Page 19 of My Brother's Teammates

But the longer we keep this to ourselves, the bigger it gets, the more capable it is of hurting people—of destroying relationships. Destroying trust. Dishonesty can eat away at a person, fill them with shame and regret.

Trust me, I know.

“Get the fuck outta here.” Jace pushes past me, breaking me away from the past, and moves down a couple of lockers to get to his. He glares at me one last time before he throws his gloves on the bench with a snarl.

See? Easy peasy.

Harrison chuckles, unloading his gear into the stall next to mine. “Only you, Mateo. You banging a ginger this week?”

This time my wink goes to Roman. “Not yet, but I might get lucky soon.”

“Fuck me,” Roman mutters, tucking his giant goalie glove under his arm and running a hand down his face. “There’s something wrong with you.”

“I don’t know…” I pause and glance toward Jace with a smirk. “Jace’s grandmother sure didn’t think so.”

Jace continues ripping off his gear, littering it around him while unleashing a string of curses that would have his dear grandmother washing his mouth out with soap. At least I get a chuckle out of Roman before he settles in the stall on the other side of mine. “Guess I opened the door for that one.”

“Not as wide as Grandma Birdie did when I showed up as her birthday present.” I sit down on the bench and take my time unlacing my skates, letting my gaze wander around the room.

Jace is still pissed, no surprise there. His shoulders are tense, his jaw working back and forth as he grinds his teeth, and he’s muttering to himself—probably about how much of a dick I am. Serves him right for being a dick the rest of the time.

But, you know, that anger is only part of the emotions running across his face. He might be all Hulk Smash on the outside, but I’ve known Jace for years, and watching people is kinda my thing. His fingers are trembling as he peels his shirt away from his chest, and he grips his neck in an almost punishing hold as he glances at Harrison for the hundredth time.

He’s dripping with guilt, and he’s only been holding on to this particular secret for a day.

“What do you guys want to do today?” Harrison sits down next to me on the bench, unlacing his skates. “Lydia has a couple of her friends over, and the last time they were there, I was forced to make appearances on all their channels. One of them tried to put lip gloss on me.”

Usually, I’d laugh at his expense and make a joke about amateur sex videos, but instead, I shudder. I’ve had the displeasure of hanging out with Lydia a few times, and I think it’s safe to say she’s used to getting whatever she wants and isn’t afraid to use her assets to her advantage. She’s shallow, controlling, and as high maintenance as they come. She knows nothing about hockey, except that having any one of us make an appearance in her videos gives her a boost in followers and more sponsorship opportunities.

No, thank you.

“Don’t know.” I shrug, swiping a hand through my hair. “We can go to Blades & Brews for a drink or two.”

“Eh. Maybe we can watch the Cal State game back at your place.”

“No,” Roman says loudly, whipping around toward us, gaining the attention of half the locker room. Glad to see he can play it cool. His eyes widen, his face paling before a deep pink blush creeps up his neck. Finally, he stutters, “I’d rather go out.” He glances at the ground and runs a hand through his neatly trimmed beard. “You know the house is a mess. It’s way worse than usual. Barely any room to sit down.”

That damn blush spreads across his cheeks, and I’m not sure why, but I have the sudden urge to see how far it's spread underneath his jersey—which is ludicrous. This is one of my best friends. The fact that he’s a man doesn’t bother me. I’ve been with men before. But I’ve never crossed that line—or even thought about crossing it—with one of my friends. It’s never been anything more than sex, and I sure as hell didn’t daydream about how any of them looked.

I’ve watched Roman fuck before. Not once have I thought about the coloring of his skin across his wide chest. Wondered if the pinkish hue would inch down his hard-earned abs toward his dick. A dick that I know for a fact is just as broad as the rest of him.

But I sure as shit am thinking about it now.

What’s wrong with me? Jesus, Mateo, he’s one of your best friends. His eyes are up there.

“Easy, big guy.” Harrison holds out his hands with a laugh. “We can go out for a drink. You didn’t need to shout it across the whole locker room. Jeez. And if your place is that messy, you know you can hire someone. Not everyone is going to steal your precious undies and sell them online.”

“They might,” he mutters. “You’re not the one that had to go on a week-long road trip with zero junk support.”

It’s right there on the tip of my tongue, a little comment offering to be his ball support, but I get this funny feeling deep in my chest, and I’m not quite sure how much of a joke it would be. I’m sure they’d laugh it off, typical Mateo, but it would live in my head for a while, poking holes in our friendship, eating away at who I thought I was.

While I’ve been with men before, it’s all about a physical release, and there are never any feelings on the table. But with Roman? He’s got all sorts of butterflies stirring in my stomach. He knows me better than I know myself sometimes. He’s the guy I go to when I need to talk, or sometimes when I can’t stand to be alone for another minute. He’s my best friend.

He’s the reason I didn’t end up broke and married to a girl I would have accidentally knocked up within the first two years of signing my first NHL contract. I was so young, full of more sperm than brain cells. He kept me in line. Hell, he still does sometimes.

With Roman, there would be so many emotions. There could never be something solely physical.

It must be Charlie’s presence in the house. She’s got me all fucked up, imagining all the possibilities that could happen between us, what it could look like, sharing her with Roman and Jace. That must be it. Perfectly explains why I’m thinking about my best friend as something more. You know, as long as I don’t think about it too hard.

---