Page 62 of Decked, Wrecked and Pucked
But when it came to attraction, it started with Zeke—just him and me, hiding in the shadows, brushing fingers when no one was looking, but the day Roman caught us together, everything changed. The second I saw that unmistakable flush creep up our captain’s neck while Zeke and I had our hands wrapped around each other’s cocks, I knew he was going to be part of this.
Two weeks later, I’d found out exactly how Roman tasted. The three of us just fell together, fast and reckless, like it was always supposed to be this way.
“So, to the man we’re all here to celebrate tonight, I ask you to raise a glass. To Coach Hope. To the early mornings, late nights, and the long bus rides where you never let us forget what we were fighting for. To the losses that taught us grit and the victories that made every second of your hard-ass riding us worth it.” A few laughs ripple through the crowd, and I catch Coach’s eye. He’s shaking his head, but he’s smiling. “To your beautiful family, who deserve medals of their own for sharing you with us all these years. For standing by you through the wins and the heartbreaks, the rink schedules and the chaos, and every single one of us lost kids who walked through your doors and left better for knowing you. You didn’t just teach us hockey, Coach. You taught us what it means to show up, to push through when everything hurts, and to be part of something bigger than ourselves. Congratulations. This night is for you, and you’ve earned every second of it.”
I raise my glass right along with everyone else as the room echoes with cheers and applause, but my head’s somewhere else entirely.
Zeke.
Roman.
Addie.
We’ve been living a damn good life. Hell, a great one, actually. But I’m getting older, and I want more. I want everything. The hockey, sure, but the hiding? The loving in silence? I’m over it. Yeah, I’m living my dream, but lately it feels like only half a life.
The way Roman and Zeke have both said they’re ready to step out together—god, it’s everything. I swear I fell even harder in love with them for it.
And with Addie… there’s no way in hell that’s starting as a secret, let alone staying one. If I’m loving her, I’m doing it out loud from the very beginning. I’m not asking anyone for permission to be happy. I’m taking it.
I watch Coach make his way up to the stage, suited up and grinning like a man who’s finally letting himself enjoy a little of the spotlight. He takes the award from Roman, shakes his hand, and I’m sure I see something pass between them in that moment—pride, maybe.
When Roman steps aside, his eyes sweep across the crowd until they find mine. I give him a wink, letting everything I’m feeling show on my face because fuck it, he needs to know how damn proud I am. He held it together, made the speech, and didn’t disappear into his head the way he sometimes does. I’m fiercely proud of him.
Coach launches into his speech, thanking every player he’s ever coached, the friends he’s made, and, of course, his beautiful wife and daughters. It’s warm, it’s humble, and it’s full of that no-bullshit charm that’s made him such a legend.
An hour slips by in a blur of handshakes and catching up with old teammates. Eventually, I find myself scanning the crowd when I spot Addie’s mom standing alone.
“Brenda!”
“Oh, Jasper!”
I throw my arms around my future mother-in-law, clinging to the hope that she’ll remember just how much she used to adore me, especially when she finds out I’m happily sharing her daughter with my boyfriends, usually in the same bed, at the same time.
“You’re looking beautiful,” I tell her, and she blushes.
I’ve always liked Brenda, but that shitty advice she gave her daughter? Yeah, that I haven’t forgotten.
I’ve been keeping an eye on Mikey all night, and his gaze hasn’tstrayed from Addie, not once. I can’t say I blame him—she’s fucking radiant, but he lost her, and that’s on him. Even so, it eats at me watching him watch her like he’s reliving every second he ever touched her. He’s looking at her like he thinks he still has some kind of claim on her. Maybe legally, sure. Her name might still drag his behind it, stuck there for a while because she made the stupid decision of saying yes, but she’s not his.
What if I wanted to marry her one day? What would it look like if we all did? It’s not exactly something the world makes space for—three men and one woman bound together in every way that matters.
It might not be traditional, but I don’t give a shit about tradition. Whatever we create and build together, it’ll be ours, and that’s all that matters.
I’d take her name without a second thought. I’d take Roman’s or Zeke’s, too, if it meant being tied to them. Because the truth is, it doesn’t matter how we do it or what it looks like on paper. It’s not about what the world sees—what matters is the truth of what we are.
Her mind?Ours—fucked so full of us she can’t think straight without one of our names in her head.
Her soul?Ours—claimed and bound so completely, she can’t imagine a life that doesn’t include us.
Her perfect pussy?That’s definitely fucking ours—to worship, to ruin, and to crawl to on our knees just for the chance to taste it.
That prick in the corner can keep staring for the rest of his life, but it won’t change a thing because she’s never going back to him.
“Me? Look at you. You’re looking so dapper, Jasper,” Brenda says, her blue eyes sparkling as she takes me in.
Before I can respond, I catch a glimpse of Addie weaving her way through the room, heading straight toward us.
“Addison… don’t these boys scrub up well?” Brenda says as her daughter reaches our side. “I don’t remember seeing them in anything other than their kits.”
