20. Benny

TWENTY

BENNY

I carry my giant stuffed octopus up the stairs with my cheeks hurting from how much I'm smiling. Can a day get any more perfect?

Chris planned the best date in the history of dates, and now I have to somehow show him how much that means to me. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could ever find a man who understands and accepts me the way he does.

"So you like the octopus, huh?" he asks with a sly grin.

"I love the octopus," I correct. I walk over to the wingback chair by the window and wrangle all the legs until I'm sure it won't fall off, then I turn to show Chris what I still don't know how to say.

"I'm glad you do, baby. So the date was a success?" he asks like he doesn't already know the answer.

"It was perfect," I say quietly.

It hits me at that moment, that our days are about to look a lot different than they have since I met him.

"I'm going back to my full training schedule tomorrow." There's no way to hide the sadness in my voice .

"I know, baby," he says, sounding just as lost as me.

"It's going to suck to not be able to spend all day with you," I murmur with my gaze down, and sit at the foot of his bed.

"It will, I know, but you do get free days, don't you?"

I do the weird frown-wince I've seen people do sometimes. It's the only way to physically express how weird a hockey player's schedule is. "Not a lot, but yeah. I mean, I've seen our schedule, but I saw it like a month ago and honestly, I barely paid it any mind. All I know is we have about a month to get into shape, then it's the like, official training camp with all the media and that shit. Then we have the pre-season games, and then the season starts in two months."

"And then?" Chris whispers. I turn and see the wide eyes, the slight panic, and curse myself. I'm only freaking him out.

"Then it's at least three games a week for six months, more if we get into the playoffs, which we will since we're so freaking amazing." I give him a cocky smile, trying to make light of all of this.

"That's a lot," Chris says with a sigh and sits next to me. My breath stalls. Is he about to— "But I'm sure we can plan around it. I mean, we've been doing pretty well, right?"

I let out a relieved breath and lean in for a hard kiss. "I thought you were about to dump me," I tell him honestly.

"What?" he demands, leaning back. He looks hurt. "I'd never do that, Benny." The use of my name and the serious tone bring me back down to earth.

"I-I know," I tell him, trying to explain. But do I know that? "I just know it's a lot. I've seen it with my teammates. Those who have partners, that is. It's really hard, for everyone."

"I'm okay with doing hard things, baby." He cups my face to raise my gaze to him again. "And my job only makes it more complicated." He blows out a harsh breath, and his hand drops from my cheek.

I don't like that, so I take it and bring it right back to where it was.

"You love the club," I point out.

"And you clearly love hockey," he counters.

"I do." I nod in agreement. "We're just going to have to figure this out. What I told you last week is still true, handsome. If I don't get to see you at all, then waking up to you is more than enough for me. Knowing you're there... It's the best."

"And when you do get a day off, I can make sure I'm free too," he says, a new light coming into his eyes.

"See? We've totally got this." My smile is back—okay, it's more subdued, but it's back nevertheless.

"We've got this," he agrees and then he kisses me. Just like we did at the trampoline park, we kiss and kiss and kiss until we can't take it anymore. It seems like we go from zero to sixty in one second flat because suddenly I need to feel him. I yank at his clothes and he does the same to mine.

I realize it's only delaying us more, so I just focus on his pants and start stroking him as soon as my mouth meets his hard cock. He reaches over to his nightstand and gets the lube which he dumps all over my hand and then my dick when I take myself out.

It's fast and rough, but every second is glorious, and when I spill all over him only seconds before he does the same, I get what I need. I feel closer to him than I ever have.

One month later

Patience.

Over the last month I've learned so fucking much about patience, it's ridiculous. But I think it's helped me perfect my strategy on the ice. I know what my team—my linemates—need from me. They need me to get to the puck fast, win the race every time. They need me to know where they are without looking, so once I have the puck I can pass it to where they're going to be.

I've gotten faster and faster the longer I've been in the league, and by now I know how to avoid hits that will affect that same speed. That's what I've been developing for so long.

Flying down the ice is the best way to support my team, the best way to make sure I'm the best right wing for Jules. It's no secret that all of us work toward getting him the puck in the best possible position. Our chances of winning are the best when he's on the ice and when he has control of the play.

That's not ass kissing, it's realism. I don't mind being his literal and metaphorical wingman on the ice. I consider it an honor actually. The synchronicity between us is what made our coach, Laney, put me in the first line with him even though I was barely nineteen when he did. It's paid off so far.

Now with the way my relationship has affected us, I hope that doesn't jeopardize our connection on the ice come gameday, but I don't think it will. It hasn't during practice, and all the reporters that were here a week ago sure didn't seem to think there was anything amiss. Still, I'm worried about the whole situation.

But patience has helped.

My relationship with Chris has taught me more about patience than any coach in the last ten years. I have to wait to talk to him, wait to see him, wait to feel him. It's always waiting. From what he's told me, he's working on promoting two people who work for him next month so that he can have more flexibility in his hours at the club, but I can't figure out if that's what he really wants.

There have been five days total that we've spent together over the last month, and it's just not enough for me. With me going away tomorrow for our first preseason game, I just don't know how we're going to cope. I don't know if Chris making a sacrifice for our relationship when it's still so new is right.

But something I realized a couple of weeks ago is that all I can do about it is wait and see, and react the best way I can when things come up. So, what I realized about patience for hockey can also be applied to life.

I have to wait for the perfect time to break away and skate like my ass is on fire. I have to hold off whoever's trying to beat me to the puck or take it away until it's time to send the puck flying to my teammates.

Right now, I have to wait for some time to pass. I have to see how both Chris and I feel when I actually am on away games. Because maybe we'll deal with it just fine. Maybe Chris really does want to step back from Lure and let others be managers when the club is actually open.

If I start to feel like it's not enough for me or have any reason to believe Chris feels like that, then I'll talk about it with him, but I haven't noticed anything. And honestly, yeah, it's a bit frustrating not seeing him as much, but we always make up for it when we do get to spend some uninterrupted time.

So I keep telling myself to wait and see.

But when I step out of the locker room after our last pep talk with Laney before tomorrow, and see Sterling leaning against the opposite wall, I know in this instance, waiting won't do anyone any good.

He's kid-less and there's no Jamie around, so I take advantage of the opportunity and grab him by the arm and drag him with me to an empty PT room.

"What?" he growls at me, but he doesn't resist my pull. Now, Sterling's a strong guy by normal standards, but I've got a couple of inches and more than a dozen pounds of muscle on him, so even if he did resist, I could very well carry him inside. I don't know if I would, though, and thankfully don't have to find out.

I whirl on him when he talks again. "What the fuck, Benny?" he demands. "I'm just?—"

"You're just going to shut up and listen. I've had a crush on you my whole damn life."

"What?" he asks, looking seriously confused.

"Yup," I say with a nod and cross my arms in front of me. "And your husband knows. I tease him about his hot husband all the damn time. He pretends to get all growly and jealous, but he's actually super smug about it. You know why?" Sterling just shakes his head, his mouth is hanging open in shock now. "Because he knows you're his, and only his. Just like Jules Picard Dupont is only yours , Sterling.

"Yeah, my boyfriend slept with your husband like a million years ago and helped him have like a kink epiphany or some shit. So what? You're the one he chose to spend his life with, so will you please get over it?" His jaw clenches and I see him fist his hands, but I'm not scared. Despite his bad-boy reputation I know Sterling is actually a sweetheart.

"You know I'm almost twice your age, right?" he asks like that means anything at all.

I roll my eyes at him, deliberately dramatic and over the top. "Yeah, and how shitty is it that I'm acting more mature than you?"

"Pretty shitty," he admits in a mutter and looks away, then he sighs. "Okay," he relents and lets out another big breath. "I'll tell Jules it's okay to invite everyone over for a do-over of the disaster dinner."

I snort. Disaster dinner is about right. "Great, good talk. Also, I think you owe Jules an apology since I don't think he would've acted like that if he'd been confronted with one groupie, would he?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, but pat his shoulder and walk out of the room. There's nothing more to say. I run into Jules just outside and tilt my head up at him. "You're husband's in there sulking." I don't stay to see what's gonna happen with them. My guess is Sterling's gonna sulk some more then probably buy something very expensive to apologize.

I arrive at my place just in time to see Chris wake up, all cute and soft and sleepy. He's supposed to have breakfast, and I have to have my pre-lunch so I get right to work on that after making him a cup of coffee.

"How do you have this much energy?" he demands.

"Drink your coffee, handsome, I've got something to tell you."

He raises both eyebrows and looks intrigued enough to pick up his cup and take a big gulp—good.

We're only halfway through our meal when I finish, and Chris is nodding in approval.

"I think it's good that you talked to him. Also, really? You have a crush on a guy that's twice your age?" Humor fills his eyes as I laugh.

"C'mon, it's Sterling. Who doesn't have a crush on him?"

"I guess that's a good point. But Jules is a good sport about it then?"

"He is." I nod and take another bite. "I mean, the guy knows he's Sterling's one and only, and I'm not sure he knew that at first. When they first got together I mean." I stay quiet for a moment because, do I know that Chris is only mine?

I think I do.

More like, I think he is.

"Only yours, baby," he whispers as he leans over to kiss my cheek.

"How do you know I was thinking about that?" I ask, impressed.

"I just do." He shrugs.

"Well I'm only yours too, handsome." I take my last bite. " Now come on, help me clean this up." He stands with me and takes my plate from my hands.

"We can do that later," he says with his sex face on. I've realized over the past few weeks that's what the intensity is, that he's horny.

I like it.

"We can do that later," I parrot and get lost in his kiss.

Chris is just about to leave to go to work as I'm packing my suitcase, and that's when he brings up the away game for the first time. We've kind of been avoiding it—well I've been keeping true to my wait-and-see mentality. I honestly don't know why Chris hasn't asked me more about it.

I already arranged two tickets for him to go see us play with his brother next week for our second pre-season game, and we're going to have dinner with him on Monday since I get back Sunday night.

"So you're leaving early?"

I put on a big smile just to offset his dejected tone. I don't want him to be sad about this.

"Wheels up at seven a.m. tomorrow."

"Okay, well..." he trails off and goes to what now is his nightstand at my place. It's next to his side of the bed—he even referred to it as such once, and almost made my heart explode. He reaches into the drawer and pulls out...

"Is that a Switch?" I demand. The controllers are gray instead of the colorful ones I have so I know it can't be mine. Also, mine's currently connected to my TV in the other room. Which reminds me I have to pack it— focus, Benny , I tell myself. "Did you buy yourself a Switch?" My heart might actually explode this time.

My boyfriend really is the best in the whole wide world.

He shrugs as he turns to look at me, but his hand shakes a little. "I figured we could play while you're at away games."

"Oh, sweet Jesus," I say in a breathless tone. I might just start to fan myself.

"Baby Benny, is this making you horny?" he asks incredulously.

"Yup," I confirm and nod a couple of times. "We've totally got this boyfriend thing down," I mutter to myself.

"What?"

"Never mind. Prepare yourself, handsome. I'm about to attack."

"Atta—"

He doesn't even get the words out before I'm on him.