Page 7 of Hot Pucking Summer

I scoop him up in one swift motion, his weight solid but manageable in my arms. "I've got you," I say as he stares at me in disbelief. "Hang on to me, baby."

His eyes widen even more, but he doesn't say anything, gently resting his head against my shoulder as I take him back to the house.

"Oh my god, what happened?" Draper cries out, crossing the living room in three giant strides.

He wasstillin the shower when Cloyce and I came back, so I carefully set Cloyce down on the sofa, propped his leg on the coffee table, and fetched two Advil and a bag of frozen veggies that I placed over his swollen ankle.

"It's okay. I'm fine," Cloyce says, sounding embarrassed even though he has no reason to be. "I slipped. Jax had to carry me home, which I still don't know how he managed."

Draper drops to his knees next to me. I've lifted the frozen veggies off Cloyce's ankle and am assessing the situation. I'm no doctor obviously, but I've sprained my ankle more than a few times on the ice, so I have a good idea what to look for.

"Thoughts?" Draper asks, clearly worried.

"It's not broken," I answer, gently pressing around the swollen area, feeling for any odd bumps or spots that make Cloyce flinch. "Tell me if this hurts too much," I tell him.

"It's okay," he says, forcing a smile. He's still in pain, but it doesn't seem to be as bad as it was in the immediate aftermath of the fall.

"I think we should see if you can stand," I say. "That way we'll know if it's sprained or, fingers crossed, just twisted."

Cloyce nods, so Draper stretches his arm out, and I do the same. Cloyce slides his palms into our hands, and the rush of heat that envelops me is like an inferno. I exhale sharply and remind myself to focus on the task at hand.

We pull Cloyce upright…and he's able to stand. "I can feel it, but it's not too bad," he tells us.

I nod. "Good. Chances are it's only twisted, then."

We help him back down, and Draper and I kneel on either side of him. "We're going to look after you, baby," Draper says. "Right, Jax?"

"Of course. Consider us at your beck and call."

"I feel terrible," Cloyce moans, staring up at the ceiling. "I've ruined the weekend."

"You haven't ruined anything," Draper assures him before turning to me. He opens his mouth to say something but doesn't get the words out. His gaze has fallen to where I'm rubbing my fingers up and along Cloyce's calf.

Shit. I hadn't even realized I was doing that. I'm about to stop when, silently, he mirrors my movement on Cloyce's other calf.

My heart starts pounding. What do I do now? Draper means the world to me, and I know he's totally in love with Cloyce. One foul move, and I could fuck everything up. On the other hand, he hasn't asked me to stop. Neither has Cloyce. So maybe I should keep going?

I slide my hand a little higher up his leg, using that as my excuse to bring my gaze toward the sexy ginger. His chest is rising and falling, his eyes darting between Draper and me.

"It's okay," Draper whispers softly, as if sensing Cloyce's confusion.

"What's going on?" Cloyce asks.

"We're just trying to make you feel good, baby," Draper replies then aims his eyes at me before looking up at Cloyce again. "Do you like this, or do you want us to stop?"

Cloyce swallows then gives a series of little nods, like he's mentally pushing past something. "I… I like it."

Draper smiles. "Good. Because nothing would make me happier than my best friend and my boyfriend getting along."

"I think we're getting along just fine," I say, smiling softly as my hand hedges up past Cloyce's knee to his thigh. The movement in his shorts is instant. "Don't you think, Cloyce?"

He takes a few seconds to respond, his eyes half-lidded. "I don't know if I'm still in shock from the fall, or if I'm daydreaming and none of this is real, but what is happening here? How can I possibly have two sexy hockey players rubbing my legs?"

I grin. "Because you're sexy yourself."

"And because I'd like to share you," Draper says, causing Cloyce's mouth to gape in astonishment. "Only if you want to, that is. And there's absolutely no pressure."

"None," I reiterate firmly. "You tell us to stop, we stop, and we move on like nothing happened."

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