Page 28 of On Thin Ice

“You ready?” Finn asked. Jacob nodded and he pressed the start button.

And then Jacob proceeded to keepshowinghim.

He moved so naturally, so easily Finn thought he could skate right onto the ice today and give a performance that wouldn’t only be sufficient, it would be extraordinary.

It wasn’t until the nineteenth puck, Jacob having easily swatted away the first eighteen, that the only crack in Jacob’s armor appeared.

It was a corner shot, when Jacob had just been on the opposite side. Finn knew exactly how he’d have relied on his hips to push him over, quick enough that he could easily deflect the puck.

But Jacob clearly knew he couldn’t. He didn’t move that way at all. Instead his stick shot out, and even though he was moving slower and more carefully than Finn ever would’ve, he still managed to catch the puck on the far edge of the blade, barely flicking it away.

Finn had been sure that shot was going to get by him, and each subsequent puck that forced Jacob into that position, he held his breath, waiting for him to move just a fraction too slow this time around.

But he didn’t.

Jacob knew exactly what his capabilities were. Had practiced with them enough that he knew exactly what he could and could not do.

It was an impressive display, and Finn shouldn’t have been turned on—this washockey, not sex, after all—but the incredible control he showed over his body made him inevitably wonder what else Jacob was capable of.

He’d be great in bed. Focused and intent, with the kind of control Finn would long to break down, toown.

When Jacob finally finished, accomplishing what Finn hadn’t, Finn couldn’t even be mad.

Okay, he was alittlemad because he wouldn’t ever be getting an invitation to Jacob’s bed.

“Shit, man, that was crazy good,” Finn said as Jacob lifted his helmet, wiped his own face with his T-shirt.

Finn didn’t ignore the ripples of his abs or the trail of dark hair that led down to his sweatpants. He was long past not looking.

“Good, but you saw, I’m sure,” Jacob said, barely out of breath.

It was annoying, because Finn was in good shape—ingreatshape—but it was also aspirational. If Jacob could do this at thirty-five, with a bum hip, then Finn could do it too. He could bethisgood.

It felt like the first positive thought he’d had to hold on to in so fucking long.

The first bit of light in a long darkness.

“Yeah,” Finn said. But he didn’t want to focus on that. He wanted to focus on what waspossible.

Because suddenly, the whole universe felt possible.

“And now you know why I retired.”

Ironically, Jacob appeared to have lost his own confidence after that. Which was fucking baffling.

“Yeah, you don’t have the range you used to, but youstilldid it. You worked around it, and you were amazing. Absolutely fucking amazing—”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Jacob said dryly. He went for his own water and guzzled it down.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” Finn argued.Let me have this.“Why’d you retire?”

“You saw it,” Jacob said simply.

“But you compensated for it.”

“Yeah. But it takes attention and focus to do that. Takes attention and focus away from what matters. I wasn’t the same goalie I was before.”

“Still damn good,” Finn muttered.

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