Page 95 of Forbidden Hockey
“It’s a thing, and I should have had more faith in you. I’m sorry, I just … look, it’s no excuse, but I’m smitten, pretty boy. I don’t want anyone taking you from me.”
We talk briefly, and I promise to call him when I’m alone at the condo.
“That your boyfriend?” a deep voice says from my right.
Shit. Maverick. How much did he hear? “Um, uh, something.” I don’t know how Dash and I ever thought we’d be real-life James Bond when we were younger. I’m shit at lying and coming up with a cover story on the spot.
“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. We’re friends. I can keep a secret.”
He thinks we’re friends? I mean, I guess I listened to his problems and gave him advice, but does that make us friends?
“How much did you hear? You’re my friend? Then tell me the fucking truth.”
“Travis,” he says. His brow pinches together, understanding forms on his perfect face. “Dash’s dad Travis?”
I facepalm. This is maybe almost as bad as Hunt knowing. “Yeah, okay? It’s private for now. We’re not telling people. Got it?” My heart’s about to beat outta my chest. This is bad, sooooo bad. My brain claws for something, anything I can use to garner his sympathy. But it’s hard to say if Maverick knows how to sympathize. “Look, my brother’s overprotective, and he hates the idea of us together.”
There. That’s better than “Hunter forbid it”, which makes me sound like a little kid trying to please his dad. Even though that’s exactly what I am. Fuck me.
It seems to take forever before he answers. A thousand tiny decisions being made at light speed. Imaginary flowcharts being followed to all the various conclusions. Finally, he gives a curt nod.
“Don’t you worry, I got you, man.” But the vulnerability vibes he had going in the restaurant are gone. Vanished. Something else has taken their place.
Power.
Knowing about my secret boyfriend is a pretty powerful secret to know—if you want power over me. Was that his goal all along? Find information? Use me? I take a calming breath. It’s a terrible plan. I don’t have any power over anyone. He’ll figure that out and move on.
“I won’t forget this, Boulder. I think your advice will help me get my man back. Can I text you if I have more questions?”
I can’t exactly say no now, can I? “Sure, man.”
He smiles, victorious. “Great. See you at practice.”
Chapter
Sixteen
February
Trav
Elkington storms through the restaurant, dragging someone with him. Is that…? Fucking Christ. He’s got Edward Ardovini in his clutches. Edward’s looking around like he’s … embarrassed, maybe? But he’s also got darkness in his eyes and body language that says he wants to light Elkington on fire.
I’m all for that.
“Keys, Nolan. I need the keys to your apartment,” Maxwell demands.
The man hasn’t been here since the time he threatened me into friendship. It’s been a month. Yes, I get a constant stream of texts from him, but he must have noticed that I only reciprocate and never instigate. He can’t possibly have concluded that we’re buddy-buddy enough to borrow my damn apartment for a hookup.
This has got to be a hookup, right? Are they back on? Eddie’s been AWOL from the hockey league and the media.
“No.”
“You’d deny us sanctuary?”
He’s really pulling that card? It’s something I’d do for one of my biker brothers, offer no-questions-asked protection. Still, that little niggle that reminds me of our similarities, the same one that’s inspired any interest in him at all, pauses.
“Are you in trouble?”
