Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

Jackson

The tension is palpable as we trudge down the tunnel for the first intermission. LA are holding no punches tonight, and I mean that quite literally. Peyton ended up dropping the gloves four minutes into the first period after Zach was cross-checked and it went uncalled by the refs.

It seems they’ve come out with a point to prove tonight, and we’re the unlucky suspects because we’re currently down by three goals.

We take a seat in our designated stalls, and Coach Harris stalks into the locker room. He paces the floor, biting on the side of his thumb. The hard set of his jaw tells me he’s struggling to rein in his frustration.

“What the fuck happened out there?” he spits, but we all know not to answer back. We don’t have any acceptable excuse for our piss-poor performance. “They took eighteen shots on goal. Eighteen . And we had fucking six.” He turns slowly, making sure to look every single one of us in the eye. “Our rebounds are sloppy as fuck. We don’t look like the team who won the Cup last year. We’ve been on a three-game losing streak since we came back from the holiday, and I don’t want tonight to be a fourth. We need to stay out of the box—” He gives a pointed stare to Blaine and Peyton, who have already taken three penalties between them so far. “—and we need to get pucks into the back of the net. I’m so fucking tired of losing, so when we get back out there, you better bring your A game. Be the team I know you are, and don’t give them something to laugh about.”

At that, he storms out of the locker room, door slamming shut in his wake. Nobody dares to speak. The mood is sullen, and we keep our eyes down. Some retape their sticks, and I head to the bathrooms to do my business.

I can’t believe Hayden is witnessing this game. He flew back to LA a few days ago so he could attend his appointment with his therapist, and it’s felt like weeks since I’ve seen him. Weirdly enough, the house feels empty without him in it. To the point the kids have noticed it feels different without him. They adore him, more than I could’ve imagined, and they’ve asked when he’s coming back multiple times a day since he left.

And as much as I love them, I’m glad I get to have him to myself tonight. Even if I am going to be full of embarrassment if we don’t sort ourselves out and start scoring some goals.

When we head back onto the ice for the second period, it’s a hard battle to take possession. Elliot stops shot after shot. I manage to get my stick on a few following the rebound, hitting it away from the net. Zach dumps the puck into the offensive zone, and it’s a quick race to beat LA’s D-man to reach the puck first. I curve around the net, slapping the puck to Blaine, who passes it to Peyton. He takes a shot, but their winger intercepts. It goes on like that for several minutes. The boys try desperately to take possession. So much so that Zach ends up with a two-minute penalty for tripping, and the penalty kill is painful to watch from the bench. We’re like sitting ducks as an LA forward gets on a breakaway. Elliot’s eagle eyes track the puck, but the forward sinks it into the net with a lightning-fast move, giving LA the advantage at 4-0.

“These guys are pissing me off,” Blaine grunts as he drops down onto the bench beside me. He picks up his bottle and squirts some water into his mouth before slamming it back into the holder. “Like, fucking stop with the fucking poke check, fucking ding-dongs.”

Normally I’d laugh at his frustrated outbursts, but I’m getting pissed off too.

I manage to score a goal before the buzzer, and when we head out for the third period, Coach pulls Elliot and puts Lindholm in. I glance over to Elliot, who’s slumped on the bench and removes his mask. No goalie likes to be pulled, and defeat is written all over his face. It’s not his fault, but he won’t see it that way. He’ll see that he let in four goals, and he’s the reason we’re losing the game.

But the real reason is us. There’s more than just him out there.

“Come on, boys.” I slap the boards, hoping to gear up some momentum. “We didn’t come here to lose. The shit streak ends here.”

There are some grunts in agreement, but I don’t let it faze me .

The whistle blows with a penalty on LA for holding, and I jump over the boards for the power play.

“Let’s fucking do this!” Peyton shouts.

My teeth clench in frustration as I watch for the puck drop. Blaine wins the face-off, slapping the puck over to me. I take the puck into our defensive zone and around the back of the net before passing it over to Peyton. We make our way up into the neutral zone. Peyton passes to Blaine, and I angle myself to the right of the net, watching out of the corner of my eye as one of LA’s defensemen tries to guess my next move. The pass from Blaine connects, and I raise my stick, making it look like I’m about to take a shot, but instead, I poke the puck between my skates, then take a backhander. The puck flies past the waiting defenseman and into the back of the net.

Fucking finally !

I don’t feel like celebrating because we’re still down by two, but I accept the back pats and cheers and head back toward the bench.

When there are two minutes left in the third, Coach pulls Lindholm for an extra forward, and Blaine puts another on the board with a stellar Michigan goal. Lindholm remains on the bench for the final thirty seconds, and desperation is pouring off us in waves. Zach manages to close the gap. I’m ready, waiting by the crease. An LA defenseman shoves me in the back, but I hold my ground so I’m not on the blue. Zach takes a risky slap shot from the blue line and sinks the puck in the bottom left corner, sending us into overtime.

“Holy fucking shit!” Peyton beams as we skate back to the bench to get ready for overtime. “Reidsy, that was a beauty. I think I have a boner.”

Zach chuckles quietly under his breath, squirting water into his mouth. But my attention latches onto Elliot, who’s sitting silently in the corner. I skate over with my bottle in hand and tap my gloves on the board in front of him.

He lifts his head. There’s so much emotion swirling in his green eyes, but he doesn’t say a word. I give him a small and what I hope is reassuring smile. This isn’t a reflection of you , I try to say with my eyes.

He shrugs and drops his gaze again.

Fuck, I hate that he’s feeling shit over this. But I don’t have time to do anything as we get the signal to skate to center ice for the face-off.

Blaine takes the face-off, with me on the right of the circle and Zach by the blue line. Blaine wins, passing it back toward Zach. He skates into the defensive zone and around the back of the net, eyes assessing my and Blaine’s whereabouts.

We change lines, and neither team gets a decent shot on net. But it all changes when LA gets called for hooking, and now it’s four on three. I’m back on the ice with Blaine, Peyton, and Zach.

Peyton drags it into the offensive zone, and I’m hot behind him. The two of us battle with one of LA’s forwards in the corner, and I manage to get the puck out from the boards with the toe of my stick. Blaine’s ready and waiting, and with a flick of his wrist, the puck bounces off the post and into the net.

He thrusts his arms up in victory, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Holy shit, talk about a fucking comeback.

My heart rate is through the roof as I slam into him, wrapping my arms around him. Peyton and Zach join us seconds later, and then we skate back to the bench. This time when we enter the visitors’ locker room, it’s buzzing with excitable energy.

Zach plugs in the post-W playlist, but unlike every other time, Elliot isn’t on his feet. I frown, watching in concern as he changes and heads into the shower without joining in on the activities.

Glancing over to Blaine, I’m pleased he’s picked up on it too.

I head into the showers and get changed into my game day suit, but before I head out to the bus, I grab Blaine’s arm as he passes.

“I know you’re eager to speak with Alex, but spend some time with him.” I jerk my chin toward Elliot.

Blaine’s brows furrow.

“He’s beating himself up pretty bad about tonight, and the last thing he needs is to be on his own. All I’m saying is, when you’ve spoken with Alex, spend some time with your brother. Make sure he’s not blaming himself for the way we failed him earlier.”

Because we did fail him. Yeah, he got pulled, but it was because we folded like a house of cards both offensively and defensively, and we weren’t there to help him protect the net.

Blaine looks in the direction of where Elliot’s disappeared toward the bus, then nods. “Yeah… Yeah, I will.”

I give him a tight smile and return to lacing up my shoes.

“Thanks,” he says after a beat, and I glance up, waiting for him to elaborate. “For looking out for him. Sometimes I get so carried away and in my own bubble that I forget to look in front of me.”

I smile. Glad he’s aware of it.

“Don’t sweat it.”

“Hey, maybe you can be the new team dad now Ethan’s retired,” he chuckles, and I laugh.

“Sure, but don’t expect me to pick up after you. I have enough trouble trying to pick up after my actual children.”

He gives my shoulder a squeeze and heads out of the locker room.

By the time we’re all seated on the bus, I’m a mix of exhaustion and excitement over the thought of seeing Hayden. I pull my phone out of my pocket and bring up our message thread. A small smile appears on my lips to see he’s already texted.

Hayden

Well, fuck me! I haven’t been on the edge of my seat watching a game for a long time. What a game!

I’m heading to the hotel now. I’ll hide out in the bar until you give me the all clear.

I can’t wait to see you.

I have to duck my chin to hide the face-splitting grin.

I’m glad it was fun watching it because it didn’t feel fun playing it. We’re just leaving the arena now, should be there in ten mins. I’ll text you my room number as soon as I have the key.

I can’t wait to see you, too. Hope you slept well last night because I plan on devouring you all night.

We’re in the hotel lobby in less than ten minutes. Something warm fills my chest when I see Blaine and Elliot head toward the elevators with their bags in hand. Blaine has his free arm wrapped around Elliot’s shoulders, their heads tucked close together as they disappear. Hopefully, our goalie won’t be beating himself up too badly, especially with his twin taking the time to spend the night with him.

I accept the paper card slip with the key inside from our travel coordinator with a quick thanks and make a beeline for the elevator. I hit the call button, then take my phone out of my pocket to text Hayden.

Room 497. Everyone is in the lobby so give it ten, unless there’s another way via the bar?

Hayden

There is. See you soon. Keep your suit on. I’ve been dreaming about undressing you again for fourteen years.

The elevator ride up to the fourth floor seems to take an eternity, and when the doors finally ping open, I’m practically jogging to my room. I scan the key card and push open the door as soon as the little green light flashes. Dumping my bag near the desk, I quickly unzip it to find my toiletry bag and head into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Then like a creeper, I stand by the door and peer through the peephole. My pulse increases at the sound of footsteps, and the moment Hayden appears, I swing open the door before he can raise his hand to knock.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but before he can say anything, I pull him inside. The door closes behind him, and then I curve my hand around his neck and slant my mouth over his. He stumbles back against the door, dropping his bag at his feet, and wraps his arms around my waist. His hands smooth over my dress shirt at the base of my spine, then travel up, stopping between my shoulder blades. I slide my tongue into his mouth, tasting the hint of whiskey.

My cock is a steel pipe pressing against my zipper when he pulls away, breathing heavily. I duck my head, nipping and sucking along the column of his neck as my hands travel up into his hair.

“Mm,” he murmurs, tilting his head back to grant me better access. “This is the kinda hello I can get behind.”

I lift my head and steal another kiss from his swollen lips.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he whispers. “Great game tonight.”

“Thanks.” I smooth my hands down from his head and down his chest. He’s wearing an impeccable navy blue three-piece suit and white shirt. I flick the buttons open on his waistcoat, then start on his shirt.

He leads me backward into the room, a wicked grin on his face. The back of my knees hit the bed, and I drop down to sit. I undo the final button and spread his shirt open, revealing inches of smooth, inked skin. Leaning forward, I press an open-mouthed kiss just below his belly button, then kiss a path up toward his nipples. I flick my tongue over one brown disc, smirking against his warm skin when he shivers, and then I move to the other one. The sound of his soft gasp causes my cock to throb more. He cradles my head with both hands, fingers tangling into the strands on the back of my scalp.

I graze my teeth over his nipple, and he moans.

“Fuck, Jax.”

I push off his jacket, tossing it on the nearby chair, then slip off his waistcoat and shirt. I’m about to make a move on his belt when he stops me with both hands on my wrists.

“Hey, slow down.” He chuckles softly, looking down at me with so much affection in his eyes it makes my chest ache.

“I’m sorry, I’m just… I’ve been dying to get my hands on you. Being under the same roof as you, sleeping on the other side of the wall to you and not being able to touch you, has been a torture I never knew existed.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss me.

“I know, but there’s something I need to tell you before we carry on.” He swallows roughly. “Because it might change your mind about me.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He sucks in a deep breath, and that’s when I see it. He’s nervous. Whatever it is he’s about to tell me has most likely been eating at him, and here’s me ripping off his clothes like an unhinged animal.

“What is it, Cas?” I whisper, feeling my own anxiety beginning to spike.

“The medication I’m on… it has some side effects.”

“Okay… I mean, I’m not going to change my mind about you because you’re on medication?”

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I… How do I put this… I don’t perform as well as I used to, and I understand if that makes you rethink all of this.”

It takes a while for his words to fully sink in on what he’s trying to say.

Oh. Oh.

I stand up, shaking my head softly. “I promise you I won’t rethink this. Tell me what you need from me.” I kiss him gently. “Tell me what I can do to make this be good for you.”