21. Hunter

Nothing rattled me more than seeing Tyler walk through those doors with that look on his face—one of a man about to give up. He looked ready to jump on the next flight home—and my heart was ready to go right along with him. A twinge of jealousy hit me at the simple thought of him spending the night with someone else. A small, stupid part of me still worried that he might take the easy way: appearing straight. Though when he mentioned the phone call home, the puzzle pieces began to fall into place.

I knew I had to do everything in my power to remind him why he was here. I hoped that everyone took my hand on his neck as a brotherly embrace, though Tyler and I knew it was anything but. His pulse spiked beneath my fingertips and his breath hitched as my lips hovered close to his. His eyes tracked every movement of my mouth, silently begging for a kiss.

That firm touch and my words seemed to break whatever had him in a chokehold. I watched as he came to life on the ice, that smile he reserved for a select few spread wide for the cameras. The world was catching a glimpse of the Aussie glow, and the crowd loved it. I knew then that I would spend my night replaying that video, waiting to hear what the commentators had to say and to see the public's reaction. I had no doubt they were falling for that golden Aussie boy as much as I was.

By the third period, we had it in the bag. We were up by two with eight minutes left on the clock. UMass was furious, fighting hard to breach the blue line and challenge our goalie, Preston McLean. Preston stood poised, but I couldn't ignore the slight jitter in his glove as the UMass forward closed in. I accelerated to intercept the puck, sensing the looming threat of another player aiming to knock me off course to create a clear path for their forward to the net.

The sound of a collision echoed through the rink. I gained control of the puck, swiftly directing it back to my team. Jarman guided the puck toward the blue line when the referee's whistle pierced the air. Confused, I scanned the ice, certain that Jarman wasn't offside. Then, my attention focused on the scene behind me.

Tyler laid crumpled on the ice. The UMass defenseman towered over him, shouting in his face. The towering UMass defenseman had him pinned, shouting fiercely into his face.

"Fucker! You think you can hit me!" He grabbed Tyler's visor, lifting his head then smashing it to the ice with a sickening thud.

I saw red. Before I could blink I had his jersey in my fists, pulling him off and poised to lay a blow to his face when hands on my biceps held me back.

"Chill, man. Chill." It was Jarman, his voice smooth and calming. "He's getting a penalty."

"He fucked with my man! He fucked wi—"

"I know And he'll pay on and off the ice," he assured me. "You won't be any good to anyone sitting next to him." He only loosened his grip once I relaxed and he gave me a pat on the back as he stepped away. I looked over to see Mouse helping Tyler to his feet. Without hesitation, I rushed over, not stopping until I could see those beautiful eyes of his.

"Guy can't take a hit. All I did was check him away from you, and he lost his shit," Tyler explained. He shook himself off as if being laid out on the ice was no big deal. He laid a hand on my shoulder and I swear I could feel the heat even through the pads. "I'm fine."

I studied him, wondering if he could see my desire to take him somewhere private to see how "fine" he really was.

Jarman led Mouse to position to give us a few moments alone. Finally, Tyler smirked at me and lowered his voice. "Keep those bedroom eyes to yourself, Boston; someone might see."

During the power play, Tyler added an assist to his game stats. If he was hurt at all by the hit, he didn't show it. If anything, it fueled his fire. The cameras captured that cocky grin of his, and the crowd went wild for it.

For the record, so did I.

I had an addiction, one that became increasingly evident—especially in the locker room. My eyes couldn't help but study my teammate in a way they shouldn't. Pink slowly darkened on Tyler's skin, showing the first hints of bruises from the hit. In another universe, I'd be soothing every inch of sore skin with my lips. But reality was a nasty bitch, and I was forced to tear my eyes away. I tried to ignore Tyler's jerky movements as he tried to rush out of the change room.

"In a hurry again, Riley?" I attempted to keep my tone light, but the quirk of his brow meant that I failed… epically.

"Got things to do and people to see, Boston," he quipped back. Without so much as a second glance in my direction, he effortlessly threw his bag over his shoulder and left before I could blink. The lingering tension hung in the air as I resisted the urge to follow, realizing that some desires had to remain confined within the walls of the locker room.