13. Theo

Theo

"Okay, but which mountains?" I asked as the practice rink's doors banged shut behind Grekov and me. "There's two different ranges."

"What? No." He shot me an incredulous look. "The mountains." He gestured behind us. "The ones I see across the lake."

"Right?" I glanced at him. "To the east or west?"

He pursed his lips. "East, I think?"

Nodding, I said, "Okay, those are the Cascades. You can get there in a couple of hours. The ones to the west are the Olympics. I think it's like… three hours, maybe? Depending on if you take the ferry or the highway?"

Grekov huffed with annoyance. "They look so much closer."

"Uh-huh. But there's traffic, because it's Seattle, and—I mean, they're not as close as they look. Mount Rainier looks close, but it's not."

He furrowed his brow. "Mount Rainier. Is that where they get…?" He tugged at his hoodie, which, like mine, had Seattle Rainiers screen-printed across the front.

"Yep!"

He nodded. "Is that the one that blew up?"

"No, that's St. Helens. It's to the south. And then there's Baker up north."

"Is Baker also a volcano?"

"Yep."

He muttered some Russian curses. "How many volcanos does this place have? Why do people live so close to them?"

"Why not?" I shrugged. "They don't go off that often."

"But they could!" He flailed his hands. "What kind of insane people build cities next to three volcanos?"

"Five, actually."

He eyed me. "What? What do you mean, five?"

I ticked them off on my fingers. "Rainier, Baker, Adams, St. Helens, and…" I furrowed my brow. "Crap, what was the last one? Oh! Glacier Peak."

"Bullshit."

"Nope. Google it."

He eyed me as if he thought I'd finally admit I was yanking his chain. When I didn't, he tsked and rolled his eyes. "Fine. What kind of insane people build cities next to five volcanos?"

I shrugged. "Americans?"

Grekov pursed his lips. "Okay, now it makes sense."

"Hey!"

He snickered as we kept walking. "You said it. Not me."

"Fuck off."

He opened his mouth, probably ready to either fire back another snarky comment or continue asking about which mountains had the best snowboarding, but a sharp voice halted us in our tracks.

"Mr. Mathis."

We both turned.

Jack beckoned to me. "A moment, please?"

My heart jumped into my throat. I glanced at Grekov, who nodded sharply and then made a quick escape into the locker room. I didn't blame him; he wasn't on any of Jack's shit lists as far as I knew, but the man's reputation as an asshole wasn't a big secret.

Alone in the hallway with our GM, I slipped my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie. "Sure. What's up?"

He peered down at me, his expression mostly neutral but his eyes hard in a way I couldn't quite understand. As if he wasn't angry… yet.

"Listen, kid," he began. "You've been surprising everyone since you've been here." Only Jack could make that sound backhanded. "Coach Baldwin and all the other coaches are very impressed with you."

I swallowed. "Thank you. I'm trying my best."

He nodded slowly. "Uh-huh. I see that. We all do." He put a heavy hand on my shoulder. "And I suggest you continue to do so. Remember—no one on a team is irreplaceable."

The "especially not a last resort call-up from the minors" went unspoken.

Before I could even comprehend that, never mind respond to it, Jack walked away, the click of dress shoes on concrete echoing through the hallway.

After he'd turned the corner and disappeared, I rolled my shoulders and chafed my arms as I released a harsh breath. God, I hated that guy.

And his ominous comments and thinly veiled threats burrowed deeper under my skin every time I replayed them.

Did he know something? Or was that just my guilty conscience?

Either way, was I playing with fire by screwing around with Jack's son?

Yeah, I definitely was, and I'd known it from the start, but it just got a whole lot scarier.

Fuck. What was I doing?

When I'd been called up to the Rainiers, I hadn't expected to be here this long. A handful of games at most. But I was still here. And while bonding with teammates was something I'd known since early childhood, I somehow hadn't expected to form any kind of bond with the guys at this level. That was stupid, of course. All teams bonded to some extent, even those who were just together briefly, like the national teams assembled just for specific international competitions.

I think I just hadn't let myself entertain the idea of forming any kind of attachment to the players at this level. Not unless and until I actually made it on to a roster and stayed there. Getting called up to fill in for injured players—we all knew how that worked. It was temporary. I wasn't going to get in tight with the guys any more than I did when I went to training camp, which I did every season.

But here I was, firmly ensconced on the third line of the Seattle Rainiers. I chirped with the guys. I hung out with them in bars. I sat with them on planes and buses. I knew the names of their spouses and kids. I'd made friends with these guys, especially Grekov.

If I lost my place here, I wasn't just losing my shot at playing for the Rainiers and potentially at the NAPH level at all. I was getting pulled away from these men.

That was part of hockey. People got traded. Free agency happened. It was just something everyone accepted and lived with even though it was hard. So no matter how clean I kept my nose, there was no guarantee I'd stay in Seattle or that I wouldn't see any of my friends traded away.

I accepted all of that. But there was a big difference between the normal volatility of hockey rosters and being an impulsive dumbass who decided to wildly increase his odds of getting yeeted off a team.

I pressed my head back against the cold wall and closed my eyes. I was a fucking idiot. I'd been working for this my entire life. Over the past handful of weeks, I'd been finding the place I'd wanted all this time—a place on a NAPH team with NAPH players who treated me like I was their peer. I was starting to forge real friendships with some of these guys.

Was I really going to throw that away? And was I really going to throw it away for some casual sex?

Wow, I was an idiot. An absolute dumbass who apparently had no sense of professional self-preservation. My homophobic GM hated me, so what did I do after provoking him with rainbow tape? Start banging the hell out of his son at every opportunity.

That had to stop. I had to break things off with Christian. The sex was fun and everything, but there was just too much on the line. For both of us.

I didn't want to call this off, but I had to.

First opportunity to talk to him alone, I was ending things.

My chance camewhen I saw Christian wheeling a cart full of laundry out of the locker room. The equipment managers never let dirty laundry fester for very long, so it was a safe bet he was going to put it all in the machines now, not just drop it off and leave.

After I gave him a brief head start—long enough to get into the laundry facility down the hall—I slipped out of the locker room. I glanced up and down the hall to make sure no one else was around, then pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Christian was just shoving an armload of practice jerseys into a washer. He glanced my way, did a double take, and nearly dropped the jerseys. "Theo! What the—" He paused to push the rest into the washer, then faced me. "What are you doing? If someone sees us in here—"

"A player and the equipment manager in the laundry room?" I circled my finger in the air. "Is this the kind of place people are going to think someone is hooking up?"

He quirked his lips. And I mean, a laundromat or a laundry room probably wasn't a bad place for a hookup. A laundry room with a cart full of jerseys that smelled like a whole army of sweaty hockey players on top of the lingering smell of socks? Not so much.

So no, if we got caught in here, no one would think anything was happening. And anyway, I'd come in here to make things not happen anymore. Hockey smells or not, there wasn't going to be anything spicy going on in here right now.

Except…

Gazing into his startled eyes, all my resolve died away.

I came in here to tell you we can't do this.

But… I can't do that.

What the fuck?

Christian met my gaze but quickly broke eye contact. He seemed to be very pointedly avoiding my gaze as he pulled some more jerseys out of the cart and put them into the washer. "So… What's going on?"

"I, uh…"

Yeah, Theo. What's going on?

And why is he on edge?

Fuck. I couldn't find my breath, never mind the words. I knew what I came to say—what I needed to say—but I couldn't do it. What the hell?

Christian glanced through the window on the door, then turned to me, guard firmly up. "What's going up? You seem kinda… rattled, I guess?"

So do you,I didn't say out loud.

"I…" I pushed out a shaky breath and rubbed the back of my neck, wondering when those muscles had knotted up. What was I even supposed to say? How was I supposed to explain any of this?

"Theo. Look at me."

For the first time, I didn't want to do that, but I did what I was told. Christian's eyes were soft and full of concern. I could also see the glowing embers of the fire that always came to life when we were truly alone. Facing him now, I couldn't justify what I'd intended to do when I'd walked in here. I still knew all the reasons why I needed to end this, but for all I'd worried about the friendships and camaraderie I'd be losing if I lost this team, I hadn't thought about what else I'd be losing. Who else.

We're just hooking up. Why is it so hard to let you go?

Christian narrowed his eyes a little, like he was trying to read me. "What's going on?"

As my resolve died away, I wiped a hand over my face. "So, your dad stopped me on my way into practice."

Christian stiffened and his eyes widened. "Oh yeah?"

I nodded, and I told him about the brief exchange, finishing with, "I can't decide if he's just fucking with me or if he knows something."

Christian chewed his lip and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I don't think he knows. I feel like he'd confront me or…" Folding his arms, he shook his head. "Unless he's just enjoying playing games. I… God, I don't even know. Maybe he doesn't have a clue and he's just still messing with your head over the whole Pride Tape thing."

I sighed and leaned against one of the dryers. "I don't know. And… I'm not gonna lie. I came in here because I was going to tell you we shouldn't do this. I've got a lot on the line, and so do you, and I just…"

He tensed, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I, um. I get it. I do. If you can't, then I'll under—"

"No." I shook my head. "I came in here to end things, but now that I'm here…"

Christian watched me, brow pinched. "I don't want this to be a source of stress. You've got a lot of pressure on your shoulders already."

I nodded. "I know. But I just…" I ran a hand through my hair and blew out a breath. "I'm probably stupid as fuck, but now that I'm in here, I don't want to stop what we're doing. Even with everything that's at stake."

"I don't want to fuck up your career, though. Or have you resent me if it all blows up, though."

"If it does, it's not your fault."

"No, but if I wasn't in the picture, it wouldn't be an issue."

"And if it was anyone else," I admitted softly, "I wouldn't want to take the risk."

His eyebrows rose.

"I know what's at stake," I went on. "And I know we're just hooking up and all, and we're probably being stupid as all hell, but… I like what we're doing. I like it, and I don't want to stop. Your dad has a ton of power of me and my future. I just can't convince myself to let him have control over this, too."

Christian's lips parted.

"If you don't want to," I whispered, "I'll understand. But I'm going into it with my eyes open. If it blows up in my face, then…" Then I probably lose the NAPH. And you. "Then it blows up in my face. But I don't want to stop doing this."

"Neither do I. I don't want to be selfish and ask you to risk your career, though."

"You're not." God, it was so hard not to reach for him right then. "I know what's on the line. I'm making the decision that I want to do this. Risk and all."

He held my gaze for a moment. Then he dropped his and leaned hard against the washing machine, looking anywhere but right at me. "To be honest, I was going to break things off too."

My stomach somersaulted. "Oh."

He kneaded the back of his neck and sighed. "My dad was on my back about some things last night. About my job, and…" Dropping his hand, he shook his head. "It's the usual stuff he fucks with me about—getting pissed at me for doing my job one way even though we both know he'd be pissed if I did it the other way, too—but it got me thinking. About what we're doing and what'll happen if he finds out." Christian swallowed hard, and he finally looked at me. "I was going to text you from my parents' driveway last night, but then I thought you deserved to hear it in person, and then you came in here and I saw you, and…" His shoulders slumped. "I can't fucking do it."

My heart didn't know whether to sink or speed up. "You can't?"

"No. I should. We're stupid as hell if we keep doing this. But…" Christian held my gaze even though it seemed like a struggle. "I can't explain it, but I just… can't pull away from you."

"Neither can I," I whispered. "And like, I know it's a risk. But when I was just crushing on you and didn't think this was going to happen, I was a mess, you know?" I laughed nervously. "It's almost like I'd be taking a bigger risk being distracted with my career if I pretended I didn't want you."

Christian chuckled. "So it wasn't just me? Getting distracted?"

"No. God, no. And I'm not saying—I don't want to pressure you or anything. That's not what I meant. I'm just saying that I'd rather put in the work to keep this a secret than drive myself insane seeing you every day without being able to touch you."

His lips parted. "Really?"

I nodded, my cheeks burning. "I don't know if that makes any sense. I just… I mean, what can I say?" I laughed. "I'd rather be stupid than stop."

To my great relief, Christian laughed, too. "Yeah. Same. Maybe I've just been around hockey players too long, but I—"

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, that a lot of you are impulsive, reckless, and a little nuts, and I think that's rubbed off on me?"

"Well, damn." I quirked my lips. "I can't even argue with that."

"Right? He smiled, the expression a mix of warm and hot. "Or maybe I've just gotten too hooked on the things you do to me, and I don't want to give it up."

"Oh, I can relate." Why was I out of breath? "So… does that mean we're still going to do this?"

God, it was stupid and reckless, and I fucking knew it all the way to my bones, but when Christian gave me that sly grin? When his eyes narrowed just right to make my knees weak?

Fuck it. Sign me up for stupid and reckless.

He sobered a little. "We'll just have to be extra careful, though." He threw a wary glance at the window. "Really keep it on the DL."

"I think we've been pretty good about that, haven't we?"

"We have, but my dad…"

I pursed my lips. "He spooked me. But I mean, do you really think he knows anything?"

Christian seemed to consider it. "Probably not, or he'd have made a move beyond his usual cryptic bullshit comments. I think he was just being a dick to me because that's what he always fucking does, and he's messing with your head because he's still pissy about the stick tape."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course he is."

"And he will be for a long time." Christian glanced at the window again, then touched my hand. "So let's just take this as a sign from the universe to really cover our tracks. Go forward as if he's caught the scent and he's suspicious of us, and don't do anything to confirm his suspicions."

"So… same as before."

"Dialed up to a ten, but yeah."

"Okay." I smiled. "I can do that."

"Me too. And speaking of…" Christian took out his phone and checked the time. "It's one o'clock now. I'll probably be out of here around four." He turned an impish smile on me. "My place at six?"

"See you then."

We exchanged grins but didn't dare kiss. Not with that window showing us to anyone who walked by. We'd make up for that later.

As I left Christian to the laundry and went back to the locker room, my heart was racing. I was all the way back to my stall when I realized it wasn't the thrill of sneaking around that had my blood pumping. It was a mix of relief that I hadn't done the stupid thing, and the anticipation of everything Christian and I would be doing after six this evening.

I didn't know what to make of any of that. What it meant about whatever this was between us or how stupid we were really being.

I just knew I liked being with him.

And I was glad I hadn't ended it after all.