I look up into the pimply face of a kid so lanky he’s almost my height. “What for?”
“You, umm … I always thought my best friend was straight, even when he’d be touchy and stuff like you two, and then after you guys got married, I got my shit together and asked him if he’d ever considered it.”
My smile takes over my face. “Yeah? What did he say?”
The kid shakes his head. “Nah, it’s not for him. But nothing changed. Just … I had an answer. You know?”
Well, thank fuck for that. The last thing I need is to be responsible for wrecking some kid’s life. “I’m happy for you. Best friends are important.”
His face reddens. “Yeah. Can you sign my skate?”
I take it that’s it for the emotional stuff, then. Fair enough. I sign his skate, then a few others, and the whole time I can feel the sheer levels of enthusiasm.
When William finally gets everyone to calm down, Tripp and I help out with drills, and then we put on some pads and break into two teams for a practice game. I’m not sure if it’s the absence of pressure or being in a supportive environment, but when we start to play, it’s like I’m my old self.
We go easy on the kids. I let some strip the puck from me, and Tripp lets two easy goals past. But when I get close enough to take a shot, I have this brief flashback to how I used to feel playing him before he was traded. The nerves, the respect and admiration, the knowledge that if I get one past him, it’s less about skill and more about luck.
Tripp’s hands are ready, eyes sharp, and I don’t hold back. I fire a bullet into the right corner, and for one wild second, I think Tripp’s got it …
Then it finds the net.
Satisfaction floods through me. The high I get from scoring never seems to go away, even in a game that means nothing, but also, somehow, everything.
Once we’re finished, we follow the team back to the weights room, where we sit in a circle and the ones who are comfortable share their stories.
We’re there for a few hours all up, and when it’s time to leave, we pose for about a million selfies.
I feel lighter than I have in weeks.
It’s not until I’m back out in the Vegas sun that I can breathe around the emotion again.
Before Tripp can take a step, I grab him and yank him into a hug.
I have no doubt this hasn’t fixed my issues, but it’s a start.
I belong.
My feelings for Tripp are bigger than nasty comments and Fensby’s attitude. If something happens and it gets out that we made a dumb choice, it’s not like that will change anything. Fake-real married or not, we’re together now.
I can love Tripp the way my body always has because my brain has finally caught up.
The threat of a trade is still terrifying, but I have to believe we’re stronger than that. We’ve had this connection from the start, and not even distance can get in the way of us.
I don’t let him go for a really long time.
“You okay?” he asks.
I kiss the side of his head. “I really think I will be.”
Twenty-Six
TRIPP
The whole way home, Dex doesn’t stop touching me. He leans over and kisses my neck, runs his hand up my thigh until he’s cupping me over my pants, and it takes all my strength to keep focus on the road.
We stop at a red light, and I relax into it. “Being a good role model really turns you on, huh?”
“Nope. But you showing me something that’s important to you does. Taking me there just so I will feel better does. Everything you do turns me on.”
“Fuck.” I throw my head back.
Then a horn blasts behind us, and my eyes fly open to see the light is green.
“You’re going to make me crash,” I say.
“I can’t help it.”
“Pretty sure you can. You just need to remember kindergarten rules. We don’t touch other people’s private parts. In this case, at least until we get home. Then we can have grown-up rules again.”
Dex pulls away and slumps in his seat. “Can you at least drive faster?”
Normally, a comment like that would make me drive slower, but my cock is straining against my pants, and horniness wins out over stubbornness.
“How long do we have until we need to be at the practice rink?” I ask.
“Can we call Coach and be like ‘we just spent two hours on the ice with some kids, so can we not come in so we can have sex instead?’”
“Yes, Coach will love that.”
Dex checks the time on his phone. “We have an hour and a half.”
“Plenty of time to get off, get showered, and drive to Summerlin.”
“Is it enough time for us to do something we haven’t yet?”
I glance over at Dex to find him biting his lip nervously. “What were you wanting to do?”
“Well …” He swallows hard and looks away. “You said you were versatile, didn’t you?”
My foot hits the accelerator so fast we get thrown back in our seats, and I almost rear-end the car in front of me.
“Okay, I’m getting the impression you’d rather die than let me top you. Is that what’s happening here?” Dex smirks.
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask to top me forever.”
Dex frowns. “Wait, why do I have to be the one to ask?”
“Because I don’t know if you know this …” I lean in and whisper conspiratorially, “I’ve had sex with men before. You haven’t.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I wanted to take this at your pace. Do what you’re comfortable with. And you always seem to want me inside you, and I will never, ever say no to that.”
Dex throws up his hands. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask because, I dunno … isn’t it … gay etiquette?”
“For the last time, there is no gay etiquette. Do you think we go to a finishing school for gay sex—whoa. There’s a sentence that changes the whole meaning of finishing school.” I shudder.
I finally—finally—turn onto our street, and Dex can’t remember the rules anymore. He goes back to touching me and driving me crazy.
“So we can do it? Do we have time? It takes a while to, you know, like prep.”
“For you, maybe. Trust me, we have more than enough time.” I reach over and pat his cheek.
The second I pull into our designated parking spot under the building and turn the car off, Dex is all over me.
His hands cup my face, his mouth presses against mine, and if there was room for him to climb over and straddle me, I’m sure he’d find it.
“Okay, we have time for sex. We don’t have time to get injured in the car and then sex. Move your sexy ass upstairs now.”
Still, he can’t help himself. All the way through the parking lot to the elevators, his hands don’t stop exploring. I back him up against the side of the elevator, and he grabs my ass in his big palms and squeezes.
“I can’t wait to fuck you,” he says. “Ooh, do we get to have hot goalie contortion sex?”
“Uh, what?” I’m in too much of a lust-filled daze to understand.
“The guys from the Collective are always joking about how bendy you are because you’re a goalie.”