Hat Trick (Fake Boyfriend 5)

“I dunno … I’m not sure putting you and Harley in the same vicinity is a good idea. I’ve always felt connected to you, and I was trying to convince myself this means nothing. That I could have fun and not get attached. But that’s the problem I’m facing, Caleb.”

“Uh-oh. You first-named me.”

Jet doesn’t even crack a smile. “What if you walk away from the tour in two months and I’m even more heartbroken and lonely than I am now?”

“Aww, baby.” I caress Jet’s skin along his back and pull him closer.

I’ll never say it out loud because he’d want to kick my ass for suggesting it, but underneath Jet’s sarcastic confidence is a precious boy wanting to be loved.

I’ve known loneliness. I’ve lived it. Being on the road for up to eight months of the year is hard enough. Doing it as a closeted athlete is even worse.

I lived with the constant fear my entire world would reject me. Surrounded by an entire hockey team, plus coaches, and all the staff that work for the NHL, you wouldn’t think I could get lonely, but the thing about having a giant secret hanging over your head is you’re never truly with people. You co-exist alongside them and that’s about it.

It’s the loneliest existence I’ve known.

“I understand,” I say. “More than you’ll ever know. Take me with you.”

Jet pauses but I feel the moment the fight leaves him. He sinks into my arms. “Guess we’re gonna have to tell my brothers.”

Ah. Yeah. That.

Even though I’ve wanted Jet to tell them, knowing it’s gonna happen already has my face aching from the possible punches thrown.

Maybe Matt punches me so hard, the pain ripples through time and space and hits me in the past. Which is right now.

I need to be prepared for worst-case scenarios here.

“Then let’s do it,” I say, proud I can keep my tone even.

“Tomorrow. Right now, I want to fall asleep in your arms.”

“We’ll miss dinner.”

“I don’t care,” he says already half-asleep.

I kiss the top of his head.

Jet’s laughter has never sounded so mocking which is saying a lot. “You look like you could puke.”

“Not at all,” I lie. “I wanted to tell them, remember?”

“Still doesn’t mean you’re not scared.” Slowly, Jet approaches from the other side of the cabin and runs his hands over my chest and shoulders. “It’s cute you’re nervous, but it’s not like you’re ‘meeting the parents.’ They’re your friends. They’ll be happy for us. And if they’re not, I’ll throw a giant hissy fit and create a diversion so you can run away.”

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever offered to do for me.”

Jet stares down at my crotch. “That can’t be true. I’ve offered many sweet things.” He rubs my cock over my shorts, and I grab his hand to stop him.

“Nothing to do with my cock has ever been sweet, and you can’t get me hard right now when we’re about to go tell everyone about us.”

This makes Jet smile more. “I like it when you’re grumbly.”

When footsteps sound on the deck, Jet moves away from me. That alarm system is coming in handy with this whole secretly hooking up thing.

At the door, though, is Luce.

“He here?” he asks.

I step aside, letting him in.

“How was your night?” Luce asks Jet.

“Horrible. I had to spend it wrapped up in that.” He gestures to my body. “Feel sorry for me!”

“You poor thing,” Luce says sarcastically. “You live such a hard life.”

“I know, right? But anyway, we have some news. Soren’s coming with us.”

Luce’s gaze snaps to mine and then flits between Jet and me. “You’re coming on tour?”

“I am. But I need to be back in Jersey in September.”

“September,” Luce murmurs and purses his lips. “Okay. We can work with that. It’s actually kind of genius. And the label will love it. Harley has a beard. You having one too should calm the rumors.”

“I’m not a beard,” I point out and look to Jet for him to confirm that.

Instead, he grabs Luce’s arms and jumps excitedly. “You want to come to breakfast with us? We’re gonna tell my brothers that I’m fucking Soren. There might be bloodshed.”

“You said they won’t care,” I say.

“Well, I mean, I believe my exact words were they shouldn’t care.”

“Great. Just great.”

Jet entwines our fingers and drags me out the door. “You’ll be fine. I promise. Besides, you’re a hockey player. You’re used to taking punches, right?”

“Uh, right.” I guess. I’m not a fighter on the ice. All hockey players are to a certain extent, but I’m not known for it.

On the walk to the food hut, I keep telling myself that Matt didn’t flip out at the idea the other day. Sort of. He said he couldn’t see us together but didn’t ask me to stay away.

“Is handholding too obvious of an announcement?” I lift our joined hands.