15. BILSON

FIFTEEN

BILSON

I’m thankful Miles is able to move forward like nothing ever happened because I need someone by my side for this interview. It’s not a well-kept secret that the media and I have never seen eye to eye. They like to splash my four divorces all over the place and make it out like I’m some kind of playboy when the opposite is true.

My marriages weren’t a reflection of how many women I’ve been with but how starved I’ve been for love for so long.

Hopefully, with Miles here for the interview too, they might stick to actual hockey questions.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” Langford Trest says. “Shall we jump right in?”

I glance next to me at Miles, who looks a little green. This is probably his first big article he’ll be part of. His first write-up where what he says matters. It’s understandable that he’s nervous.

“Let’s do it,” I say, my issues with reporters getting pushed to the back of my mind.

I’ve lived this life a long time. While Miles has been playing in the AHL, it’s a whole other puck game now he’s in the big leagues to stay.

Langford must see Miles’s nerves because he says, “Don’t worry. I’ll start easy. How are you two settling in with the team?”

“They’ve been great,” I say. “And it’s like we clicked immediately on the ice.”

“My guy CB here was the thing Nashville needed to take us to the next level.”

I try not to wince. Not at the nickname but the way his words could be misconstrued. “What he means is there was a place for an experienced winger to help the already amazing team, and we’re already going strong.”

Langford looks at his notes. “Preseason was a bit of a mess though?”

Miles hangs his head, but I know how to handle this.

“Preseason is always a mess, no matter what team you’re on. After a summer off, some of the guys come back with extra weight. Teams have to integrate new players, new staff a lot of the time. It’s always a learning curve, and that’s why none of those games count for standing.” I grip Miles’s shoulder. “This guy showed up when it counted, and in his first month of being in the NHL, he managed three consecutive shutouts. I’m not sure any other goalie has done that right out of the gate. He’s an amazing player and one to watch.”

“That’s big praise.” Langford turns to Miles. “How does that make you feel?”

Miles seems to relax. “It’s a bit surreal. The first day I walked into that locker room as starting goalie, Cody was there. It was intimidating walking up to this guy who I had admired since I was in high school⁠—”

“I’m not that old,” I grumble.

Langford laughs, but Miles keeps going.

“But he welcomed me easily, even though he was also new and has never gotten one past me during a game before. He was still nice.”

“I can get one past you,” I argue.

“Practice doesn’t count. Statistically, you’re bound to get one there.”

There’s the cocky little shit I know. But this is better than dealing with nervous Miles.

“This is great stuff,” Langford says. He’s recording the interview but is also making notes at the same time, and he writes something down.

“Miles here is really superstitious,” I say. “He has lucky rocks, he talks to the goals, and everyone on the team just accepts his weird quirks.” I can feel the heat of Miles’s glare.

Langford doesn’t look shocked. “I’ve heard that about goalies.”

“It can’t be too weird. This one”—Miles thumbs in my direction—“had a conversation with my pet rocks the other day. And the pregame ritual was his idea.”

“So the rumors of your bromance are true, then?” Langford asks, and even though we were expecting this line of questioning, I tense anyway. Because when I think bromance, I think brogasms, and when I think brogasms, I picture Miles riding my cock.

Nope, nope. Not here.

Friendship. Bromance. Just friends and teammates.

“CB obviously took a shine to me because I’m at his maturity level in age.” Miles wraps his arm around my shoulders, and it’s the last thing he should do.

I shift and lean forward, hoping to cover my growing hard-on in my pants. “I actually took a shine to him because he’s like Bambi. All young and doe-eyed.”

“Aww, you think I’m as cute as a baby deer?”

My head swivels, and I glare at him.

As if realizing he’s openly flirting, he tries to cover. “I’ll take it. I am cute. Everybody thinks so.”

“You’re also conceited,” I add.

“Aren’t all hockey players?” Langford asks.

“Hey.” I try to protest but can’t. “Okay, fair point.”

“Let’s get down to some stats and career highlights,” Langford says and starts peppering Miles with questions about his time in the AHL.

I sit stoically, listening as Miles says how grateful he is that Nashville signed him, even though their farm team is away from home blah, blah, blah, loves Tennessee, blah. But all I’m really thinking about is the question I know is coming. The one I knew would be a big focus of my move.

“And Cody, you were on the Stanley Cup runner-up team last season but opened yourself up as a free agent. I guess what everyone wants to know is why?”

Because I have too many exes in Seattleis the completely wrong answer here, I know that, but I’ve got nothing else.

“I heard it’s because he got sick of winning,” Miles says, and I snort. But hey, it’s an actual angle I can take.

“I wanted to prove to my old linemates Katz and Emerson that I was the winning factor in Seattle.”

They’re so going to call me after this interview comes out.

“So you’re confident with you on the team, Nashville will make it to the playoffs?” Langford asks, and I know it’s a journalistic trap.

“Nope. Teamwork will get us to the playoffs. I’m just one hell of a team player.”

“It’s true,” Miles says. “He’s all about taking one for the team.”

I want to argue that no, that’s Miles, but I don’t.

When Langford finally says he’s wrapping things up, I let out a loud breath in relief. But it’s too premature because as Langford stands to walk away, he turns back at the last second. “Oh, one more thing. What’s with this rumor about you two stealing a dog?”

“We didn’t steal him,” Miles says, and I reach over and grip his arm to get him to stop talking, but he doesn’t. “It was his dog.”

“So there is a dog?”

I try to smile. “Didn’t the team’s PR manager give you guidelines on what can and can’t be asked?”

Langford jots something else down. “Never mind. I’ve got all I need.”

I hang my head, and once he’s gone, I turn to Miles. “Lucia is going to kill us.”

By some miracle,when the article comes out a couple of days later, there’s no mention of the damn dog. Now Miles and I can stop avoiding Lucia and maybe start winning some games.

The last two have been disasters.

I wasn’t lying when I said that Miles will be a great goalie, but right now, he’s too unpredictable. He has amazing games and then shit games, and then there are nights where he does well, but it’s still not good enough. And that’s what the last couple of games have been for him.

Me, on the other hand, I’ve been playing like a drunk cow on skates.

All of that will change tonight now I know the article reads as Lucia wanted. Our snark was left, the playful banter, but it reads as teammates being teammates and not two people who have made each other come.

I know I said I’d be good for another few months without sex, but constantly being around Miles only makes me want another round with him. All the sexual frustration that was building inside me after my last breakup is already back, and it hasn’t even been one month yet.

We said it was only going to be that once. That he did it so I wouldn’t get attached, and he was as horny as I was. But the problem with that now is he’s right there. Every day. Across the locker room from me. On the team bus, plane, in the same hotel only a few doors away …

He’s quickly becoming my best friend on the team—possibly outside of it too—but I worry I’m even connecting sex to broship now.

Do I even like Miles as a person? Or did the sex cloud my judgment? Have I always been this way, and how the fuck did I get so messed up?

“Hey.” His voice makes me jump as he sits next to me on the plane. We’re off for another road trip, though this is only a quick one to Tampa, and then we’re back tomorrow.

“Hey.”

“Did you see the article? No mention of Killer anywhere. Who’s looking after our baby while we’re gone?” Yes, he’s still calling Killer our baby.

“I found a place that will come to my house and feed him and walk him twice a day.”

“But he’s alone for the rest of the time? Who’s going to snuggle him to sleep? Who⁠—”

Of course he’d be worried about that. “He doesn’t even let me snuggle him to sleep. He’s good. I promise.”

“We should find someone who’ll take him overnight at their house. I would suggest them staying at yours, but having randoms in your house isn’t cool.”

“Yet, you’ve been to my house.”

“That joke is about as old as you are.”

“Same with that one.”

Stoll turns from the seat in front of us. “When did you two become an old married couple?”

Probably about the moment I stuck my dick in him. Luckily, I don’t say that out loud. Miles doesn’t seem to have a filter though.

“Ever since our bromance article came out. Did you read it? Everyone loves us.”

Stoll laughs. “Whatever you say, Rook.” He turns back around.

Miles frowns.

“What’s up?”

He lowers his voice. “He called me Rook.”

“That’s your name now,” I say.

“No, it’s your name for me. And I … I like that it’s ours.”

Even though that sends a spike of lust or warmth or what-the-fuck-ever through me, I ignore it. “Damn. We really are the old married couple.”

“Aww, I’m wife number five!” Miles practically yells, except the “I’m” part was much quieter than the rest of it, so naturally, the noise on the whole plane stops.

“Please tell me you’re not getting married again,” Finch says, who’d only just climbed on and is halfway down the aisle.

“I’m not! I’m never getting married again. Guarantee it.”

“Let’s place our bets,” Stoll says. “Next woman he bangs will be Mrs. Bilson number five.”

Some things never change.

While the team makes bets on my future love life, I turn to Miles.

“You’re going to pay for that, by the way.”

“Don’t promise me with a good time.”

I hate that my mind immediately goes to sex. Only question is, does he mean it, or is he messing with me?