Page 19

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ambrose

The feeling of my hands against her in the shower, it’s almost too much to handle, and nearly sends me over the edge instantly.

Braden’s hands caress her breasts, and they sway beautifully in the hot air, water droplets falling over them in mesmerizing trails.

Her head tilts back as Braden caresses them, pulling on her nipples in the warm water and pulling moans out of her just as easily.

Reggie’s lips caress over her neck as my hand explore the folds between her legs, the water adding to how wet she already is.

She leans back against Reggie's firm chest, letting the sensations wash over her. His strong arms encircle her small waist, holding her steady as it seems her knees threaten to buckle.

My skilled fingers find her most sensitive spots, drawing circles that make her gasp and shudder from my touch.

"You're so beautiful," Braden murmurs against her ear, and I watch her smile and giggle. His hands never stop their ministrations, kneading and teasing in a way that even turns me on.

The steam rises around us, clouding the air and my senses. I'm drowning in pleasure, I feel her hand fall to my cock, and I groan as she strokes me in the water, back and forth.

Reggie's lips trail down to her shoulder, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as she tugs on me faster. His teeth graze her skin, and I moan louder, arching into her touch.

Whatever he’s doing to her right now is paying off, big time.

"Tell us what you want," I whisper, my fingers slowing into deliberate, thick movements. "We want to hear you say it."

Her face flushes red, and she struggles to form words through the haze of pleasure. "I...I want…”

"Yes?" Braden prompts, tugging gently on her nipples.

A needy whine escapes her throat. "Everything. I want all of you. I want you all to fuck me."

Our touches grow more insistent at her plea. Our hands roam everywhere, caressing and exploring. Lips and tongues taste her heated skin.

I'm lost in a sea of sensation, waves of pleasure crashing over me.

Reggie's hand slides down her stomach, joining my own between her thighs.

Reggie shifts behind her, giving her a small wink as she presses in, and she gasps, clutching my dick harder.

The water cascades down our bodies as he begins to move, his thrusts deep and measured. Braden's mouth finds hers in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as Reggie picks up the pace.

My fingers continue their relentless teasing of her clit, perfectly in sync with Reggie's thrusts. The dual stimulation is almost too much to bear for her, she breaks away from Braden's kiss, throwing her head back against Reggie's shoulder as the pleasure builds to a fever pitch.

"That's it, baby," Braden murmurs encouragingly in her ear. "Come for us, we want to see your pretty face when you let it all go.”

His words push her over the edge. She cries out as her orgasm washes over her in waves, her body trembling between them. Reggie groans, his hips stuttering against her as he climaxes.

With a grunt I pull her toward me, my cock leaving her hand and diving deep into her.

“Yes, fuck me hard,” she groans, bucking her hips backward as she feels me thicken harder and harder, the orgasm building stronger and stronger until I can’t take it anymore and dump myself into her, too.

“My turn,” Braden says, grabbing her tightly and thrusting himself inside once I shift myself away.

I breathe heavily as I watch him fuck her, bending her over and thrusting himself into our juices. She shakes and drenches him, yelping with pleasure.

His hand grabs her throat, pulling her back to him as he licks against her neck and bites at her earlobe.

“I want to feel you come again, I want to feel you quivering on my cock as I come deep inside you.”

He doesn’t have to tell her twice.

Later, the four of us squeeze into my spacious SUV.

The windows are iced over slightly from the chill outside, creating a cozy cocoon of warmth within. Reggie’s cracking jokes, his enchanting Scottish lilt adding a humorous twist to every word, while Kenzie’s face is aglow, her eyes sparkling like stars as she laughs along.

Her hand rests lightly on my thigh, and every gentle brush of her fingers sends a comforting wave of warmth flooding through my entire being.

It’s as if I’m glimpsing a future I could truly envision. A life where all of us are under one roof, raising kids, and navigating the twists and turns of life together. It’s the dream I never knew I harbored.

But then there’s Braden.

He sits quieter than usual, his piercing emerald eyes fixed intently on the road ahead. He takes a sip of his coffee, but it’s clear that his mind is elsewhere, not really with us in spirit.

His usual playful teasing is conspicuously absent, leaving a void that hints at something amiss.

I steal a glance at him in the rearview mirror. “You good, man?” I ask gently.

He forces a smile, but it’s thin and tight, lacking its usual warmth. “Yeah. Just tired,” he replies.

Liar.

Kenzie briefly squeezes my hand, her touch a silent reassurance, like she can sense the tension coiling within me.

Her presence grounds me, yet I can’t shake the feeling that Braden is withholding something important.

I try to brush it off, maybe he’s simply having an off day.

But the negative feeling persists, souring the sweetness of our easy morning together as I navigate into the rink’s parking lot.

Practice starts rough.

The biting cold sting of the ice beneath my skates, usually a razor-sharp trigger for my focus, feels distant today.

There’s something off, way off, about Braden.

He’s playing like he’s wrestling with unseen demons, each movement charged with an intensity that borders on desperation. His checks land with a forceful thud, harder than necessary, and his speed verges on reckless abandonment.

The cavernous rink resonates with the slap of sticks, the sound bouncing sharply off the walls with the piercing clatter of pucks ricocheting against the boards.

I push myself forward, striving to find my center, yet every few seconds, my gaze instinctively darts back to Braden.

He crashes into a rookie during a drill, nearly sending the unfortunate kid skidding across the ice.

Coach’s whistle slices through the air like a knife, his voice a commanding bark that demands attention. “Gallagher! What the hell was that?” he shouts, frustration evident.

Braden skates off, a clenched jaw and furrowed brow betraying the storm brewing within, muttering inaudibly as he goes. During a break, I glide over to Reggie, my chest heaving as I catch my breath, the sweat beginning to soak into the fabric of my jersey’s collar.

“What’s up with him?” I ask, using my glove to wipe the moisture from my face.

Reggie shrugs, his mouthguard shifting slightly as he chews on it contemplatively. “Dunno. He was fine this morning.”

I nod, though an uneasy feeling settles like a weight in my chest. This isn’t the Braden I know. He’s the heartbeat of our team, the laid-back, jovial force that keeps us grounded.

This tense, volatile behavior? It’s something else entirely.

The ice carries the fragrance of fresh ice shavings, a sharp, clean aroma, but the tension in the rink is thicker than the frost-laden air surrounding us.

Practice drags on, yet whatever is choking Braden refuses to loosen its hold.

His passes are erratic, and his skates slice too aggressively into the ice with each maneuver. Every check he delivers seems powered by something dark and simmering beneath the surface.

I push through the drills, but my attention keeps drifting back to him. Even beneath his helmet, the tension in his clenched jaw is visible. The usual banter isn’t there. There are no jokes, no ribbing.

Coach’s voice booms across the rink again. “Braden, I swear to God, if you keep playing like you’re trying to break someone’s leg, you’re riding pine next game!”

Frustrated, Braden slams his stick against the boards, muttering something under his breath that I can’t quite catch.

I glide over, lowering my voice to a gentle murmur. “Hey. What’s going on with you?”

He avoids my gaze. “Nothing, Ambrose. Just leave it.”

But that’s not nothing. It’s everything.

I retreat, but unease coils tighter in my stomach. We’ve all faced rough patches, but this feels like something more profound, like a fuse dangerously close to igniting.

The sounds of practice blur into a backdrop of white noise; the scrape of blades, the sharp crack of pucks, Coach’s barked commands.

My muscles burn with exertion, yet nothing cuts through the worry wearing on me.

What on earth is going on with him?

The snap finally comes, echoing through the rink like a shot. Braden rips off his helmet, his chest heaving with each breath. “Coach, I need to talk,” he says, his voice taut with urgency.

The rest of us slow down, our curiosity piqued. Coach waves him over, and they converse in hushed tones.

I strain to catch snippets of their exchange. “Yeah…just personal stuff…need some time,” Braden mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

Coach nods, a look of understanding on his face as he gives Braden a reassuring pat on the back. “Take care of it, Gallagher,” he says, his tone gentle yet firm.

Braden skates away, leaving us in a wake of confusion, his retreating figure a blur on the ice. When practice wraps up, Reggie and I head to the locker room, finding him there. He’s shoving his gear into a duffel bag with an urgency that suggests he’s fleeing something unseen.

“What’s this about?” I ask, leaning against a cold metal locker, arms crossed, and eyebrows knitted in concern.

He doesn’t meet my gaze. “Just need a break,” he replies, his tone flat and unyielding.

Reggie frowns, worry etching lines into his features. “Braden, mate…what’s actually going on?”

Braden freezes momentarily, his body tense as a coiled spring, then shakes his head. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he insists, though the words ring hollow in the air.

That’s a lie .

I step closer, determination edging my voice. “We’re worried about you, man. We’re a team. And we’re…more than that now, right?”

Braden exhales slowly, his breath a whisper in the still, heavy air, avoiding our eyes. “I just need space.”

The words sting, cutting through the camaraderie like a blade. We had just shared an incredible night with Kenzie, and now he’s pulling away, the warmth of that memory already fading.

I glance at Reggie and his eyes reflect my own concern and confusion. Something is undeniably wrong.

Reggie and I pull into the driveway, the tires crunching over the gravel, each pebble making a distinct pop under the weight of the car.

I turn off the engine, but neither of us makes a move to exit.

We both sense an unsettling undercurrent in the air, something that doesn't quite fit.

When we finally step inside, the silence is palpable, hanging in the air like a thick fog, devoid of the usual comforting sounds; no music, no TV, no Braden’s voice filling the space with his jokes.

We find Braden in his room, the door ajar, revealing him hurriedly stuffing clothes into a duffel bag. The metallic zip of the bag scrapes harshly over the fabric.

His face is drawn tight, his shoulders rigid with tension. I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest.

“What’s going on, Braden?”

He keeps his head down, focused on his task. “Taking a trip.”

Reggie shifts uncomfortably beside me. “Trip? Where?”

His hesitation stretches the moment, an awkward pause that feels like an eternity. “Russia.”

I blink in surprise. “Russia? What the hell, man?”

Braden finally meets my gaze. His eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, but there’s something else lurking there, guilt, perhaps, a silent confession. “I need space. Clear my head. I’ll be back…a few weeks, maybe a month.”

The air between us grows heavy, as if charged with static. My heart thuds loudly in my chest, an involuntary reaction to the unease I can’t shake. This doesn’t feel right. “Did you tell Kenzie?”

He gives a brief nod. “Texted her.”

I open my mouth, ready to dig deeper, to question this sudden departure, but he slings the bag over his shoulder, brushing past us with a determination that brooks no argument.

The front door closes with a soft, definitive click, leaving us in silence.

Reggie and I stand frozen for a moment, our breaths barely stirring the stillness, before we slowly trail to the front window. There, we watch as Braden tosses his well-worn bag over his shoulder.

He steps out the door and starts walking away. He doesn't glance back, not even a fleeting look.

Reggie lets out a sharp exhale, his hands finding their place on his hips, the tension radiating off him.

"Russia?" he exclaims, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. "Who just ups and decides on Russia outta nowhere?"

I shake my head slowly, rubbing the tight knot of tension that has settled into my neck. The house, once filled with Braden's presence, now feels cavernous, the silence pressing down like a heavy blanket.

"This is bad timing," I say, trying to keep the frustration from my voice. "We need him. The team needs him. We’re on the brink of a championship run, for God’s sake."

Reggie collapses onto the couch with a thud, his knee bouncing with restless energy. "He's always been a bit...you know, a wandering soul and all that," he muses, his voice tinged with resignation. "But this? After everything with Kenzie? It feels like he's running from something."

I sit down beside him, tension tightening my jaw. "Did something happen with her? Did they fight?" I ask, the words heavy with concern.

Reggie shrugs, a helpless gesture. "Last I heard, everything was good. He said he texted her, but...damn, man. He didn’t even say goodbye properly."

I pick absentmindedly at a loose thread on my jeans, trying to untangle the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling through my mind. Braden’s face lingers in my mind, my eyes welling with tears at the thought.

Reggie and I remain slumped on the couch, the worn-out cushions sagging beneath our combined weight. The only sound breaking the silence is the low, persistent hum of the fridge in the background.

“This really screws up the season,” I mutter, my voice barely rising above a whisper. “Coach is gonna lose it.”

Reggie nods silently, his eyes fixed on the scuffed wooden floor. “And what about Kenzie?” he says, his voice tinged with worry. “She’s becoming close with all of us. What if she thinks Braden leaving means we’re all pulling away?”

The mere thought constricts my chest, a dull ache settling in. The memory of her lips brushing against mine from our morning together lingers vividly.

The warmth of that connection is something I’m not ready to lose.

I don’t want to lose her.

I cast a sidelong glance at Reggie. “You think Braden’s regretting…all of this?”

Reggie exhales heavily, running a hand through his tousled red hair. “I dunno. Maybe he’s scared. Maybe things got serious, and he’s not ready for serious.”

I frown, unease knotting in my stomach. “We’re all in this together, though. He knew what this was.”

Reggie leans back into the couch, his gaze softening as he stares into the distance. “Yeah, but feelings creep up on you, don’t they? Maybe it hit him harder than he thought. Maybe he needs to figure his head out before he can come back and do this right.”

The truth stings, a sharp pang of understanding.

Relationships are tangled webs, especially this one.

I reach for my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen as I stare at our group chat.

The last message from Braden is still there.

Gone for a bit.

I type out a message.

We need to talk soon.

No response.

The house feels colder, an emptiness settling in, and I realize how crazy it is to see a roommate as closer than a brother.

I miss him already.