40. Hunter

The comfort of having Tyler between my legs while we watched the game went unnoticed by the others. I massaged his shoulders, relishing the way he melted under my touch. As the game concluded, Mouse commandeered the conversation and steered it toward his holiday plans.

"Jarman and his family usually come on after Christmas, and help eat all the leftovers. It's great! I get my family, and then my best friend and his family come the next day–like a second Christmas. Oh, and I'm trying to invite Jenny. I have a date with her tomorrow. Do you think it's too early to invite her to the cabin?" We all groaned simultaneously.

Eric, who'd been relatively quiet all night, scoffed, "Way too early. If someone asked me to meet their family within the first few months of a relationship — scratch that, the first year — I'd call them a stage-one clinger."

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to Cal, who exchanged an awkward glare with his boyfriend.

Tyler appeared a bit irritated. "I don't know about that. It depends on the connection you have. Some people are married after a year."

I whipped my head down to my secret boyfriend. Marriage? Was this about us or his protective instincts toward Cal?

Eric shrugged. "Those people are crazy if you ask me."

"Or you could just have a commitment issue?" Jarman chimed in. "Because I think if you know, you just know. Time is just a social construct," Jarman's tone made the whole room tense.

Mouse, blissfully unaware of said tension, added, "Well, I think I'm going to ask her. I can always introduce her as a friend. I think she'd like skiing. If not, how romantic would it be if I taught her? It could be like one of those adorable rom-com movie moments, don't you think?"

Cal gave Mouse a soft smile. "Yeah, Mouse, I think that's super romantic. I'm tired and have an early morning skate, so I'm going to call it a night." He kissed Eric's cheek and headed down the hall to his room.

Tyler shot daggers at Eric. The air hung heavy with unspoken tension, until Tyler spoke "Thanks, Jarman, for organizing this. Really it's been great."

Jarman read the room. "Yeah, of course." Jarman tapped Mouse's shoulder and whispered something in his ear which had my hackles rising.

"Oh man!" Mouse groaned. "But I was just getting started," Mouse moaned. Jarman then followed his rebuttal with a simple look, and Mouse grumbled his way to his feet and out the door. Jarman's eyes followed him before he looked to Eric, who lingered with his eyes on Cal's door.

"Let's get out of their hair," Jarman said with a pointed glare at Eric, who finally got the message. I watched as they headed to the door, then, Mouse turned to me. "Hunter?"

"I'll help clean up. I'll see you back at the house. " Mouse shrugged and left, and I didn't miss the way Jarman's lip turned up in a knowing grin.

Once the others had left, Tyler grabbed my hand and led me to his room, he yelled goodnight to Jamie who was re-making the futon into a bed. As I entered, I couldn't help but notice the meticulous organization. His desk, adorned with anatomy books and a notebook filled with detailed sketches and descriptions, caught my eye. Not a single thing was out of place, even his stationary meticulously arranged in a line.

"Baby, your highlighters aren't even out of place," I observed, impressed by the orderliness.

Tyler shrugged nonchalantly and sat on his neatly made bed. "I try to keep control where I can."

He looked at me, seemingly expecting me to find his organization unusual. It dawned on me that perhaps he had faced judgment for being meticulous. "Has someone judged you for being a little over the top with it?"

Tyler lifted his hand, tilting it side to side. "My teammates always called me a little neurotic. Mum used to say I was always an organized kid, but then dad died, and Mum got sick..."

I joined him on the bed and wrapped my arms around him, finding comfort in the fact that he didn't resist. We lied down—fully dressed for once—and curled together on top of the sheets. "I think you are perfect just the way you are," I reassured him.

Tyler remained silent, pondering my words. "What about you, Hunter? What's your quirky trait?"

I thought about it before confessing, "I'm a little impulsive—I don't always think things through. The only time I do is around my father. Maybe that's my way of taking back a little control. So if there ever comes a day we live together, you get to point out all the annoying habits I have. Now, knowing you're a bit of a control freak, everything I do is going to annoy you. Sorry in advance."

Tyler chuckled, but then pulled away, a serious expression in his eyes. "Hunter, your dad: you said he was bad and controlling… but how far does that go? Other than him hitting you— which stops now, by the way."

I released a deep sigh. "He hits, he has money and people in high places." I wanted to leave it at that, hoping the expression on my face conveyed how much I didn't want to talk about him. It felt like discussing him in the same space as Tyler would somehow tarnish the air around us.

"I don't want you around him, Hunter. I know I have no place making that decision for you, but I refuse to see you like that." His blue-green gaze hit me right where it hurt. I pulled him to my chest in the hopes that having his lips close to my heart would heal the ache there. "I am doing everything I can to cut ties with him, Ty. I promise you that."

And I meant it. In the hours between him being in my bed and me being at his place, I met with Connor Bellamy. I half expected Tyler to comment on my attire, as it was fancier than most would wear to watch a hockey game on the couch.

I met Connor in a small diner away from campus, in an area my father wouldn't typically pass through. It might have been a bit excessive, but it was necessary. If my father caught wind of me making deals that didn't align with his expectations, it wouldn't end well.

I didn't want to tell Tyler yet that I had been talking to Connor about potential offers, I'd asked him to put out feelers to see if anyone would be interested in signing me. I had good stats, and that year was my best yet. The risk would be that I could throw away the chance of better offers after the season ended, but I'd have to cross that bridge when I got to it.

"Listen, kid, you've got talent. I've seen it, and my contacts have seen it. The consensus is clear: — they're eager to assess your potential post-season—, after the draft—to see if you're a fit for their team. They're looking for consistent performance, just like what you're delivering now."

I nodded, anticipating that very scenario.

"I know this isn't your normal case, sir, and I know you usually have clients who probably want bigger things. It's just… I need a contract. I need it bad after this year. I need to cut ties with my father, and he isn't the nicest of men. Breaking free of him is the dream first, sir. As I mentioned on the phone, I'm happy to settle for AHL and work my ass off to move up."

Connor's face tightened and he gave me a grim nod. "You may not fit the usual profile of my clients, but I recognize significant potential in you. Ordinarily, I'd advise waiting until the season concludes. However, what I can share is that my contact coaching the Vancouver AHL team is actively seeking skilled defensemen. If we navigate this strategically, considering the imminent retirement of their NHL defenseman and no plans to trade for another player, there's a chance they might bring you forward. It's a calculated risk, but are you up for it?"

My heart raced. "Yes, sir. That would be an amazing opportunity—and the farther away from my father, the better."

Connor smiled sympathetically. "I thought as much. I've already had a chat with my associate, and he's genuinely eager to secure you for the upcoming season, having reviewed the videos I forwarded to him. Now, I've got this contract for you to go through. If it aligns with your aspirations, you'll be an official AHL player by Christmas. The plan is for you to kick off the next season, allowing you to conclude your current season with your existing team."

A stark white wad of paper hit the table, and suddenly, all the noises around me became pronounced. The chime of the bell had me looking at the door, as if my father might walk in at any moment. But it was only a group of college kids, their laughter almost mocking my paranoia.

"Do you mind if I read it now? Or are you in a rush?" I asked.

Connor signaled to the passing waitress in place of a response "Hey, can I get the burger with fries, please?"

She blushed, nodding frantically, "Of course, sir."

I laughed, spinning the papers right side up, and began to read. "You must get that a lot."

"You will too one day, but just wait until you're in the leagues. But the last thing we need is a kid with scandals following him around." I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, knowing that Tyler and I could become the biggest scandal in the history of hockey.

"I know, sir. Hockey first, I promise." I lied.

Half an hour later, I'd read through every line of the very detailed contract. The money was decent—not NHL money, but enough to survive. I tried not to think of the man I had in my bed that morning and the promise that we would be a team both on and off the ice. My freedom meant his safety, and I had no intention of swaying his future.

The pen felt heavy in my hand, the scratch of my signature like an arrow shot into the air toward my future.

Connor nodded and took the papers from me. "Take it as reassurance, kid; this isn't selling out. Maintain the level of play you've been delivering, demonstrate to the league what they've been overlooking, and mark my words— I'll be dialing you up to announce you're getting the call-up."

"Thank you, sir." I put out my hand, and he just laughed.,

"I'm your agent now, just stick with Connor."

I rephrased my thank you and watched him leave, the bell of the door signaling the finality of my choice.

My teeth anxiously gnawed on the inside of my gums, and the feeling in my stomach felt far from elation. I closed my eyes tightly, telling myself I just needed to get through to the end of the season. Finishing this college year would be my new beginning—our new beginning.