Page 48 of Trade Deadline

But now?

That favorite duo has now changed to hockey and Alex.

Now, I’m grumbling like a grumpy bear who lost his oatmeal as I step onto the tarmac at the private terminal at O’Hare International because I don’t want to play hockey or hook up with people in another city.

I want to be able to play on home ice, ask Alex to come and watch me play, and see if he’ll gift me one of his beautiful smiles.

The same Alex who left me so hard I could’ve put a dent in my car door if I’d whipped my cock out the other night. The sounds of his soft moans and whimpers as I took his mouth, the flush of his cheeks, and his lust-filled eyes… It was a fucking amazing feat that I didn’t convince him to let me inside his house or fuck him in the back seat of my car.

I give my self-restraint a solid nine out of ten.

“Blaine Olsen, what are you wearing?”

I look up at the sound of my brother's voice. Elliot’s standing by the open door of the team jet, holding up a phone, while the team’s PR manager, Colleen, stands next to him, sporting a bemused expression.

I laugh under my breath and shake my head.

I don’t think Elliot has a serious bone in his body aside from his pre-game ritual. Touch his pads or stick before a game, and you’ll feel the wrath of Elliot Olsen.

He ambles down a few steps, still holding the phone out, obviously recording something, and waits until I start to climb the stairs.

He puts on his best David Attenborough impression and announces, “And here we have Blaine Olsen, the less attractive and talented of the Olsen brothers.”

I scoff, flipping him the middle finger.

Elliot pushes my obscene gesture away with his hand. “Tell the fans what you’re wearing and whether you’re excited to head to the west coast?”

I climb the stairs slowly, mainly so he doesn’t trip and hurt himself. I don’t think I could deal with that on my conscience.

“I don’t know what I’m wearing; I went to a suit store and got fitted, and yeah, I fucking love the west coast.” I grin, knowing they won’t be able to use whatever footage now because I cursed.

Elliot groans. “Fuck's sake, Blaine! Now Colleen’s definitely not gonna include my parts on the team's socials.”

He frowns and stomps up the stairs, handing the phone back to Colleen in a huff.

She laughs, rolling her eyes at his dramatics. “Don’t tell him this, but I wasn't going to include it anyway.”

“Sometimes you just gotta entertain him, kind of like you would with a child.”

She lets out a loud hoot of laughter. We exchange a high-five, and I make my way onto the plane.

We have a routine on the jet—the same seat, same seatmate. Some of the guys play cards, some like to sleep, others watch movies or read a book. I like to use the time to take a nap or catch up on whatever series I’m binging.

I remove my headphones and iPad from my bag, dropping them in my seat before placing my bag in the overhead compartment along with my jacket, then sit down next to Zach.

He glances up from his Switch. His eyes are red, and the dark shadows underneath wash out his complexion. “Hey, man.”

“Hey, bud. Are you okay?”

His blink is slow, and he gives me a tired nod. “I slept like shit last night. It’s like my body knows that I’m gonna have to deal with hotel beds for the next week, so instead of giving me one night of blissful sleep, I’m tortured.”

At six-foot-six, he often finds hotel beds too small, and his feet end up hanging over the end. He’s even had a custom bed made for his apartment because nothing was big enough for him.

“That's the downfall of being a giant, I guess.” I joke.

He gives me the finger and picks his Switch back up.

Zach’s one of the best guys I’ve ever met. The kind of guy who deserves the world. Due to his size, he often gets shit on the ice as people try to pick a fight, but he’s a big softie. He doesn’t like to fight.

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