their nerves.

I tossed my bag on the bed, skipped unpacking, and walked through the connecting door to Logan’s room. He was standing at the window, staring outside like he was pondering the mysteries of the universe.

“Hey,” I said, walking over to join him. “Why doesn’t DC have tall buildings like every other big city?”

“There’s some kind of law. I like it, though. Makes the city feel more like a small town.”

I rolled my eyes, making sure he saw. “It’s the nation’s capital, not Mayberry. Wouldn’t you rather it looked a little more… I don’t know, badass?”

“It is badass,” he said. “At least the areas that aren’t falling apart.

The monuments and museums are world-class, and some of the traffic circles are basically small parks.

” He slid a hand across my back and kissed my cheek.

“You know, L’Enfant modeled it after Paris, and most of Paris is still low-rise. ”

I snorted as I poked him in the chest with two fingers. “You’re a grandpa. Admit it: you like it old school because it feels safe. You don’t want DC to scare you.”

He scoffed hard enough for me to feel the puff of air on my face. “You weren’t calling me grandpa last night when we were sucking each other’s dicks like our lives depended on it.”

I turned toward him, working hard not to crack up. “Fuck off. I was trying to make you feel good.”

“And you succeeded.” He pulled me into his arms. “I hadn’t come that hard since… well, yesterday morning, I guess.”

“Glad you enjoyed it. I think my eyes crossed when I came.”

Leaning close to my ear, he whispered, “Want to do it again? Then we’ll go explore this terrifying small town.”

I laughed, but he cut me off with a kiss. Then he slid his hand down and cupped my cock through my pants, making me groan. I was already half hard, and when he pulled away from my mouth, he looked way too smug to be a grandpa.

An hour later, we were in another Uber, headed for the National Mall. Logan said I needed a reminder of how grand Washington was, and I hadn’t argued. It was a perfect day for sightseeing, warm with a light breeze and not a cloud in the sky.

The Mall stretched out in a long green rectangle, with the Capitol on one end and the Lincoln Memorial on the other. As if they weren’t impressive enough, the Washington Monument was in the middle, towering over everything. Museums lined both sides, each one built in its own unique style.

As we walked around the perimeter, I pointed at the National Gallery. “Don’t you want to go in there? I know you’re a secret art nerd.”

He gave me a long-suffering look, like I was ruining his serious-philosopher life. “What makes you think I’m an art nerd?”

“Easy. One, old guys like art. Two, you’ve got great taste in colors. And three, I’ve seen the paintings on your walls. I may be a hockey goon, but I recognize good art when I see it.”

He snorted. “You have beautiful prints all over your condo.”

“Those are from the decorator. I wouldn’t know a Renoir from a Picasso.”

“Aha!” He whacked my arm. “You do know something about art.”

“Knowing names isn’t the same as knowing about art.”

“Time to fix that, then.” He slid a hand onto my back, low and warm, just like he had at the hotel.

A flash of nerves had me looking around. We were in public, in broad daylight. As much as I liked Logan, I didn’t want people assuming things when I hadn’t figured out what was happening myself.

I pointed at the grass next to the sidewalk. “What’s that?”

Logan stopped. “What?”

I stepped away from him, bent down, and picked up a torn piece of a brochure. “Shit. Thought it was money.”

He grunted in response, and when I looked at him, he’d lost his smile. Had I hurt him by pulling away? Shit. I had to think of a better way to handle things.

“You need your eyes checked,” he said once we started walking again. “That didn’t look like money at all.”

I glanced at him, glad to see his smile had returned. “You’re the one who needs an eye exam,” I said. “Might help your shot accuracy.”

His contrived glare wouldn’t have fooled anyone. “I’ve got one of the highest point totals on the team.”

“Dumb luck. Mine’s almost as big, and I play defense.”

Instead of laughing, Logan turned and gave me a look so smug it should’ve been illegal. “And here I thought D-men were supposed to have the biggest cocks in hockey. You admit you’re smaller?”

I bumped his shoulder. “Mine’s as big as any D-man’s, thank you. I can’t help it if yours is freakishly large.”

“Lucky for you.” He lowered his voice to a mumble. “More for you to play with.”

As I tried to think of a retort, I glanced over. Holy hell. The heat in his eyes was enough to send my dick to half-mast. Too bad we weren’t still at the hotel. Or in a bathroom. Or anywhere with a door that locked.

After passing the Museum of Natural History, we parked ourselves on a bench.

Resting our legs was a must because we’d need them fresh for tomorrow’s game.

When Logan scooted close enough for our thighs to touch, I didn’t move away.

I didn’t want to hurt him again, and besides, I liked having him there.

His presence steadied me in a way nothing else ever had.

When we were together, my mind stopped spiraling, and I felt calm.

“What do you think of our chances tomorrow night?” he asked. “The Cudas are damn good, and we’ve barely won two games.”

Harpy had sent a long, inspirational group text while we were on the plane, and I was still riding the high. “I think we’ve got it. They’re good, but so are we. It’s not like they’ve steamrolled us. One of their wins was in OT, and the other two were squeakers.”

Logan pursed his lips, thinking it through, and then gave me a small smile. “I think we have an excellent shot. We’ve been playing smart, and we’re hungry. Back-to-back Cups would be something to remember for a lifetime.”

“Hell yeah, but…” I looked at him, and fuck if heat didn’t shoot through me like a cannonball.

His blue eyes glimmered like a lake in the mountains, and his cheeks were ruddy in the bright sunlight.

When I noticed his lips were still swollen from earlier, my pulse rushed in my ears.

I had to grip the edge of the bench to stop myself from kissing him.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Ten minutes ago, I was stressed because he touched my back.

Logan was my best friend. Sure, we were fooling around, but that didn’t mean we were in love.

And what about me being straight, for fuck’s sake?

I liked kissing him more than I could believe, but wanting to do it here, on a park bench, in front of anybody who might be looking?

It wouldn’t take two minutes for that to land on Instagram.

His gaze short-circuited every rational thought in my brain, and his voice came out soft. “You’re gorgeous, Riles. I’m so glad we’re close because you make my life better in so many ways.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Maybe I needed to stop overthinking this, stop trying to cram whatever we were into a box with a label.

So what if I’d never heard of a friendship like ours?

How the hell did that matter? My constant what-ifs and over-analyzing weren’t helping anything.

What was helping me was being close to Logan.

I kept my eyes locked on his. “You’re the best person I’ve ever known. You make everything better.”

He stayed quiet, but his fingers brushed mine and stayed there. I didn’t move because I liked it. Traffic hummed in the distance, people walked by chattering about the architecture, and we enjoyed being in the warm sun. What we’d said had changed something, and it felt good.

Two kids ran up, arguing about something, so I nudged Logan’s leg with mine. “Okay, Grandpa. Ready to move on?”

He glared at me, barely managing not to smile. “Just for that, we’re going to the Hirshhorn.”

I groaned. “Knew you’d want to nerd out over abstract art before the day was over.”

“You’re such a bullshitter.” He shook his head, chuckling. “If you don’t know anything about art, how do you know what the Hirshhorn is?”

“Because Holky and I went there once when we needed a laugh. But look at you. Your eyes are lighting up like you’re seeing naked Matisses.”

Logan threw his head back and laughed. “That’s not even close to how this works.”

“See? Art nerd.” I stood. “Let’s go get weird.”

We walked toward the museum, bumping shoulders like we were twelve, while Logan explained what we’d see inside. I’d never thought hearing someone talk about art would make me smile so much.

The Hirshhorn turned out to be fascinating, and I couldn’t believe how much fun we had.

One minute, Logan was pointing out the good stuff and explaining why it was good; the next, he had me laughing at the weird shit.

When we were leaving, I told him we had to bring Holky next time so he could see how amazing the place actually was.

“What about Dog?” Logan asked. “Think he knows much about art?”

I laughed. “About as much as Holky does. But he’ll like it too.”

“It’s settled then. First time we’ve got a free day in DC next season, we’ll bring them here.”

When we made it back to the hotel, after we stopped for steak and shrimp at Chef Geoff’s, the rest of the boys had arrived.

We traded chirps and told a few stories before heading for our rooms. Inside, I wasted no time going through the connecting door.

We had a hard day coming up, and I needed to sleep in Logan’s arms.