23. Benny

TWENTY-THREE

BENNY

The day has finally come, and with everything that happened yesterday, I'm even more eager to meet Chris's brother.

I can honestly say that driving from the rink to my place in the middle of the night never seemed a big risk to me, but now that I know about Chris's parents, I can see why it always is for him.

And it will definitely be for me too from now on.

I hate that he lost his parents so young, and I hope that someday he feels like he can talk to me about it more. About them.

Last night was really just the beginning.

I realized that as we lay in his bed, with me spooning him this time, holding him tight as he fell asleep. He told me all about his hellish day, and needed the sleep after, so holding is all that happened.

Today was busy all around. I had to go to the rink for a late morning practice and Chris had to go to the club to oversee the workers there. I took everyone some burgers for lunch and had a good time with the plumbers, learning about pipes, until Chris dragged me away and told me to let them work.

I pouted until he took me to his office and passed me the controller so we could play mindless fun games.

We feel . . . fragile.

No, that's not right. I don't know how to explain it exactly, what word to use. I've never been great at words, but we feel like we're still getting put back together.

I sure hope that it's not going to be like this every time I leave for a roadie or a single away game. It would be hell for Chris if it were, but I already have a few ideas about how to ease his mind a bit.

The door to Jake's house opens and okay , he's good looking.

I mean, he's no Chris, but damn, the dude's cute.

Is it bad that I think that about my boyfriend's brother?

I don't want to bang him, I think as I watch them embrace. Not at all. He's attractive, that's all, but his vibe isn't for me. Way too... put together.

They break apart and Jake offers me a hand. "Nice to finally meet you, Benny, I'm Jake Collins."

I launch myself at him and give him a big bear hug instead of taking his hand. "It's really good to meet you too, Jake." I take a step back and now I feel dumb for hugging him. He looks shocked, and I fear I may have overstepped, but he shakes his head and smiles.

"Damn, I haven't had a hug that good since the last time I saw Bear," he tells me and instantly puts me at ease.

"Oh," I say and nod in agreement. "His hugs really are the best, aren't they?" Jake takes a step back and gestures for me to come in, so I do while I keep talking. "Once he gave me one so perfect that I fell asleep!" I exclaim with eyes wide open. Jake snorts and Chris looks amused. "Hey, you two really look alike. I mean, the vibe's totally different," I gesture at each of their chests for some strange reason.

"Baby are you nervous?" Chris teases me.

"Of course I'm nervous, Chris. This is your brother," I whisper-shout at him and again, gesture at Jake's chest. "Now stop embarrassing me." I turn just in time to see Jake cover his mouth to hide his laugh. I hope it's the good kind of laugh, like he thinks I'm cute, you know? Adorable. "I want to apologize for not bringing anything and must defend my parents' honor. They did raise me better than this, but it's Chris's fault."

"It's fine, you coming over is more than enough for me."

"So you really wanted to meet me too, huh?" I ask and side-eye Chris with a smirk.

"I've been dying to meet you," he says exaggeratedly. "Come on now, I've got everything set up in the back." We follow him to his backyard where he has a covered porch type of thing with a very big grill and half-kitchen space. "I thought we could have a drink while I put the meat on the grill, so what's your poison, Benny?"

"Uh," I hesitate then remind myself this is Chris's brother —it's okay to be myself with him. "A Coke, actually."

"Not a fan of alcohol?" he asks without judgment, and bends down to open a mini fridge I hadn't realized was there.

"Oh, I'm a fan, it's just I don't drink during the season. Or not unless we just got our asses beat and I'm hanging out with the team. Also, I've been living here since I was seventeen, and the guys all made damn sure I didn't get a drop of alcohol until I was twenty-one." I add the last part while I accept the glass bottle. I tilt it to check the label and smile. "You know your Cokes."

"That I do." He smiles then turns to Chris.

"A beer for now," he says without needing to be asked.

"Well you two aren't fun. I can make something more elaborate, you know?"

"I love a good martini, so maybe someday we'll put your skills to the test."

"I make a mean martini," he confirms with a laugh. "But since you're just a baby and haven't developed a good tolerance, I'll tone it down for you."

"Well, you've obviously got years and years of experience on me," I tell him with a shit-eating grin. If he's going to tease me about being young, then I'm going to tease him about being old. "More than a decade. I know men in advanced ages are set in their ways, so no need to tone it down."

Jake barks out a laugh and Chris just sits, letting out a put-out sigh the size of Quebec.

"You're a little shit, aren't you?" Jake asks with a laugh. He turns to Chris and waits for him to look up. "I approve. I bet he keeps you on your toes, doesn't he?"

"You have no idea," Chris mumbles.

"Ah, now don't go complaining about me. I'm an angel." I smile innocently at them and get identical disbelieving stares.

"Yeah, not going to touch that subject," Chris says, shaking his head .

"Good call, bro." Jake nods approvingly and turns to make himself a martini.

"This is your fault," he tells me, looking back at me. My mouth starts to water, damn him.

"Anyway," Chris says in a drawl. "What are you cooking for us?"

"Steaks, salad, and Mexican rice with guac."

"Man, that sounds good," I say to myself and Chris takes my hand with a happy smile.

"He's an okay cook." I snicker because that's such a sibling way to put it.

"So Jake, Chris told me last night you built the concept of Provoke around the employees instead of the clients." I word it the best way I know how. "He told me to talk to you about it when I started annoying him with questions." I smile over at Chris before looking back at Jake. He nods and takes a sip of his martini to taste.

"You can ask me all you want about it." He smiles then turns to lift the lid of the grill and starts turning it on.

"So, what was your idea when you were planning it?"

"Well, from what I knew, there were two kinds of sex clubs. One where only members really went and the staff were really only security, cleaning, waiters, and such. There are no sex workers in those. The other kind were more like whore houses. I hate that term but it's the best way to put it. There's a person who owns the place and the sex workers more than likely live there, and the owner takes a cut from the profits, only giving part of it to the sex workers."

"Like a John?" I wonder.

"Exactly like that."

"So which kind is Provoke?" I ask with a frown .

"Neither. I wanted something that would combine the two and make it better for everyone involved."

"So you're not a John?" I'm relieved to hear that. All I know about Johns is they're not really good people.

"Not at all. Did Chris tell you...?" He trails off, not finishing the thought. I only nod, since I don't feel like I know him well enough to confirm with words that I know he was—maybe still is—a sex worker himself. "Right, so I always did my own thing when I was working the streets—not the safest way to go about it—but eventually, when we came here, I built a client list so I was as safe as I could be doing what I did. So," he says and takes a deep breath, turning back to us and sitting in the chair on the other side of the table. "I basically mixed the two options."

"How?" I wonder.

"Well, I am the owner, the one who sets the playground so to say, but what I get paid for is the member's fee. See, that's something regular places where sex workers work don't have. Any person can walk in and ask for a service. Not at Provoke. Members are vetted, only allowed in by recommendation, and they have to pay a pretty penny to get access to my employees.

"Clients have to pay to enter and they get charged if they want one of the guys for the night, but they can also use the place with other clients or with someone they bring with them. That other person can be a client on their own or just a guest. Sometimes clients meet there and hit it off." He shrugs and I get the feeling that he's trying not to say something.

I narrow my eyes at him. "You like to play matchmaker, don't you?" I tease.

"Maybe," he says, all coy .

I laugh out loud. "Well if my friends are anything to go by, you're doing pretty well in that regard too."

"I can't take all the credit." He looks away and yeah, there's something he's definitely trying not to say. "Anyway, come on, you'll be my sous chef while Chris stews over us meeting, and that way he'll see we like each other just fine and maybe relax a little."

"Good idea," I agree, letting it go. I kiss Chris swiftly then stand. "What can I do?"

I jump over the boards and skate over to my position as Laney changes lines for the millionth time today.

The cold wind bites at my cheekbones, but I can't wait until I get my chance to make it sting from how fast I'm flying around the ice. I love that feeling.

I love playing hockey, love feeling like we can conquer any opponent, love the strategy, and I love the feeling of pushing myself to the brink to get the job done. Even though that's all true, I've never made hockey my whole life the way some of the guys do or have done in the past, but I do think it's what I'm meant to be doing.

Everything has been different today, though. Because Chris is here, sitting right behind the bench. I've enjoyed feeling his eyes on me almost every second of the game.

It's weird. I've never given much thought to how thousands of people are staring at me while I have the puck, but I can physically tell when Chris is focused on me. It's thrilling, and it makes me want to score a fucking hat trick for him .

I already have one in the bag—a beautiful wrister to the upper left corner that came as an assist from Picard—and it's only the middle of the second period, so it's not impossible for me to get it done, but also not probable.

This is the first time he's sent us in this period, and if we get another goal, it'll probably be the last one tonight.

I do hope Chris will be able to come watch me play more, though. I haven't made it a priority to explain the game to him in the past months, but Jake assured me Monday night that he'd explain it all to him while they're here.

All I need right now is to finish this thing, so when I get the chance, I skate for the puck with all I have. I have to battle it out with one of the defensemen from Anaheim. He's a replacement for Heart, who just retired. That guy had about thirty pounds of muscle on me, and was freakishly fast for his size. The only one who ever won the puck going toe-to-toe with him is Santa, so I'm sure glad this kid's the one who I'm playing today.

After a few eternal seconds, I get an opening and spin around, quickly figuring out where Eagle and Picard are, and how fast they're moving. They're racing toward Anaheim's goal, so I chase after them, and make a long pass to Eagle, knowing he can get it if he beats the player covering him—which he can easily do.

I hurry the hell up when I see he doesn't have a shot and passes it back to Picard, who gives it back to Eagle almost as soon as the puck touches his stick. Then Eagle passes it back to me without looking—thank God he knows me as well as I know him.

The asshole covering me slams me against the boards, but I don't give up the puck, instead I fake a left and go right. I pass to Picard and use every second that deke bought me, to get just in the right spot to?—

The horn blares and I'm once more slammed against the boards, but this time it's welcome.

My eyes move on their own volition to the seats behind our bench and I see Chris cheering and clapping. Jake hugs him and they both laugh, so carefree, it brings just a little peace to my mind after the last few days.

Chris is happy.

He's okay, and if he asks me to, I'll do anything I can to help him always be that way.

I don't get my hat trick because just as I'd predicted, Laney didn't let us go out again after my goal. But it's fine, it's much more than fine. We win our second pre-season game, this time at home, and we're all thinking what we won't let ourselves say. Our superstitions won't let us.

Could we go back-to-back?

I believe we can, we just gotta do the work, get lucky on the injury side of things, and most importantly, we have to stay united.

Always.

Speaking of staying united, I follow Jules into the family room—where I told Chris I'd meet them after the game—to be met with a surprising but welcome view.

Chris has his head thrown back, laughing like he just heard the funniest joke in the world, and Sterling's standing in front of him with his arms crossed but with a pleased smile on his face. Jake has his head doing its best to touch his sternum and his hands covering his face, so I bet he was the one suffering from the punchline.

"Looks like they finally made good, huh?" I ask Jules absentmindedly.

"Finally," Jules grumbles good-naturedly. "Let's go see why they're making fun of Da—Jake." He corrects himself, and I snort at him. He gives me a vicious look but I just shrug it off. He's been giving me that look for almost five years, I'm used to it.

"Oh, my God," Chris says in wonder, apparently forgetting all about Sterling's excellent joke. "That was fucking amazing, baby." He kisses me before I've even come to a stop and we both let it go on for way too long, until someone clears their throat. "You are amazing, baby Benny," he whispers against my lips. "You were so fast," he continues louder. "So fucking fast. I swear I'm never missing another game."

I can only smile at him and steal one more kiss.

Nothing is exactly right . How could it be when only days ago Chris was having a crisis? He's not going to "get over" his fear just because he talked about it with me. It's not something that can be changed in a day or two. This will be something we'll have to work on—together—for a long time. At least, that's what my instincts are telling me. But they're also telling me that as long as I have Chris next to me it will all be fine.