Page 99 of Pucking Around

“What?” Novy huffs. “Me—why?”

I give him a curious look. “No…notjustyou, Nov. She wants all of you to stay in close. I’m supposed to be rounding you up. Any more of you back this way?” I add, glancing around.

“I think Compton wandered off,” Langley replies, pointing towards an archway.

I walk in the direction Langley pointed. I was hoping to catch Jake here. Between karaoke night and the game day travel, we haven’t really gotten a moment alone together. My heels click on the wooden floor as I walk through the modern art exhibit room into a room of more Neoclassical work.

My heart skips a beat as I see Jake. He holds a drink in one hand, the other in the pocket of his tux. He’s gazing up at a large painting with a serious look on his face. He looks gorgeous—that dark hair sweeping over his brow. He should always wear a tuxedo. No more grey sweats, no more hockey uniform. Just all tux, all the time.

“Hey, angel,” I say softly.

He glances at me quickly, then back to the painting, his frown deepening.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s this horse.”

I step next to him and gaze up at the painting. It’s large, nestled in a gaudy gold frame. It depicts what is quite possibly the ugliest man I’ve ever seen riding what I have to assume is a horse. But the face looks possessed…and sort of squished.

“I feel like it’s following me,” he murmurs, swaying a bit. “When I move, the eyes move. It freaks me out.”

I snort, stepping closer to the plaque to read. “Apparently the painting is called ‘The Ugly Knight and His Uglier Horse’—well, that’s not a very nice title,” I add with a laugh. “Painted by Lord George Corbin in 1804.”

“Well, Corbin sucked.” Jake takes a sip of his drink.

I turn to face him. “Jake…are we gonna talk about it?”

“About what?”

I sigh. “Cay told me about your argument the other day.”

“Yeah, well, he should keep his mouth shut,” he mutters, swirling the ice in his glass.

I step forward, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey, this isn’t you. My Jake doesn’t hide in the back of art galleries or pout his way through karaoke night. And my Jake looks at me when I talk to him,” I murmur, giving his arm a squeeze. “He takes one look at me in a dress like this and tries to convince me to take it off.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as his gaze darts to me.

“I can’t have you two fighting,” I say. “Not over me. Your friendship means too much to risk it. And you both mean too much for me to get in the middle—”

“We’re fine,” he says quickly. “It wasn’t about you, really. I was the one being a jerk. I was pushing him. I’ve been all in my head ‘cause I said some shit I didn’t mean. I’m just…I get in my head about Cay. And sometimes I speak without thinking…”

“I know,” I say gently, rubbing his forearm. “He forgives you.”

He huffs. “Is that why he decided to show off at karaoke?”

“He’s trying, Jake,” I reply. “It’s been just you in his heart for so long. Making room for me hasn’t been easy. But he wants to,” I add. “We can all feel it. You know what we have together is special, right? Not just between you and me but the three of us.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, swirling his drink again. “Yeah, it’s special.” He looks at me again, his gaze settling longer this time, roving me up and down. There’s an appreciative twinkle growing there.

I smile, knowing him so well. “Is that what you need? You need a little physical reassurance? Want me to take you into the stairwell and blow you?”

“Don’t tease me,” he says, taking a sip of his drink.

“Who’s teasing?” I reply. “You’remine, Jake. Mine to care for, mine to love. Right now, you’re upset. And I intend to make it better. I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”

“I know,” he sighs. “How is it possible to miss you when you’re standing right in front of me? But I do. I miss you, baby. I can’t stop. I feel like we still have this distance and I fucking hate it.”

“Well, then close it.”

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