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CHAPTER TWENTY

TUCKER

My eye was watering, staring at the enlarged text on the computer screen. It would have been easier to fire up Jonah’s JAWS program and have it read out to me, but I couldn’t be assed to turn it on and deal with the navigation.

Besides, the contract wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before. It was just…more official. And more money. Quite a bit more money. Not fuck you money. Not NHL money. But there was a sign-on bonus that would be enough to help get Boden a better car since he was the one who did most of the driving.

It would be enough to put toward the down payment of the bigger house he and I had always talked about buying, though now that this thing with Amedeo was happening, I was feeling a little unsure about that.

It was my one single hesitation. What would being serious with him look like? What would actually change?

There would be things I’d rely on him for instead of Boden, and while I didn’t mind, I was terrified to let my best friend think he was becoming irrelevant. Only…maybe Boden wanted that. Maybe he was tired of me being a burden?

There was a knock on the door, and I looked up to see Jonah hovering.

“Come in. I’m alone.”

He made his way across the room, one hand out and low to make sure he didn’t knock into anything. He slid into his usual chair and leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re quiet.”

“Reading,” I said.

“Mm. Smut?”

“Yeah. Real dirty shit. Lizard dick porn.”

Jonah grinned. “Speaking of, you would not believe the video Micah got a hold of last week. Goblins.”

“Christ’s sake. I will never shock you, will I?”

“Look, you know most of that shit is lost on us, but the grunting and the weird like monster noises? It kind of got me going.”

I sighed. “Well, it’s not lizard dick porn. It’s my contract.”

He perked up. “To be Team Daddy.”

“If you fucking start that, Jonah, I will trade you.”

He scoffed. “You’d never. You’re practically in love with me.”

I had sort of been once, a long time ago. It didn’t last. “Anyway, yes, it’s the coaching contract. They’re offering me three years to start at almost sixty grand more than I’m making here, plus a signing bonus.” I hesitated. “Are you sure this wouldn’t be better for you?”

His brows flew up. “Are you trying to fucking sabotage me? You want me to give up playing?”

“No! No…just. I’m not sure I deserve this.”

“Fuck you,” Jonah said, leaning forward. “You definitely do. And maybe you can, I don’t know, use the bonus to put in a hot tub so we can skinny-dip at your place instead of our condo complex. Micah almost got arrested last time.”

A hot tub…that was a thought.

I tapped my fingers on the desk. “Jonah?”

“Yes, best friend?”

“I think I’m in love.”

He sat back with a frown. “With me?”

I rolled my eyes. “No.”

His lips twitched. “So…your husband, then?”

I didn’t correct him because yeah, he wasn’t my husband, but I was ready to admit I wanted him to be. “I think he wants to stay here. Like, for good.”

“No shit?”

“Not even a skid mark.”

He grinned widely. “We’re gonna celebrate this, right? Big party. Booze and balloons?”

“More like plan a trip to California to scare the actual living fuck out of his abusive ex while he picks up all of his stuff.”

That knocked him back into his chair. His face twisted through a couple of expressions I couldn’t quite get a read on. “Wait. Is his ex actually?—”

“Yeah,” I said, cutting him off. “He’s a real, honest-to-God, piece-of-shit monster.”

Jonah’s lips thinned. “You, Ford, me…Boden?”

“Bode’s still kind of pissed at me, and anyway, that’s a long way to go, and last time he had to fly that far, the airline literally bent the wheel of his chair so badly he had to replace the whole thing.”

Jonah grimaced. “Fuck. Well. He can hold down the fort. Bake some cakes and…I don’t know, do some housewife shit.”

“First of all, I want you to say that to his face. Second, you’d really come with?”

He scoffed. “I mean, it’s not like I have a whole lot to do once the season ends. We’re…not going until then, right?”

Playoffs for the kids ran congruently with the other youth leagues, so we had a handful of games between now and the end of April. Jonah usually went into what he called his hibernation mode, which was actually just bulking for the remainder of his own playoffs, which didn’t end until May.

And then we’d have time. Time to help Amedeo with whatever was out there waiting for him. I just needed to ask him if he could wait until the season was over. I had a feeling he’d tell me yes to whatever I asked, so I reminded myself to be careful with him. He had to break the habit of doing things to please everyone else.

I wanted him to find himself outside of his ex. I wanted him to feel like he had a place outside of me too. I wanted him to light up for other things besides when I’d tell him he was perfect.

“You good, dude?”

“Yeah.” I passed a hand down my face and took a breath. “Sorry. It’s been a weird-as-fuck day. But yeah, I think he can wait. And if not, I’ll figure it out.”

“I’ve got your back,” Jonah said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “Just say the word.”

I let myself feel the weight of his words. “Thank you. Now.” I cleared my throat. “With that out of the way, I think we should announce the staff changeover tonight so the moms can start shifting all their bullshit toward you.”

Jonah grimaced. “I hate you. I changed my mind. I want the coaching job.”

I quickly clicked through, adding my signature before hitting Send, then grinned at him. “Too late. It’s done.”

“Dick.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

He grinned at me and shrugged as he leaned back. “Are any of them hot?”

“Yes, but trust me. You do not want to fuck a hockey mom, okay?”

“I mean, you think they take that intensity to bed?” he asked, waggling his brows.

They probably did, but that made my dick want to shrivel up into my body. Only one person knew how to work me the way I liked, and I was seeing him in a few hours. “Experiment all you want, bud. Just don’t come crying to me when it’s all over and you no longer know left from right.”

“Sounds like a smashing good time!”

Whatever floated his boat. I would leave him to it.

* * *

Time felt like it had slowed to a crawl. The kids were out of control, and after the fifth meltdown, I decided to call an end to practice and instead let them screw around on the ice until they got their wiggles out.

When practice was officially over, Jonah and I called everyone forward, and I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Alright, everyone. We have a big announcement to make.”

All the moms were listening, but the kids were in their own worlds.

Jonah nudged me. “Hurry up, dude. I feel like I’m about to piss my pants. I downed like four Gatorades before we got started.”

Christ, why was he like this?

“Uh, long story short, this is going to be my last couple of weeks as your coach. I’d like to welcome your official new head coach, Jonah!”

The few kids who were listening began to cheer, and Jonah did a celebratory whistle before grabbing his stick and shoving it in front of him, taking off for the rink door. Apparently, he wasn’t joking about the Gatorade.

Clapping my hands together, I skated toward the wall where the moms were gathered. I could see Sharon had zeroed in on me, and any hope I was going to get through this smoothly was officially dashed into tiny pieces.

“Tucker,” she said, catching my arm with her long nails.

I smiled at her. “Hello, Sharon.”

“Tell me you’re not running off on us.”

I shrugged. “I got a better offer. What can I say?” She leaned in, and I leaned back. “Sixty grand more a year and the chance to work with adults. The kids will be great with Jonah.”

She couldn’t argue there. Jonah understood her son better than I did, considering her son had been born with a similar condition. But I could see she wasn’t ready to give up. “So, there’s no longer a conflict of interest if I?—”

“Oh, look!” I gazed toward the doors, and though I couldn’t see shit, I could pretend. “I think my boyfriend’s here to pick me up.”

She snapped back. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. You met him the other day. Cute as fu—uh—fudge guy you thought was my stalker?”

From this close, I could see her jaw tick. “That was real?”

“I don’t joke about guys like him, Sharon. Trust me. Anyway, I should get out of my skates. He and I are having dinner before the guys get in to take over the ice.” Before she could say anything else, I clapped my hands. “Fist bumps, everyone!”

A handful of tiny fists knocked against mine, and then I hurried back into the locker room, switching into my pre-practice sweats and walking feet. I couldn’t wait to get my legs off, but I was grateful for them now. I wanted to stand and pin Amedeo to a wall somewhere and kiss the absolute fuck out of him.

I could still smell him on my skin. If I closed my eyes long enough, I could feel the echo of what it had been like to be buried deep inside him. I wanted more.

Just as I pulled my T-shirt over my head, my phone buzzed, and I held it an inch away from my face to read the text that said one word: Here .

Anticipation began to fizz under my skin like fresh ginger ale, and I grabbed my walking cane to take some of the pressure off my limbs as I hurried past the moms still talking to Jonah and hit the doors. The evening air still had a hint of crisp early spring to it, and I breathed in as I scanned the curb for Amedeo’s car.

It was where he’d picked me up the first time, and I limped over and quickly got in before he could get out and make conversation with any of the nosy moms who might have followed me out.

“Hello,” I said, breathless, leaning in for a kiss.

He didn’t make me wait. He tasted like mint and smelled like a fresh shower. No, he smelled like my fresh shower. Like the bottle of soap on the rack with big letters spelling out TUCKER so Boden didn’t use it all.

“You should have waited for me,” I murmured against his lips.

“Hmm?”

I pressed my palm to his chest and dragged it downward. “To wash us off.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, and his swallow caught in the back of his throat with an audible click. “I thought about it, but I didn’t want to be gross.”

“I practically live in a locker room full of cheese-dick jockstrap dudes. Trust me, it would be the least gross part of my day.”

He burst into laughter, shaking his head before stealing a last kiss. “Fair enough. Next time, I’ll wait.”

I fucking loved that there was going to be a next time.

“Where to? And is anyone meeting us?”

“Yeah. Actually, if you want to park, we can walk over, and then you can stay and watch practice. Uh…if it won’t be too boring.”

He took my hand and squeezed it. “I want to learn the game so I know what I’m doing when I cheer you on. I’m pretty sure I was yelling in excitement when you got in trouble the other night.”

I grinned. God, I liked him so much. I kept his hand as he pulled into a parking spot near the edge of the lot, and then I waited for him at the front of his car while he got out. Our fingers slipped together again, and normally where I’d take out my white cane, I leaned against him instead.

“Don’t let me fall into a hole. Or traffic. Or walk into a tree. My vision really sucks when it starts to get dark.”

“I’ve got you,” he said. And I knew he did.

We made our way to the deli that had changed their hours to accommodate us during practice nights, and I could see shadowy figures set against the bright light in the window. There would be at least Boden and Ford, along with Cooper and probably Mike and Shea. I hadn’t had a lot of time with the guys since Amedeo had come into town, and I felt a moment of sudden panic.

I had to explain this to them. All of this. They all knew about my wild-as-fuck night in Vegas and my alcohol-induced amnesia. And the hotel room business.

But only Ford and Boden knew the details.

“Tucker?”

I turned to face Amedeo. “Hey, so…what do you want to tell everyone? You know, about us?”

“Uh?”

“I mean, they might not exactly be super fond of the random guy who left me in a hotel room without my legs,” I explained, rubbing the back of my neck.

I could feel tension radiating off him, and I understood why. He already expected people do hate him. Too often, he felt he was unworthy of the most basic human affection. I didn’t want my well-meaning friends to make that worse.

“I didn’t realize Ford and Boden were still—I mean, of-of course they’re not that fond of me after what I did. B-but if you want me to talk to them…”

“No.” I tugged him close to me. “Deo, no. Not them. The other guys. I didn’t know what this was or what it could be, so I didn’t say anything about you to the rest of the team. But when I first got back from Vegas, I kind of, you know, ran my mouth a bit about the organ- and leg-stealing hooker.”

He laughed softly. “I see.”

“Trust me, Ford and Bodie won’t let anyone say shit to you. They’re protective.” I found his hand and squeezed it. “But if the other guys make you uncomfortable, we can leave.”

“I’m not taking you away from your friends, and I did learn enough about sports to know you don’t screw with someone’s routine. Especially in hockey. I can put up with a little passive aggression.”

I blinked, then burst into laughter. “Baby. This is just practice. It’ll be fine if you want to shake things up.” I didn’t tell him that I didn’t give a shit about superstition because I didn’t care about winning the way the others did. “And for the record, I’m not okay with anyone being passive-aggressive to you. I will hurt them if I have to.”

Amedeo took a deep breath, then tugged me toward the curb. “There will be no need for that. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

He sounded like he was walking toward a firing squad, and I fought the urge to say fuck it and abandon everyone else for the rest of the night to be with just him.

* * *

In the end, it was fine. He got a couple of side-eyes from Cooper, and Mike and Shea were a little cold with him at first, but after Ford threw his arm around Amedeo and said that he was under his protection, they all calmed down.

He was quiet for most of the dinner. He kept close to me and laughed when things were funny and listened whenever someone wanted his attention. But I could tell he was trying to blend into the background. To be a piece of furniture. I didn’t know if that was his ex’s doing or maybe shitty parents.

It was a stark reminder that I still needed so much more time to get to know him. I wanted all those details. I wanted to know his tender spots so I could soothe them. I wanted to see where all his scars were so I could make sure no one ever reopened those wounds.

But we had time for that.

He was going to stay, after all. He was ready and willing to be mine.

We all collectively headed across the street together, Cooper and Shea wheeling around the back while the rest of us walked through the front doors. I tugged on Amedeo’s hand and kissed him, ignoring the wolf whistles and the threats of a fine for showing so much PDA.

I didn’t give a shit. I’d dump whatever I had in my savings in the fine pot if it meant kissing him as much as I wanted.

“Where do I sit?” he asked after I pulled back.

I squinted around, then pointed at the bench where a couple of people were already getting seated.

“WAGs?” he asked.

I grinned and kissed him again. “ Mmm . Hearing you use hockey lingo turns me on. And yes. Though actually, the redhead is Cooper’s sister. He’s still fairly new to the team, and she drives him. Her name is Cassidy, and you’ll like her. She’s a middle school math teacher, so she takes zero shit from anyone.”

He hummed, then leaned in for another kiss. “Sounds like a good friend to have. See you after practice.”

It took all my self-control to let him go and make my way back toward the swinging doors. Letting him go felt like I was carving a void into my body, and I hated it. I knew this wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, I’d want my space back. And so would he. But I wanted to bask in this feeling because it was so damn new and so damn good.

“Banks!”

There were only two people on my team who pronounced my last name with a French lilt, and one of them never, ever called me Banks. I turned and saw a suit-wearing figure walking toward me. After a few steps, I could make out the new coach’s face with a little more clarity.

He looked a little apprehensive as he approached, his hands twisting in front of him. “May I have a word?”

“Go nuts,” I said.

“In private.”

That was never good. Was I being fired? Oh God, was he going to talk to me about Boden? Obviously, I could do nothing except follow him down the corridor and into the coach’s office. He was the only one in there though, which probably meant this wasn’t a big crisis situation.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs.

I took it gratefully, happy to be off my legs for a bit. I studied him as he paced, then eventually sat in his tall chair. Part of me wondered if one of the reasons Boden hated him so much was how pretty he was.

He was older, yeah, but god damn , the man looked like he’d been carved from marble. He wasn’t my type, but I could easily see him giving several men a sexuality crisis with those piercing blue eyes and the way his mouth was always set in a soft, half-smile.

“Coach?” I said after a long beat of silence.

He blew out a puff of air. “Hugo is fine if you prefer it.”

I didn’t give a shit either way, so I just shrugged. “Something on your mind?”

“Boden—”

“Bro, listen,” I said, holding up a hand and leaning over my thighs. “I’m not his keeper, okay? I know he might look young, but he’s a grown-ass man.”

“I know perfectly well how grown he is,” Hugo said, his tone crisp and a little irritated.

“Great. So this high school bullshit about your friend doing whatever and this, that, and the other thing?—”

“How long have you been wearing the A?” he interrupted, stopping my babbling.

I sat back, a little startled by the question. “Uh. Two…years? I think?”

“You’re a good assistant captain.”

Where the fuck was this going? “Thank you? I try. Well, maybe not as hard as Ford does, but you know, I give a shit about my guys.”

“Yes. I’ve seen it. I understand why my appointment has been met with resistance. It was one of the reasons I almost didn’t accept this job. I’m not a fool. I grew up with parents who had to fight for everything they earned, only to have it taken away by underqualified people over and over simply because people didn’t believe they were capable of doing their jobs.”

I really didn’t want to listen to the inspirational disability speech. I was all for it. On my better days, I could probably be called an advocate or whatever. But mostly, I just wanted to live my life. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to eat Hot Cheetos and sit on the couch all day and scratch my balls like every other douche bag hockey player on his off time.

I wanted to walk down the street without people doing a double take and asking me what happened and offering to pray over me.

I wanted to sit in my coach’s office and not listen to him give some speech about how he got it because he’d watched discrimination happen while he was growing up.

“But the fact remains, I’m here,” he went on after a moment of tense silence. “I don’t want to think this was a mistake, but I also can’t have insubordination on this team.”

“So…you want me to talk to him?”

“No. Like you said, he’s a grown adult who can make his own choices. But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Because Bodie’s dad paid you, right? To get him signed to a PPHL team.”

Hugo stared at me for a beat. “No.”

“Uh, that’s not what I heard.”

“Arnaud asked me if I could put in a good word. I told him that I would look into it, but only after I met his son. I’m not feeling very inclined to do that favor for him now. In fact, I’m here to ask you if you’d consider accepting the C.”

“What? Fuck no,” I blurted before the weight of his offer really hit me. I sat back, all the air rushing from my lungs. “Hugo, look, you can’t take that from him.”

Hugo folded his hands on the desk. “Can’t I?”

“He’s our fucking captain, dude. He lives for this team.”

“I’ve not seen the evidence of that. I’ve seen tape, and I’ve seen what he’s been capable of, but a good captain isn’t going to put his team at risk for what he considers a personal slight. If he’s willing to take down the ship for his dislike of a single person—a person who is good at his job—then that doesn’t make a very good leader. Does it?”

I would die for Boden. I would kill for Boden. But I couldn’t look Hugo in the eye and lie to him. Boden was an amazing captain, but he had almost thirty years’ worth of trauma directly related to able-bodied hockey players weighing him down.

Him cracking like this was not a surprise. I knew the Paralympics wasn’t going to be the last I’d seen out of Jekyll and Hyde Bodie.

“I’m not taking the C. I would never do that to him. Not ever.”

Hugo sighed. “I thought as much. Ford said the same thing.”

I couldn’t help my smile. Fuck this guy for thinking that he could pull some bullshit like that. But it did mean I needed to talk to Boden and convince him to get his head out of his fucking ass before Hugo really did pass the C on to someone else.

And hell, maybe that was his plan all along. But it was worth the risk.

“I should go.”

Hugo nodded and didn’t stand up when I did. Before I reached the door though, he cleared his throat, and I looked back at him. From that spot, he was a dark blob against the white walls of the office.

“I don’t expect you to choose me over your family, Banks.”

I had no idea what to say to that, so I said nothing at all, turning on my heel and hurrying as fast as I could down the hall without falling on my face.