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Chapter forty-three

Trayton

“ D evil Hawks isn’t just any old ice hockey team.”

My eyes drift up to the arena screens, which are alive with sketch after sketch of our team—some capturing us in the heat of action, others in the locker room, where we’re relaxed and happy.

“They’re a family, a brotherhood, a bond held so tight together no one could ever break it,” Daxton’s voice says over the pictures. A drawing of the three pucks in chains, the one Daxton designed for my tattoo, flashes on the screen, and I can’t help but grin widely. Kal and Bray stand beside me, each placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “They test each other; they go against each other in training.” Now a video plays, showing us as fierce rivals on the ice. “But they always come back together.” The screen shifts to us laughing together, the friendship clear as our training session wraps up.

“They protect, they fight—this time a clip of Cope appears, seated in the locker room where we all give our interviews. “Who winds you up the most, Cope?” Daxton asks. “Definitely Tray,” Cope replies without missing a beat, prompting laughter from us and the crowd. At that moment, I almost forget everyone is watching. “But I wouldn’t have him any other way.”

“Awww,” echoes warmly throughout the rink. “Well, okay, maybe I’d change a little bit,” Cope adds with a cheeky grin. I turn to Cope and playfully flip him off. Daxton’s voice smoothly narrates over the video as Bray’s face fills the screen.

“They love.”

Bray looks over at Dax, his wide, toothy grin lighting up the screen and warming my heart. “What does hockey mean to you, Brayden?” he asks. Brayden’s smile softens, as if he’s drifting into a sea of memories. “It means hoping it could change my life and my brother’s,” he begins. “It’s those Saturday mornings at the rink, meeting people who turn into your forever friends, into family. It’s shaking the vending machine until all the candy tumbles out after practice. It’s tears when your team loses. It’s punches, black eyes, and split lips. It’s blood, and lots of it.” He chuckles, and we all join in, knowing it’s all so true. “It’s hope and dreams. It’s the chill in the air. It’s the place where you battle your demons. It’s Tray, Kal, Cope, Jennings, Becketts, Jacobs, Masons, Smithson, Coach, Number 13’s Biggest Fan, and it’s you.” Brayden beams at Daxton. “It’s an unbreakable bond. It’s brotherhood. It’s family.”

I clench my jaw, trying to keep my emotions in check, but that speech really hit home. I sniffle, and Brayden turns his head toward me, laughing. “Oh my god.”

“Say one word,” I warn, trying to sound tough. “And I’ll tell everyone how you got off just from eating Bohdi’s ass.”

“You really are an A-class bitch, you know that.”

“Queen bitch to you.” We both burst into laughter, turning our eyes back to the screen as the arena seems to freeze, captivated by Daxton’s work. It’s flawless, the way he’s captured the essence of everything. He definitely deserves top grades for this.

Kal’s face fills the screen, and he glares at the camera as if it has personally offended him.

“Kal, where do you see yourself in five years?”

Kal shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable for the first time. “Erm, signed with the NHL, living out my hockey dream.” His answer is blunt, pure Kal.

“What about outside of hockey?”

Suddenly, Kal’s face lights up for a moment, then dims slightly. “A beautiful fiancée on one arm while I hold my baby in my other,” he says, genuinely smiling as if he’s watching it unfold. “A nice house, somewhere quiet, with a front porch and lots of land. Maybe a dog.” He shifts in his seat again and looks at Dax. “I see myself being happy, watching the halftime show with all my boys, but most importantly, I see Bray and Tray on either side of me, having succeeded in every sweet way possible. I know that as long as they’re by my side in five years, my life will be complete.”

Brayden chokes on a sob, and I rub his back gently. “Little bitch,” I whisper, feeling my own bottom lip tremble.

And then my face shows.

“Here we go,” Kal mumbles behind me.

I remember this day. It wasn’t long after I sucked his dick in the library and demanded that he meet me in the locker room for the interview. I remember looking at him at this very moment, wishing I could grab him right there and fuck him. But I couldn’t because I “hated him.” What a load of horse shit.

“What are you thinking right now?” he asks. I knew he saw it in my eyes. He saw the heat because it was mirrored back.

I rub my thumb against my lip, remembering the way I collected the dripping cum from my lips and pushed it into his mouth, hooking his teeth to pull him closer. I was teetering on the edge of storming over to him and fucking him so goddamn hard. “Next question.”

“What do you love about Devil Hawks?”

“Why don’t you ask me something you really want to know? Not for the camera. For you.”

The loud sigh comes through the speakers from Daxton.

“Do you believe in love?” My eyes flash on the camera in complete shock. I remember I was expecting him to ask me why I was such a prick or something along those lines, but not that.

“No,” I say. “What does love mean to you?”

“I’m leading the interview.”

“And I’m asking you a simple question.”

There’s silence for a minute. And then Dax speaks. “Love is many different things. Love could mean one thing to you and a thousand things to me.”

“What does love mean to you?” I repeat.

“To me, love is the person I’d run to if I knew we had only one more day on Earth. It’s the person I’d want to lie with when everything crumbles around us—no fear, no tears, just us because that’s what it would be. Being content with them on my last day in this world.”

We sit there in silence. Staring at each other, and then I say, “If I ever figure out what it means for me, I’ll let you know. But don’t hold your breath.” I then wink at the camera. “Over and out,” I say before it cuts off.

Suddenly, a shower of Polaroid pictures cascades from the ceiling. “What the hell,” I mutter as they land softly on the ice and among the fans. Everyone’s eyes widen in amazement as the photos gently drift down. I crouch to pick one up and burst into laughter—it’s Becketts flipping off the coach when his back is turned. I tuck it into my pocket, planning to tease Becks with it later.

“Oh my god.” Brayden laughs loudly, flashing the picture he snagged. It’s Cope, naked in the locker room, arms out wide, facing the camera, but Daxton has his hand in front of the camera, hiding his dick. Our laughter echoes around us as we gather more photos. Some capture us goofing around, while others are more serious. Kal is rarely smiling, which is not a surprise.

These pictures show us in our truest form, unguarded and real, beyond the seriousness of the game. They reveal the deep bond we share as a family.

Then banners unfurl from the high arena ceilings, revealing huge watercolor paintings. One features our logo, another an incredible portrait of our coach. There’s a stunning watercolor of all of us on the ice, smiling, with Daxton crouched down in the middle beside someone else.

Another Brayden? No, it’s Bex, with a halo and white wings, smiling brightly at the camera, cheeks full, like the way he used to look, holding a peanut butter cup. Brayden breaks down in sobs beside me, and Kal and I hold him tight.

“It’s perfect,” he manages to say through his tears.

Another drops: it’s one of me, Bray, and Kal, all with our arms around each other’s shoulders smiling, and then there’s a picture of Dax, frowning at me as I frown back at him, and then written under it “The Scum to my Sewer.”

When we hated each other.

I spin on my skates to find Daxton, who is beaming up at the banners. I can’t believe he pulled this off. It’s absolutely incredible. Gasps surround the arena, voices picking up as people look at all the Polaroid pictures and laugh. I dread to think what other ones are floating around here. And then the screen flickers again, and I take a deep breath.

I grin and glance at Daxton, who’s sitting there with a flushed face, probably embarrassed from all the attention. His brows are knitted together as he stares at the screen, like he’s desperately trying to remember if he’s seen this before.

He hasn’t. This is new for him. I turn to Cope, who beams at me, and we both focus on the screen.

“I think you have to press that button at the top,” my voice crackles through the speaker as the camera wobbles a bit.

“How the heck do you work this thing?” Cope groans, and the camera flips upside down while I sit there. “The top button, hit that.” Laughs filter from the surrounding fans.

“It’s already pressed,” he replies and then steadies the camera. “Oh shoot, it’s recording.”

I frantically gesture to stop, slicing my hand across my throat, yelling cut.

Cope steadies the camera, and I shoot him a look through the lens, wondering why he didn’t stop recording.

I glance over at Cope as he wipes away tears of laughter, and then my eyes shift to Daxton, who’s looking up at the screen with the most dazzling smile. That’s when I know I made the right decision.

“I’m not a fucking director, Trayton, you can’t cut,” he says, and I frown at him.

“Surely we can cut this bit, right?” I ask.

“Just say what you gotta say, Trayton.” Cope sighs. I give him a lingering frown, then turn to the camera. My shoulders drop, and I smile, imagining Daxton sitting right in front of me.

That’s what I pictured.

“Hi, Dax,” I say. “So, I kinda hijacked your project, and I’m sorry, but my interview was a mess. That was on me. So I thought I’d continue it.” I pause, wiping my palms on my jeans because, for some reason, I felt nervous.

I don’t get nervous. Ever.

“Daxton Rivers,” I say, my smile brightening with his name.

“I once asked you what love meant to you, and you said love can mean so many different things. It might be one thing for you and a thousand things for me. You then turned the question on me, and I replied that I’d let you know once I figured it out. But don’t hold your breath.” I pause, drawing a deep breath.

“Well, I’ve figured it out.” I gaze into the camera, imagining it’s Daxton’s eyes.

“It wasn’t hard to discover, and I think I’ve known the answer since I was eleven.” I smile warmly. “You see, I met this boy on the top of a lighthouse when I was going through a really tough time in life. And so was he. We became each other’s light in the nights we sat up there, looking at the stars. My Quiet Boy didn’t have to say many words. His presence was louder than anyone had ever been in my life. I fell so hard for him. It was like he was my air, and I couldn’t live without him. I don’t think I ever stopped falling, and I don’t think I ever stopped chasing that air I needed so desperately.” I smile at the camera. “I can breathe freely now.” I take a deep breath. “Dax, you said love for you is that person you’d run to if you had only one day left on this earth. I’d like to think you’d come over if it’s our last night. I’d hold you. I’d hold you to the end of time.” My lip trembles as I struggle to hold my emotions in check. I rub my hands down my jeans again as I look down, and then my eyes meet the camera. More determined than ever. “Love might mean many things to others, but for me, love means one thing.” I pause, my smile fading as tears well up in my eyes. I never thought I’d feel love again or believe in it, but he made it possible. I glance at Daxton, already looking at me, his eyes glistening. As I speak those words on the video, I mouth them to him as well.

“It’s you.”

A tear slips from his eye and cascades down his cheek, soon followed by another. But he’s not sad. A warm smile spreads across his face, his eyes crinkling with joy. Mine remain fixed on him as my voice rings out from the screen.

“Can you come and tick number two of my list now, please? One is already done. I’ve already made you smile, now I need to tell you those three words to your face. Get off your ass and over those boards, and slide to me on the ice because I’m not telling you on a screen.” As the video fades, Dax jumps over the boards, his steps wobbly. Cope skates to him, holding his arm as if he might break. I roll my eyes as Daxton brushes Cope’s arm away. Dax skids to a stop right in front of me, gripping my arms with determination. I don’t steady him because he’s not fragile.

He’s Daxton. He’s mine.

“Say it,” he demands, his smile growing wider by the second. “Say it, Trayton.” He grins.

“Dax, I love you. I love you so fucking mu—” Before I can finish, Dax’s lips crash onto mine, his tongue exploring my mouth.

“I want to swallow those words and keep them inside me forever.” He breathes against my lips, holding my arms even tighter. Cheers erupt around us, our teammates surrounding us, and someone lifts Dax up, passing him around like a trophy because he is.

He’s my trophy. My life. My soulmate.