Hat Trick (Fake Boyfriend 5)

“Then Luce says you’ll have a couple of weeks off to unwind before they get you back in the studio. So, it’s not like this is goodbye or anything.”

“And what happens after that?” Jet’s voice is small, and it makes me want to crawl back into bed with him and promise him I’ll never leave. “We have a few more weeks, and then what? You’ll be busy with hockey, and I’ll be in L.A.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can join you on tour during the off-season.”

“You’d spend your vacation time on the road again?”

“If I got to be with you, I’d go to the fucking moon.”

Jet looks all cute-like and confused. “Why would I be on the moon?”

“Because in the future, you give up your music career to become an astronaut. Duh.”

“Damn it, don’t make me laugh. It’ll make me miss you more.”

I can’t hold back this time. Jumping back on the bed, I climb on top of him and kiss his cheek. “Three.” I kiss his other cheek. “And a half.” A soft kiss on his lips this time. “Weeks. Three and a half weeks is nothing.”

Jet pulls my head down, crushing our mouths together.

I’m thankful I had the foresight to pack what little I have last night after Jet fell asleep because that means I can enjoy this moment for a while longer.

We kiss like it’ll be the last time, which is ridiculous because I literally just said three and a half weeks is nothing. It’ll be easy.

But when the knock at the door comes and Luce says my car is outside the hotel waiting, all that’s left of me as I force myself away from Jet is the overwhelming feeling that I’m leaving my heart on the road with him and going home to a life that might not fit me anymore.

That sense of wrongness lingers with me all the way to the airport, all the way through waiting for a flight that gets delayed twice, and it’s still with me when I land at Newark and Uber it straight to the practice rink, because now, I’m late, thanks to the delays.

Here’s the thing though. The minute I step through those locker room doors, I’m hit with the memory of why I do this.

The smell of the rink, the halls that I’ve walked for the last four years … the place that’s been like a second home for so long.

Suddenly, leaving Jet this morning makes sense because this—hockey—is where I’ve belonged forever.

I’ve had an amazing career, but the idea I was ready to let go this morning is now all but gone. I’m not done yet.

I’m also not done with Jet though.

How can our relationship survive if we can’t see each other for almost nine months of the year? Six months if the team doesn’t make the playoffs, but that’s not the point of me re-signing. The aim is the Cup. Always the Cup.

Then a small voice that sounds a hell of a lot like Jet’s fills my head. “It’s just a cup. It’s not like it’s filled with dildos and party favors. It’s an empty cup.”

Is it too greedy for me to want both? Jet and a Stanley Cup win?

Because I’m late to the rink, I’m late onto the ice.

Under normal circumstances, that would mean I’d be walking into mockery. When I’ve been on the road and in tabloids with a rock star? It’s a bloodbath.

I expect it from my teammates. Hell, them breaking out into “Hat Trick Heartbreak” isn’t all that surprising. It’s funny but not surprising. What does get me is even the coaches get in on it.

When they finish yelling the chorus at the top of their lungs, I not only miss Jet already but can’t help feeling like it’s a welcome home of sorts.

“So y’all know, you can’t see it because of the gloves, but I’m giving each and every one of you the finger.”

“Oh my God, did he just say ‘y’all’? The Canadian is talking like a Southerner and it’s so dang cute,” Morgan says.

I aim my glove his way but turn to my offensive coach. “Is that welcome punishment enough for being the last one to practice?”

Coach Wexler shakes his head. “Aww, that’s even cuter. Go. Suicides now. Let’s see how living the life of a rock star has weakened you.”

Motherfucker. I look around at the rest of my team when I notice something. “Hey, Copeland’s not here, so I’m not the last.”

“Dude, you really have been out of the loop,” Morgan says. “Copeland signed with Carolina. He’s gone.”

Well, shit. “Who’s replacing him?”

“If you’d been here for the prospects showcase, you would’ve seen the new kid from the farm team,” Morgan says. “Faster than all of us combined.”

“High praise from you, Morgan,” Coach says. “We’ll see how fast the kid still is under pressure. Still waiting on those suicides, Soren.”