Puck Drills & Quick Thrills (CU Hockey 5)

“You look amazing,” I say.

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to start with the flattery yet. No one can hear you.” He’s all ready to go, and he steps past me, but I grab his arm.

“I mean it. I was worried I’d have to wrestle you out of a tweed jacket.” I point to his suit in the bag.

“Well, that was the plan, but then I told my friend Dave about how much you hate the tweed, and get this … he agrees with you. What kind of friend doesn’t tell their friend that they look like a pretentious twat?”

I rub my chin. “I think a good one? I mean, if they’re truly your friend, they wouldn’t care how you dressed.”

“Does that mean we’re not actually friends?” His tone is almost, almost teasing. “Tell me this isn’t charity or that you think you actually owe me for giving Asher extra credit—by the way, does he know about our arrangement? I swear he’s been staring at me weird ever since.”

“This is not charity, Asher’s probably staring at you weird because you broke your rules for him and he doesn’t know why, and no, I didn’t tell him about this because I figured you wouldn’t want him knowing.”

“You’d be correct.”

“As for the tweed, it is pretentious, but if you’re more comfortable in it, I can wait for you to run back inside and get it.”

He hesitates like he’s contemplating it. “I want to wear whatever will make people wonder who the fuck I am.”

“That’s definitely the suit. You’re not even wearing it yet, but I know it will look …” I swallow hard. “Uh, yeah. Really good. Jaw-dropping good. Panty-melting good … uh, wait, you’re gay, so … boxer brief–melting?”

Jasper cocks his head. “Are you sure you’re queer?”

I smile. “I’m still offended that you haven’t googled me.”

“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. It’s just—”

“I’m a bi guy who grew up in a masculinity-driven environment, so I say a lot of dude-bro things because it’s reflex, and I often forget not everyone finds all body shapes attractive like I do.”

Jasper’s lips flatten into a thin line. “Was it hard?”

“Oh, it gets hard for anyone.”

He fights a smile but loses. “I mean being a bisexual NHL player.”

“Not as much as it once would have been, thanks to a few of us being out. We all made sure to have each other’s backs, and whenever we were in the same city, we’d always check in with anyone from the queer collective.”

“You named yourself the queer collective? That’s cute, but it also sounds like a secret society.”

“Except, it’s not so secret?”

“Oh. That’s no fun.”

“It was fun for us.”

He nods. “We should get on the road.”

We walk to the car, and I take his bag, popping it in my trunk. I’ve left the minivan at home in case the babysitter needs to take the kids somewhere, though she shouldn’t need to. My car, a Range Rover, is the only thing I have left of my old life. It’s kitted out with all the top-of-the-line features, but now Asher mostly drives it while I drive the seven-seater all over Vermont to take the kids to school, hockey practice, and any other extracurricular activities they want to do.

The drive is quiet.

“Do you want music?” I ask, and he shakes his head. “Umm, did you want to go over our story again?”

“One thing I thought I probably should know is your siblings’ names. I know Asher, and that’s all. That’s something I should know, right?”

“Mm, probably. Though, we could go with the story that you haven’t met them yet.”

“I thought we agreed to say we’re new but serious? How serious can we be if I haven’t even met your kids?”

“Okay then, but are you ready for the names? There’s only a gazillion of them.”

“I’m sure I can manage.”

“There’s Zoe, Rhys, Hazel, Bennett, and Emmett. Or Ben and Em.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him mutter the names over and over. “Easy.”

“What were they?”

“Uh … Ben and Em. That’s easy to remember because it sounds like Eminem.”

“Please don’t tell anyone that my brother’s name is Eminem.”

Jasper snorts and relaxes a little.

“The easy thing to remember if you forget their names is to say that West is extremely protective of his family and would rather keep his younger siblings’ identities from the press.”

“You’re not that famous.”

I sigh. “Seriously. Google me. Please.”

“All right.” He takes out his phone and taps away.

And now that I’ve made him actually do it, I’m nervous about what he’ll find. I know I’ve popped up a time or two on puck bunny websites with random women I’ve had one-night stands with. I know he’ll see all the speculation about my sexuality which I’ve never really kept secret but never came out and confirmed officially. But most of all, I know he’ll see the countless articles that have framed me as a hero for moving home to look after my orphaned siblings. It’s a praise I don’t feel I’ve earned. Not yet.