41. Dj

CHAPTER 41

DJ

The goal horn blares and my teammates mob me in celebration, but despite scoring a crucial goal in a crucial game my head isn't in the moment.

Agony radiates from my knee and it takes everything in me to keep the pain from showing on my face.

We glide back to the bench for a line change and I catch a flash of dark hair in the stands. Just for a second, my heart leaps, thinking it's Sydney.

But of course it's not.

She's back in Chicago, hundreds of miles away, probably not even watching the game now that she's not on staff. The familiar weight of her absence settles like a stone in my gut.

Coach gives me a nod as I ease myself onto the bench, grimacing. "You good, DJ?"

"Always, Coach. Just need a breather." I flash him a cocky grin that I hope masks the truth.

My knee is getting worse every day. The pain meds and cortisone shots aren't cutting it anymore. But like hell am I gonna sit out when we're this close to the Cup.

I lean my head back and close my eyes, trying to center myself. I picture Sydney's face, her beautiful brown eyes, that crooked smile that makes my heart race.

God, I miss her. I miss the sound of her laugh, the feel of her body pressed against mine. I even miss the way she calls me on my bullshit. Keeps me honest.

The whistle blows and I push myself to my feet, ignoring the bolt of pain that shoots up my leg.

Can't think about that now.

Can't think about anything except the next shift, the next play, the next goal. We're so close to everything we've ever wanted.

I just wish she was here to share it with us.

I collapse onto the locker room bench days later, my knee throbbing with a familiar searing pain. Another grueling practice in the books, but at what cost? Gritting my teeth, I bury my face in my hands. This injury is going to be the death of me.

Or at least the death of my career.

"Yo DJ, you alright?" Tyler's concerned voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. He plops down beside me, his solid warmth both comforting and unnerving.

I debate lying, plastering on a smile and cracking a dirty joke like always. But I'm so damn tired. Tired of pretending everything is fine when my body is betraying me and my future is balanced on a knife's edge.

"No, Ty, I'm really not," I admit, the words bitter on my tongue. "It's my knee. I...I don't know how much longer I can keep playing through the old injury."

Tyler's brow furrows as he listens intently. I lay it all out—the pain, the fear, the pressure.

If I can't play, can't earn that fat NHL paycheck, my mom is royally screwed. Her underwater mortgage, my little sister's college fund...it all hinges on me. Some cocky, queer jock with a bum knee.

"Dude, you need to see the team doc ASAP," Tyler insists, his large hand coming to rest on my shoulder. Sparks zing through me at the contact despite everything. "I get it, you don't want to let anyone down. But running yourself into the ground helps no one. You're always calling out the toxic masculinity bullshit around here...don't fall into that same trap, DJ."

I blow out a breath, hating that he's right.

"I hear you, man. I'll make an appointment." The thought terrifies me, but the alternative is watching my body give out and my life fall to pieces. "Just...don't say anything to the other guys yet, okay? Last thing I need is a bunch of pity looks in the locker room."

"Your secret's safe with me." His hand lingers another moment before he stands. "But you better actually go. I'll sic Leah on your stubborn ass if I have to."

I snort out a laugh in spite of myself. Tyler's sister is a force to be reckoned with.

Must run in the family.

"Message received, you menace." I flash him a weak grin, pushing to my feet with a wince I can't quite hide. "Thanks, Ty. For listening and knocking some sense into me."

"It's what I'm here for, idiot," Ty says affectionately. "We still on for later?"

"Count on it," I say, holding his eyes with mine.

Tyler's bed squeaks as we tumble onto it, a tangle of limbs and searing kisses. My hands race over his chiseled chest, pushing his shirt up and off, admiring him for the hundredth time.

Hockey bods, man. Nothing better.

"Need you," Ty breathes between kisses, tugging at my belt. I help him out, shucking my jeans and boxers in record time. His eyes go wide as I spring free. That's right, drink it in.

"Like what you see?" I smirk, stroking myself.

"Fuck yes," he groans, gripping his own hard length through his shorts. I bat his hand away and palm him myself, relishing his gasp. He lifts his hips to help me slide his shorts and tight blue briefs down his muscular thighs.

We crash back together, naked and aching. The press of his body against mine lights me up like the goal siren. Our hips grind in a filthy rhythm as we devour each other, tongues sliding slick and hot. His hands map my ink, tracing the swirls and edges.

I kiss a path down his chest, flicking my tongue over his nipples just to hear him curse. He fists a hand in my hair as I mouth at his abs, his v-lines, the jut of his hipbones.

"DJ, please..."

Music to my ears. I lick up the velvety underside of his thick cock and swallow him down. He cries out, arching off the bed as I work him with lips and tongue.

Soon we're both slick with sweat and need. I rummage in my discarded jeans for lube and a condom. Ty eagerly rolls to his hands and knees, presenting that perfect ass. I get him ready with slick fingers, tease and stretch until he's rocking back and begging for it.

Then finally, I line up and slide home. The tight hot squeeze almost undoes me before we even start and I have to pause, panting into his shoulder blade. He clenches around me and I nearly lose it all over again.

Judging from the muffled groan he makes, he feels the same.

"Move, dammit," he grits out.

And finally, I do. I pull back and slam in again, setting a deep, driving rhythm. He pushes back to meet every thrust, sweat-slick skin slapping loudly. It's frantic and messy and so goddamn good.

As I push into Tyler again and again, surrounded by his heat, something clicks into place deep inside me.

This is right. This is real .

Him and me, connecting on a level I never knew I was missing. It feels so good to have finally shared everything with him, to not be holding back.

Tyler cries out as he comes untouched, spasming around my cock and pulling my own climax from me. I muffle my shout against his neck as I shoot into the condom, dizzy with pleasure and emotion.

After, we collapse in a sweaty heap. I gather him close and he nestles into my chest, humming contentedly.

Shit, that was amazing. It's always amazing.

I pull back to cradle Ty's face in my hands, leaning in for a kiss and then resting my forehead against his.

Tyler's blue eyes bore into mine, filled with emotion in the dim light of the bedroom. "I'm in love with you, DJ. Completely, totally in love with you."

I reach out to caress his chiseled jaw, tracing the stubble with my fingertips, his words sending a careening feeling through my insides.

I've never exchanged "I love you" with a partner before. I've never let myself get this close to someone. I thought I was happier without it, the pressures and expectations of that oh-so-heavy word.

Love .

And I thought that wanting a non-monogamous lifestyle meant that I couldn't have it. How could you love someone but also want more? Who would want to be with someone so greedy? Even though I've been happily poly for years, that part never clicked into place for me.

I didn't allow myself to even hope for love, because I never expected to receive it in return.

But now… My throat tightens, and I swallow hard. This thing with Tyler—and with Sydney, for as long as it lasted—has fundamentally changed me. Allowed me to see that love doesn't have to be defined in a traditional way. That it can grow, and adapt, and fit into whatever space you give it.

Love wants to be found. It wants to be embraced. And it's for everyone.

"I'm in love with you too, Ty," I tell him softly. "So damn much."

He leans in and kisses me, tenderly. I know this is as big of a moment for him as it is for me, to tell another man that he's in love with him.

I press my forehead against head and breathe him in for a moment, proud of us both.

As we pull apart, his brow furrows with concern. "Your knee...you've been limping all night. I'm worried about you, babe."

I sigh heavily. He's not wrong. The pain has been getting worse, harder to ignore.

"I don't want you to stress about hockey or what comes next," Tyler continues, voice gentle but firm. "You are so much more than what you do on the ice. And no matter what, I'll be right here by your side."

Emotion clogs my throat. This amazing, wonderful man...I'm so damn lucky to have him .

"I made an appointment with the team doc for tomorrow morning," I admit quietly. "I'm done pretending this injury isn't a big deal. Time to face reality."

Pride shines in Tyler's eyes. "I'm so glad, DJ."

"I never would've gotten here without you," I tell him solemnly. "Your support means everything. And Syd's too, honestly. She really made me see I need to deal with this."

We both go quiet for a moment, feeling Sydney's absence like a physical ache.

The post-coital bliss fades as reality seeps in, cold and harsh. Tyler's strong arms wrap around me but the empty space behind speaks volumes. It's a Sydney-shaped void, a gaping absence where her body should be tangled with ours, our missing puzzle piece.

I sigh heavily. Tyler stays silent, lost in his own head. I know we're thinking the same damn thing: how the hell did we let our girl slip away?

"This isn't over," I finally say, my voice low but determined. "We can still fix this. Syd belongs with us. We belong together, all of us."

Tyler lifts his head, a flicker of hope passing across his blue eyes. "Damn straight. I'm not giving up on her, on us. We'll do whatever it takes to prove how much she means to us."

My mind races, flipping through ideas like a Rolodex. Grand gestures, heartfelt pleas, skywriting her name...and then it hits me. The big play to end all big plays.

I sit up slowly, my abused knee twinging. "I think I've got it, Ty. The move that'll win our girl back. But I'm gonna need reinforcements to pull this off."

Tyler props himself up on an elbow, his chest a work of art in the dim light. "Movie gesture moment, for real this time?"

I grin. "You know it."

As I start revealing the master plan, Tyler's eyes light up, his grin stretching wide. This crazy scheme might be our Hail Mary pass, but I'll be damned if we don't score the ultimate goal.

Sydney back where she belongs, in our arms and in our bed.

Game on.