Page 93 of One More Time

“You were happy and that’s all I could ever want for you. But next time I see that fuckwit, he’ll find out what happens to people who hurt my best friend.”

Cal leaned over the console and stamped a kiss to my cheek.

“Don’t break your fist over someone like him. It just makes me wonder what is wrong with me, like am I bad in bed? Am I too much? Like what is it, Tyler, that makes these men cheat on me?”

“Nothing, Cal. There’s nothing wrong with you. And I have seen your dance moves. With those hips, you have to be good in bed. I once remember you telling me you were a power bottom for a reason.”

Something in there had its desired effect, and a wide smile brightened Cal’s face. There was something wrong about a Cal Johnson not smiling that made things seem… wrong.

“You’re right. Well, I am going to win this freaking comp and say goodbye to Miss Susie Q, and get signed to be the next top male figure skater. They can watch this hot ass of mine at the Olympics.”

“Damn right.” I smiled back and watched him get out of the car, making a show of spanking said ass and going on his way into the building.

I looked down at the dash clock. “Fucking shit!”

I was going to be late. I quickly reversed out of the car park, ignoring a couple of honks that came my way from whomever I cut off. I lifted my hand in apology and got the heck out of there.

My phone rang over the speakers, Hunter’s name flashing on the screen.

“Aussie, everything okay?”

“Be there soon; I got a bit distracted. Cal needed a pep talk.” I sped through a yellow light and changed lanes, hearing the blast of a horn from the person behind me I cut off without meaning to.

“Please drive safe. Don’t worry about Coach; I’ll run interference.” I heard the worry in his tone but kept my hurried pace, cursing the crazy roads of America. “For fuck’s sake! Why can’t your roads be simple like Perth!” I hit my hand against the steering wheel. Another horn blared, and I was unsure if it was at me. “Oh, common mate, the light’s green!”

“Tyler, calm down. The last thing we need is you getting in an accident.”

“Fine,” I huffed. “See you soon.” I hung up and continued my road rage towards the university ice rink.

I parked, seeing all the guys on the bus and both coaches looking at their watches. More choice curse words left my mouth as I got out of the car, grabbed my belongings, and ran to the bus, looking like a complete and utter drongo.

Coach’s angry glare wasn’t lost on me as I stowed my things and made for the door.

“If you think you won’t be punished for your tardiness, Riley, you have another thing coming.”

I mumbled an apology before jumping on the bus, heading straight for Hunter’s worried face. I sat down with a ceremonious thud and felt his hand seek me out—but in my rotten mood, I shrugged him off. I could feel his gaze on me from the side of my head, along with many of the other teammates. I couldn’t even bring myself to apologize to any of them.

Instead, I chucked my headphones in my ears and blasted music on our way to the airport. I heard the buzz of my phone and didn’t dare look at it, knowing full well it was Hunter.

I sulked for the entire journey, thinking of all the ways Coach would punish me for being late.

Chapter fifty

Hunter

Iwanted to call Tyler out on his shit, I really did. But between the picking and nail-biting, my man was a nervous wreck. He hated letting anyone down, and on top of being removed from the starting line for the first round, he was punishing himself by chewing out his own ass.

We went straight to the rink from the airport for our allotted practice time. I could tell that Tyler was still in his head, but how he gritted his teeth proved his determination. Stone-faced, he called those plays like a pro. But I was worried he was pushing himself too hard. I stayed behind him as we walked to our hotel room after practice but kept enough distance. None of the team heckled him or bothered him about partying—they knew he meant business.

I followed him into our room, where I watched him hang his suit in the bathroom to steam with his shower. I knew his routine better than anything now; being each other’s roommates, I had learned the exact order of what he would do during his unpacking. His pajamas and toiletries would come next. Then, he’d have a steaming hot shower where he would scrub every inch of his body before simply soaking up the heat.

If he had any sore muscles, he’d ice them after his shower while watching game tapes—the same ones he watched every night. Tyler studied each player, memorizing their every move. Then, if he had any energy to spare, we’d fall into bed together—but not before he checked his alarm multiple times.

Tyler was methodically undressing and folding his clothes neatly on the bathroom counter while he waited for the shower to heat. He no longer closed the door; a small, intimate thing that made my stupid little heart flutter. Even now with his underlying anger, he let me see glances of his bare ass in the mirror. Our eyes met, and where I expected to see that cute little frown line, I loved to tease him about—I only saw sadness. It only hung around for a moment before he looked away and stepped into the shower. Tyler’s usual confident shoulders slumped, the fight seeming to have left him.

We couldn’t have that.

I stripped, dumping my clothes on the floor and knowing I’d pay for it later. I got in the shower with him, moving in close and resting my chin on his shoulder as my hands found his waist. He relaxed into my touch, seeming to hold the weight of the world on his shoulders. I held him tighter when his breathing picked up and his hands began to shake.

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