Page 9

HAYES

“Where are you going?” Jacob frowns as I pull on my jacket. He’s still in his boxers, with wet hair dripping down his torso. Shawn, who is also mostly undressed, peers up at me.

“I’ve got a study group,” I say quickly. “Trying to get on top of this stupid assignment.” I don’t embellish more than that. Lying isn’t my favorite pastime, especially to my brothers, but I’ve learned that it’s easier to keep track of if you provide limited information.

Jacob narrows his eyes as he tugs socks onto his feet. “Study group? At this time?”

“Yeah. It’s not something official. Just a group of us who realized we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing.”

When I lie, a little self-depreciation makes what I’m saying more believable. I don’t know why, but there you go. Whatever works.

“Study group. Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Shawn grins knowingly.

“Who? People who are two minutes younger than you? Yeah, we’re a totally different generation with all these lit new terms.” I roll my eyes, and he laughs.

“Just tell us if you’re dumping our asses to get some pussy.”

“Yep, I say. That’s exactly what I’m doing.” I grab my bag from the bench and raise my hand. “Catch you later.”

***

I toss my bag into the trunk of my car and drive across town to O’Connor’s. It’s a dark and noisy sports bar where all the jocks hang out for game nights. It doesn’t matter if you’re a football player, into basketball, or a puck head; you keep up with the other sports teams and what they’re achieving. It’s expected.

I can’t be certain that Forester will be there tonight, but I’m making a calculated guess. I wasn’t lying when I told Riley that I think he has a thing for her. Maybe it wouldn’t have been anything outside of a casual desire for a one-night thing, but it’s become more because I’ve claimed her. Not that he’s after my sloppy seconds or anything. It’s more that he’d like to rub the fact that he fucked her in my face if he gets the chance. Like a dog pissing on a lamppost to mark territory.

He’s not getting the chance.

To be honest, I think hell would freeze over before Riley entertained him, but I want to make sure he knows she’s pretend-mine at the very least.

Fuck.

That word. Mine .

I’ve never been territorial about anything. I share everything with my brothers without even thinking. It’s always been that way. Drilled into us by a shared fear of our father. There’s a strength to being united that a lot of siblings never have to fall back on, but we were forced to realize at a young age.

But seeing Riley again and feeling the connection, the tether to the past that’s more than just memories, has made me want something for myself.

Jacob was always against anyone who came into our lives after Dad died. There’s a whole tangled web of emotions driving him, layers I can’t even begin to unravel. I know he hated the new men in Mom’s life—on that, we were the same. We shared the fear that one of them might be like Dad or worse, and at the same time dreaded the unbearable possibility that a stranger could treat us better than our own flesh and blood. And then there was the deeper, unspoken dread: that we’d have to confront the truth about Dad—that he wasn’t the hero the world believed him to be.

It’s so tempting to bury pain, to wrap it in layers of denial until it doesn’t sting so sharply anymore. Like an oyster shielding itself from a piece of grit, you can coat your hurt with lies, smoothing the edges until it’s less raw, less urgent. Over time, it hardens into something you can live with, something you almost forget is there. But then someone comes along, pries open your shell, and pokes at the pearl you’ve created. That’s when it happens—the wound you’ve hidden for so long gapes open, and there’s no pretending it wasn’t there.

Riley represents more to Jacob than just a person from our past. Like a song playing in the background when your world is falling apart, seeing her is like a melody of pain. He thinks I don’t know, but I understand my brother.

I understand Shawn, too. He likes a quiet life, so he won’t go against Jacob.

Keeping Riley away from them will make my life easier. I’m twenty-one, and it’s time to make my way without my brothers always influencing my path. The time’s right because we’re so close to being forced apart by the game that’s always kept us together.

I’m ten minutes early, which is what I intended, and I wait for Riley, glancing up and down the street. I should have offered to collect her, but I didn’t want to intrude too much into her life before we talked more. She might decide she doesn’t want me to know where she lives, which is absolutely her prerogative.

Riley appears on time, dressed in an oversized pink coat, tight jeans, and New Balance sneakers. It’s a look I like: relaxed, not trying too hard. She’s drawn her hair into a messy bun, and the pink gloss on her lips makes her mouth look delicious.

Her eyes trail me from head to toe and back again, not giving too much away, but I think she likes what she sees. I hope she does. We meet in the middle, and I lean in to kiss her cheek.

“Hayes,” she says in her honey-rich voice. She reaches up to touch my cheek next to the wound that’s crusted over. “Jansen is an asshole.”

“He is.”

“You were…” She pauses, searching for the word.

“Unhinged,” I laugh.

“Fierce,” she corrects.

“Coach had another word for it,” I say. “But I won’t repeat it.”

“He doesn’t want you in the penalty box.”

I shrug and turn as the door to O’Connor’s opens, and people and noise flood the sidewalk.

“Let’s get inside,” I say. “I need a celebratory beer.”

“Sounds good.”

I open the door for Riley to step through first and then lead her to the bar. There is one free stool, which I offer her, and I nod at the barman so he knows we need serving. Before we have a chance to begin a conversation, I’m inundated by happy fans, high from the victory.

“How’s the fist, Drayton?” someone asks. I show him my uninjured hand, and a whoop of celebration follows.

“That was some goal.”

“Yeah. Jacob was flying tonight.”

“And Shawn’s shut-out…bet he was buzzing.”

“For sure. Thanks, guys.” I shake hands and then turn my back, so they get the hint that I’m busy. There are nights when I don’t mind rehashing the game, but this isn’t one of them.

“You always get that?” Riley asks.

“Yeah.” I pick up a beer mat and spin it on its corner. “I don’t mind. It’s part of the job.”

“What about when you go pro?”

“If,” I say, surprising myself.

Her eyes widen, and she leans back. “You mean you’re thinking about stopping when you graduate?”

“I don’t know.” The beer mat drops back onto the bar, and I twist it again. “I don’t know what I want to do. I’ve been playing hockey since I was a kid. It’s like, I know there are so many things out there, but I’ve never raised my line of sight to consider what it might be like to do something else. I’m a Drayton, and Draytons play ice hockey.” I frown at my confession. Why the fuck am I spilling my secrets to this girl?

“What else would you like to do?”

Now, there’s a good question. “I’m majoring in psychology. I had this idea to work on the other side of hockey, with players who have the skill but can’t quite break through the mental barriers to play their best game.”

“Sports psychology,” she says. “Is that a big thing in hockey?”

“Yeah. It’s big and only getting bigger. Teams want to get the best out of their expensive players. There’s so much movement in the league. Sometimes, it’s just about working on team dynamics. Helping them shed their old mindset and ways of working and fitting in with new people and expectations.”

“Makes sense.”

The barman approaches and I indicate for Riley to order first. “I’ll have what you’re having,” she says.

“Beer?”

“Sure.”

I order a light local draft with warm undertones, and we watch as the barman expertly pours each glass. Riley sips hers as I pay, licking away foam bubbles from her top lip, and I watch the motion with fascination.

Jesus. What would it be like to kiss her, and slide my tongue over hers? To know the heat of her mouth and her taste. Before I can turn my thoughts to something less erotic, my cheeks grow hot. This stupid sweater wasn’t a good idea. I tug it over my head, rucking up my undershirt in the process. When I emerge from the green fabric, Riley’s eyes focus on my bare abs. When I tug down my shirt, she blushes, caught ogling me.

“So, what was the locker room like after the game?” she asks quickly.

“Jubilant,” I say. “As you’d expect.”

“Do you have any celebratory rituals?”

I was not involved in choosing Justin Timberlake’s ‘Stop the Feeling’ as our victory song. When I tell Riley, she cracks up. “You all seriously dance around to Justin? Like, with the moves from the video?”

“I’ve never watched the video,” I admit. “The team are fucking graceful on the ice, but their dancing skills are cataclysmic.”

“I’d like to see that.” She smiles, then raises her eyebrows expectantly. Is she expecting a demonstration from me? The bar has music, but it’s not a venue where dancing happens regularly. All around us, half-drunk men are high on the Icebreaker’s victory. A roar goes up in the corner, and I turn to find Forester and some of the football team sprinkling salt onto a woman’s cleavage before drinking shots of tequila. She’s inundated with men, dipping their heads to lick her skin.

“If you get me alone, I’d be more than happy to show you my moves.”

She smirks. “Nice try, Hayes.”

“Can’t blame a guy for being hopeful. So, what about you? What are you hoping to major in?”

“Journalism,” she says quickly, then brings her thumb to her mouth to nibble. “Digital comms or broadcasting. Maybe social media.”

“What area?”

“Sports,” she says.

“Seriously. I wouldn’t have taken you for a sports enthusiast.”

“It’s in my blood.” She smiles. “You remember what my dad was like?”

I do. Of all mom’s boyfriends, he was the one who took an interest in our progress, attending our games and watching hockey games on TV with us. Jacob hated it, but I didn’t mind. He wasn’t trying to step into our dad’s shoes. He just had a real love of the sport. “Yeah. So, are you on the university paper? Hoping to snag an exclusive interview with the media-shy Icebreaker’s star defenseman?”

“Who would that be, then?”

I laugh as she sips her beer.

“Not on the paper yet. There’s a lot of competition. I’d really like to get involved with social media, but I haven’t looked into it yet. They’re going to want experience.”

“Do you have any?”

She hesitates and then nods. “I do, but maybe not what they’re looking for.”

“Well, I’m serious about giving you an interview. If you want to try putting something together, you could use it to tempt them into giving you a spot.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“I don’t know. Because you don’t really know me, and you’re media shy.”

“I know you, Riley,” I say. “I remember you.”

She arches an eyebrow, and I get lost in her dark eyes. I remember them the best. The way she’d hide them behind her frizzy bangs, but I’d catch her watching us with deep interest. It’s like she wanted us to ask her to become part of our group. Like she’d really wanted to be our sister. But that was never going to happen. Not the way we were back then.

“What do you remember?” she asks.

“I remember that you seemed lonely,” I say. It comes out before I think about how defensive Riley might be about the past. She’s different now. Confident in her own skin, at peace with herself.

“Oh yeah? What else?”

“I remember you used to read these fantasy novels with dragons and knights on the covers.”

“Still do,” she says. “What else?”

“I remember you had a blanket. Blue and white crochet style.”

“My mom made that for me before I was born. She was convinced I was going to be a boy.”

“That’s sweet.” I think my mom spent her whole pregnancy in shock at the idea that she was having triplets at twenty-two. There wasn’t a homemade blanket or sweater in sight.

“So, you remember a lonely nerd reader with a blanket obsession?”

“Nah,” I say. “I remember a girl I wanted to talk to but was too damn shy.”

That surprises her. “You? Shy?”

“Yeah. Fuck yeah.”

“But you always had girls hanging around you.”

“They weren’t there for me.”

She frowns and reaches out to stop the spinning beer mat as if she wants me to concentrate on the conversation and not the spinning. Without my distraction, her attention is like hot palms against fevered skin. “What do you mean?”

I shrug, thinking back to high school. It wasn’t an unhappy time for me, but it was when my brothers’ confidence with girls started to show. “Jacob and Shawn…they were there for them.”

In Forester’s corner, a glass smashes, and a loud ‘ooooo’ sounds in response. I catch him looking across at us, first at me, then at an oblivious Riley. This might be my only chance to show him that Riley is off-limits. Resting my hand on her jaw, I lean in. Eye to eye, every muscle in my body tightens. I’m ready to tell her what I’m doing, but she blinks with surprise and doesn’t say no. I lean in closer, inhaling her heady scent.

This isn’t my first kiss. I’m a virgin when it comes to penetrative sex, not the other things that come before, but it feels big.

Huge.

Like when the minutes are ticking down and we’re fighting to keep a one-goal win; filled with anxiousness, anticipation, and the buzz of potential victory.

I press my lips against hers before she can ask me what the fuck I’m doing, praying she won’t push me away. The kiss is a surprise because it’s exactly like I thought it would be—warm and sweet with a tingle that travels down my spine—but also right in a bone-deep way that makes me groan low in my throat.

Riley’s hand rests on my cheek, but it doesn’t push me away; it just hovers there like she doesn’t know what to do. I think she’s as conflicted as I am because moving my lips on hers, gently sucking her bottom lip between mine, and licking the underside of her top lip makes us both let out staggered breaths.

Jesus.

Her hand moves from my cheek to the back of my neck, pressing me deeper against her as she opens her lips, and our tongues touch. Electricity pulses between us, flooding me with warmth.

I want more. So much more.

Pressure gathers inside me, turning me liquid in some places and rock-hard in others. I grasp the bar, searching for stability when the world is spinning, and the floor is racked with tremors. I need more pressure between our bodies, skin on skin, sweat, and breath, tongues and tastes, and fucking. So much fucking.

I step closer, gripping her hip and spreading her legs around me. She’s still perched on the stool, but the way we grasp each other, it’s like I’m holding her up. I could do that. Hold her, fuck her against the wall with just my cock keeping her suspended. The filthy thoughts that barrel through my mind force another rumbling groan from my throat, and she shivers in my arms. We’re not just electric; we’re an unexploded bomb, a puck skimming down the ice, meeting no defense to slide right into the center of the goal. We’re perfection.

“Get a room!” someone hollers, breaking through the haze of the moment. Riley pulls back, her liquid chocolate eyes locking onto mine, her puffy, glossy, just-been-kissed lips parting as if she’s about to say something. Instead, she blinks a few times, dazed, while I stand there panting, trying—and failing—to recenter myself.

Meanwhile, my dick has announced his presence in the middle of a bar. Fantastic.

“Fuck,” I murmur. “That was…”

“We shouldn’t have…” Riley gasps, her eyes wide.

“That was hot as fuck,” I finish, ignoring her regret.

“You’re my…”

I kiss her again, hard, and fierce, cutting off any doubt about what I am to her. At this moment, I know exactly what I want—for the first time in my life, it’s crystal clear. I want to take Riley to bed, peel back every layer and make her scream my name until there’s no question who she belongs to.

With her, there is no hesitation, no fear. I’m not worried she’s pining for my brothers or settling for less. She had her chances with Jacob and Shawn and chose to be here with me.

She’s meant for me.

Riley isn’t like the puck bunnies who chase players around, looking for bragging rights or a free ride. She’s sharp, funny, and effortlessly beautiful in that girl-next-door way that drives me out of my mind. Every curve, every laugh, every look she gives me makes my blood hum, my pulse pound.

She kisses me back, her lips soft but unrelenting, pouring every ounce of heat into me until the world fades. The doubts, the reasons why this might not work, Jacob’s insistence that we keep her at arm’s length, all dissolve in this moment’s rush. It’s just Riley and me, caught in a wild, unstoppable pull that I know I’ll never be able to resist.

When my hard length presses against her core, she groans, and I grunt, and the world comes back into focus.

I can’t fuck her on this stool in this bar with half the campus as witnesses, but if we keep kissing, that’s where this is going, for me at least.

“You want to get out of here?” I ask.

With flushed cheeks, she blinks like she’s coming around from an out-of-body experience.

Say yes. Fucking say yes.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Okay is good enough.