53. Tyler

"Hey," I said, observing my brother's face tighten at the sight of me in a hospital room. I spoke up again before he could say anything. "I'm fine, James, just a concussion. I'll be out of here today."

"You scared me, Ty," he scolded.

I closed my eyes, understanding the fear firsthand. Hunter had kept them updated on my condition, but I hadn't mustered the courage to call home, avoiding the face of a little brother who feared losing yet another family member. The worry that someone would be taken away from us seemed ingrained in our very beings.

"I know, but I'm okay. No serious injuries, just a bump to the head."

Jamie gave me a look that conveyed every word.

"You get punched as a hobby," I pointed out, and he rolled his eyes.

"You wear knives on your feet and crash into people."

Touché.

"I'm sorry I got hurt."

"Yeah, I know. Just not sorry for playing the game. I hate worrying all the time, you know?"

Oh, I knew all too well—and I hoped he saw it in my face.

"I miss you." His words hit me square in the chest.

"I miss you, too."

"Will you come home for the summer? Well, your summer. I know Holden would love to have you watch them play."

I hadn't made plans yet, but I needed to decide quickly. Vacating my dorm for the summer meant finding somewhere to stay—but saying goodbye was never my strong suit.

"I haven't made plans yet, but as soon as I do, I will let you know."

Disappointment flooded his features. "Yeah, okay. I gotta go. Love you."

The call disconnected.

I sat in relative silence having been disconnected from most of the monitors. Hunter had—reluctantly — returned to the hotel to clean up, but with gratitude from Jarman and Cal. Not that I wanted him to leave, but in truth, the guy bloody stank.

I heard footsteps and looked to the door, staring into the broad, tall presence of Connor Bellamy.

"Hell of a way to end the season, kid." He smiled and came to sit beside me. As usual in his presence, my tongue felt heavy in my mouth—completely unrelated to the concussion. Likely sensing my dumbfounded expression at his unexpected visit, he took mercy on me and smiled. "Regardless of the ending, that was some game—one of the best I have seen in a while."

I managed a smile, or as close to it as I could muster. "Thanks."

"Well, I won't stay long. I know you are set to leave today according to your coach, so I thought I would pop in." Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, giving me direct eye contact that made me bristle. "You've spared me the heavy lifting; your performance this season stands as a testament to your capabilities. Your stats have outshone those of top draft picks. The Vancouver franchise has expressed keen interest in having you at their training camp this fall, allowing ample time for your recovery from this setback. Following that, there's a possibility of securing a spot on their roster. Initial talks suggest a shorter contract, given your relatively recent entry onto the scene, but it's still a significant opportunity. Alternatively, we can explore the option of placement with their farm team—along with your teammate. If neither aligns with your goals, there's always the option to return for another season here, potentially attracting more offers from other teams. The market might not be fully ready for you yet; not many are in the rebuilding phase, and I'm aware they have been eyeing a few other players."

I probably looked like a dork sitting there with that dumb grin plastered across my face. I reckon my gob was hanging open, but I couldn't be certain because my heartbeat was louder than a kookaburra's laugh. Instead of getting my head around the hockey details like I should've, the strongest and most crystal-clear thought was about a golden-eyed Boston boy who just signed a contract with that very team.

"Fuck, yes!" I managed to get out.

Connor laughed. "Yes to what?"

I blinked at him like he was an idiot. "The training and the league, and if you can get me on the farm team, that's fine. Honestly, if I could just focus on hockey alone, it would be one weight off my shoulders." Connor nodded, a smile of understanding on his face.

Yet again breaking the silence that bordered on awkward, he said, "I like you, kid, and I would like to be your agent—officially. If you're happy, I could have a contract drawn up and I'll get you to that fall training. If you prove yourself like you have so far, a ticket to play pro awaits."

I agreed without hesitation. Somehow, sharing the same agent as Hunter was comforting; it felt like I was closer to him. Connor promised to have the contract in my inbox by the end of the day, leaving my future held firmly in his hands.

Hunter buzzed with energy as he took me to the airport, where we caught a flight back home. Despite the bit of information I was sitting on that threatened to burst out of me, I was exhausted. However, I wanted to tell him in the right moment—in our home, which might not be mine much longer. If it wasn't, I at least wanted the send-off to be right.

The entire journey was a blur of brushing hands and stolen kisses. "God, why did you have to get hit like that? I'm dying for your body," Hunter whispered in my ear, and, as always, its effect on me was noticeable, as my body seemed to have a Hunter radar, reacting to every little thing he did.

"Hasn't stopped us before..." I prodded, regretting our night of nothing but cuddles before the last game more than anything right now.

"Tell me you don't have a headache right now. You've winced at every noise so far. If you think either one of us is pounding the other tonight, you're mad. I'm just going to be happy to kiss you properly in the privacy of our bedroom."

An unguarded smile spread across my lips. "Our bedroom." We hadn't discussed when everything became ours. It was an unspoken agreement, just like I understood that he loved me without words.

He grabbed my hand as we entered the quiet dorm, Cal and Jarman sat on the couch watching some Hallmark crap that Cal loved. Both guys shot up and Cal kissed me on my cheek, "So glad you're okay."

Jarman squeezed my shoulder in lieu of words.

"Come on, baby." Hunter took my hand, kissing the bumps of my knuckles one by one, guiding me in the direction of our room. Once behind our closed door, he wrapped me in his arms. "Love you," he whispered, almost tentatively. I pulled back to see the heartbreak in his eyes; he was supposed to be flying to Canada soon.

I took his face, savoring the connection of our lips that brought both elation and comfort to my body. "I don't know about you, but I need to shower off the hospital and airport muck."

Hunter moaned in response, sounding more like a pained groan. I couldn't help but suppress the light laughter bubbling within me. It dawned on me that I never laughed more freely than when I was with that man. With that in mind, I guided him back through the living room to the bathroom, disregarding the playful catcalls from Cal and the amused scoffs of laughter from Jarman.

I stripped him of his clothes, needing to feel his skin against mine. Hunter, though, showed a lot more care while he undressed me. I knew I looked forward to when he could manhandle me but, in that moment, I didn't mind the soft glide of his calloused fingers against my skin, the light brush of his lips against my bruised flesh that had taken too many hits. I pulled him into the shower, and we moaned at the scalding pressure from the water.

There was something about knowing another's body and having them know yours. Like many times before, our hands cleaned each other, our lips met one another and brushed over each other's bruises, and showed our love without words; in a way that was purely us. I had the only man I would ever want.

Once warmed by the water and each other's touch that admittedly led to us stroking each other off with pure desperation, we collapsed onto the fresh bed sheets I found myself curling into Hunter's chest, finding my home in his arms. The silence was easy and at the count of his heartbeats, I found my moment.