Page 23 of Stubborn Puckboy (Puckboys #9)

TWENTY-ONE

Novi

One day, I will have many children running through my house.

I saw it as soon as I bought this place because it screams happy family home.

All those polished floors to protect their little toes, dark walls and cabinets to hide their grubby fingerprints, and overgrown land outside for exploring.

A line of happy, dirty faces looking back at me from the other side of the long kitchen island.

I ache for this future.

It is not surprising, though, when I am a very big kid person.

My eyes are closed, and I’m half dozing, picturing my retirement, when Colby stirs beside me. Cum has dried on my pubes and abs, and I know we have to get up, but I am not ready yet. Our talk and the sex have opened more questions than it answered.

Starting something with him is terrifying when I consider my family, how it will banish me from my country, and how deeply I’ll become used to this new normal and never want to give it up.

Not just it.

Colby.

His lips cover my chest with kisses before trailing up over my shoulder. It is pleasure greater than sex, an affection given through want and not need.

Both my hands run up his back as I pull him closer and let my eyes sneak open.

“I’m a mess,” he croaks.

“That’s okay with me.”

He laughs, thumb brushing over my nipple. “We should probably shower.”

“Later.” I pull him closer. This is everything I’ve needed for years, and I’m not in a hurry to let it go. His face is all happiness as he leans in and rubs his scratchy cheek against mine.

“Who knew you were such a cuddle slut?”

I pull back and eye him in surprise. “I have always been very affectionate.”

“Considering half the time you look like you’ll kill anyone who touches you, and the other half the time you’re in fights with anyone who does, I’m going to go with no.”

Poor, sweet Colby. The man clearly does not know what affection looks like. “Don’t worry, I will be cuddle slut with you always.” I drop a kiss on his nose, and he gives me his serious eyes.

“Not always .”

Urg. Reality. Apparently, we’re jumping straight to it.

“I have protected my family for most of my life. My sister has made her choices, and I will not come out and put a target on her, but I … I can’t keep pushing down who I am.

This .” I marvel at how he feels against me.

“This is right. I want a chance to be with someone and see where it goes, and there’s no one else I trust like you.

No one else I would risk everything for.

If you do not feel the same, that’s okay. ”

“When it comes right down to it, risking my career seems like nothing compared to you risking your sister’s safety.”

My lips tighten. If it were a matter of her safety, we would not be doing this at all.

“I’m scared for that. A future where the laws change again.

But I have always been living for the future, and I’m starting to see that the future isn’t something that is set.

I thought I would get my whole family to move to the States, and they would just move.

It didn’t happen. I thought I would finish my career and be done with it.

Go private and start the rest of my life.

Then more and more players joined the Collective, and I saw how happy they were.

How full their lives seem. The closer I get to the end of my contract, the more I don’t want that to be it for me and hockey.

You coming back into my life feels like a sign. That it’s time.”

“Time for?”

“For me to have everything. I want to show off to you when I play. I want to kiss you goodbye before a game. I want to know I have my person cheering for me, even if you can’t do that in public.

Then I want someone that I can start building a future with, if that’s something you want at all.

” I search his eyes for answers. “What do you want?”

That crooked smile jumps onto his face. “I’ve always wanted you, Novi.

Obviously. With our time apart, I might have moved on from the crush I had, but the second I saw you again, it was as if nothing had ever changed.

For me, I’m comfortable with the see what happens stage.

You tell me you’re ready, and I believe you, but I’d hate if you’re outed because of me.

I’d hate to lose my career because of you.

Those aren’t ideal ways to start a relationship. ”

“I understand.”

“I think, at least while you’re playing, that we be careful. It’s smart.”

“Smart.”

“Exactly.”

“Right.” I smile at him. “And kissing me again is smart too.”

He gives me what I want, a lazy afternoon of kisses and orgasms and being smart. Colby is my favorite addiction.

We will be smart because we have to be. And when it’s time, we will be everything else.

I’m showing my team who’s king as we run drills on the ice. I am outskating them all, having fun and showing off, well aware of Colby watching in the front row.

He’s not just watching me; he’s doing his job and taking notes on everyone, but I do everything I can to keep his focus. As soon as Coach switches our lines over, I speed toward where he’s sitting and pull up sharply, spraying ice over the boards.

“Impressive, da?”

“Your left knee keeps bending the wrong way on turns.”

I fold my arms over the divide and lean toward him. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off me.”

Colby’s eyes shine with amusement, but he keeps that flat, professional expression. “That is my job.”

“Did you check out my ass?”

He chokes on an inhale and glances around. “What happened to keeping this on the down-low?”

“My voice is down very low.”

“I mean, subtle, Novi.”

Got him. He’s been harder to pull into my game lately, and I think he’s caught on to what I’m doing. “I am the king of subtle.” I switch my stick to the other hand. “It would be very obvious if I avoided you.”

“Actually, it would fit perfectly with other people’s perceptions if you avoided me.”

I brush off his statement with a wave of my hand. “Only for people who don’t know me. My teammates know I’m way too charming for that.”

“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t look like he believes me as he turns his attention back to the ice.

“It is fine. We are at training, and you are my coach. It is normal to talk to coaches at training.”

“Yeah, talking.” Finally, I get a spark of something out of him. “But what you’re doing is flirting.”

“There is no difference.”

“There is when you look like you’re about to leap the barrier and maul me.”

That tickles a laugh from me. “You are very dramatic.”

Colby gives me an indulgent once-over. “Careful, you almost look happy.”

“See?” I give him a wink. “Totally normal, no one will suspect a thing.”

Coach Whelan calls me back over, and I join the line on the opposite wing to Turkey. He is the only thing getting me down today, and I am trying hard not to let myself pay him attention, but every time I see his face, I am reminded of what a coward I am.

And right now, he’s watching me, confusion etched onto the lines around his mouth. “Atatürk down the left, Novi, cut across in front of Landers. I want to run it again.”

Apparently, again means forty times until Coach is happy with the play, and we finally get to head off the ice to shower.

My training gear is heavy and sweaty against my skin but holds the same comfort that my game day uniforms do.

I love this job, and I know why Colby loves his job too.

As long as we’re careful, there is no reason why we can’t have both.

I’m swimming in thoughts about him, but as happy as I am, there’s sadness there too. Sadness that this is all something I have been denying myself for so long. Could I have been this happy for years? Without Colby, I doubt it, but I might have had something close.

This swimming, giddy feeling in my gut is a lot of fun.

Turkey tears things from his game bag and grumbles something under his breath.

“What is wrong with you?” I ask him.

His head whips toward me, scowl etching deeper before he shakes it off. “You know what? Forget it, Novicov.”

I watch as he slings his towel angrily over his shoulder and stalks off. He sounds angry with me, but I am not the one who stopped us being friends.

Sort of.

Maybe.

My denial slowly seeps away, and I let the guilt and hurt come back. It doesn’t stand much of a chance against my Colby happiness, but there is room for both, and if I’m honest, after Turkey cutting me off, I miss him.

All because I couldn’t give him a little something to prove our friendship is real.

Instead of heading into the showers with the others, I strip off to my base layers and then sit at my cubby and wait. My muscles are aching from practice, and I stink, but those things don’t feel important.

The room clears out as my teammates head for the showers, and a moment later, Turkey returns. He’s still pissed, wrapped only in a towel, and he pulls up short when he sees it is only the two of us.

He gives me the cold shoulder as he reaches his cubby next to mine and doesn’t say a word as he gets dressed.

My mouth is doing the clamming-up thing. For someone who is an easy conversationalist, it is a foreign feeling for me to get all tongue-tied and lose my words. I’m also overly aware that the rest of the team could be back at any second, and I might miss my chance.

With the effort it takes to stop a third-period game-winning goal, I unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.

“I am sorry.”

Turkey freezes. The locker room cools, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You were right. Mostly. All those things you said, all those things you thought about me. You’re the closest to the truth anyone has gotten.”

Finally, his face tilts toward me. He is wary but no longer looks angry. “What are you saying?”

I let out a long sigh and put all my effort into staring at my hands.

“I would still be friends with you.” I blindly reach for my towel and stand, clinging to it like a lifeline.

Then I meet his searching gaze, hoping he understands without me needing to say the words.

“Now I’m asking you the exact same question.

You stand up for Kessinger. Will you stand up for me, too, when I need it?

” I will him to catch on, and it’s like I can see the thoughts turning behind his eyes.

The moment drags on so long I feel sick.

Turkey’s mouth drops suddenly, eyes blinking rapidly. “Novi …”

“I deserve to exist too, even if in secret,” I force out.

“Jesus, Novi.” Turkey grabs my shoulder and pulls me into an aggressive hug. He squeezes me tight, not caring he showered and I stink like a dog. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’ve got your back, brother. Always.”