Page 32 of Reckless On Ice

“Of course. I love your kids, even that one,” I say, meaning every word.

Harlowe is a fantastic mother who has raised incredible children that I adore. I love spending time with her whenever I can, with the kids or without.

We have an interesting history, Harlowe and I. We dated for a few months about three years ago when I wanted to play up the straight card for people around me. She was a single mom, hada huge social media following as an influencer and chef, and was so fun to hang out with, even if I didn’t want to be with her romantically. While it was good for my image to be seen with her, I enjoyed our time together because I liked her as a person more than anything. I’ve always had more female friends, given some of the shit I’ve been through, so it was natural to fall into that sort of thing with Harlowe. But I felt horrible for leading her on to hide my truth. I finally came clean and told her I was gay when Zander, her baby daddy, came back into the picture and was pushing for them to try something again. She has been incredibly supportive of me ever since and guards my secret with her life. And she gives me all the good book recommendations, knowing we both enjoy smutty romances. I told her no more hockey romance after that kitchen debacle, though.

“Oh, this is my favorite part,” Harlowe says, waving her soda cup toward the ice.

I look down where she’s indicating and see both teams on the ice warming up. Growing up with Ryder, I went to many hockey games with him, so this isn’t new. I spot the Hydras' big goalie easily. He’s at center ice in front of the home bench, wearing the special Pride Night jersey. It’s navy with a rainbow shield featuring a stylized neon green H with serpent heads at the tops and bottoms of the legs of the H. The big number one under Kingston on his back stands out and draws my eyes as he turns.

He pushes off one skate, gliding around in a circle andsmoothly down onto his knees, stretching out one leg and leaning toward it before centering himself and moving to the other side. Is he in a full split? Holy shit, he is. He’s incredibly flexible. His feet windshield-wipers behind him before moving back up to his hands and knees, pressing his hips up and down on the ice to get a groin stretch. This isn’t good for my obscene imagination, picturing Ryder in that position, driving into someone, or in front of me as I drive into him.

Whoa. Uh, no, I can't even go there. He’s been making me crazy with his insistence on getting under my skin any way he can. It was nearly too much today. My football field of a line felt shorter than ever, that end zone rushing toward me faster than my restraint could keep up.

I almost snapped and turned to call his bluff. Instead, I barely held it together with the tiniest hope that maybe he was doing it because he wanted to. I let him touch me, grind on me, control me, and bite me hard enough to leave a mark I had to hide with a collared shirt. He knew exactly what to do to me to have my cock painfully hard in seconds. Wantonly, I'd pushed my ass back for his use because I liked how he handled me too damn much. I wanted to be used, and wasn’t surprised when he’d come against my ass. I was so close to believing he wanted me until he opened his stupid mouth and didn’t know what to say for himself. He fuckingbro’dme.

I should have stopped him, but I liked how he touched me, that he wanted to, at least a little bit, even if his motivations were wrong. That didn’t keep me from jacking off violently inthe bathroom immediately after, using my cum-soaked shorts wrapped around my cock, with the feel of him still thrusting against my ass to get off to. Am I proud of my actions? Fuck no. But it was better than turning around in the kitchen and mauling the confused man who got me so worked up I resorted to that depraved act in the first place.

I look up and catch Harlowe watching me. My cheeks heat, but not for the reason I’m sure she thinks when she waggles her eyebrows at me and laughs. “They don’t wear tight football pants, but I’m a big hockey fan now. Owning a boy aquarium is the best thing ever.”

I shake my head at her, stifling a chuckle at her silly phrase, and try not to watch Ryder too closely for the rest of warm-ups.

The game itself is great. It’s fast-paced, and Minnesota is playing clean. The arena is electric, energy pulsing through the building as the Hydras push to the final buzzer with a three-one lead in the final period. I love the camaraderie fans have. The chants are fun. The energy is electric. I like how the game is played. I like watching Ryder in the net, sprawling out and filling the crease to block shots.

I’d like to fill his crease. The unbidden thought sounds a hell of a lot like something Ryder himself would say and makes me chuckle at the inappropriateness of it before my eyes are once again drawn to the man himself. He’s always been magnetic, my eyes locked on his fluidity and grace on the ice despite the bulky pads and gear. He moves effortlessly, his eyes trackingthe puck and blocking shots faster than I can see them taken. When the final horn sounds and the Hydras win, it feels like I have, too. That’s the kind of excitement that courses through the arena.

Everly and Axel have fallen asleep inside the suite, and Harlowe isn’t in a hurry to wake them up in order to leave. I relax in my seat, chatting with Hendricks as the stands clear long after the teams have left the ice.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see a new text.

Lilah: Word is some guys from the team are going to a gay club to celebrate the Pride Night win. Ryder agreed to go. Wanna join me?

Knox: Ryder?! You’ve got to be kidding me. He’s the last person I’d expect to voluntarily go to a gay club.

Lilah: Pfft, right? Maybe PR said he has to? I don't know, but he was part of the post-game media and said he’s celebrating the win with Outlanta and they’re going to Luscious. He’s really leaned into this one.

Knox: I’m shocked. Send me the details. I’ll meet you there.

Lilah: Deal! Can’t wait to dance. It’s been too long.

I look up when Harlowe calls Hendricks. “Hey, kiddo, time for us to go home.”

“I’ll carry Axel and Everly for you,” I say, standing and holding my arms out for her.

“I love having your big, strong arms around,” Harlowe says, no shame in her game.

I scoop up Axel in one arm, resting his head against my shoulder, and she puts Everly on my other side. I have two of the most beautiful babies in the world resting comfortably in my arms, and it feels better than I could have imagined.

Growing up knowing I was gay, I knew I wouldn't get the traditional wife and kids, so I didn’t make any plans for myself. Hell, I’m in my thirties now and haven't even come out, so who knows if I’ll ever get the happily ever after I want so badly. But I have a big family, and among all my siblings, twelve nieces and nephews, so I have plenty of kids around to know I love them. Holding Harlowe’s babies like this now, though? It’s made me want something I never expected—a family of my own.

That desire springs up fiercely, like it’s been hiding in my soul, waiting to be acknowledged, and now that I have, it's all I can think about. My rational side is quick to contain the hope and longing without crushing my own spirit. The logistics are ridiculous.

There’s so much that needs to happen before I can even think about adding kids to my life. I carefully tuck the ideaback in my heart, safeguarding it for when the time is right.

I feel a new glow, a sense of peace that warms me and gives me a vision for the future that I was lacking. It also gives me the courage to embrace what I want and accept myself so I can achieve that future. Now I have to start letting the world know who I am, one small step at a time, to get there.

When I arrive at Luscious, I find Lilah waiting for me.

“There you are! Took you long enough. Did you go home to change or something?” she says, looking me up and down.

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