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holky

December blew past in a blur of hockey and holiday madness. We dropped games to Winnipeg and Edmonton before clawing our way back with wins against the Northeast teams. When it felt like we were gaining momentum, Nashville handed us another loss, but we bounced back with solid victories in Charlotte and Tampa.

The Tampa game was on December 23, which meant we’d finally earned a breather thanks to the league’s holiday break. No practices, no games, and no travel until our match against Miami on the 27th. After the pace we’d been keeping, we needed a vacation.

In mid-December, Nana had called Chuck to say her sister wanted to come to Ithaca for the holiday. Since the sister’s husband had passed away in August, she needed company, and Nana didn’t want Chuck to feel like he had to spend the holiday there.

He looked torn when he hung up, but as soon as he told me about the situation, I jumped in. “Stay with me. Let’s fly to Miami after the game in Tampa and spend the holiday there. Warm weather, hotel room, and no responsibilities.”

His face lit up. “Seriously? I’ve never spent Christmas anyplace but Ithaca.”

“Then it’s time to fix that. Let’s go online and buy tickets.”

“Wait,” he said. “I haven’t been able to go shopping for you. I know it’s lame, but why don’t we pay for each other and let that be our gifts?”

“Being with you will be my gift.”

What the actual fuck? Did I really say that?

“Mine too, but let’s pay for each other anyway. I’d planned to buy you something, and this way, I’ll feel like I did.”

I chuckled. “It’s fine with me. I wanted to buy something for you too.”

The financial planner had shown Chuck how he could save most of what he was making and still have enough to live well. I’d never forget the look on Chuck’s face when he delivered a new Audi to Nana, or the look on hers when she realized what he’d done. Like they say, money doesn’t make all your problems go away, but it can sure make things better.

It turned out that most of Miami was booked solid for Christmas. We must have checked with twenty hotels, but everything decent was full. Since Logan was basically an honorary citizen of Miami, I asked him for advice. He got on the phone with the Faena, his go-to place, and somehow scored us a room.

“Is the Faena nice?” I asked.

“One of the oldest and most iconic resorts on the beach.” He looked smug as hell. “It’s pure luxury. Gorgeous ocean views and only steps from the sand. Thank me later.” He put on a knowing smirk. “I doubt you’ll be leaving the room much, but if you want to go out, all the fun you can handle is within easy walking distance.”

* * *

It was eighty-four degrees in Miami when we landed, about fifteen degrees warmer than Tampa. After spending most of our season in the cold, the heat was shocking, but Chuck’s eyes were wide with excitement.

While we waited for our Uber, he asked, “The heat feels great, right? We can wear shorts and walk around without a jacket.” He bounced his eyebrows. “Take off our shirts when we want to.”

“Chuck, are you telling me you like it hot?”

The corners of his lips twitched upward. “I can take all the heat you want to dish out.”

“Fuck.” I looked him over while I tried to breathe. “Better be careful what you’re asking for, or you might get burned.”

He licked a finger and bounced it off my chin. “Tssss. Bring it on, sweets.”

After nearly an hour of crawling through Miami traffic, we pulled up at the Faena—and holy shit, the pictures hadn’t done it justice. The place had gleaming white walls and huge windows, and it was surrounded by towering palm trees. A valet in a crimson blazer opened the Uber’s door and helped us out like we were somebody.

I glanced at Chuck, who looked about as stunned as I felt. We walked toward the entrance, passing velvet ropes and gilded details shimmering in the sun. I gasped when we stepped inside. The lobby was a punch to the senses: white marble floors buffed to a mirror shine, gold accents everywhere, and huge red-and-gold murals that made the place feel like it was part art gallery and part fever dream.

Chuck leaned in and whispered, “I probably shouldn’t be allowed in here since I don’t have a trust fund.”

I laughed. “You’re not wrong. This place is something else.”

Like Chuck, I was afraid we were out of our league, but then I looked at him—sun-dazed and grinning—and I knew we were exactly where we were supposed to be.

Our room on the twelfth floor looked like it had been torn out of a luxury magazine, then dialed up to eleven. A massive king-size bed took up most of one wall, and the room was filled with modern furniture. Even the lamps were jaw-dropping, sculpture-like things that probably cost more than my first car. Across from the bed was a seating area with a white, overstuffed couch and two velvet recliners. The real showstopper was the floor-to-ceiling window stretching across the far wall, offering a breathtaking view of the Atlantic.

Chuck laughed as he ran around the room checking everything out. He went into the bathroom, and his voice echoed when he called out, “This bathroom’s built for a king. There’s marble everywhere and a double rainfall shower.” He appeared in the doorway holding a white robe. “This thing’s thick enough to stop a bullet.”

He hung up the robe and crossed the room in three quick strides. “I thought the team hotels were fancy, but this is a goddamn palace. There’s a soaking tub in there the size of a swimming pool. I might move in.”

Watching him light up like that made my chest feel too small for what was happening inside it. “Look at you,” I said. “Five years old again, losing your mind over a hotel room.”

He grinned and shot back, “Look at you , acting like you’ve seen it all, Grandpa Holcomb. Go ahead and admit it—you’re impressed.”

Before I could answer, he grabbed my hand and tugged me to the window. “Look at this view.”

Beyond the glass, the ocean was a shimmering, endless expanse of blue. “Shit,” I said. “It’s hard to believe it’s real.”

“Right? Should you give a speech or something? Write poetry?”

Between Chuck and the incredible view below, it was hard to speak. “Probably, but I’m too amazed to do either one.”

He leaned against me. “I’m so happy to be here with you. It wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.”

“Same,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to be here with anybody else.” I slung my arm around his shoulders. With the sun hitting the water just right, and Chuck warm and close at my side, I could’ve stood there forever. This trip was already one for the books, and we hadn’t even unpacked.

After a few minutes, he kissed me on the cheek. “Why are we standing here? Let’s go get the lay of the land.”

“Agreed. I need to change first, though. I smell like an airplane.”

I took a shirt and a pair of shorts out of my suitcase and laid them on the bed. “What do you think of this for now? Or should I save it for dinner?”

Chuck looked over and snorted. “Did you pick that outfit in the dark, or do you hate mirrors?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“What’s right with it?” He pointed accusingly at the shirt. “Are those flowers or man-eating plants? It looks like a tropical rainforest got food poisoning. No one will even notice your shorts.”

I gave him the evil eye. “Who made you the fashion police? Let’s see what you brought.”

He held up a pair of blue linen shorts and a pink polo shirt. The outfit looked fantastic, but I couldn’t say that after the way he’d chirped me. Instead, I put on a snarky grin. “Dog, be honest. Did you pick that outfit, or did Nana lay it out for you?” I pointed at his shorts. “You know those will put your dick on display like it’s the main attraction.”

“Isn’t it? You’re always telling me how different pants show off my package. I think these shorts scream good taste and will show you exactly what you want to see.”

Heat crawled across my nape, but I bluffed. “Just trying to prepare you for the public indecency charge.”

He sighed dramatically. “Why don’t we put on swim trunks and go to the beach? Maybe later, we can choose each other’s outfits.”

“God help me.” I already knew I’d choose those blue shorts for the exact reason he’d said. “The beach sounds like a great idea.”

“At least all your brains haven’t dried up, Grandpa.”

I laughed, but the sound died in my throat when our eyes locked. For a moment, I couldn’t think. What the fuck is happening? The heat must have been getting to me. Chuck was already the best friend I’d ever had, my ROD friend. He was hot as hell in bed, but that should have stopped at making my dick hard. Why was it making my heart do crazy things?

Chuck, of course, had gone with Speedos—multiple shades of green, barely legal, and tight enough to qualify as visual misconduct. His package looked like it should come with a warning label.

Cupping it in my hand, I kissed him. When we broke for air, I gave it a gentle squeeze. “This. Mine. Later.” I nodded toward the door. “Come on, babe. Let’s see what’s so special about Miami.”

* * *

The afternoon sun was hot, but the ocean breeze softened the blow. We jogged across the hot sand, our bare feet sinking in as we made our way to the water. Chuck charged ahead, then looked back with a cocky grin. “Come on, Grandpa. You move like your joints need oiling.”

I flipped him off and broke into a run, crashing into the surf right behind him. Chuck dunked himself in the cool water, surfacing with his wet hair slicked back and drops clinging to his skin. Jesus. I ripped my gaze away when I started getting hard.

We swam out past the waves, had a few races, and splashed around like the kids we’d become. Eventually, we got tired and floated side by side, staring up at the sky.

“Coming here was the best idea,” Chuck murmured.

“Yeah, we’re geniuses.”

Silence stretched between us, comfortable and warm, until he made me laugh. “You’ll save me if I start drowning?”

“Absolutely. I’d be devastated if you died before I could make fun of you for being a lousy swimmer.”

He laughed too, and I let my head fall back onto the water. Nobody made things fun the way Chuck did. He could turn cleaning a disaster of a kitchen into a comedy show, and he once had me wheezing with laughter by narrating our grocery run like it was a wildlife documentary. His humor never felt forced because he was being himself. With anyone else, floating under a peaceful blue sky would have been relaxing and maybe even romantic. With Chuck, it was all that and more. He brought a spark that made even the stillness feel alive, and being near him was pure joy.

We returned to the hotel for a quick shower before dinner, and after we ate, we walked around the area to see the holiday decorations. There weren’t many, but it was interesting how festive palm trees strung with lights could look.

We ended up hitting one of the nearby bars, which was surprisingly crowded considering it was Christmas Eve. We ordered IPAs and leaned against a wall, watching the action. It wasn’t long before the women began circling; Miami had no shortage of gorgeous, confident females, and they weren’t shy.

Chuck and I went along with it, buying drinks, laughing at their jokes, and letting them cling to our arms. Soon, two women—a beautiful blonde and a shapely redhead—asked us to dance. The redhead took Chuck’s hand, and the blonde reached for mine. We let them lead us into the writhing mass of dancers, pressing our way in and forcing people to make room.

The band was cranking out good tunes, so we stayed on the dance floor for a couple of songs. The blonde I was dancing with was a knockout, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off Chuck, who seemed to be having fun with the redhead. When he’d said he needed to teach me to dance, he hadn’t been kidding. He and “his” girl tore up the place, moving like pros, and the people around them practically came to a standstill as they watched them do their thing.

They made a great-looking couple, and I wondered if she was Chuck’s type. We’d never really talked about that. My stomach twisted into knots as I thought about what could happen. Chuck and I had come here to spend the break together, not to…

Screw me and my weird thoughts. It wouldn’t be any of my business if he took her to the bathroom and fucked her senseless. Yes, he and I were doing things most guys didn’t do together, but we were straight. We wouldn’t be able to go without women for long.

I tried to focus on the blonde. There was something very sensual about the way she moved, and old habits kicked in. I got behind her and placed my hands on her hips while I moved in and brushed against her. What the fuck? Doing this used to get me hard, but my dick didn’t even bother to yawn. When she pushed back toward me, I ground against her. Still nothing. My dick may as well have been asleep.

When the band took a break, the four of us met up. I ground my teeth, wondering if Chuck had something in mind with the redhead. Apparently not, though, because after a moment of small talk, he wished her a Merry Christmas. I followed suit with the blonde, and the girls hesitantly walked away.

I looked at Chuck, and our eyes caught. My stomach loosened for the first time since we started dancing. When he licked his lips, a powerful urge to kiss him washed over me, but I couldn’t do it. Since a couple of people had already clocked us and held up their phones to take pictures, I did what I could: I looked at him like he was the most important thing in the world.

Fuck it to hell. I may have been confused, but I was glad the blonde and redhead were gone.

A nearby table had opened up, and we claimed it. After a server brought two more IPAs, it wasn’t long before more women were saying hello and asking us to dance. We politely declined, but that didn’t stop them from trying. After a whispered conference, we agreed to ask two of them to sit with us. At least that should stop the parade.

A brunette was soon in the chair beside me, and yet another redhead claimed Chuck. It was like a repeat of what had happened that time in Buffalo. The brunette kept putting her hand on my dick, and I kept pushing it away. She didn’t take the hint. I figured Chuck must be dealing with the same thing since the redhead’s hands were out of sight and he kept jumping like he was being electrocuted.

Another time, I might have laughed, but this was too much. It should have been fun. Except for the last few months, I’d always enjoyed picking up women, and from what he’d told me, Chuck had too. Hookups may not have been what I needed, but at least they satisfied my sexual urges and gave me nights off from loneliness. That had been before Chuck.

Our new companions were practically screaming they were DTF. We could have taken them back to our room and fucked all night if we’d wanted to. I wondered if we should, if it would remind us of who we really were. We were enjoying each other, but we were straight. Straight men fucked women.

Yet the entire time we sat there, no matter how much I tried to convince myself it would be the right thing to do, I kept looking at Chuck. I lost myself in watching how his eyes crinkled when he laughed, how his fingers drummed on the table, keeping time with the music, and how even in this neon-lit chaos, he was the hottest person in the room.

The brunette had eased off for a while, but she pressed in close again and ran a hand up my thigh. She was gorgeous—long hair, killer smile, and tits for days—but I wasn’t into it. Maybe some other time.

Chuck caught my eye, and something passed between us. The woman beside him whispered in his ear, but he kept his gaze fixed on me. It wasn’t long before we made excuses and called it a night. The women tried to convince us to stay, but we had to get out of there. It was fine because they wouldn’t have any trouble finding what they were looking for.

Instead of going back to the hotel, we detoured to the beach. The moon was low over the water, and its silver reflection rippled across the waves. We took off our shoes and walked beside the water. Our feet sank into the wet sand, and the only sounds were the distant rumble of traffic and gentle crash of the surf.

“How long until Christmas?” Chuck asked.

I glanced at my watch. “About fifteen minutes.”

“That’s amazing. Here we are walking down the beach at night in warm-weather clothes, ready to sing ‘Silent Night.’”

I snorted. “You mean you’re about ready to sing. You think my dancing is bad, you should hear me croaking. My fifth-grade music teacher said a mooing cow sounded better than me.”

He stopped and whirled around to face me. “The fuck? What a horrible thing to say to a kid. Did that really happen?”

“As sure as I’m walking on the beach with a gorgeous hockey player.”

“That really sucked.” He’d raised his voice, and when I glanced at him, there was fire in his eyes. “Let’s go find them, and I’ll kick their ass into hell.”

“It’s okay, Chuck. That was years ago.”

“I don’t care how long ago it was. You don’t hurt a little kid like that. Fuck that teacher.”

I saw why they must have started calling him Mad Dog. We were friends, and he was ready to fight somebody for hurting my feelings when I was in elementary school.

He looked around and then kissed my cheek. “Sing with me, sweets.” He started in with ‘Silent Night,’ and when I hesitated, he mouthed a quick “please” between words.

His voice was sweet, and I couldn’t resist joining in. We were both grinning by the time we finished the last “Sleep in heavenly peace.”

“You have a good voice,” he said. “It’s deep and comforting. You can sing to me anytime.”

My heart tightened, and I was so happy, I couldn’t come up with a smartass remark. “Thanks, but you definitely carried me.”

“That’s bullshit because you did great. Know what?”

The fire was back in his eyes, but less agitated now. “What?”

“We’re going to sing every day. Alone at first, but who knows—we might leave hockey and move to Nashville.”

There it was, the spark in my soul that happened when he said things like that. I still couldn’t think of a funny retort, so I went with my heart. “I’ll sing with you anytime. Thanks for doing this because it’s a real gift.”

We started walking again, and he moved closer until our arms touched. Though we remained silent, happiness filled my heart.

After a few minutes, he asked, “The breeze feels great, huh? Must have cooled down at least ten degrees.”

“It’s amazing. Too hot for me this afternoon, but this feels perfect.”

He stopped again and turned to face me. The moonlight caught his eyes, making them glimmer. “Being here with you is the best,” he said. “I needed a few days off from running into big guys racing full speed down the ice.”

“Me too.”

He nodded. “Our teammates are a lot of fun and all, but I needed a break from them too. You let me be me. No one else has ever seen me the way you do.”

A shiver ran up my spine. “Let’s walk. It’s chilly standing here.”

He nodded again, and we headed down the beach. I ran the back of my hand across his. “I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else, babe.”

“Good thing we’re together then.” His voice was husky. “I’m happy.”

“Same.” I swallowed hard before picking up on what he’d told me before. “You said I let you be you. Who else would you be?”

“You may not understand, but…” He blew out a hard breath. “Sometimes ‘Mad Dog’ feels fake. There are certain ways I have to act and talk, crack a lot of jokes, and never be too serious. But I feel serious a lot of times. It hurts when I have to hide that.”

His words dug into me, and feelings surfaced that I’d never voiced to anyone. Here, on a dark beach with Chuck, I felt safe. “I know exactly what you mean because I feel like ‘Holky’ is a role I play. My character’s job is to keep everyone laughing and be the life of the party, but I don’t usually feel like doing any of that. I’d like to listen for once, not carry the responsibility of being Holky .”

“I totally get it.”

His voice was soft, and when he touched my hand, another shiver rocked me. He threaded our fingers together, making my heart take off for the races. We were in public, technically. I thought about pulling away, but when I looked around, no one else was nearby.

“Why do you do it, then?” he asked. “Why do you play Holky if you don’t feel like it?”

“Same reason you play Mad Dog, I guess.” My voice was sharper than I’d meant it to be. I knew the answer to his question, although I’d never admitted it to anyone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I’ve never really said it out loud, but I play Holky to cover up all the feelings I have inside. As you know, rough things have happened in my life, and Holky helps me not dwell on them.”

Chuck squeezed my hand, and we walked on. Eventually, he cleared his throat. “The ocean is different down here. Up north, it has an earthier smell, and the salt burns your nose.”

“Especially when it’s cold,” I said. “Here, I can still smell the salt, but that’s about it. Like it’s?—”

“Lost its richness. Still the ocean, but version B.”

“B for blah?” I asked.

“B for boring. Miami’s nice, but I’m starting to wonder how much of it’s an illusion.”

“Yeah. You can have fun here but it’s kind of?—”

“Mindless?”

“Exactly.”

We went quiet again, and I thought about how nice it was to have someone to talk to about more than playoff chances or who Riley had fucked lately. Before Chuck, I didn’t get many chances to discuss feelings, use words like “mindless,” or think about the way the ocean smelled different in various places.

When shadows appeared ahead, coming toward us, I pulled my hand away from Chuck’s. I didn’t want to, but we couldn’t afford for anyone to get the wrong idea. Our experience in the bar had proved there were people in Florida who recognized us.

We all nodded as they walked by, and after they’d gone, I glanced at Chuck. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Not really. I don’t think I’m into that anymore.”

I glanced at him again. “What, girls?”

He was silent for several seconds. “No, dumbass. The whole thing. The bar scene, the small talk, the fake laughing while somebody I don’t even know feels me up. Seems like a waste of time now.”

“I can see that. It’s a pain.”

He brought us to yet another stop and turned to me, his eyes unreadable. “Want to swim?”

“No suits.”

“Ever heard of skinny dipping?”

I hesitated. “There are people around.”

He made a big show of looking up and down the beach. “No there aren’t. And even if someone walks by, it’s dark, and we’ll be in the water.” Grinning, he stripped naked. “Come on. Let’s make it a Christmas Eve to remember.”

It already is. Fuck. Before I could process that thought, Chuck sprinted into the water. “Cold,” he yelled, then let out a big whoop. “Get your ass in here, Nate!”

I stripped and ran after him, laughing the whole way. The water was a shock, but I adjusted quickly and waded out to where he was splashing around. The soft light made everything surreal, glinting off the waves like something on a museum painting.

“Man, this is nice.” His voice was soft, and when he reached for my hand, I let him take it.

“It really is.”

Too nice, maybe.

After our swim, we returned to the hotel. We brushed our teeth, then crawled into bed naked. My mind was still buzzing from the night. “Going out was a disaster.”

He rolled onto his side to face me. “What part?”

“The bar, those girls.”

“I thought we already talked about this.”

“You did, but I didn’t. What you said about feeling like it was a waste of time? I do too.”

He skimmed his fingertips across my chest. “What the hell is up with that? Didn’t we both love it in the past?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t feeling it tonight. I need more than those stupid games.”

“Same.” He waited a few beats before adding, “I think we’ve ruined each other.”

I forced a chuckle, but something heavy pressed against my heart. When our eyes met, the truth hit me like a wave I hadn’t seen coming: I needed him in ways deeper than sex or closeness. I craved all of him.

Fuck. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.

This is because we’re having fun and are such good friends, right?

I didn’t know how much time passed, but the room was too quiet. We lay side by side, not touching and not talking. It was the kind of silence that pressed in around the edges, full of things neither of us knew how to say.

The night had been weird, and my feelings were out of control. One minute we’d been laughing, drinking, and dancing with beautiful women. The next, everything inside me turned. Now, in the quiet, I had to admit I’d never felt so fragile before.

The heat of Chuck’s skin was so close it made me ache for him. I wanted to reach out and say something, but I didn’t know what. Instead, I rolled onto him without a word. He blinked up at me as his chest rose and fell under mine.

I dipped my hips slowly and loved the drag of my cock along his. His breath hitched, so I did it again. He grazed his hands down my back and settled them on my waist, gripping me hard. His mouth opened, but he still said nothing. Instead, he arched against me and slid his cock against mine.

My face hovered inches above his. We moved faster, increasing the friction between us as the slide and drag sent thrills up my spine. Our cocks throbbed, and sweat beaded between us as our hips fell into rhythm like we were made for each other.

Our breath came in sharp, quiet pants. Our eyes were locked, and even as my excitement soared, my chest ached. This wasn’t like any sex I’d ever had before. Not even close. A different kind of need mushroomed inside me and wrapped its hands around my throat.

I couldn’t stop looking at Chuck, and I didn’t want to. We kept moving, chasing the scorching pull between us. My grunts grew desperate as the pressure coiled tight and hot in my gut.

His nails dug into my back when my mouth found his neck. I breathed him in, biting and licking like an animal who couldn’t get enough. He smelled like soap and sweat, but he felt like home.

“Nate,” he gasped.

I thrust harder. My hips jerked frantically until he cried out beneath me, his cock twitching against mine as cum shot between us. I was right behind him, groaning into his throat while I added to the beautiful mess.

Afterward, we lay there shaking while we sucked in air, stuck together by sweat and cum and silence.

Neither of us moved, and we didn’t say a word. Yet everything I wasn’t ready to admit was right there between us. Like our mess, it was all over us. I stared into his eyes.

“I know,” he finally whispered.