Page 125 of On Thin Ice

“You didn’t lock the door?” Finn looked worried at that. “Maybe yeah, if we could wait him out, he’ll get tired. Or wet. Or cold. Or just give up.”

Jacob shot him a look. “This is Morgan Reynolds we’re talking about here. Does he do those things? Or the better question is, does he give a shit about those things?”

Finn’s groan of resignation was answer enough.

Re-gripping his hockey stick and taking a step back, pushing Finn behind him, he said a mental prayer that he wouldn’t get fucked up today, and opened the door.

Morgan immediately shoved a foot between the door and the doorjamb.

“What the actual fuck,” he spit out as Jacob held out his stick, holding him at its length.

“That’s far enough,” Jacob warned as Morgan hesitated on the threshold.

Jacob had seen Morgan angry plenty of times, but he’d never seen him like this.

Then he must’ve seen Finn behind Jacob, and his face grew even darker.

“I thought you might be here,” Morgan said to him, but suddenly he didn’t sound pissed at all, only upset and really, really tired.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Finn said.

Jacob sighed, trying not to shiver in the cold early morning air. “Come on,” he said to Morgan, “you can come in, if you promise to keep your fists to yourself.”

Morgan didn’t look like he wanted to promise that, at all, but he finally nodded, pulling the door shut behind him.

Then he saw how Finn was dressed—or how he wasn’t—and he went dull, brick red. “I should—I should go—I shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?” Finn said.

“Yeah, you woke us up at ass o’clock, dragged us out of bed, you might as well yell at us now,” Jacob said dryly. “You want coffee?”

“I want coffee,” Finn announced and tucked himself under Jacob’s arm, hand stroking Jacob’s back as it curled around his waist.

Morgan made a horrible noise behind them as they walked into the kitchen.

“Are you trying to get me killed?” Jacob muttered under his breath.

But Finn only batted his eyelashes at him innocently and said, “He’s got to get used to the idea. For better or worse.”

“It’s gonna be worse,” Jacob predicted.

Sure enough, Morgan hesitated in the entry to the kitchen, glaring at where Finn remained attached to Jacob’s hip, like they’d been glued together.

“At least,” Jacob hissed, “go put some clothes on. Aren’t you cold? I think he’s got the idea. You were naked—or mostly—naked in my bed.”

“Yes,” Morgan said in a clipped voice. “’Cause on top of being dumb enough to do this, you should catch pneumonia too, only to prove some stupid point to me.”

“It’s not stupid,” Finn argued.

But Jacob shot him another look and Finn finally nodded. “Fine.”

“And bring me a shirt, too, while you’re at it,” Jacob said, even though he probably didn’t need one. The house, once they were out of the open doorway, was warm enough. Was he trying to push Morgan’s buttons, too, just a little, by letting him know that Finn knew exactly where his shirts were?

Sure, he might be retired, but he was still a hockey player.

That would never change.

“As long as you two keep your promise. No blood,” Finn reminded both of them.

---