Page 22 of The Waiting Game

“Don’t do that thing where you worry about me and try to take it all on yourself.” Felix took his hand away.

“I’m not!” Jonah protested.

“I could feel you working up to it.”

Jonah grumbled. “You think you know me so well.”

“I know you better than anyone,” Felix countered.

And, well, he wasn’t wrong.

“I just …”

Felix rolled onto his back. “Here we go.”

Fine, maybe Jonah had been working up to a lecture.

“Are you gonna put a show on or not?” Jonah asked.

Felix clicked on something and hit Play. “There. Happy?” Felix waved his remote in the air as if to punctuate the statement.

“Very,” Jonah lied. He loathed this ridiculous ghost hunters show and Felix knew it.

CHAPTER FIVE

It was light out when Felix awoke, confused about where he was. He pried his eyes open, blinking at the shock of black hair on the pillow next to his.

Oh, right. He’d fallen asleep on Jonah’s hotel room bed.

They were both dressed, half under the covers. Felix wore sweats and a tee, and Jonah was in a pair of shorts. He’d lost the shirt he’d worn the night before and his back was bare.

He slept half on his stomach and for a moment, Felix had the oddest urge to reach out and stroke the smooth golden-tan skin that stretched from his wide shoulders to his narrow waist.

Felix rubbed his own face instead. Jesus, if Jonah was turning him on, it had been too long since he’d gotten laid.

Celibacy was a part of this stupid sobriety journey.

Well, no one had said that in so many words, but it had been strongly implied. The program absolutely discouraged relationships in the first year.

Which made sense.

But ugh.

How long had it been since he’d gotten off with anyone but himself?

Before Felix left Vancouver this summer, he’d had the most depressing breakup sex with Whit.

Suddenly and painfully single, he’d returned to Toronto, heartbroken. For about two weeks after, he’d picked up every night, fucking a different woman in a sad attempt to get his ex out of his head.

It hadn’t worked.

His heart hadn’t been in it so he’d stopped going out and, instead, stayed in drinking. Which had definitely wound up being worse.

And then there’d been rehab and Felix certainly hadn’t had sex there.

After he’d come home, he’d done a conditioning stint with the Black Bears—their AHL team—just trying to keep his head down and get his legs back under him, thinking of nothing but hockey and AA meetings.

He’d been back with the Fisher Cats since the end of February and had spent the next six weeks settling into his new routines, too focused on that to think about sex.

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