Page 63 of First Puck

“How is Brad?” Lance whispered as he nuzzled my hand.

He was really milking it. It was even more embarrassing to be looked at with so much emotion.

“I don’t know,” I said as I turned away from his gaze, looking toward the door. “I haven’t spoken to him yet.” But I couldn’t stay with Lance for long. I needed to know our future was still secure.

Lance’s eyes shuttered closed, like he was overcome with the weight of it all, like it was just so unbearable that I wanted Brad more than him. It just made the churning whirl of guilt in my chest even tighter, even though his eyes sparkled with amusement.

Because I wanted to be the reason Lance was hurt. I wanted Brad to be so jealous that he lost control of himself because of me. If he cared about me that much, there was no way he couldpretend he didn’t at least feel something more than friendship for me. No matter what crap he fed me about our kiss.

“It’s okay, you can go to him.” Lance smiled weakly, pushing my fingers away from his chest, like he was returning my hand to me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, really meaning it, though I laid it on thick with a shuddering breath. “Lance, I—”

He cut me off with a shake of his head. “I know. It’s okay,” he croaked, his throat bobbing. “I know.”

I had no idea what he knew, but I guess it worked, because Tommy let out a grunt from behind us.

Lance’s bottom lip trembled as he gave another dramatic sigh.

I released his hand, laying one more heartfelt look on him before I turned and briskly escaped the locker room and Lance’s theatrics.

Tommy could deal with the rest of Lance’s games. I just needed to get back to our room and find out the news.

Brad and I always shared a room when we went away for the weekend, whether it was a school trip, hockey trip, or a family vacation. That was one of our rituals. And it usually resulted in a sleepy Brad walking around naked at 5AM, and me hiding under the covers, hoping he didn’t see how hard I was.

Which I (mostly) loved, but we had done it forever since we started away games. We’d stopped after he sucked me off. And the semi-finals were meant to be the first time we had been together since then.

We’d arranged it with Coach months in advance, so we couldn’t change. But there was no way I could handle being in the same room as him after he kissed me.

I would have asked Lance if I could trade, but he was always Team “Go-For-It.”

I only caught the rough timbre of Tommy’s voice before I pushed at the swinging door. It slammed behind me and I took a deep breath, preparing myself to face Brad.

Brad

Alex sat on his bed, waiting for me like a messed-up supervillain when I got back.

I had to put up with Coach laying into me for ages before they let me go. Then I had to shoot drills for two hours by myself like an absolute moron.

I mean, Lance wasn’t hurtthatbadly, but I wasn’t going to get away with it just because I said sorry.

I’d managed to fix the disaster I’d made after our seriously hot kiss in the kitchen that I was determined to find a way to repeat,but I’d fucked it up all over again. So, I was going to be super duper apologetic. Like, Alex would never find someone better at apologizing than me. I was going to apologize so hard, he’d never have a better apology in his whole life.

Sighing, I rubbed the back of my neck as I pushed open the door to our room in the hotel. The sun was just setting, and shadows were growing in the room. I assumed Alex was off with Lance, or whatever the hell he did without me nowadays.

I hit the lights while my brain still buzzed with all the shit I wanted to say to him. I didn’t even know what I wanted. I just wanted him to stop leaving me by myself.

“Brad.” His voice bounced around the room and I swear I jumped ten feet in the air.

My gaze snapped to his, meeting his dark eyes, ripping my breath away as my heart rate went from 0 to 100 in a second.

“Holy shit! Dude, what the fuck are you doing?”

He loomed on his small single bed, his legs spread, bent forward with his elbows on his knees. His fingers knotted in front of his mouth as he glared at me. It was the tight shorts strained around his thighs and the loose shirt curving over his shoulders that threw me off even more.

It was a pretty cramped space; two single beds with a bathroom bigger than our kitchen just to our right. Nice and cozy, and awkward enough for two big guys to bump into each other constantly. Just like home.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said. The edge in his voice sounded like he had plans. Plans such as giving me a thrashing for beating up his not-boyfriend.

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