Page 89 of Gross Misconduct

“Can you lift your head?”

I do not. I shove the shirt behind my back. Immature, yes, but I had no better ideas. Looking into those crystal blues would make any man do crazy things.

“I know I should give you back your shirt and let you go and let that be that. But dammit, I can’t.” I cup his determined chin in my hand. “You’re the first guy who makes me feel like I didn’t completely fuck up my life, that all of these setbacks and hardships were all put in place for a reason, because they led me to you. When I came out, I did it to be honest with myself and those around me. I didn’t expect to feel this kind of hope. Like maybe I’m actually doing something right in my life for a change.”

“Griffin…” I feel his chin tremble in my grip, quivering with barely contained emotion. If I let him leave this garage, then this connection will be lost forever.

“And I know you’re supposed to be the cocky one, but allow me to indulge for a moment: you feel it, too. You’re into me.”

He softens a touch, but it’s very short-lived. His face hardens, a flash of anger bolting across his vision before he breaks from my grasp.

“Of course I am! But who says you’re not going to push me away like the rest of them!”

“Who would ever push you away?” I don’t mean to sound aloof. I’m confused as to why that would ever happen to someone as wonderful as Jack.

“Oh, let’s see? I thought I had loving parents, but my mom bailed without saying goodbye. And as soon as I stopped being a hockey star, my dad stopped being my number one fan.”

Red clouds his face. All I want to do is hug his anger away. He looks away, as if considering what to say next. He suddenly whips his head back to me.

“You know, before I became this big slut, I did try to do the relationship thing,” he says. “Guys loved the idea of fucking a professional athlete, and once the excitement faded, they bolted, too. So I figured it was smart to just leave things at one night only. Keep up the mystique, get my rocks off, and onto the next. I was good at that. You don’t get hurt that way. People don’t leave you if you leave first.” He shakes his head, his jaw incredibly tight. “And then I had to meet you.”

I put a tentative hand on his shoulder. His muscles are incredibly tense, like he’s always poised to run.

“I would never do anything like that to you,” I say. I’ve never been so angry in my life. Rage boils inside me at what’s been done to Jack. “You know I’m not like that.”

“They all say that. They all say they love me until they don’t.”

“I will never hurt you,” I whisper in his ear. “I would take the most brutal check on the ice every day for the rest of my life so you’d never have to feel this way again. I’m not going anywhere.” I kiss his forehead, waiting for the moment he shoves me back, but it doesn’t come. “I want you to love me. But more than that, I want you to trust me.”

Shit. Did I just use theLword? It was something that had been percolating inside me over the past day. Listening to Jack bare his soul pushed it to the forefront for me. There may be a big age gap between us, but Jack has lived more life by twenty-four, a life filled with ups and down and victory and hurt, than most people have by fifty.

“Jack.”

Slowly, he curls his hand around mine. A sliver of light at the end of this tunnel.

“I…” he croaks out, his voice stifled with emotion. A tear falls down his cheek. “Just kiss me already, Griffin.”

Will fucking do.

I pull him into my lap, kissing him with all my love, all my heart, telling him everything I can’t say with words. I will give him all the love he deserves, and I’m not going anywhere.

“But keep in mind if you do turn out to be an asshole, I will gouge out your other eye.”

“The people in your family sure do love coming after my sense of sight.”

“It’s genetic.” He laughs and presses his mouth to mine again, the salty taste of his tears hitting my tongue.

We pause, though, both coming to the same realization.

“Are you going to tell your dad about us?” I ask.

“Eventually. I think if I win this game next week, he’ll be in a good mood, so maybe that’ll be my opening.”

It wasn’t something either of us wanted to dwell on.

“Speaking of openings.” I drift my fingers into his boxers and down his crack. He pulls them back.

“I should go, and you need to sneak back to your bedroom.” He kisses me one last time before hopping off me. He finds his pants and leaves the truck bed.

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