Page 56 of Broken Ice, Mended Hearts

“I like you sweaty, Holmer. Follow me.”

He led us past the home bench and through the tunnel back to the players’ suite, then through the locker room and down a hallway toward the lounge. He stopped halfway there, in front of an unmarked door I’d always thought was a storage closet. Nodding at it, he whispered, “I need a big sweaty D-man to fuck me. Interested in the job?”

“Are you serious?” My dick rocketed to life. “What’s in there?”

“It’s a one-seater bathroom. Come on. I need you.”

After showering at the arena, we stopped for a late breakfast on the way to Pip’s house. When we arrived, there was a thick Fed Ex envelope waiting in front of his door, which he opened as we stepped inside.

“Something good?” I asked, toeing off my sneakers by the door.

“It’s from the league. Let’s find out.” He led us to the dining room and dumped the contents of the package onto the table. After he picked up the cover letter, he groaned and threw it down. “It’s that fucking paperwork I hate so much. This will be the sixteenth time I’ve filled it out.”

“Shit,” I grumbled. “Personnel paperwork. I’m sure there’s a package exactly like that waiting for me at home.”

He put a hand low on my back and kissed my cheek. “All the more reason to stay here for a while.”

“Like the rest of my life?” Cringing, I sneaked a look at Pip. I’d meant it as a joke, but who knew how he’d take it?

“That reminds me of something important I want to talk about. Let’s get a drink and sit in the sunroom.”

“Meet you there.” Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I made my way to the sunroom and sat on the couch. Things between us had been going well, and after the morning we’d just shared, I doubted Pip wanted to break up. I couldn’t help wondering what was on his mind, though. “No promises” echoed in my thoughts, but it made no sense to be so jittery. Pip and I had built a solid connection, and our happiness was undeniable. It had become such a lifeline, the thought of losing him sent a shiver down my spine.

But he wasn’t like that. Behind his playful swagger and easy grins, he was a romantic at heart. If he was having serious doubts, he’d have already told me. He’d said he wanted to talk about something important, which could mean anything. It might not be about our relationship at all.

Footsteps approached, and I studied his face as he entered the room. His eyes brightened at the sight of me—a good sign, right?—but the tightness around them gave me pause. I told myself to think positively, that the conversation would be fine, whatever he wanted to discuss. Communication would be key, and we’d gotten good at that.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, handing me a glass. “Mattie made lemonade, and I put some extra lemon juice in yours since I know you like it on the sour side.”

“Thanks.” Mattie was the woman who came twice a week to keep the house clean and make sure Pip didn’t starve, and her lemonade was very sweet. That Pip not only remembered I preferred it sour but did something about it helped me calm down. The glass was frosty, and when he settled beside me and held up his drink for a toast, mine almost slipped through my fingers.

“Whoa, big guy,” he said, laughing. “Hold on to it. You nervous about that paperwork?”

“Something like that.” I swallowed half the lemonade in one gulp. “What’s on your mind?”

He blew out a breath, and—oh shit—looked more nervous than he had before. “I’ve been thinking about us,” he started, “and I want to run something by you.”

I nodded for him to go on.

“Are you happy, Sven? With me, I mean.”

My knee twitched, and I put a hand on it to keep it still. “Yes. You make me feel great, and we have more fun together than I’ve had for a long time.”

“I feel the same. We said no promises, and I don’t want to push you, but I’ve been wondering… Would you like to live here with me? At the house?” He paused and took a deep breath. “The season’s starting soon, and I’d… Wouldn’t you… Let’s spend as much time together as we can.”

I replayed his words. Between my nerves and his talking in fits and starts, I wanted to be sure I’d heard him correctly. “You want me to move in?” I tried to smile, but my lips were shaking so much he probably couldn’t tell. “Because I?—”

“If you’d rather, I could stay at your place, but there’s more room here, and?—”

“Here’s good,” I blurted, and then the words raced out of me. “I love your house, and you’re right, there’s more room. The garden’s beautiful, and your pool’s fantastic. I love it here, and the idea of being with you all day—” My throat closed, cutting me off. I fought to keep my eyes dry, and when he held out his hand, I grabbed it like a drowning man.

“You’ll stay here, then?” He smiled, and his eyes told me he knew I was feeling emotional. We were cut from the same cloth in lots of ways, so he was saving me from crying in front of him.

Why the almighty fuck am I like this? As much as I want him, and as deep as my feelings are, I shouldn’t be ashamed to cry. Why is it so hard for me to show vulnerability? I’m vulnerable enough when I get on my knees for him, when I raise my legs so he can be inside me. I don’t have any trouble begging him to fuck me, and I love lying back so he can shoot his cum all over my face. But letting him see me shed a tear? You’d think it was sure and certain death.

I cleared my throat and stared a hole through the window. Then I grunted while I punched the sofa cushion and cursed a blue streak in two languages, but despite my herculean struggle, tears inevitably ran down my cheeks. I jerked my head away so he couldn’t see them.Goddamn it.If I wanted something real,I shouldn’t close myself off, but I hated for him to see me this weak. Swiping my cheeks didn’t help because the tears were running freely.

He squeezed my hand. “It’s okay, babe. I understand.”

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