33. Tyler

The hardwood floors protested my weight as I dragged myself through the door. My temples throbbed with the painful reminder of my collision with the goalpost. Note to self: helmets can only protect you from so much.

Two worried faces greeted me as I entered the dorm room. Jamie's concern only worsened when he saw how I rubbed my temples. I tried to reassure him by gathering him into my arms. "S'fine, Jamie, just a little bang. You get hit worse in your fights."

He groused but held onto me tight. "You weren't moving," he mumbled into my chest, panic clear in his voice. "That brute from Merrimack had me pinned. I'm fine, really. Even got cleared by the doctors." He nodded without another word, but his embrace said it all.

"I'm not going anywhere, James. You're stuck with me for a lifetime."

"Better be." We stood there for a moment and my eyes met Cal's over Jamie's shoulder, who offered nothing but sympathy in that one gaze.

Eventually, Jamie must have felt secure enough to let go. Given the unpredictable nature of our lives, I couldn't really blame him for thinking I'd vanish into thin air. He asked the question that sat heavy in the room, "So, what did that fucker say to make you crack on with him? You never fight."

"Called me a…" I glanced around the room and considered my audience. "Not so savory term for gay people." Cal and Jamie's eyes widened, and I made my way to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

Jamie's voice followed me. "Why would he call you a—"

"Why would he call you that?" Cal interrupted, sparing me the horror of having to hear that word any more than necessary.

"Pot met kettle, that's why. He's Hunter's ex." The simple feeling of his name in my mouth made my stomach flip. The tension in the room was palpable now.

"Awkward," Jamie mumbled before he began helping me cut vegetables.

"He is just jealous you have him now, that's all," Cal offered.

I barked out a laugh. "Quite the opposite; seems Hunter screwed him over. He was set on letting me know I'd be next."

And I swore then that I was done with Hunter Graves—something I should have done months ago. Our first encounter should have been the universe telling me to stay away—even if he did have that deep, soothing voice, and those ripped muscles and those captivating eyes… Fuck! Even when I was angry at him, he had me in a chokehold.

"It's fine," I said in response to their silence. "I'm done with it all. I don't need this drama."

I chose to ignore the knowing look Cal and Jamie shared. I was moving forward; there was another game tomorrow and we needed to win. I needed to show both Hunter and his crazy ex that they couldn't get under my skin. Even if I had to fake it to make it.

Thankfully, we eased into a comfortable conversation. I listened to Jamie's excitement about his new club where the owner had taken a liking to him. Cal had been helping and between the two of us, we made it work. They also let Jamie hang around during the day, helping with odd jobs so he wasn't cooped up in the dorm. Jamie spoke about the fights he watched, about the dynamics of the guys. But through it all, I could only focus on his smile. Even Cal melted at the sight of my younger brother coming to life. There were times when grief hit him hard, but this escape from reality was doing him some good.

Eventually, Jamie talked himself to sleep, resting with his head on my chest. Cal took himself to bed while I continued to sit there with my brother. It didn't matter that I was wiped, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. The least I could do was sit there and comfort Jamie.

Though I grumbled when a soft knock at the door forced me to disentangle myself. Thankfully, Jamie slept like the dead. I gently laid him down on the couch before moving to open the door.

"Hunter, what are you doing here?" Apparently, that was an invitation enough for Hunter to close the gap between us, his non-injured arm reaching up to grip the door frame. I couldn't tell what was more attractive: his lips just tantalizingly out of reach, the way his hoodie slid up to expose the sexy V of his muscles, or the way his rolled-up sleeves gave me just a peek of his tattoos. I steeled myself before I forgot what I'd decided

"I'm sorry, Tyler," he said. "I'm really fucking sorry."

His presence alone was enough to break me, but I kept my cool.

"For what, Boston?"

His lip quirked into a sad grin. "For everything I suppose—the hot and cold, acting like a dick, not telling you about Zane. Though despite what he thinks, it's his own fault he didn't get into the AHL."

I sighed, "Hunter Graves: damaging everything wherever he goes. Thanks for the apology. See you tomorrow, Boston."

I made to shut the door, but his large palm stopped it. "Ty… please, baby."

I closed my eyes because my heart was beating out of my chest. I couldn't think straight when he called me baby.

"I really am sorry, okay? My life is complicated, but I talked to Jarman, and—"

"Jarman fucking knows?" The fury in my voice was purely driven by the anxiety of being outed to another teammate.

"He already knew. I didn't have to tell him."

I'd had enough. "Leave, Hunter." Then I shut the door in his face.

"Baby…" His voice was broken on the other side of the wooden door. I scolded my heart for wanting to comfort him.

"I am not your baby."

Once I made sure Jamie was tucked in, I retreated to my bedroom. I couldn't shake the feeling that something just within my grasp was going to be yanked away once more.

The second game against Merrimack was almost the same: the hits came hard, but my "don't fuck with me" attitude seemed to work in our favor. Despite our tension off the ice, Hunter and I were magnets in the game. Our passes were flawless and he set me up for two goals that had our home crowd cheering. Hunter tried the post-goal celebration each time, but I was quick to return to the bench and celebrate with everyone else. I just couldn't look at him. Looking at him would mean I would cave, and I couldn't cave. Not anymore.

We finished the game with a one-point win once again. This time, spirits were high as everyone cheered in the locker room, sticks banged against the floor in celebration for a good closing game before winter break. Coach caught my eye and inclined his head to the door, indicating for me to follow. There, just outside the locker room doors, was Connor Bellamy, wearing that million dollar smile. "Hey, kid, great couple of games."

I hoped he didn't notice the way my own smile didn't meet my eyes. Those games were some of the sloppiest I'd ever played. Scrappy wasn't normally my style, but that team deserved it. "I liked seeing the two sides of you. You're a versatile player, which is what the league would be interested in."

Before I could say anything, the doors opened and Hunter approached, his showstopping grin on full display. "Hunter Graves, it's good to meet you." Connor outstretched hand to greet him. Hunter made me a fool by acting calm, cool and collected in front of NHL royalty.

"I should be saying that to you, sir. You're the legend here." Hunter oozed charm, and I found myself naturally fumbling with my gear to appear busy.

"I'm glad you're here. I wanted to say how much I enjoy you two on the ice I have been watching closely, and your connection is great. I hope to see more of it."

"Oh, you will, sir. Aus and I have great chemistry on the ice, but as much as I'd love to take credit, it's all him. He has a striking ability in being able to read his team."

I shot daggers at him with my eyes. What the hell was he doing? Connor gave us a smile and handed a business card to each of us. "It doesn't go unnoticed. Here's my info. I'd like to set up some meetings, and talk about your future."

I took it eagerly, as did Hunter. "Again, good game. Coach, thanks for the tip." Connor waved goodbye to us. I looked down at the card as if it could hold my future. Do you see this, Mum? My stomach churned and I bit my lip to fend off my emotions.

"I knew you'd make it to the big leagues, baby." Hunter bumped into my shoulder, but I pulled away.

"Come on, Riley. You can't stay mad at me forever. You at least have to let me explain."

"Hunter, I'm not in the mood, okay? I saw what I needed to see: a scorned ex who gave me a black eye."

"I was only trying to protect him." Hunter's tone was shaky. I turned to look into his eyes, seeing a disheartened look that got my own heart lurching with the need to comfort him.

"How does breaking someone's nose protect them? Is this some American thing I don't understand? Because where I come from, you call someone a cunt and call it a day."

Hunter choked on a laugh. "Dude, seriously, your language."

I rolled my eyes. "Sorry: a dumb dog, a wanker, twat—any insult. Fists are for a drunken bogan who's sloshed off two cartons by five p.m."

Hunter looked at me like I'd sprouted a second head. "Okay… I was protecting him; he needed to realize I was bad news. He wasn't taking a hint."

"So you'll do the same to me if I get too close? All you have to do is tell me to fuck off."

"No," he whined, looking around as our freshly showered and dressed teammates filed out of the locker room.

"Ausssieeeeee! You celebrating tonight?"

This time, the guys were meeting at a local bar before the after party at the hockey house. I had to think about it, knowing I'd be leaving Jamie alone. "I don't know, man. I don't want James to be all by himself."

"Bring him!" Mouse suggested like he'd just discovered gravity.

Thankfully, Jarman came to my rescue. "He's not bringing his fourteen-year-old brother to a college party."

I gave him what I hoped was a grateful gesture. I hadn't really looked Jarman in the eyes since finding out he knew about me and Hunter. But looking at him now, I could tell that he was someone I could trust. I pulled my eyes away, not wanting to think too hard about the gold-eyed Boston boy standing next to me. Even though I knew that would be near impossible.

Jamie all but shoved me out of the dorm that night. "Dude, I can be alone. I am not five. I have my PlayStation and you meal prep enough to feed a shelter. Go have a night out."

I pulled out my dark jeans, my black Henley, and a thin black jacket, throwing my parka over my shoulders. Cal waited by the door, his eyes scanning me up and down. "Dude, are you robbing a bank or something, or did you just listen to Paramore too much in 2009?" "Don't diss Paramore," I argued, nudging his shoulders. "They're a vibe."

"I am just saying: normally you're a Folklore era kind of guy—Not Reputation. You're even wearing combat boots, my man."

I rolled my eyes. "Nothing wrong with Reputation either; it's a vibe too."

Cal just scoffed. "Boy, did Hunter do a number on you. If you get with another guy, I am totally getting the boombox out and blasting ‘Look What You Made Me Do." outside your bedroom door"

We headed to his car, the whispers in my mind clinging onto that part about the other guy.

Maybe it was time to move on.