Page 16 of Goaltender Interference

“I know.” Connor sighed.

Boston’s historic legacy had lasted longer than anyone had expected.

The franchise had been dominant for decades and the fact that three out of four of the O’Shea family had played for the team had only added to the narrative.

But the truth was, the talent was thin now. After nearly two decades of being a great team with the ability to compete for the Cup year after year, they were suffering for it.

Connor had been a rookie during Finn’s captaincy, then assistant captain under his older brother, Pat, then inherited the captaincy fromhimonce he retired two seasons ago. But Connor didn’t have the roster Pat or Finn or their father had back in the good old days. The good old days when Boston had scoring depth and solid defense and some of the best goddamn net-minding in the league.

Hence the trade for Jesse Webber.

Hazy memories of Jesse shuddering under Connor, neck bared, fist clenched in the pillow, resurfaced.

Connor bit the inside of his cheek to keep from letting anything show on his face. Fuck, what had he been thinking? He should have seen this coming. Should haveknownbetter than to fuck any guy in the league.

From the minute Connor saw the news about the trade, he’d had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d known Webber was a wild card but fucking his futurecaptainwhen he’d known thistrade was about to happen? That was low. It was low and sneaky and Connor still couldn’t figure out what he’d been trying to accomplish.

Was Webber hoping Connor would go easy on his bad behavior if he had something to hang over his head? Connor didn’t like to see the worst in people but damn, what other conclusion could he come to?

But it wasn’t gonna work. Connor would put his foot down. What had happened with Jesse was a one-time thing. So, maybe it was some of the hottest sex Connor’d ever had, but whatever feelings, good or bad, had come up because of it, they needed to stay in the past. Needed to be forgotten.

They had to be.

The team desperately needed a goaltender. They’d lost Mikko Korhonen when he went Unrestricted Free Agent this summer and they hadn’t been able to pick up Roman Poole from Ottawa like they’d hoped.

Webber was good in net and they were both professionals.

Connor could deal with Webber on the team. What he couldn’t deal with waslivingwith him. Connor had spent the summer trying to stuff everything back in neat little boxes where they belonged and this threatened to upend all of the progress he’d made.

Because even though Connor didn’t like Jesse Webber, every time he closed his eyes to jerk off, that was who he saw in his head. The thought of him being in Connor’s space at work and at home would blur the lines even more. Make it harder for Connor to forget how good that night had been.

And frankly, Connor didn’t trust him one bit.

“Look, Gavin,” Connor said trying to keep his voice steady. At forty-one, the team’s GM was only six years older than him and they had a good rapport. Hopefully Connor could get through to him. Make him understand why this wasn’t gonna work. Without actually admitting he’d fucked Jesse Webber six ways ’til Sunday after his brother’s wedding. “I get it. And you know I’d do anything for this team. But this is a big ask right now.”

Gavin sighed, dragging a hand through his dark hair, growing more salt and pepper by the day, as was his short beard. “I know. The past two seasons were rough for you and this is asking you to take on a lot.”

Roughwas putting it mildly. A contentious divorce and custody battle had drained Connor financially and emotionally and nagging injuries and years of grueling but ultimately disappointing playoff runs had drained him physically.

Even if the night in Chicago with Jesse hadn’t happened, this wasn’t something Connor wanted to say yes to. Hell, even if he’d been as goddamn straight as he’d always thought he was and they had no history, it would have made him hesitate.

Babysitting a twenty-four-year-old fuckboy who seemed determined to squander his God-given-talent sounded exhausting. To have that be the very same guy Connor had fucked, the one he was now captaining, was asking for disaster.

“I’m not exactly sure he’d be a good influence on my kids,” Connor pointed out. Which could honestly apply to both Connor’s literal offspring and the young players on the team.

Gavin frowned. “Doesn’t your ex-wife have primary custody during the season?”

Wincing, Connor nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”

That pissed him off too.

Fine, from September to April—June if he was lucky—he was busy as fuck and his schedule was erratic and he was on the road half the time, but he still resented the fact that he’d practically had to beg and plead with a judge to see his goddamn children.

He wasn’t a perfect man by any means but he tried to be a damn good father. And he had more than enough extended family to help out when needed.

Gavin leaned in. “Look, Connor, I pushed the ownership group hard to agree to the Webber trade. He’s got the makings of an elite goalie. He’s twice as talented and at half the price of the other goaltenders out there because of his off-ice shenanigans. We couldn’t afford to take a huge cap hit this off-season to get Poole. We’re going to be tight up against the cap as it is.”

“I get that. I understand why you felt Webber was what we needed in net,” Connor said thinly. “I’m not sure he’s a good fit in terms of teamculture.”

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