Page 17 of Puck Lust

His eyes stick to me for a second longer than they need to before he looks at the other guys. “I’ll text you the details whenI get them. It’s a secret venue. They don’t want to alert the tabloids. Not even Sam knows where it’s gonna be.”

Masterson and Tate clap him on the back and walk to the showers, leaving the two of us alone. Jack grabs his laundry from the floor and tosses it into one of the bins. I bite down on my lower lip as his tattooed bicep flexes. He does an about face like he’s headed into the showers, too, and I open my mouth to say something…anything to keep him here with me.

“Is it weird being around them…you know, since the engagement announcement?” I blurt out, coming up with the first thing I can think of…the animosity between him and Sam’s fiancé Brixton Scott.

How utterly fucking brilliant of me.

Jack brings a hand to the back of his neck and shrugs. “It was. The press wasn’t wrong. Brixton and I didn’t like each other at first. Actually came close to throwing down a couple of times.”

“Really.” It’s not surprising, so it comes out as more of a statement than a question. If he was the same cocky, arrogant asshole that I remember from junior hockey, who in his right mind wouldn’t want to beat the shit out of him?

He snickers. “You don’t sound shocked.”

“I’m not. Can’t lie.” I laugh.

“Things were rough in the beginning. A lot of dick-measuring contests. Not proud of that high school shit. But it eventually got better. When I saw how much Sam cared about him, I knew we were really over. Sam’s a great guy and he deserves to be happy. That’s the most important thing. So I backed off.”

“Pretty big of you.”

Jack steps toward me, his stubbled jaw tensing. My pulse jumps into my throat at his nearness, choking me with aforeign rush of hunger that, for a long-ass second, consumes all of my senses and roots me to the spot.

“Sometimes what you want doesn’t want you back. I learned a long time ago that when you’re dead, lie down. That’s my truth.” He pauses for a long minute, sweeping a hand through his sweaty hair. “Do you know yours, VK?”

SEVEN

jack

“I’mglad you decided to take me up on my offer,” Sam says with a bright smile when I walk over to his table at Electric Lunch on Thursday night. He cranes his neck, searching for something behind me. “Where are the guys? You invited them, right?”

He earns an exaggerated eye roll in response. “Relax, Dad. I invited them, just like you told me to. If they show up, they show up. It’s not a big deal either way.”

And I mean it…for the most part.

I’ve never really connected with the guys I played with before, so if it doesn’t happen here in Oakland, it’s no skin off my back. Besides, making friends means letting people in and there’s a whole lot of dark shit that I don’t want them to see.

But VK…he’s a different story.

A hint of panic has twisted in my gut since we got our hotel room assignments for this upcoming weekend in Ohio. I knew it was coming, but seeing our names listed together made it very fucking real.

Looking back, we weren’t close at first since I kept everyone at arm’s length. But as time went on and webecame friends, I started to feel something else build between us…every time I’d catch him staring, I’d be assaulted by the kind of chills that had nothing to do with the fact that we were spending our days and nights in the frigid ice rink.

It was like he saw more than the other guys, that he was watching me closely, that he wanted to study and understand me. At the time, I figured it was because he was into me. And back then, being a gay athlete was pretty taboo, so it didn’t surprise me that he never acted on anything. You had to be really careful about who you trusted.

I never took a risk with any other guy on the team because you don’t shit where you eat.

Until the night I made a huge fucking mistake by kissing Carter.

I didn’t realize it was one-sided until it was too late.

And when he rejected me, I reacted like a total dick. I attacked his game and broke him down just like he’d done to me.

It stung to think he only became friends with me because he was constantly trying to be better and figured studying the best would make him the best, or at least, close to it.

I never thought I’d cross paths with the guy again after that. He was good, but to make the NHL, you had to be in-fucking-credible, and he just wasn’t at that point, at least in junior hockey. But he clearly worked his ass off and made it against the odds.

I’d never experienced those kind of emotions for another guy, and his blatant rejection hurt like a bitch. So when I took off and scored that coveted spot with the San Mateo Condors, it felt good to leave that part of my life behind. But damn, I got tired of burying my past.

Laugh’s on me now.

---