36. Hunter

Like something out of an angsty teenage movie, I watched the snow fall outside while I pretended to study the constitutional law book in front of me—that had been open to the same page for an hour. A lone figure stumbled out the front door and onto the snow-patched lawn, lifting a bottle to his lips. He looked to the sky, the small fire pit light catching the reddish hues of his hair. His breath misted out in front of him as he… laughed?

I noted the way the air mingled with his short exhales, the way his chest rose and fell as he shook his head like he was shaking off his thoughts. My body reacted before my mind, and I charged from my room and into the yard.

I opened the sliding door, and despite the increase in noise, he still didn't notice me. I stood on the porch, watching him move around the fire, sipping whiskey like it was the answer to all his problems.

I'd seen Tyler cry before, held him as he broke down in my arms. But I'd never seen him like this. This was a different type of broken, and I didn't like it one bit. His feet didn't know left from right, and his face was void of all emotion.

I took a step closer.

"You know, I never used to be this pathetic," he said, letting me know he was aware of my presence. I moved to take another step, but he pointed at me with the hand holding the whiskey.

"I've always been able to control this stupid feeling. Because I told myself, I could be alone. I was fine, being the guy everyone depended on. I always performed no matter what life threw at me. I prevailed. I proved that I didn't need more than who I already had beside me. Right?"

My eyes began to burn as his pain-infused words hit the frosted air.

"Right?" he repeated, a little louder this time—loud enough to make me flinch.

"Ty…."

"That should be enough: my team, my brother, and hockey. That should be all I need, right?" His voice got louder as tears fell down his cheeks. Though he continued to rub at his temple with his free hand, as if every word hurt.

"But no, one fucking night with you turned into another and another, then poof! "His hands flew out to his sides, whiskey sloshing out of the bottle and splattering onto the fire, sending the flames high. I stepped forward, needing to get that bottle from his hands, but he brought it back to his mouth and turned his back to me.

"Poof, I've lost my mind. Do you know why, Hunter?" He looked over his shoulder.

"Why, baby?" My voice was barely a whisper.

He spun on a growl, charging up to me and stabbing his finger into my chest—right over my heart.

"Because of that, because you made me yours. You called me baby like I was yours!" He screamed loud, too drunk to care if anyone heard. I glanced to the door to see if anyone noticed the scene he was making.

His cheeks were red, face soaked with tears. He had a black eye and a small knot on his head from colliding with the goal post, along with a nasty bruise forming on his chin. Frankly, he was a mess—my beautiful fucking mess.

"See what you just did there? Looking around to see if anyone sees the gay hockey star losing his mind. That's my fucking future: always looking over my shoulder, pining after what I can't have. Looking at you with hearts in my eyes, even though I'm destined for the same fate as Zane: throwing punches at your future lovers who fall for your smart mouth or that soft touch that makes me feel like I'm the only one," he choked out, one jab of his finger before withdrawing from me once more.

"Before you, Boston, I was happy being in the closet. My friends and family were enough. I told myself that one day, when my dreams were said and done, I'd run back home and move to a small country town and meet a country boy and settle down. "

The thought alone was enough to make me snap. I lunged, pinning his arms to his side and holding him tight to my chest so he could feel the low rumble in my chest—my sign of disapproval at the very idea. The whiskey bottle fell to the ground, glass shattering at our feet.

He let out a sob, crumbling in my embrace. "But then you fucking happened, Boston. You saw me, you made me feel. You showed me what I was missing. You gave me another dream that I shouldn't even be fucking thinking about. Because this dream, you and me, could destroy everything."

I held him tighter. "It is you and me, Aussie. I see you, and you see me. That's all we need in this world. I don't care what the future holds, whether it's being miles apart or behind closed doors, I will always be yours—and you'll forever be mine. You will fulfill your dreams, and I'll be right by your side to cheer you on—no matter what. Then when your dreams are said and done, fuck that hypothetical country boy. You'll have the man from Boston who will follow you wherever you go."

His fingers dug into my sides and he shook his head against my shoulder like my words weren't true.

"How do I know you won't break my heart? I don't know if I could survive heartbreak like that."

I sighed, holding him even tighter, like I could keep him there forever. "I can't promise perfection, but I can promise that you'll get the best version of me possible. And if I do, I'll grovel at your feet until you forgive me. I never want to break you, baby. Come to bed and when you're good and sober, I'll explain everything. Then you can decide if you still want me."

He laugh-slash-sobbed into my neck. "I wish I could hate you."

I'd taken many hits in my life, but his words hurt more than any fist I'd ever taken.

"Tomorrow, baby. I'll tell you everything tomorrow. And if you still feel that way, if you still want to hate me, I'll help you forget. If it makes you happy to hate me, I'll make that happen."

He scoffed, soaking my shirt with snot and tears. "You make that sound romantic."

Even through all the hurt, he still made me smile. "Just give me one more time to look after you tonight."

He hummed his approvals. "One more night."

I could tell that the alcohol was taking its toll the more he sank into my touch. "Yeah, baby, one more night." I shifted to put his arm around me, trying not to let my bad shoulder buckle under his weight. Somehow, I managed to trudge his muscular ass across the snow and into the house.

"Oh-ho-ho Aussie is hammered!" Mouse screamed.

In response, Tyler mumbled an almost incoherent "snot-shammered."

I couldn't help but laugh, though with the way his head hung on his shoulders, I felt like I was holding up a ticking time bomb.

Cal rushed over, Eric at his heels. "Fuck, is he okay?" Cal moved in and lifted Tyler's gaze to his.

Aussie barely had it in him to give a lazy smile. "Hi Capt'n ‘merica."

"Oh my god, this is all my fault. I should have been watching him."

Cal flustered, to which Tyler replied, "S'fine, I's a big boy."

That only made me laugh again. "Okay big boy, let's get you to bed." Then I turned to Cal. "Let Jamie know he's crashing here?"

Cal agreed, but his concern didn't waver. I took pleasure in knowing that if Tyler did want to hate me at least he wouldn't be alone.

Tyler's dead weight flopped onto my bed. I rolled my injured shoulder as he groaned and rubbed his head again.

"Head hurts." I wondered how much of that was from the bump on his head and how much of it was booze.

"Alcohol does that, baby." I filled a glass with water from the bathroom and plopped in two aspirin tablets.

"Snot alcohol. Punches and goal posts hurt."

"You have a concussion!" I gritted my teeth. "Why did you play today? That's fucking dangerous, Tyler."

He shrugged lazily. "Hads points to proves."

His slur did nothing to ease my concerns. Again: concussion or booze?

"And what if you got hit again? What if you had permanent damage? You feel like leaving your brother with no one?" I growled.

Even in his drunken state, he stiffened. "Worst brother ever," is what I thought he said. I bit back a curse—that wasn't what I intended by scolding him.

"You're not the worst. Stupid maybe, but not the worst." I stripped him down to his boxers and tucked him under the blanket, holding his head up so he could have the water. "Drink, baby."

He did and gagged on the first mouthful. "Bleh, that's fucking rank."

"You will thank me tomorrow. Sleep now."

He frowned the most adorable little frown, "One more time."

My dick threatened to rise but I told it off, because the way he said those three words had me thinking he wanted to fuck me goodbye.

One, he was way too drunk. Two, if we did fuck again, I'd want him to remember every touch. I didn't think he was ready to hear those three magic words, nor was I ready to be rejected by the only person I'd ever said them to. So, I'd make damn sure to show him how much I loved him.

"Sure, baby. Let me get changed," I lied, knowing if I waited long enough, he would pass out. After a shower—a cold one—and pulling on clean underwear, I found Tyler curled up with my pillow as if he were chasing my scent. The sight both melted and broke my heart. Because the next morning all of that could be gone.

His auburn hair flopped over his eyes, his long lashes fluttering against his skin. Little grunts and murmurs escaped him before he tightened his grip on the pillow. Some might call me a creep for watching him sleep like that, and maybe I was, but Tyler rarely let his guard down. To most, he was an overachiever, a golden retriever with a bulldog edge. But in truth, there were so many more layers to him.

I noticed things about him that no one else did: the way he pressed his forefinger into the skin of his thumbnail, which was always red and raw. He gnawed at his cheek and lip when he was deep in thought—which was often. If he was made to stand still, his leg would bounce to some internal rhythm—like he was counting the steps he could be taking. When he was focused on the ice, he mumbled to himself inaudibly— a ritual he kept hidden from most.

I lived for the moments when he sat beneath me, eyes ablaze with lust, his mouth slack and free from the day's worries. He moaned without a second thought, clinging to my body like a lifeline. If he spent all his time in a world filled with stress and heartache, I was his relief, his breath of fresh air. No one had ever made me feel so strong, so… worth it.