Page 55 of On Thin Ice

Like Finn could fucking think about anyone else.

“Okay. Good. I thought . . .I thought we could at least have this.” Jacob laughed, not sounding particularly amused by it.

“Right.”Get out of the car now, before you say anything else. Before you goddamndoanything else.Finn put his hand on the door handle, but he didn’t open it.

Then of course, Jacob chose that moment to actuallylookat him, right in the eye. “No matter what happens,” Jacob said slowly, like he was carefully picking each and every word, “I’m not going to regret this.”

Finn jerked and opened the door.

Melted into the night and refused to look back.

Understood a little too well how Jacob felt about retiring from hockey. That he was happy andguiltyabout being happy.

Because Finn fucking loved that he held their fate in his hands and resented the hell out of it, at the exact goddamn time.

Chapter 9

"Youlooktense,”Brodysaid casually as he skated around the back of the net, getting his legs warmed up for practice.

Finn made a face. “I’m not tense,” he argued. But he was. He definitely was.

Knew he was, even as he tried to limber himself up. He grunted at Brody, who rolled his eyes and skated off, to finish his own warmup.

He’d spent all day yesterday doing homework and getting ready for the week, but even though he’d been going through the motions, nothing had felt as real or as pressing as the thirty seconds where he and Jacob had nearly kissed.

It was a mistake. If they’d actually kissed, it would have been an enormous mistake.

Finn kept telling himself that, reminding himself—and his dick—that they’d dodged a bullet. Keeping Jacob in the coach box was better than any of the alternatives. Now he wouldn’t ever have to disappoint his dad with his shit choices in men. Now he wouldn’t be distracted from hockey. According to Zach,the Sentinels’ scouts had been in the audience at the game. They’d even sent him an email, congratulating him on the shutout and telling him how good he looked.

“In control” was the phrase they’d used, and Finn could see how they might think that was true.

But it wasn’t true.

When Jacob had sent a text yesterday evening about grabbing some ice time for just the two of them Thursday morning, he’d been so tempted to reply with some version of the same text he kept typing out in his mind:what the fuck was that and why did we stop?

But he knew why they’d stopped.

He didn’t need Jacob to answer the question. Heknew.

“And here I thought you getting some on the regular might loosen you up some.”

Brody was back, now, and he had a look in his eye that promised he wasn’t going to let this go.

“Getting some according to who?” Finn asked, but he already knew. Ramsey had decided that not only was Jacob coaching him, he was fucking him. It was not very surprising that he’d tell Brody, his best friend on the team.

Whatwassurprising was that Brody—who before his football player boyfriend had practically been a virgin—was giving him shit about this.

“You’re not?” Brody questioned.

“I’m not.” Finn took a deep breath, wishing for patience. For sanity. “We’re not. He’s just coaching me.”

“Well, the point remains. You’re playing better than I’ve ever seen you. You were in the zone Saturday night,” Brody said.

“Thanks.”

“So whyareyou tense?” Brody paused, clearly hesitating because he wasn’t sure he wanted to bring up theDword. “Is your dad in town?”

Finn shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it.

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