31. Tyler

CHAPTER 31

TYLER

Sweat drips down my face as I launch myself across the ice, my muscles burning with each explosive movement. The sound of my blades carving across the frozen surface echoes through the empty arena.

Just me, the goal, and the puck.

"Looking sharp, Ty!" Marcus calls out as he sends another puck my way. Okay, and Marcus.

I snap my glove out to snag it midair. "One more!" I shout, tossing it back.

He shoots again and I slide into a split, deflecting it wide. The searing pain in my groin tells me I'm pushing it too far, but I ignore it.

I have to be better. Faster. Unbeatable .

"Dude, it's getting late," Marcus says, skating over. "We should call it a night."

I shake my head, pulling myself up. "Nah, you go ahead. I'm gonna run a few more drills."

He frowns, his brow creasing with concern. "You sure, man? You've been at it for hours already. Don't want to over-train and injure yourself."

"I'm good," I insist, even as my legs tremble beneath me. "Seriously, I'll catch up with you later."

Marcus hesitates, but finally nods. "Alright, well, get some rest tonight, yeah? See you at morning skate."

He heads off the ice, leaving me alone in the cavernous space. I retrieve more pucks and set them up, running the drills again.

And again.

Each time pushing harder, desperate to prove to myself that I have what it takes. That I won't let the team down when it matters most.

But even as I make save after sprawling save, the doubt lingers like a shadow in the back of my mind. You're an imposter , it whispers. You'll never be as good as Steven. You'll choke when your team needs you and cost them everything.

My phone buzzes in my bag on the bench—probably Sydney checking in to make sure I'm still alive. Or DJ wanting to grab a beer and unwind. Or my sister, worrying like always. But I can't face any of them right now.

Can't let them see how close I am to cracking under the pressure.

So I keep skating, keep drilling, keep pushing, even as the minutes turn to hours. My body screams for mercy but I shut it out.

Mind over matter. I'll rest when we've got that Cup in our hands. Until then, this is all that matters. Hockey is all that matters. I'm a Simmonds, this is what we do .

I try to let that confidence fill me, the knowledge that hockey is in my blood. But all I can hear is the doubt.

I lean my head against the cool tile of the shower stall, wincing as the hot water pummels my battered muscles. Today was brutal. And, as the adrenaline fades, exhaustion seeps into my bones.

What the hell am I doing? If I keep this up, I'm going to crash and burn spectacularly.

I need a new game plan, and fast.

After toweling off, I grab my phone from my locker. My thumb hovers over the screen for a moment before I pull up our Adam's number and hit call. He picks up on the second ring.

"Ty? What's up man?"

"Hey, you got a minute to talk? I could really use some advice from the master."

Our injured goalie chuckles. "Sure thing. Why don't you come over? We'll crack a few beers and break down some tape."

"Sounds perfect. I'll grab a pizza on my way. Meat lover's?"

"Is there any other kind? See you in 30."

I hang up, already feeling a little lighter. Adam always has a way of putting things in perspective.

His place is sleek and modern, all glass and chrome. I balance the pizza box as I knock. Adam opens the door, his easy grin setting me at ease instantly.

"Ty! Come on in. I've already got the last game queued up."

We settle on a plush leather couch, demolishing the pizza as we pore over every second of footage. Adam pauses and rewinds, pointing out tiny adjustments to my stance, my timing. His insight is invaluable—this guy has more goalie knowledge in his pinky finger than I have in my entire body. But it's his steady, encouraging presence that really gets me.

He believes in me, even when I'm struggling to believe in myself.

"Look at this part," he says, jabbing a finger at the screen. "Your lateral movement is a little sluggish here. I think if you..."

As Adam drones on, I can feel something flickering to life in my chest. A small, tentative ember of hope. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I'm not a complete lost cause .

We work until my eyelids grow heavy. I stretch and stand, joints popping.

"I should get out of your hair. Thanks for this, man. Seriously. I owe you a case of beer. Or ten."

Adam waves a hand. "Don't sweat it, that's what friends are for. You got this, Ty. I know you do."

As I'm stepping out the door, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and my heart jolts when I see DJ's name on the screen. My thumb wavers over the answer button. I've avoided him and Sydney for days, telling myself that I'll reach out once I'm not in such a black mood.

Maybe it's finally time.

Swallowing hard, I accept the call and lift the phone to my ear.

The moment I step through DJ's doorway his lips are on mine, hard and demanding, his hands roaming across my back. I lean into the kiss, desire flooding through me.

Fuck, this feels so right.

"Bedroom?" DJ murmurs against my mouth.

I nod eagerly. We stumble down the hall, leaving a trail of discarded shirts and jeans behind us. When we reach the bed, both in just our underwear, a flicker of nerves surges through me.

Just tell him .

I pull back slightly.

"I've been thinking..." I meet DJ's eyes, swallowing hard. "I want you to...you know." Heat rises in my cheeks. "Fuck me."

The words come out quietly but DJ hears them loud and clear.

His eyes sparkle with a dark gleam but his handsome face softens. "We'll take it nice and slow, Ty. I've got you."

DJ kisses me again, this time tender and reassuring.

My heart pounds as he eases me back onto the mattress, his fingertips skimming along my abs. I'm already moaning as DJ hooks his fingers in the waistband of my boxer briefs. "This okay?"

"Yes," I breathe out. "Please."

With a smile, he tugs them down, exposing me completely. I'm already achingly hard, and DJ meets my eyes, a gleam in his eye, before wrapping his mouth around me, so tight I see stars.

His lips glide along my shaft, tongue swirling, as he takes me deep. I gasp and buck my hips involuntarily.

"Fuck, Deej, that feels incredible..."

DJ hums around me, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through my body. He works me slowly, purposefully, building me higher with every slick slide. My fingers thread through his hair, needing something to anchor me.

He pulls off and before I have time to miss him he's crawling up my body, kissing and nipping at my heated skin.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby," he purrs. "Gonna take such good care of you."

I capture his mouth in a searing kiss, our tongues tangling, the taste myself on his lips dizzying. Breaking away, DJ reaches over to the nightstand, fumbling in the drawer before pulling out lube and a condom. The snick of the cap sends a thrill down my spine.

"Just breathe," DJ soothes as he drizzles the cool liquid over his fingers. "I'll go slow, I promise."

The first press of his finger into my ass makes me tense reflexively. But DJ peppers soft kisses across my face, my jaw, down my neck as he works me open with gentle persistence.

By the time he's three fingers deep, I'm a writhing, desperate mess beneath him.

"Please, Deej," I beg, my voice wrecked. "I need you inside me. Now."

DJ groans, his eyes flashing with desire. He withdraws his fingers and I whine at the emptiness. But then he's positioning the blunt head of his cock at my entrance.

"Ready?" he asks, holding my gaze.

I nod frantically. "Yes, god yes."

Slowly, torturously, DJ pushes forward. The stretch and burn as he breaches me makes me gasp. His fingers were one thing, but Christ, his cock feels so big.

"That's it, Tyler, you're doing so good," he says gently, leaning down to kiss me again. "God, you feel unreal around me."

When he's fully seated, DJ stills, giving me a moment to adjust. It's unlike anything I've ever felt before—so full, split open on his thick length. My cock is so hard it almost hurts.

I experimentally squeeze my muscles around him and we both moan.

"Christ, Ty," DJ grits out. "You keep doing that and this is gonna be over embarrassingly fast."

I grin up at him, feeling a rush of power. "Then you better start moving."

DJ answers with a deep, primal kiss as he starts to roll his hips. His thrusts are measured at first, letting me get used to the sensation. But soon, the intensity builds until he's driving into me relentlessly, hitting a mind-blowing spot deep inside with every snap of his hips.

I'm reduced to a string of broken moans and gasps, my cock smearing pre-cum against my stomach as it bounces with the force of his thrusts.

"Fuck, I love the feel of your tight ass," DJ growls in my ear.

His filthy words spur me higher, pressure coiling tighter in my core. I'm hurtling towards that edge, my whole body drawn taut. DJ must sense how close I am because he wraps a hand around my weeping erection, stroking in time with his thrusts.

"That's it, come for me, Ty."

A few more rough pumps of his fist and I'm gone, my orgasm slamming into me like a freight train. I spill over DJ's fingers with a ragged shout of his name, my release painting my chest and abs. DJ works me through it, milking every last drop as I shudder and clench around him.

My ecstasy proves his undoing. With a guttural moan, DJ buries himself to the hilt, pulsing deep inside me as he finds his own release. For a long moment, we remain locked together, chests heaving, hearts pounding in sync as the aftershocks rock through us.

Finally, with a soft kiss to my forehead, DJ carefully pulls out and disposes of the condom. He grabs a washcloth from the en suite, cleaning us both up with tender efficiency before crawling back into bed and gathering me close.

I tuck my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the musky scent of his skin.

"How are you?" DJ murmurs, his fingers tenderly stroking up and down my back.

I let out a strangled laugh, unsure how to even put the experience into words. "I'm…I'm perfect."

DJ laughs, intentionally misunderstanding my words. "You are perfect, Ty. I hope you know that."

I huff. "Far from it. But that definitely helped take my mind off things for a while."

DJ's arms tighten around me. "Hey, I mean it. You're so strong, pushing through all this pressure and uncertainty. I'm in awe of you, honestly."

I swallow around the lump forming in my throat, staring up at DJ's ceiling. "I don't feel very strong lately. I'm barely keeping my head above water."

I take a deep, shuddering breath, collecting my thoughts as DJ waits patiently beside me. Finally, the words come, a jumbled rush at first but then steadier, more sure.

"Growing up, it was always hockey first, you know? My parents were so busy, working their asses off to support us and pay for equipment and ice time. I know they loved us, but a lot of the time, it felt like they just weren't...there."

I swallow hard, old hurts resurfacing. "So it was me, my brother, and my sister against the world. And Steven, man, he was larger than life to me. This hotshot hockey prodigy that I desperately wanted to be just like."

DJ makes a soft noise of understanding, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my shoulder. It gives me the courage to keep going, to put words to the things I've never said out loud.

"But Steven...he was brutal, Deej. Constantly telling me I wasn't good enough, fast enough, tough enough. That I'd never make it if I didn't push myself harder. And I took it all to heart, let it fuel me. I thought that's just how it was—that I needed to be hard on myself to succeed."

I let out a humorless laugh, the sound hollow in my chest.

"Turns out, it just made me a fucking mess. I'm only realizing now how much it fucked me up."

DJ shifts to face me, his brown eyes intense and full of empathy.

"Ty, listen to me. You are not a mess. You're human, dealing with a metric fuckton of pressure and childhood baggage. But you know what else you are? Incredible. Resilient. One of the strongest, most wonderful people I've ever met."

His words wash over me, soothing the ragged edges of my psyche. I want so badly to believe him. DJ cups my face, his calloused thumb brushing over my cheekbone.

"I know it's not easy to shake that shit off. Trust me, I've got my own steaming pile of mommy and daddy issues. But you're not alone anymore, Ty. You've got me, Syd, the whole team in your corner. We are going to the fucking playoffs, and there's no way that would be happening if you weren't amazing."

Emotion clogs my throat. I turn my head to press a kiss to DJ's palm. "I...thanks, Deej. I'm…" A pressure builds behind my eyes, and finally, finally, I let go and cry.

DJ gathers me close as the tears spill down my cheeks, his strong arms enveloping me in warmth and safety. I bury my face in his chest, my shoulders shaking.

"I've got you, Ty. I'm right here," he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of my head.

For the first time in longer than I can remember, I don't feel the need to be strong, to keep up the unshakable facade. With DJ, I can just...be. Messy, vulnerable, completely raw.

And that inner voice isn't yelling at me, telling me I'm weak, that I need to man up.

For the first time in a long, long time, that voice is quiet.