28. Chapter 28

"I'm not letting them take something away from me." Em's chin sets defiantly and bangs his fist on the check-out counter at Unframed Art.

Shane's right. He's a grown man who can make his own decisions, and I can't be Madyson and treat him as if I know what's best for him.

"Fine," I agree. "I have some extra equipment and whatever I don't have we can find in the lost and found bin." A few weeks ago, after I bailed on introducing him to Mads and Jayce, I'd asked Em to join the pickup hockey game with me. Jayce will most likely be there tonight.

Em hasn't told me what happened but also hasn't asked for information to get in touch with them. I've stayed out of it, except for trying to dissuade Em from going tonight. Luckily, they don't know that I asked Em to come, so they can't ambush him.

I asked Von if he could skate well enough to play. He grinned and said he'd borrow gear from Lars since I'm shorter than he is. The bastard enjoys rubbing that fact in my face. It's sort of funny when he tries to tease me.

Em and I take the subway to the rink. It's mostly retired players from the NY Enforcers and a few college hockey guys who miss playing. The competition is a great way to relieve aggression, and that's the goal tonight.

He's been simmering with anger ever since he found out that my BFF Mads is also Miss Rose, the teacher he crushed on in high school and then recently hooked up with. I blame myself. I'm sure they ran into each other at the bar when I didn't show.

Von is waiting outside the locker room, looking at ease in his gear. He hasn't pulled his hair back yet, so it's spilling over the pads and begging me to run it through my fingers. His hair is my second favorite body part. Hmm, maybe third. Fuck, I can't think of his sexy body parts because it's not cool to have a raging hard-on while changing in a locker room.

Von strides toward us and kisses me like he can't wait. I'm breathless and it makes the hard-on situation worse. Then he leans closer to Em and says, "He's here."

Em pales and that solves my erection issue. He doesn't glance at either of us when he nods and rolls his shoulder, walking rigidly through the door. The pungent masculine scent of a hockey locker room is the same everywhere and for me, it's home. I hope Em finds the same comfort. Von and I flank him as we dress in our gear.

Lars is talking Jayce's ear off, so he hasn't seen Em yet. I'm surprised to see Lars but note he's not dressed for the game. He'd never play with us in season; the retired guys would love to prove they could still take a pro. Von must've asked him to come. My heart does a weird skip beat, and I wonder if I'm getting sick.

Surveying the locker room, I notice another current player, which is extremely weird.

Jayce yells Emmett's name. Em's ignoring him, facing the locker. Jayce yells louder, but Em doesn't react.

Jayce is half dressed, charging toward Em, but Von steps in front of him.

"His hearing is fine." I stand next to Von, shielding Em. "If he wants to talk to you, he'll let you know."

"It's none of your fucking business." His expression is furious, and he turns to Von. "Or yours."

"When you yell, you make it everyone's business," Von says evenly.

"Alec"—Em gets my attention—"I'm missing leg and elbow pads." He steps out from behind us.

Jayce inhales as if he's going to suck all the air out of the room. At first I think he's enraged, but his pupils are blown and his hand shakes as he runs it through his hair.

"I'll get them for you." Jayce's voice has gone soft.

Em stares him straight in the eye. "I don't need you to do anything for me. I can do it myself." His eyes flick to mine. "Where's the lost and found?"

Jayce strips off his pads and tries to hand them to Em.

"I'm not wearing yours." Em stomps past him, following me to the office where there's extra equipment.

"Emmett." Jayce's voice pleads, but Em finds other pads and puts them on. Jayce seems defeated, and Em's eyes gleam with satisfaction and vengeance.

Jayce's reaction to Em confuses me. I half expected Jayce to throw Em out, not beg him to speak to him or insist Em wear his pads. That"s territorial and possessive.

Lars bangs a hockey stick on a locker. "Listen up, assholes. Dylon wants to get back on the ice, so he's going to ref tonight. He has a broken collarbone, so watch yourselves." He's pissed.

I track Von, who's definitely confused as well. I've got an awful feeling about tonight. There's bad juju in this place, and if it weren't for the stubborn expression on Em's face, I'd bail.

Things don't improve when we get out on the ice. Jayce repeatedly tries to mark up on Em, who switches every time.

Von is poetry on ice. Of course, he can skate. He's got speed and agility, but Von's not playing hockey. He's cast himself as Em's bodyguard and won't let Jayce near him. Von's a fallen angel flying up and down the ice, and it's one more way I fall harder for him.

During our water break before the third period, Dylon says his shoulder hurts and needs to take a pain pill. He tells us to start without him and asks Lars to ref from the bench.

We're only a couple minutes into the period when Em goes after Jayce, helmet and gloves off, throwing punches. Jayce doesn't defend himself; he lets Em fucking throw punch after punch.

Lars's voice is cold with fury, demanding they get off the ice and figure their shit out somewhere else.

We resume play, but a few minutes later, Em's yelling, barreling down the tunnel, his full gear and skates impeding him, a drunk bear on the run. "Lars, it's Dylon. Jayce called nine-one-one."

We scramble to the tunnel, but Lars is in street clothes and disappears into the locker room before us.

Lars has Dylon cradled in his arms, asking what he took while Jayce is barking orders. We know the drill and don't crowd Dylon. He vomited blood, and swears he only took a prescribed pain med.

It's silent but chaos thrums in the air. Em is flinging things out of his duffle bag and then rushes to Jayce's side. Lars is murmuring in Dylon's ear, clinging to him.

There's a hitch in my chest, and I seek out Von's steady calm. But he's not calm. He's pale, shaking and sweaty. Lars looks up, speaking in Swedish to Von, who doesn't hear him.

It hits me that Von said he had a friend who overdosed. Von is stuck in a memory and I need to get him out of here. Lars and Jayce will handle the crisis. My priority is Von.

"I have to do something." Von's low voice is laced with pain. "I should have known. I should have been there." His eyes are on me, but they don't see me.

"You did everything you could." I hug him and turn his body so he's not facing Dylon. "You can't do anything more. Jayce and Lars are taking care of him, and an ambulance is on the way." I keep a tight hold of him as I start toward the door.

No one says a word, but they part for us as I lead Von out, hockey gear and all. We hear the sirens before the ambulance and firetruck speed into the parking lot. Von is almost catatonic, and it's difficult loading him into an Uber XL to take him home.

The silence is so loud, I can hear the turmoil in him.

My place is closer, but I decided he might be more at ease in his loft.

Tonight is a reversal of the day he found me in the rain.

I start the shower and strip the hockey gear off him. He's sweating but goosebumps cover his skin. I'm dying to ask a million questions, but my silent Viking only talks when he has something to say. My questions can wait.

Angling Von under the spray, I envelop him in my arms. His arms hang by his side, but after a few minutes they wrap around me and he rests his cheek on the top of my head. I nuzzle his neck and press my lips to his skin. When his arms loosen, I wash him as if I can wash away whatever is haunting him. He bends his knees and dips his head so I can wash his hair.

He lets out an agonizing sigh before plunging his head under the water to rinse.

Once we're out, I toss a towel on his shoulders and use another to dry him off.

"I must have scared the words right out of you," he says seriously.

Crouching in front of him, drying his shin with a towel, I grin up at him, ignoring the cock in front of my face. "You just trained me well." I wink.

The tension in his body relaxes, and I crack my neck. "You don't think I'm trainable?" I quip.

"I like you a little wild." Von hauls me to my feet.

"I serve at the pleasure of my Viking." I bow formally like I'm pledging loyalty to a king.

"Thank you." He holds my face in his hands and the pain in his eyes is unbearable.

"We can talk or we can fuck. Whatever you need to release the pain." He's scaring me because he has the same broken look Cole had for years after Paxton died. Again, I'm helpless, knowing that nothing I do will take the pain away.

"Neither. Both." Von closes his eyes and rests his forehead on mine.

"I can try to make your fancy Swedish coffee."

"Then I'd be homeless when you burn the place down." His lips turn up with the hint of a smile.

"No coffee for you!" I say and realize he won't get the pop culture reference. I doubt Swedes' stream reruns of 90s sitcoms from the US.

My phone pings with a text from Jayce, which is highly unusual, so I check it. I sigh with relief. "Jayce says Dylon will be fine. Em had naloxone, and Dylon's recovering in the hospital."

Von is overcome with emotion, so I tug him to bed and become the big spoon.

Von rolls over so we're face to face. Whatever this is, he doesn't want to hide from it.

"This isn't about Dylon, is it?" I prompt, hoping he's comfortable enough to talk.

He shakes his head. "My brother was my best friend and played fotboll too," Von starts and my heart falls out of my body and splats on the floor with the word was.

I'd been tempted to read the online articles, but that'd be cheating to get to know him and I wouldn't know what was real or sensationalized to get more clicks.

"Boe was better than me. He broke every one of my high school records and made it to the Premier League before me, even though he was three years younger. He was a star, going to be the greatest fotboll player Sweden ever had."

My fingertips smooth out his brow. I can't speak because my voice will break, making this harder for him.

"He was my best friend," he repeats. "We told each other everything." Von pauses, but I can tell he has more to say.

"Boe loved fotboll. He didn't understand why I thought it was a grueling job. Boe thought traveling the world and kicking a ball around for money was stealing. He'd do it for free, but he was getting paid to see the world. His attitude was infectious. Every team tried to buy him because he was a one-man savior of bad morale. He was there for me anytime something went wrong." Von's eyes fall closed and I rub circles on his back.

When his eyes reopen, his pain steals my breath. I force my mind to stay focused on what he's saying and not jump to conclusions. Von rarely speaks, let alone in a monologue, so I pay attention to every single word.

"Unfortunately, I needed him a lot. My first serious boyfriend was a lawyer. He was older and said he wanted to take care of me." His look acknowledges we have that in common.

"After he moved in, he asked me to put his name on my bank accounts so he could pay the bills while I traveled the world. My agent advised me against it. And when I said no, my boyfriend left and sold stories to the tabloids saying I'd kicked him out, leaving him homeless. That I'd told him to quit his job to manage my career and then dumped him. They fired him from his job."

Sorrow comes off him in waves and I dread this is leading to a bigger hurt.

"The English tabloid press hounded my entire family and Boe, who'd always been an optimist, became jaded. He told me he was also bi but wouldn't come out because of all the terrible things the tabloids said about me and my sexuality. I hated that my experience changed him. Before he died, he told me he was thinking of coming out. There was someone in his life that might be worth the risk." Von buries his head in my neck and whispers his next sentence.

"I'll never know if the prospect of coming out caused him to kill himself or if it was the thought of losing fotboll or if it was an accident."

I roll us so I'm on top of him and bury my face in his neck. Von has been an open book, but I don't think he's ready for me to witness the full impact of his pain.

Words can't console him, but I do my best to comfort him. I can't believe Von's eyes are dry.

He must read my mind because he says, "I cried an ocean and stopped when I realized he wouldn't want me to be miserable. He'd kick my ass."

I bite my tongue, wanting Von to tell me because he wants me to know––not because I asked.

The fixation to be his person hits me hard. I've never had a person who was mine before. Didn't understand what it would mean to be the one someone confides in. I've always been a loyal friend, but it's not the same.

I didn't know it was missing from my life until this moment. How fiercely I crave it. How hard it's been for me to trust someone and let them close enough that I'd need something from them.

Want is a fleeting desire. Need is necessary for survival. I thought they were interchangeable. I need Von in my life, and I choke on the fear and consequences of my feelings.

This is not the time for an epiphany.

Von's thumb sweeps away a tear that has leaked out of my eye. "Tonight was hard," he confesses, and I wait for him to decide if this thing between us is important enough for him to tell me more.