Page 62 of One More Time

Tyler’s expression was something new, a fierce determination I hadn’t witnessed before. Usually, he straddled the line of a serious go-getter or a golden retriever. Now, he was poised like a relentless bulldog. The defense from Merrimack was solid, and time ticked away on the clock as the power play neared its end. This play could either make or break us.

The puck danced back and forth, Tyler weaving through checks, searching for an opening. Then came the denial, followed by Tyler’s quick recovery. He circled back to the blue line, assessing the situation. In a seemingly solo effort, he dodged opponents and passed the puck to Amon, orchestrating a distraction that let the puck to glide between Amon and Jarman. With a flick from Jarman, the puck met Tyler’s stick midair and in one fluid motion; it soared over the goalie’s right shoulder. The team erupted in celebration, sticks banging and shouts echoing through the arena.

Amid the jubilation, a Merrimack defenseman slammed Tyler into the goal post. The sickening crack of helmet meeting metal resonated through the now silent arena. Tyler sprawled awkwardly, the culprit conveniently extracting himself from the scene. Jarman quickly intervened, blocking my view as he shoved the guy away from Tyler.

My heart froze.

Mouse appeared beside me. “Dude, is he okay? He’s still down.”

“Boys, stay here—too much traffic.” Coach demanded. He, along with the teams’ trainers, bolted onto the ice.

It was all my fault.

I leaned sideways on the bench, trying to peer through the traffic. Eventually, I saw Jarman help Tyler to his feet, though he was a bit unsteady. Amon adjusted Tyler’s helmet before he got nudged away by the trainers. Ignoring the concerned faces around him, Tyler raised his hand in a signal that he was fine. I let out a sigh of relief, keeping my eyes fixed on him and silently urging him to look my way.

“Come on, baby, look at me,” I muttered.

As if he’d heard me, Tyler turned in my direction. However, the expressionless look in his eyes left me feeling defeated. I sat down on the bench, a sense of disappointment settling in. Tyler was promptly taken to the locker room for a checkup as the remaining teammates managed to hold the lead for the last minute, securing the win. Despite the victory, our team was visibly shaken. Between Jarman, Tyler and me, we’d taken some hard hits—and we still had another game to go.

The team quietly descended the chute, exchanging occasional taps and careful pats on the shoulders with affirming expressions. In the locker room, Tyler was stripped down to his boxer briefs, flinching away from the light the team doctor shone into his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Tyler growled, hating the attention. Coach quickly joined them to hear the verdict.

“He’s battered and bruised, but no signs of a concussion. If you experience headaches, dizziness, or nausea at any point, you need to inform one of us immediately. A scratch tomorrow is better than risking a prolonged absence due to a repeat head injury.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, displaying no signs of impending issues. “I’m fucking fine.”

The team doctor raised his hands in surrender, accustomed to moody twenty-somethings eager to get back on the ice. Coach didn’t press further, exchanging a meaningful look with Tyler that told him to speak up if anything happened. Tyler nodded his head in understanding and grabbed his towel, storming off to the showers.

The rest of the team parted ways, perplexed by the sudden change in Tyler’s demeanor. He wasn’t known for having a temper. As I hurried to strip down and join him in the showers, I couldn’t help but shake off the thought that, despite the circumstances, there was something… sexy about it. Yet, as I entered, he still avoided eye contact and purposefully ensured that not a single inch of his skin touched mine. “Ty…”

The locker room buzzed with the team’s lively chatter, providing cover for my next audacious move. I threw caution to the wind and gently touched his shoulder.

Though I flinched as he whipped his head towards me. The fire burning in his eyes wasn’t of a sexual nature, but I couldn’t say it would have bothered me if it was. A twisted desire grew within me, yearning for him to channel that frustration towards me, to hold me, to deliver some kind of retribution.

“Don’t fucking ‘Ty’ me. Next time I’m gearing up for a game and one of us has a target on our backs, you better tell me, got it? I don’t like being blindsided and I don’t appreciate someone seeing right through me. And also, I don’t like discovering things about your exes while on the damn ice. I feel like an idiot for defending you when I clearly don’t know a fucking thing about you.”

His chest rose and fell with each breath, his voice a restrained whisper that lashed at my bare skin.

“Ty, I’m sorry, really. I didn’t think he’d target you.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, and I couldn’t help but bite back a smile over how that simple gesture stirred something within me.

“Well, surprise, surprise, Hunter: You have this stupid magic fucking dick that makes everyone remember you.”

With that, he grabbed his towel and stormed out, leaving my mouth hanging open in stunned silence.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t snag a seat beside Tyler on the bus back to the university. Instead, I found myself sitting in an empty seat, staring at him like some smitten teenage girl. Jarman settled in beside me, his knee unintentionally knocking into mine. “You two good?” His voice was low, almost conspiratorial.

“I messed up,” I admitted, the weight of my mistake heavy in my chest.

Jarman responded with a low, rumbling laugh. “No shit. Not telling your guy about your ex, and then having your ex rile him up with an agent in the crowed is pretty fucked.” I looked at him, wide-eyed, my words stuck in my throat. Jarman seemed unfazed, an amused expression on his face. “Dude, I’ve known you since preschool. We’ve played on the same team our whole lives.”

He wasn’t wrong, but his observation left me feeling guilty. I realized I knew practically nothing about him, except for the fact that he had a lot of sisters.

“But...”

“But nothing,” Jarman interrupted. “I saw how you looked at Zane. Your little secret smirks weren’t so secret to me. Maybe growing up with sisters means you learn to see things that others don’t.”

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