“For what it’s worth, I think you two are good for each other. If your chemistry on the ice says anything, then you can get past the hurdles, however many they are. I like you two together.”
“You’re making me feel like a dick,” I grumbled half-heartedly, and he chuckled.
“I’ve always considered you a friend, Hunt, even if you didn’t realize it.”
I patted his knee. “Thanks, man. I am sorry. Really, you’re a good guy—and a good friend.”
We left it at that. During the drive back to our rink, I concocted a plan to try and win Tyler back.
Chapter thirty-three
Tyler
The hardwood floors protested my weight as I dragged myself through the door. My temples throbbed with the painful reminder of my collision with the goalpost. Note to self: helmets can only protect you from so much.
Two worried faces greeted me as I entered the dorm room. Jamie’s concern only worsened when he saw how I rubbed my temples. I tried to reassure him by gathering him into my arms. “S’fine, Jamie, just a little bang. You get hit worse in your fights.”
He groused but held onto me tight. “You weren’t moving,” he mumbled into my chest, panic clear in his voice. “That brute from Merrimack had me pinned. I’m fine, really. Even got cleared by the doctors.” He nodded without another word, but his embrace said it all.
“I’m not going anywhere, James. You’re stuck with me for a lifetime.”
“Better be.” We stood there for a moment and my eyes met Cal’s over Jamie’s shoulder, who offered nothing but sympathy in that one gaze.
Eventually, Jamie must have felt secure enough to let go. Given the unpredictable nature of our lives, I couldn’t really blame him for thinking I’d vanish into thin air. He asked the question that sat heavy in the room, “So, what did that fucker say to make you crack on with him? You never fight.”
“Called me a…” I glanced around the room and considered my audience. “Not so savory term for gay people.” Cal and Jamie’s eyes widened, and I made my way to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Jamie’s voice followed me. “Why would he call you a—”
“Why would he call you that?” Cal interrupted, sparing me the horror of having to hear that word any more than necessary.
“Pot met kettle, that’s why. He’s Hunter’s ex.” The simple feeling of his name in my mouth made my stomach flip. The tension in the room was palpable now.
“Awkward,” Jamie mumbled before he began helping me cut vegetables.
“He is just jealous you have him now, that’s all,” Cal offered.
I barked out a laugh. “Quite the opposite; seems Hunter screwed him over. He was set on letting me know I’d be next.”
And I swore then that I was done with Hunter Graves—something I should have done months ago. Our first encounter should have been the universe telling me to stay away—even if he did have that deep, soothing voice, and those ripped muscles and those captivating eyes… Fuck! Even when I was angry at him, he had me in a chokehold.
“It’s fine,” I said in response to their silence. “I’m done with it all. I don’t need this drama.”
I chose to ignore the knowing look Cal and Jamie shared. I was moving forward; there was another game tomorrow and we needed to win. I needed to show both Hunter and his crazy ex that they couldn’t get under my skin. Even if I had to fake it to make it.
Thankfully, we eased into a comfortable conversation. I listened to Jamie’s excitement about his new club where the owner had taken a liking to him. Cal had been helping and between the two of us, we made it work. They also let Jamie hang around during the day, helping with odd jobs so he wasn’t cooped up in the dorm. Jamie spoke about the fights he watched, about the dynamics of the guys. But through it all, I could only focus on his smile. Even Cal melted at the sight of my younger brother coming to life. There were times when grief hit him hard, but this escape from reality was doing him some good.
Eventually, Jamie talked himself to sleep, resting with his head on my chest. Cal took himself to bed while I continued to sit there with my brother. It didn’t matter that I was wiped, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. The least I could do was sit there and comfort Jamie.
Though I grumbled when a soft knock at the door forced me to disentangle myself. Thankfully, Jamie slept like the dead. I gently laid him down on the couch before moving to open the door.
“Hunter, what are you doing here?” Apparently, that was an invitation enough for Hunter to close the gap between us, his non-injured arm reaching up to grip the door frame. I couldn’t tell what was more attractive: his lips just tantalizingly out of reach, the way his hoodie slid up to expose the sexy V of his muscles, or the way his rolled-up sleeves gave me just a peek of his tattoos. I steeled myself before I forgot what I’d decided
“I’m sorry, Tyler,” he said. “I’m really fucking sorry.”
His presence alone was enough to break me, but I kept my cool.
“For what, Boston?”