Page 14

FOURTEEN

carter

I don’t know how long I stand against the door in the stairwell.

Or why I chose right now as the time to unleash all of my fucking feelings of inadequacy on Jack when he was just attacked by those bigoted assholes.

But the lingering tingles in my fingertips scream that I’m a liar.

Because I know exactly why I did it.

Why I followed him in here a few minutes ago.

Why I tried to stop him from leaving the bar the other night.

Why I tried to break through the barbed-wire fence he has wrapped so tight around himself.

When I touched him, all of those pent-up, teenaged feelings came rushing back with a force that could knock me into next year.

The memory of his lips on mine, the taste of spearmint on his tongue, his powerful hands cupping my face…

all of it hit me like a Mack truck .

I saw it coming but couldn’t get out of the way fast enough before it steamrolled me into the ground.

So I did the only thing I could think of.

And this time, it was me who lashed out.

At probably the worst possible time ever.

For years, I’ve kept these feelings buried under the rivalry I built up in my mind.

Hell, he was so good, nobody could ever rival him .

But jealousy, awe, and my constant need for acknowledgment and approval solidified him as my rival.

It was the only way I could protect myself from the truth.

Everyone knew we came up in the circuit together.

They knew Jack’s star shone brighter than anyone’s, including mine.

And they never fucking stopped talking about it, how great it must have been to play with him, how much I must have learned, how exciting it was for him to take us to the championship games year after year.

Him.

Not me.

Like my hard work and dedication meant shit to our success.

I was never good enough when Jack was around.

I was still never good enough when he wasn’t.

But all that anger and envy weren’t enough to crush the feelings of yearning I’d secretly felt.

And the war raging deep in my mind and heart right now tells me they never will.

Because one thing has me reeling.

That moment.

That one touch on the stairs.

Whatever I felt moments ago wasn’t one-sided.

I could see it, feel it.

Fuck, whatever crackled between us was so heavy in the air, I could have sunk my teeth into it.

And I know he felt it, too .

The look in his eyes just now tells me he never forgot that kiss from years ago.

Slamming my fist against the wall, a groan rumbles in the back of my throat.

I had to open my mouth and fuck it all up because I was scared of answering the question in his heated gaze.

The question I’ve always been too afraid to answer.

I freaked out again because what the fuck would everyone think if my secret was exposed?

If they knew I had feelings for a guy?

If I was…gay?

What would my family think?

What would my fans say?

There are enough chips stacked against me.

What if I’m not strong enough to handle the backlash?

Frenzied thoughts zapped my mind, and the only thing I could think to do was put up my own walls.

So I did, effectively blocking him out.

I scrape my hands down the front of my face.

But I still can’t fucking let go.

I never could.

My heart thumps and thrums as I run back to our room.

I slide the keycard against the lock and the door clicks.

My throat tightens, pulse hammering hard.

“Jack, I?—”

But the words die on my lips when I see the room is empty.

And he’s gone.

My cell phone buzzes against my leg and I grab it out of my pocket.

Shoulders slumping, I hit the Accept button.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Carter, I just saw the news. Is Jack okay?”

I sink onto the edge of my bed, a deep sigh slumping my shoulders .

What a fucking loaded question.

“I don’t know,” I finally say.

“You don’t know?” he asks.

“You really need him to win this game against the Iron Hawks. He wasn’t hurt, was he?”

“You know, there’s more to life than just winning, Dad,” I say, an edge to my voice.

“What happened out there was fucking horrible, and I was only a witness. Imagine how he felt. He may not have been hurt physically, but mentally?” I shake my head and rake a hand through my hair.

“I can’t imagine he’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to downplay what happened,” Dad says, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“I was just concerned.”

“I get it. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

I fall back against the mattress, the ache in my chest making me wince.

“He’s not here right now. I think he needed to be alone,” I say.

“Everyone is kind of rattled because of the demonstration. They all think?—”

I snap my lips shut because I don’t want to even hear the words come out of my mouth.

“They think the fact that he’s gay is going to cost them, right?” Dad asks in a low voice.

“That he’ll become a liability to the team.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Yes. They’re worried.”

Dad lets out a sigh.

“I told you last night, it’s always going to be a challenge for him. No matter how well he performs, people will still judge him. A lot of fans will never support him because he’s gay, and if he loses fans, he’ll lose other opportunities.”

“Would you still support me, Dad? If you knew the truth about me?”

The question dances on the tip of my tongue, but I keep my lips pressed tight to keep the words from hitting air .

I feel like I’ve always been trying to win his acceptance as a hockey player.

How would he feel if he knew I was borderline obsessed with another man?

So I don’t give him a chance to answer that loaded question.

“Listen, Dad, I’ve got to go. The guys are meeting downstairs soon to get to the arena.”

“Okay.” He pauses.

“It was great spending time with you last night, son. Good luck today. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I click to end the call.

Because my truth would crush my future.

A few minutes pass and a text pings my phone from Coach Enver about a meeting spot.

I stick my AirPods into my ears and scroll to my Frank Sinatra playlist.

Come Fly With Me, my favorite Frank Sinatra song, fills my ears as I rush to change and throw all of my crap into my duffel bag.

It’s one of my pre-game rituals, listening to Frank.

The music helps me get my head right before games and right now, my head is twisted and being tugged in a million different directions, so I need all the help I can get.

Once I get downstairs, I search the vestibule where the team gathers.

There’s no sign of Jack, but there are cops swarming the door where we’re about to exit and get onto the buses that will take us to the arena.

I crane my neck to look for Tate and Masterson when someone grabs my suit jacket sleeve.

I jerk my head around, my heart sinking when I see it’s not Jack, but Coach Enver.

He pulls me aside so we’re out of earshot of the rest of the guys.

“I sent Jack ahead with a police escort. I didn’t want to take any chances with another episode if he arrived with the rest of the team. The police will make sure you’re all safe once we get to the arena.”

I furrow my brow.

“Okay…why are you only telling me this?”

Coach adjusts his hat.

“Look, VK, I put you guys together not only so you could work through whatever is hanging between you, but because I see you as a leader. You’re new to the team, but they trust you. You inspire them to be the best they can, and that’s a rare quality. Everyone needs that kind of support, especially Jack. So I wanna ask you to put the past aside and help him get his head straight. We need him at the top of his game, and he’s messed up right now. I don’t know what happened to him before this trip, where those bruises came from, but I don’t believe his flimsy excuses. I think he needs a friend to talk to. To trust.”

“Okay,” I manage to choke out, his words ringing between my ears.

“You’re a leader. That’s why you’re here. Help him. Talk to him.”

My throat tightens.

I tug at my shirt collar like it’s a noose choking me.

“That’s why you’re here.”

I can read between the lines.

I’m a leader. Not the star.

Anyone can lead if given the right opportunity.

Not everyone can be the NHL golden boy.

“I’ll talk to him,” I finally say.

Enver claps me on the shoulder and nods.

“Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”

I climb onto the bus with the rest of the team, my head swimming with all of the things I want to say to Jack, but none of them have anything to do with the game.

As Enver promised, the cops get us into the arena without a hitch.

The guys banter as we walk through the underbelly of the arena toward the visitor locker room, laughter echoing in the concrete corridors.

We walk into the locker room and drop our bags onto the benches.

I take a look around but there’s no sign of Jack.

I spot his duffel in a corner and pull open my own bag to change.

I avoid small talk, working fast to get on my gear.

There’s still an hour or so before game time, and the guys are going to warm up before taking the ice.

But not Jack.

He likes to take it all in before each game.

I remember watching him back in junior hockey before we were friends, how I tried to understand his process, yearning to be as good as he was and desperate enough to imitate him.

Turns out, pregame visualization is really effective.

Security swarms the entrance but they let me through with a silent nod.

I find Jack hunched over on one of the benches, his hands on either side of his face, just staring at the ice.

I drop next to him but he doesn’t acknowledge me.

“You doing okay?” I ask in a low voice.

It’s a long minute before he turns to look at me.

And for the first time in as long as I’ve known him, the cocky spark in his gaze has been replaced with something else.

Alarm.

And that just about shocks the hell out of me since I’ve never known Jack Larson to exude anything but confidence and swagger.

I once saw the slightest hint of vulnerability the night he kissed me.

And since it disappeared almost as fast as it came, I might’ve even made it up in my head.

But I’ve never known him to be rattled.

Not ever.

And there’s no mistaking what pools in his gaze right now .

“Why won’t you just leave me the fuck alone?” he finally says in a voice that makes my heart dip low in my chest.

I sweep a hand through my hair and lean forward.

A lump lodges in my throat.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You can turn your back and walk away. No matter what you think you know about me, you’re wrong. About all of it.” His jaw twitches as he pulls his gaze away from mine.

“I’m not looking for a friend.”

“Neither am I,” I say, my heart wobbling in my chest.

He shakes his head, a dry laugh slipping from his lips.

“Why can’t you just walk away, VK?”

“You just went through something traumatic. I want to make sure?—”

“Lemme tell you something. You have no idea what trauma is, okay?” He springs off the bench and thumbs the air.

“You think that bullshit was traumatic?” he scoffs.

“Jesus, you really are fucking sheltered.”

He leans down, his face inches from mine.

“I don’t need to be saved. So take your white knight crap and use it on someone who does.”

I rise on shaky legs, my pulse having a fist fight with my throat.

“I know you don’t mean that.”

“The fuck I don’t.” He glowers at me but doesn’t make a move to leave.

“So why are you still here?”

I swallow hard, blood rushing between my ears, muffling the sound of my voice.

Close your damn mouth, Carter.

Walk the fuck away, Carter!

Get out before any more damage is done.

He was gone before you got the chance to tell him the first time.

It was a sign that you need to crush these insane feelings once and for all .

But my mouth doesn’t give a shit about all the things my mind is screaming.

“Because you…” I croak out, my mouth drier than a camel’s ass.

“…you make me feel things I don’t understand. And I need to?—”

“No,” he says gruffly before pushing past me.

“Don’t fucking say another word. Just leave me alone.”