32. Wyatt

“Seattle gooooal!” the arena announcer’s voice boomed as the teams faced off again. “His fourth of the season, an unassisted short-handed goal scored by number twelve, Anthony Austin!”

I couldn’t help grinning as the camera landed on him again. He was on the bench now, catching his breath and smiling as his teammates smacked his back. He was sweaty, flushed, and sexy as hell, and the happiness radiating off him was adorable.

Watching Anthony play hockey had been hot from the start. Watching him after I’d had my hands all over that gorgeous body? After I’d stared down at him while he eagerly sucked my dick? Ooh, that took his hockey to a whole new level of hot.

When he checked that one guy into the boards—oh, hell yeah.

And oh, wow, after he scored, the way he smiled was just… ungh. He was so hot.

I may have also gotten a little too much satisfaction out of the obviously fake smile on Simon’s face. I didn’t usually revel in someone else’s misery, but he’d been such a punk to Anthony, I didn’t feel bad about enjoying his aggravation.

Shame he couldn’t hear the commentators gushing over his ex.

“I don’t know what lit a fire under Aussie, but he has been dialed in for the last several games,” one said. “Not just defensively, either. His offense has been just incredible.”

“You’re right about that, Jim,” the other replied. “Aussie is usually a defensive defenseman, but he’s suddenly been turning into a two-hundred-foot player. Now he’s getting a shorthanded goal past Drew Spitzer.”

“They say defensemen take a little longer to mature than forwards,” the first mused. “I think despite the rough start this season, we’re watching Anthony Austin come into his own.”

I didn’t know what a lot of that meant, but it was clearly complimentary. Well-deserved, too. Even I could see the difference in Anthony’s play lately. It had been a little rough for a few days after he and Simon broke up, but then he’d suddenly broken out of that funk. The commentators’ attitudes about him had shifted dramatically, and Anthony himself had looked so much less frustrated on the ice.

Maybe he really was coming into his own as a defenseman. Or maybe, unbeknownst to almost everyone, he just wasn’t suffocating under the weight of trying to reconcile with Simon. I’d been in that situation before—struggling to save a relationship that was, in hindsight, dead and gone—and the relief that came with letting go was mind-blowing.

He was playing better hockey these days? No shit.

The rest of the game was anything but boring. Though the first period had been kind of dull, the second had both teams out for blood, especially after Anthony’s goal. They might as well have put a revolving door on both penalty boxes, and two players ended up ejected after a fight. I didn’t even think the fight was that bad—a few punches and some yelling—but by that point, it seemed like the refs had just had enough.

In the end, Seattle beat Minneapolis 4-1. Anthony wouldn’t be home for a while—he still had to shower and eat—so I chilled in front of the TV and watched the postgame show. I’d always hated those when my Army buddies and I watched football. Like, what was the point? We just watched the game. We know this team needed to pass more and run more—we fucking saw it.

But with hockey, I didn’t mind, mostly because I was still trying to learn the sport. One of the commentators would take a play, slow it down, and draw lines and arrows to indicate what was happening, and that helped organize the utter chaos into actual order and strategy. The amount of cooperation, communication, and trust between hockey players was fascinating to me. How some of them were absolute magic together, but they all had to be able to work with any of their teammates, often coming up with strategies on the fly.

There was even a guy on Anthony’s team who could bounce a puck off the boards and have it go straight to one of his teammates to set up a scoring chance. How? How? I couldn’t even work out the trigonometry required to make a bank shot on a pool table. Bank a puck while skating twenty miles an hour and have that puck reach someone else who was going equally fast? That was… I don’t know, witchcraft or something.

The postgame show wrapped up, so I switched off the TV and got up to finish cleaning from when I’d made dinner earlier. It wasn’t much of a mess—just a couple of dishes in the sink—but I didn’t like leaving Anthony’s kitchen in disarray.

I was just starting the dishwasher when the cats, who’d been chilling on the cat tree, suddenly whipped their heads toward the kitchen. About two seconds later, the garage door started.

Both cats darted into the kitchen and onto the island.

Lily, who was lying on the floor by the couch, looked up, but she didn’t seem overly concerned, and she put her head back down.

Footsteps came toward the kitchen door. Both cats started purring even louder, kneading on the tile, and… I mean, I could honestly relate. I was happy he was home, too.

Then the door opened. I managed to hold on to my dignity and not chirp like Moose or almost fall off the counter like Bear. I did, however, shamelessly look Anthony up and down as he greeted the cats. I would never in a million years get tired of the way this man looked in a suit. Tonight he was wearing a plaid gray-and-blue suit with a dark blue tie, and his tailor had clearly been doing the Lord’s work.

After he’d taken a moment to say hello to his boys, I stepped closer and slid an arm around him. “So are you going to say hi to me, too?”

He grinned, pulling me in close. “Well, maybe if you got on the counter and danced for me, I’d—”

“Oh my God.” I snorted. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

He did, in fact, shut up and kiss me. We were both still laughing, but our lips quickly softened into a long, lazy kiss.

After a while, he touched his forehead to mine. “Hello to you, too.”

“What can I say?” I licked my lips. “I’ve been looking forward to you getting home.”

“Mmhmm. Same.” He nudged me up against the counter. “Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on hockey after you’ve sucked my brains out my dick?”

“I don’t know. You looked like you were doing just fine.” I kissed him lightly. “Congrats on the goal, by the way.”

He smiled. “Thanks. Maybe that means pre-game blowjobs are good luck?”

“Ooh, that’s a possibility. We should make it a thing.”

He laughed again, then claimed another kiss. God, I loved the way he kissed. And the hard-on pressing against my hip had all kinds of dirty thoughts swirling in my head.

“So after all that hockey today…” I slid my hands up his chest on either side of his tie. “Do you have anything left for me?”

Anthony groaned softly, pressing his dick harder against me. “Probably can’t handle getting fucked. But hockey doesn’t wear out my mouth.”

So it didn’t.

Anthony left earlythe next morning for practice, and he was gone most of the day for a team meeting and some other obligations. Something about reviewing film, I guess? I was still learning all the things hockey players were required to do besides, you know, playing hockey.

By the time he came home, I’d cooked up some light pasta for dinner, and after we’d eaten, we settled on the couch with some wine. We’d talked easily over dinner, but now he was a little quiet. Not cold-shouldering me or anything, just… preoccupied.

“Hey.” I nudged his foot with mine. “You still here?”

He shook himself. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m…” He sipped his wine. “I was just thinking.”

I tilted my head. “About?”

Anthony stared into his wineglass for a long moment. When he met my gaze again, his expression was completely serious. “I, um… If we’re going to keep doing this—getting involved with each other, I mean…” He chewed his lip. “Look, I’ve been in situations where the other person had… I don’t want to say ‘control,’ and ‘power’ doesn’t even fit right. Or… hell, maybe it does, but…”

I watched him, but then the pieces came together. “You’re worried about the power dynamic because of our, uh, situation?”

He nodded. “I don’t want to put you in a position where you feel like you’re stuck. Or like you can’t say no.” He put his hand over mine on my knee. “I just… want to make sure we’re in this because we want to be.”

“I do want to be here.” I turned my hand over beneath his. “I have no idea what we’re doing, but it feels good. That has to mean something, right?”

“I think it does. Doesn’t have to be any more complicated than two guys making each other feel good, right?”

“Except I do live with you.” I ran my thumb alongside his. “That could complicate things.”

He seemed to consider it, then shrugged. “It isn’t like we’re in each other’s hair 24/7. I’m either traveling, practicing, or playing most of the time, so…”

“That’s true. So we have some breathing room.”

He nodded, and a cautious grin formed on his lips. “Not that I want a whole lot of breathing room right now.”

I returned the grin and slid in closer. “Breathing room is highly overrated.”

He laughed softly just before our lips met, and then we were lost in one of those long, indulgent kisses that were quickly becoming my favorite thing in the world.

When he drew back, though, his expression had turned serious again. “I mean it, by the way. I want this to be something we both want. Not an obligation. I don’t want you to think you staying here is contingent on us…” He gestured at both of us. “Or that you can’t say no. You can always say no.”

I nodded, but as I thought about it… “What happens if I want to leave, though? I don’t, but if things do go south…”

Anthony ran his fingers through my hair. “If things don’t work out, or we decide a month from now that we can’t stand each other anymore, I’ll help you make arrangements. I’ll put you and Lily up somewhere if we need to be away from each other. Even if we can’t live together, I’m not throwing you back out there.” He stroked my cheek. “Just… I don’t want you to think anything is contingent on you putting out.”

I covered his hand with mine and nodded slowly. Truth was, I hadn’t even gotten to that before he’d brought it up. I would have, absolutely—I knew I was in a seriously vulnerable position—but my brain just hadn’t landed there yet. The fact that Anthony made it there before I did, and that he was worried, put my mind at ease. People could absolutely change, or they could show their true colors when things got ugly, but Anthony had been kind and genuine from the beginning.

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll take it a day at a time. If it doesn’t work… I trust you not to throw us out.”

“Never in a million years,” he whispered, and kissed me as if to drive that point home.

I knew it wasn’t that simple. Everyone swore they’d always be there for someone, but all it took was a nasty breakup to change that tune really quick. Still, this was a man who’d brought me into his home when I was a complete stranger, and he’d let me stay here even when he’d had nothing to gain. Long before sex was on the table, he’d opened his home to me without asking for anything in return or dangling it over my head.

So… I believed him. Yeah, there was a power imbalance between us, but he was as cognizant of it as I was, and nothing about him struck me as someone who’d take advantage of such an imbalance. I felt safe with him. I was safe with him. And I wasn’t someone who took safety for granted anymore.

“I think we’re on the same page,” I said softly. “I’m not worried if you’re not.”

He studied me, then nodded. “We’re good. Just say so if it ever feels like things are lopsided, you know?”

“I will. I promise.”

We moved on to lighter subjects, but something still seemed to be bothering him. He wasn’t distant, just… distracted.

“Hey.” I put my hand on his thigh. “You still with me? We’re good about everything, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re good.” He twisted toward me, resting his wineglass on his knee. “I, um… There’s something I’m curious about. With you and your situation. But I also don’t want to pry.”

I watched him uncertainly. “I’m an open book, so… what’s on your mind?”

Anthony rolled some wine around in his mouth for a moment. After he’d swallowed it, he asked, “Do you have family you can reach out to?”

I dropped my gaze into my glass as my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach.

“You don’t have to answer,” he said quickly. “I really don’t want to pry or anything. But like, I was thinking if things go south with us, and there’s somewhere else you can go, then I want to help you get there. But also if you just… If you have family you want to see, you know? I can help with that, too.”

A lump rose in my throat. God, this man was just too damn good. I took another sip of wine, then cleared my throat. “My family situation is, um… It’s complicated.”

His brow pinched. “No contact?”

“No, no, we’re not estranged or anything. We actually have a really good relationship.” I absently swirled my wine and avoided looking at him. “The thing is, my dad has cancer. It’s stage four, and… I mean, he’s doing as good as can be expected, you know?” I raised my gaze to meet Anthony’s. “The treatments are slowing it down, but the treatments and the cancer are slowing him down, too. My mom is pretty much his 24/7 caretaker, and their insurance only covers so much of the bills, so they’re…” I pushed out a breath. “If they knew their son was homeless? Fuck, I honestly think it would break them. They don’t need that right now.”

Anthony stared at me with wide eyes. “So they… They don’t know. About any of it.”

I shook my head. “As far as they know, I’m still working at the company that laid me off two years ago. I’m still living in my apartment. That’s… I hate lying to them, you know? But telling them the truth—I can’t do that to them. Especially not now.”

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“It sucks,” I admitted. “All of it.” I wiped a hand over my face, then petted Lily just to keep my blood pressure from shooting up. “Dad’s getting a break from his treatment here pretty soon, and Mom wants me to come see them, but…” I trailed off, shaking my head.

Anthony was quiet for a moment. “Where do they live?”

“Portland.” I moistened my lips. “Oregon, not Maine.” I laughed bitterly. “They might as well be in Maine for all I can get there, though.”

The instant I said it, I regretted it, because I knew what was coming.

Anthony shifted a little. “If you want to see them, I can—”

“Don’t,” I whispered, shaking my head. “You’ve already done so much more for me than I have any right to ask. I can’t ask for that too.”

“You’re not.” He looked me right in the eye. “Do you want to see your family over the holidays?”

My voice was instantly thick. How could it not be? Nodding, I whispered, “Yes. Of course I do.”

He touched my arm. “Then let me help. I can get you a train ticket. Fly you down. Hell, if you want, I’ll drive. I’ve been meaning to visit Portland since I moved here.”

I blinked. “But… I mean, you’ve put me up. You’ve spent God knows how much on making sure Lily and I have what I need. There’s no way I can even pay this forward, never mind pay you back.”

“You don’t have to,” he said gently. “This isn’t an investment or something. You needed help, and I have the means to help. And I care about you—I want to help. It’s really that simple.”

I avoided his gaze. The shame roiling in my stomach was all too familiar. Given society’s thoughts on being poor, especially being homeless, I didn’t think it was possible to not feel shame in my situation. Still sucked, though.

Anthony squeezed my arm. “You deserve better than living out there. And no matter what hand you’ve been dealt, you deserve to be able to see your family.”

I swallowed hard, trying not to choke on my emotions. “I appreciate that.” Despite that ball of shame, I made myself meet his eyes. “I… don’t want to ask for anything, especially after everything you’ve—”

“You’re not asking.” He gave my arm another squeeze, then withdrew his hand. “I’m the one asking. Do you want to go to Portland and see your family?”

Pride and shame and all those other emotions screamed at me to say no, but my God, being away from my family—especially with everything my parents were going through—had been killing me. I quite literally swallowed my pride and managed to whisper, “Yes. I do.”

“Okay.” Anthony nodded sharply. “You tell me when, and… I’ll make it happen.”

The rush of gratitude was dizzying. “Thank you. It’s… It really means a lot.”

His smile—God, this beautiful man…

I wanted to tell him that I’d be thrilled to get on the first train or bus to Portland, but some twinkling colored lights outside the window reminded me what time of year this was. I didn’t know if the idea that came to me was a good one, but I put it out there anyway.

“Do you, um…” I swallowed. “Do you have plans for Christmas?”

Anthony shook his head and reached for his drink. “No. We were supposed to spend it with Simon’s parents this year, so mine are going to Greece.”

“So you’re just… here?”

He shrugged as he took a sip. “Probably, yeah. I’d spend it with my teammates, but…”

“But they’ll ask why you’re not with Simon.”

“Bingo.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure my mom would be thrilled to have someone else at the table.”

Anthony froze. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, definitely.” In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. “There’s really nothing I can do to make up for everything you’ve done for me. Having you join us for Christmas is… I’d say it’s the least I can do, but it’s probably the most I can do.”

He stared at me for a few seconds. Long enough to make me wonder if maybe the idea had sounded better in my head.

I cleared my throat. “If you want to, I mean. If you’d rather—”

“It sounds great.” Anthony’s smile made the floor tilt beneath me. “As long as I’m not imposing. I know your mom’s got her hands full right now.”

“She does, but honestly, having a ton of people over for Christmas is like the highlight of her year.” I managed a smile myself. “She loves having a full house.”

“I’d be happy to tag along. Just… make sure she’s really okay with it. Given everything she’s handling right now…”

“I will. But I can pretty much guarantee she’ll be thrilled.” She would be, too. No matter how overwhelmed she was, fawning all over visitors was one of her favorite things in the world. She’d always been a social butterfly, but she’d had to become somewhat of a shut-in ever since Dad got sick, which hadn’t been good for her. And that made me feel guiltier for not coming to visit more. I could’ve helped with Dad, but also given her something else to focus on. Maybe, in some small way, bringing a new guest for Christmas would lift her spirits a bit. I met Anthony’s gaze again. “What, um… What about Moose and Bear? I think they’ve gotten used to having someone here all the time.”

Anthony laughed. “I’ve got a friend who’ll come in and check on them. She’ll take them for walks, too, if the weather is nice. I guarantee they’ll put me on a monster guilt trip when I get back, but they’ll be fine.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds like them.” Sobering, I quietly asked, “So… you’d really be game to come meet my family? Spend the holidays with us?” Hope swelled in my chest, both at the prospect of seeing my family and of introducing them to Anthony.

His smile made my heart flutter. “I’d love to.”

I leaned across the cushions and kissed him softly.

And for the first time in a long time, I had something to look forward to.