Page 37 of Game Winner
It’s hurried and desperate and filled with the affection we all feel for each other. And when I come, clutching Soren and Bax close to me, it’s with their names on my lips and our hearts beating as one.
For the rest of the day, I float on a cloud of endorphins. Since I have my car back, I offer to drive everyone to the arena and a car filled with Soren, Sage, Remy, and Morgan chatting and being ridiculous is funny and keeps me at ease.
The nerves reappear once I’m at the Metros arena and pulling on the jersey, but they’re the typical nerves that come with anticipating playing in front of eighteen thousand people. Knowing Soren, Sage, Remy, Morgan are here helps. So does the kiss Soren plants on me as we’re the last two leaving the locker room, following the team walking through the tunnel toward the ice.
Sage, Maxim, and I connect for some great plays, and as the game wears on, I’m able to anticipate where they’ll be. Early in the third period, we catch Detroit in the middle of a line change. I race ahead with the puck. Sage rockets past me, heading for the net. In a spin move I’ve copied from him, I dodge a defenseman and send the puck to Sage. He fires it past the goalie.
The goal light flashes and the siren wails and Sage rushes to hug me. “Nice way to make your mark. Great teamwork.”
Maxim, Rhys, and Remy fly in and pile onto our celebration hug. At the opposite end of the ice, Soren bangs his stick and smiles. The cheering fans and happy teammates celebrating on the bench, and getting an assist on Sage’s goal, are a great way to start my time with the team.
On the drive home, Sage plays with a fidget spinner as we discuss his anxiety and mine. I’ve found different versions of the spinners in every communal room at the house. He suggests talking to a therapist or sports psychologist may help me, then gifts me the spinner. Remy and Morgan say they have both worked with one, and Soren’s hand rests on my thigh in silent support.
Phil and Gio are waiting for us when we get home. The seven of us sit in the kitchen, breaking down the game, and it’s nice to have everyone’s support. With every insight my chest loosens, and the future seems less scary.
Bax arrives, and seeing him here to make sure I’m okay, means so much. After chatting about his set and the band’s prepfor the festival, we bid the others goodnight and Soren leads us down to his apartment.
The two men slowly take me apart with kisses, a massage, and soft words that make me feel like I’m the center of their world. I’ve never had this before with one man, let alone two. Boyfriends, yes. But people who really see me? Not before now. Not before Bax and Soren.
As the clock turns to midnight, we slide into soft sheets. Snuggled between Soren and Bax, my earlier anxiety is a faint memory.
Maybe I have really found my place here in the Twin Cities with these two teams and these two men.
Maybe this time, nothing, and no injury will stand in my way.
CHAPTER TEN
BAX
The din of voices and sounds from all the moving parts that go into a successful music festival pour through the crack beneath the dressing room’s door.
Winter Fest is well underway, and an excited buzz has powered me all day. Pre-performance anticipation layered with nerves over what Luke Thompson—who is somewhere backstage—will think of our set. I tug on the purple Minneapolis Metros T-shirt I bought after Tyler got called up last week.
Layne looks up from drawing black liner around his eyes. “I thought you were gonna wear that black tee I picked out.”
“I changed my mind.” Leaning against the wall, I cross my arms over my chest. The logo is distressed, and I think the shirt fits well with our vibe.
He sucks in a breath, drawing himself up to full height, which is still way shorter than me, so I’m not sure why he bothers, and opens his mouth. Then closes it, shakes his head, and turns away. He tosses the eyeliner into his bag.
“Won’t Soren feel left out?” After nudging Layne away from the mirror, Everett studies his own reflection, turning every which way to inspect his Layne-approved leather pants and long-sleeved black tee.
“I’ll wear a Slash shirt to our next gig.” I’m half-joking, but now that the idea is out there, I want to do it. The Metros’ backup goalie returned to the lineup a week ago, so Soren is back with the Slash.
Gavin, sprawled across the small couch in the corner, opens his eyes. He went for a power nap twenty minutes ago and fell asleep immediately. My shirt gets an approving nod before he turns his attention to Everett’s ass. “People might start asking about your sudden hockey obsession.”
“Fine with me.” I scroll through my phone. Two texts from Soren and Tyler, letting me know they’ve arrived and picked up their passes. And one from Sage, thanking me for his and Rhys’s passes.
Gavin sits up, brushing his hands through his hair. “Is it time for us to go on?”
“Nearly.” Everett pulls him off the couch then smooths the wrinkles out of Gavin’s dark gray shirt. It’s unbuttoned to reveal the black tee beneath, and Everett slides his hands over that too. “Ready?”
He wraps Everett into his arms and rests their foreheads together. “Think so.”
Layne gives himself another glance in the mirror. Short sleeves showcase his tattoos, leather pants hug his legs, metal studs gleam on his black boots and match his silver necklaces and rings. “I’ll be right back. I want to check the crowd’s energy.”
He’s gone before any of us can respond.
With Everett and Gavin absorbed in each other, I text my guys and tell them where to wait backstage. This is the third year we’ve performed at Winter Fest. It’s always held at the same location, so we know the layout well.
