28. Hunter

Ilistened to the overhead announcements, waiting for Tyler's connecting flight. I needed him in my arms. Seeing his broken expression was one thing, but hearing that break in his voice and not being able to hold him was ten times worse.

I breathed a sigh of relief when their flight finally landed. It felt like an eternity until I saw him emerge from baggage claim with his arm around a blond boy whose head reached his shoulder. His eyes were covered by the cap on his head, but I didn't miss the beard he had grown over the last few days. It was as auburn as his hair, and I itched to get my hands on him.

I didn't know what the protocol was. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to go to him. Did Jamie know who I was? But like he knew I was watching him, his eyes met mine, and I wasn't oblivious to the dark circles framing his.

I began to move, and he said something to his brother who then pushed him in my direction. Tyler sped up, I got a glimpse of his lip quivering before I swept him up in my arms. I felt the shift of his breath as he tried to hold his composure, which only broke my heart even more.

"I've got you, baby. I've got you."

I took the hat off his head, needing to thread my fingers through his hair. His head was firmly buried in the crook of my neck, and I took a deep breath in, relishing the scent of him.

He turned his head to the side, seeking out my lips. The kiss was quick and chaste, but I understood. I held him for a little while longer before I pulled him back and brushed his tears away with my thumbs.

I wanted nothing more than to hold his hand, but I pulled away. I hated how we had to act like that extremely intimate moment never happened. He replaced the cap on his head and turned to his brother to make introductions.

I held out my hand to the little Aussie. He took it in a firm grip with a smile, but his eyes told another story: don't fuck with his brother.

We reached his dorm, and I felt torn. Every part of me urged me to stay with him. Sensing my hesitation, Tyler grabbed my wrist and pulled me in behind him.

I had never been inside before. The small living and kitchen area were tidy but lacked any personality. I expected to see at least some trace of Cal. As if he thought the same, Tyler froze and frowned.

"Cal?"

Upon hearing his name, Cal ran bolted from his room and threw himself around Tyler, mumbles of condolences muffled in his shoulder. tried not to let my teeth grind with the green-eyed monster that wanted to take over seeing Tyler embrace him back. I felt an elbow to my side and found Jamie rolling his eyes at me.

Tyler pulled away from the embrace. "Thanks, but what happened to the couch?"

"Well, you said your brother was staying with us.So, I got us a new couch; it's a pull-out so your brother can have a bed to sleep on."

I wish I had thought of that. I watched Tyler's face soften, his hand clasping his roommates. "Thanks, Cal."

There was a moment of introductions between Cal and Jamie. "So, Jamie, how about you and I go do some sightseeing? I happen to know of a few mixed martial arts gyms in the area. Maybe we can get you signed up somewhere."

Jamie smiled softly. "Sounds good. Is that okay, Ty?"

Tyler nodded, but I didn't miss the warning in the look he shared with Cal. "Protect him at all costs."

"I'll bring some food back for us. Hunter, are you staying?"

I looked to Tyler for guidance, and he took my hand.

"I'll take that as a yes," Cal answered. "See you two hunks soon." He winked and Jamie scoffed.

"Please don't corrupt my brother!" Tyler called as they disappeared through the wooden door.

The soft click was like a wall going down. The man who was holding everything together turned to look at me, and I saw every ounce of pain behind those eyes. I took his hand and led him into the room I presumed to be his. I don't know how I knew my guy would be the stupidly organized type, but I did. His bed was made so tightly you could bounce a coin off it. It was much like him as a person—the outward display of perfection, but only a cover for old worn sheets of someone who has gone through too much.

The moment his door closed, I grunted at the impact of his body hitting mine. He snuggled into the crook of my neck, his breathing heavy enough to make me sweat.

"I've got you, baby. I got you."

His cries were spontaneous and unforgiving. I held onto him tightly, even as he began to buckle under the weight of his grief. "They're gone," he wailed. "They're both gone."

I held him silently. I couldn't say anything—there was nothing to say. Nothing made any of this okay. Voicing that wouldn't make anything better. It sucked, that was the reality of it. The shittiest things happen to the best people. He never deserved to lose one of his parents, let alone both.

"I don't think I ever really processed it, you know?" he sniffled. "That fact he was gone. Because right after Mum was diagnosed with cancer, then it became about looking after her while protecting Jamie and pretending that I was okay. Fuck, Hunt—all I've done is pretend to be okay."

The tears that fell from my eyes were as much for him as they were for me. I knew what that was like, putting on a mask for everyone. Though I could handle it—my burden was nothing like that of Tyler's. I led him to the bed, laying down and pulling him close.

"I just keep thinking about how I won't be able to call back home and tell her about my day. She'll never be at my games; she will never get to see if I go pro."

"You will go pro. And whether you believe in an afterlife or not, baby, I believe she'll be watching. She'll see you shoot that first NHL goal, win that first game—and she'll see you win the Stanley Cup. That I know for sure. You're impossible not to keep tabs on, even in the afterlife."

I wasn't sure if I was saying the right things. But when those teary blue eyes looked at me, they told me something I said helped at least a little.

He dipped forward to kiss me, and all the emotions he couldn't put into words were instead tattooed upon my lips. I felt every hint of grief, but I also felt his affection towards me. I didn't stop him because selfishly, I wanted any bit of Tyler Riley he would give me. He lifted onto his elbow and the kiss grew in passion. When he rolled on top of me, I placed my hand on his chest to make him pause. His heart beat fast and heavy under my palm.

"Baby, are you sure? We can just lie here together." Again, I questioned the right and wrong of supporting the person you loved through grief. If there was a textbook it likely would say "Don't let them fuck the emotions away."

"Yes. I need you. I need to feel you, feel something that will bring me back from this all. I need to be grounded. You do that for me."

My heart stilled in my chest. I wanted him to feel that, because he was more than wanted. He was becoming my center—my home and that was scary. Despite the voice that told me I shouldn't, I nodded. I let him take off my clothes, then I did the same for him. I kissed every freckle, every groove of muscle, hoping he had the ability to know how I felt for him with my touch alone.

He matched me touch for touch and when it was time, he leaned over to his side drawer and pulled out what we needed.

He rolled the condom onto me before I took my time prepping him. I stretched him, getting him good and ready for me as his head fell back. The cords of his neck were taut with the pleasure I gave him. His breathing was heavy, his groans bouncing off the bare walls of his bedroom.

He tugged my hand from his ass in silent demand and I watched, entranced as he took control, angling my cock to his entrance. My breath came out in short, stuttered pants as he sank down, enveloping my shaft in the warmth of his body. My balls drew tight.

Tyler paused, but only for a moment. I didn't know whether it was for him to adjust or to keep me from blowing my load right then and there.

Then, he began to move. He rocked his hips at a tantalizing pace. I fought against letting my eyes close, desperate to keep my eyes on the image of Tyler riding me like he was designed for it. I brushed away the hair that fell over his face so I could fully appreciate the soft light from the window filtering through the curtain to highlight every perfect angle.

I sat up, needing to be closer. With my arms wrapped around his waist, I let him take everything he needed from me, occasionally bucking up to hit just the right spot. His lips molded with mine, and we let ourselves get lost in one another. It wasn't lost on us that this was no longer just fucking, and with it, our orgasms didn't hit hard and fast like before. The build was slow, but twice as euphoric. The tingle of pleasure built until we crashed over the edge together, melting into each other with our mutual climaxes.

We stayed there wrapped up in each other's embrace, sweat cooling on our skin and the scent of sex heavy around us. As our noses brushed and our foreheads rested together, I thought about the amazing man laying on me. His strength was beyond admirable. He showed impeccable strength in the darkest of times. But despite all that, I wanted to be there for him, through the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I leaned in to give him one more kiss before we eventually fell asleep.

The creak of the front door jolted me awake. A gentle knock followed that signaled Jamie's arrival.

"Dinner's here," his youthful voice called out through the door.

Tyler mumbled back a drowsy response, prompting me to steal a glance at him. His hair was tousled, eyes tired, yet a newfound relaxation graced his features.

We quickly got dressed and as I attempted to tame Tyler's unruly hair, I couldn't help but wonder how much he cared about his brother's perception. Tyler caught my hand, rolling his eyes, "She'll be right, I need a shower anyways."

In the living room, a subtle, suspicious exchange of glances passed between Jamie and Cal. Tyler held my hand as we settled on the couch, where he wrinkled his nose at the pizza on the table.

"Told you!" Jamie laughed, pointing his slice at Cal. Perplexed, I scanned the room, trying to determine what was going on.

Calinterrupted my thoughts, "Fine, you were right. I also bought chicken and salad, it's in the fridge. Jamie told me you wouldn't eat the pizza but I thought you would want some comfort food."

"If you think I am dropping the ball on my meal plans now, you're horribly mistaken," Tyler declared, rising to retrieve his preferred meal.

Jamie seemed to read my confusion and chimed in. "He never ever breaks his meal plan during hockey season."

"That's not true! I drank alcohol!" Tyler defended himself.

"Baby, you drank alcohol twice," I said. "And I would bet that you went on extra runs to burn the calories, am I right?" Even with that knowledge, Tyler's commitment to the sport went beyond what I initially grasped. He was the lone figure on the team who was strict about his meals during team dinners, and aside from those two parties, I couldn't recall a moment when he deviated from his pursuit of perfection.

Cal chuckled. "Oh, your baby definitely did."

Tyler lightly smacked Cal over the back of the head, which I knew was more for the baby comment than anything else. The room filled with laughter, a mixture of camaraderie and revelations about the meticulous planning behind Tyler's seemingly flawless game plan.

I didn't think much of calling him the pet name, but it hit me that he may not like me calling him that in front of others.

"It is scientifically proven that the right intake of food, will keep an athlete on the top of their game," he explained. "I don't need anything weighing me down. If the pro's do it, so will I."

"Baby, the pros still eat pizza."

He gave me that adorable eye roll that told me though I may be right, he wouldn't be listening to me.

Right then and there I made it my mission to eventually get my Aussie to have some American pizza.

I never really felt like I had a proper family. Kinsley was the closest thing, but sitting there on Tyler's living room floor with him sandwiched between my legs, our fingers twisted together from the arm I had over his shoulders- was the closest thing to a family I ever had. Cal was spinning his wild stories, and Jamie, now comfortably in his bed, was cracking up at Cal's crazy tales of failed romances and wild skate partners.

I sometimes got a bit jealous thinking about Cal being a big part of Tyler's life but in moments like these, I was glad Tyler had a friend who could distract him from all the pain. My eyes kept drifting to the brothers, especially the way Tyler watched Jamie. Every time Jamie laughed, Tyler squeezed my hand, like he couldn't get enough of that sound.

Simply holding Tyler like that, in such a casual way, meant a lot to me. Silently, I began to plot in my head. I wasn't sure how I'd keep it going, but I wanted it to.

I woke to the blaring of my phone, my Aussie clinging to me like a koala. I let my arm fall to find the offending piece of technology and with it in my hand, I looked down. Reality smacked me in the face with the image of my dad's name was lit up on the screen.

As if he could sense the change in my demeanor, Tyler lifted his head, and despite the cuteness of the small crease between his brows, it did nothing to settle me. I leaned to kiss his hair.

"My dad—I have to take it. I don't know how long I will be so, I'll see you later?" The two lines between his brow didn't leave as he watched me change and head for his door. "If you need anything, please call, okay?"

"Um, sure." Tyler said, his confusion evident, and it broke me that I couldn't stop to explain.

I stepped into the quiet hallway, grateful for the early hour that kept the place barren.

"Yeah?" I answered the phone, the nerves already settling in.

"Is that how you answer the phone to your father?" Even his tone made me flinch.

"Sorry, sir."

"Mmhmm, remember that I helped your little friend. Don't think I can't take that away with one simple phone call."

A chill ran down my spine. The memories of that night flooded back. Kinsley's mom was confined to a nursing home as a result, trapped in her own body. Every visit echoed with the haunting thought that it could have been my best friend lying in that bed. The fear of that man seeking revenge on his daughter for putting him in prison lingered heavily in my mind.

"I'm sorry, sir," I muttered, grappling with the weight of those memories.

I heard a noncommittal grunt before he steered the conversation to the reason for his call. "I need you home for a couple of evenings. Bring your best suit and your best behavior. No repeats of last year."

The mention of last year triggered a pang of unease. After a particularly hard set of exams, Kinsley and I drowned our sorrows in alcohol which led to some pretty reckless behavior. I could still hear my father shouting about how we disrespected him in his own home.

"Yes, sir." He signed off, sending me the details of the event in a detailed email.

Though it nearly killed me, I chose not to return to Tyler's bedroom. I wanted to avoid those prying eyes that could read my expression. He'd only pry for more information, and I wasn't sure I could keep it from him. Conflicted about my connection with Tyler, I knew I had to distance myself with the upcoming events. Tyler occupied every corner of my mind, yet I needed to withdraw.

I needed to protect him.

Choosing between avoiding Tyler and playing puppet for my dad was like a game of Pick Your Poison. The whole soiree was happening in some posh gentleman's club, a space filled with people who probably voted against everything I was. They were all smiles and laughter, pretending everything was hunky-dory under my dad's scrutinizing gaze. But he was keeping his word—Kinsley's dad stayed put, thanks to some prison brawl. Kinsley's ecstatic call was the silver lining in this unrelenting thunderstorm.

In the middle of it all, was Mr. Nolan White, with his slimy, veneered smile shining under the lights. It's the kind of smile that lures you in, only to chew you up and spit you out. The rumors trailing behind him are as nasty as the smell in a high school boys' locker room.

"So, your dad says you're off to Harvard to finish your undergrad?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with some twisted power trip. I was half-tempted to dial child protective services or find someone who would. But before I could fire back, my dad slapped his hefty hand on my shoulder. I've always wondered if letting me play hockey was his way of justifying the bruises.

"Why didn't you start there in the first place?"

My immediate response was an eye roll, but before I could say anything smart back, my dad butted in. His grip on my shoulder made it clear that there was no escape. Our unspoken family dynamics lingered beneath the surface, hidden behind forced smiles and polite small talk.

"I wanted him to get this little hobby out of his system while he studied. His university was the best hockey team in Boston, but they also do a lot for our firm."

Nolan gave a knowing smile. "Of course, let him get all the rough and tumble out. I do follow your team; quite a season minus that one game."

I nodded, not wanting to cue him in as to why we had a blip in our winning streak.

"That young Aussie was quite some player."

The mention of him had me tightening my fists involuntarily. Before I could tell that fool to keep my Aussie's name out of his mouth, Dad dug his fingers into my shoulder so hard I winced.

"He is," I replied, hoping that he'd drop the topic and my father would ease his grip.

"What's he like to play with? Is it true what they say about Australians?"

"Just like any other player, sir. Good at what he does, has something to prove," I deflected. Nolan, having decided he wasn't going to get the gossip he was after, politely excused himself from our presence.

I'd hoped my father's grip on my shoulder would relent with Nolan's departure, but each finger left its mark. I was already calculating how to hide these bruises from the team—especially Tyler.

"Next time, I expect you to keep the topic off hockey, you hear?"

My instinct was to spit back, but what was the point? This was a gentleman's club, where they talked business, sport, and women. It just so happened that I played a sport popular in the state of Boston. But I decided it was better to hold my tongue.

"Yes, Sir," I relented, another piece of my soul chipping away as I let my father walk over me again.

The feeling of my phone buzzing made me jump. The heavy sigh behind me revealed my father's displeasure with the interruption.

"Take that and then turn it off," he instructed. I nodded and scurried away into the dark hallway, pulling out my phone to see Kinsley's name.

"Hey, I'm kind of busy. Is everything okay?"

"Well, I was calling to ask you that. You've been MIA for weeks. The last time I heard from you was when I called about Dad—way before midterms. One would think you're avoiding me."

I sighed, instinctively reaching to comb my hand through my hair. But just as quickly as they grasped the roots, I pulled them away, mindful of where I was. My father's potential reaction to my disheveled appearance echoed in my head. "Gotta keep up appearances, Hunter."

"I've been busy with training and midterms, that's all. Everything is fine. Can I call you later? I'm out at the moment," I attempted to keep my voice light and nonchalant, but Kinsley knew better.

"Hunter, where are you?"

I hesitated, not wanting to add any stress to her plate. I loved Kinsley, but sometimes she could be a bit overreactive. I didn't need that right now.

"At an event with my father. It's completely voluntary, and there are people from the firm here I need to know for when the time comes," I fabricated, cursing myself for the silly lie. She gasped, and it was all I could do not to pull at my own hair.

"Hunter, you're not going to work with that man. You've never wanted to. Your dream is the NHL—to fund your own life and play hockey."

I sighed, contemplating my response just as I spotted my father at the end of the hall. His expression said it all, and a condescending touch of his watch was his signal that my time was up.

"Look, Kins, you've caught me at a bad time. I'll call you later."

She began to protest, but I quickly hung up and turned my phone off. A small part of me was already working up excuses in the back of my mind, fully aware that Kinsley would demand real answers—answers I wasn't ready to provide.

Returning to my father, I couldn't shake the disapproving look in his eyes.

"Go mingle, make us look good. Then you're to come back with me to the house."

I sighed and nodded, swallowing the dread that the latter half of that sentence brought up.