Line Mates & Study Dates (CU Hockey 4)

“Have you ever barebacked someone?” I finally ask, bonelessly rolling off him.

“No, never. Why?”

“Holy shit, are you in for a surprise.”

Asher starts to laugh, and as he flops over and pulls me tight against his chest, I snuggle in, sure I could pass out at any moment. For once, I have no smartassed words for him; I just let my eyes drift closed as he kisses my temple.

“Hey,” Asher says.

I look up and could almost melt at the tender look he’s giving me. He has no barriers up, and he’s never looked so damn beautiful. “Was that okay?”

“Oh yeah. Except now my ass feels gross and sticky. I’m going to have to shower.”

“I don’t think I can move.”

“The joys of being the one doing the fucking.” He trails a finger down my cheek. “God. You’re perfect, Kole. What are you doing with me?”

It’s not until he asks that question that I realize I already have the answer. Asher is sweet and kind and hurting. He has big dreams about family even though he could easily resent that whole thought with all the siblings he has to look after. Sure, there are days I could strangle him, but deep down, Asher only wants to be loved.

I kiss him, a bit overwhelmed at the thought.

Because I’m beginning to suspect that Asher could be way too easy to love.

I’ve decided I hate the bus ride home from games. Asher and I agree to sit separately, because there’s no way in hell we’d be able to keep our hands off each other, and I really don’t want to deal with Dad while I’m trapped on a bus full of hockey players.

Then we get back to Colchester, and I can’t even kiss him goodbye. I’m tempted to go with him to his place, but he’s planning to take over from West so West can have a break, and I don’t want to interrupt him spending time with his siblings.

Which means I head home with Dad and try not to act like one of my limbs has been forcibly removed.

Dad’s talking through last night’s game, and even though they won, he’s focused on what they could have done better. Because superstition forbid he acknowledge that the team’s really coming together. Positivity is like Frozen Four repellent.

I could tell him now. Four words.

I’m dating Asher Dalton.

But he’s driving, and I don’t feel like ending up in a ditch. Then when we’re home, he’s tired from the trip, so it doesn’t feel right then either.

Besides, should Asher be here with me? Should I give him the heads-up? Check the house for potential weapons first?

The familiar nerves that have hit me a couple of times before are coming on strong. I love Dad, and disappointing him is never something I take lightly. The thing is, I don’t want to disappoint him this time, because I don’t want Asher to be seen as a disappointment.

He’s not.

And I know if Dad knew him a little off the ice—outside those walls he puts up with everyone he’s not close to—Dad would see that. If he could see him with his siblings the way I’ve seen him.

That first day we met, he was closed off in the locker room, but when he was searching for his brother in the park that night, all the bullshit was put aside for genuine worry for Rhys. Dad would only have to see that side of him to approve—I’m sure of it.

“Hey, honey.” Mom’s sitting at the kitchen counter when we walk through the door, thumbing through her phone while she eats lunch.

“Hey, Mom.” I walk over and kiss her on the cheek, then steal one of the tomatoes out of her salad. “Fun weekend without us?”

“Cried myself to sleep,” she answers dryly. “What about you?”

I think of lying with Asher, touching, kissing, joking. “Yeah. Good.”

“Don’t tell me you’re finally enjoying hockey.”

Hell no. But watching Asher play hockey is something I’m here for. “I guess it’s good for me to do something other than school and studying.”

“And picking up used gym socks is worth it?”

I laugh. “Good thing I have two weeks off without school or gym socks.”

“That reminds me, your grandparents are flying in for Christmas in two days since it’s our year to host.”

“Lucky you’re such a good cook.” My voice is heavy with sarcasm. The one year she tried to do Thanksgiving lunch, we ended up eating five hours after we’d planned.

She throws a slice of cucumber my way. “Grandpa and your dad will be in charge this year.”

“None of the others are flying up?”

“They’d planned to, but they can’t get away.”

So it will be my two grandparents, Mom, Dad, and me. I’m going to be fussed over like nothing else. I sort of wish we were going to Miami this year with all the cousins and millions of aunts and uncles. But then I wouldn’t get to see Asher. Not that I’ll get to spend Christmas with him anyway. Unless …