Egotistical Puckboy (Puckboys 1)

Larsen pulls a face. “It’s still so weird to see you two agree. Even on something like not wanting to marry each other.”

I don’t point out that Ezra and I are getting good at agreeing. Like whose apartment to stay at and who gets to top, which of us needs to buy the lube when we’re running out …

We grab our bags and follow the others out.

“You guys coming for drinks?” Diedrich asks.

“Actually, I think we’re going to head home tonight.”

After that press conference, I don’t need to explain why.

All I want is some time alone with Ezra.

We go our separate ways, but Ezra and I cross the street holding hands. The media is still lurking, and I’m sure they get some shots of it, but I don’t care.

When we reach the safety of inside and get on the elevator, I lean against the back wall and tug him close. “You know I mean it, don’t you? That this is it for me.”

“Yeah. And I meant what I said as well. You really do have a nice butt.”

“Ezra …”

“Fine.” His voice drops so it’s raw and husky. “I love you.”

“You know I love you too, right?”

“Actually, I do. And I’ve never said that before, because it’s not something I feel lightly, and I never let myself be vulnerable around people. But I let you see all that, and it doesn’t make me embarrassed. You don’t make me feel like I need to hide that side of me or be someone else. You and me, Anton, we don’t need to justify this for anyone else, because we know what it is.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

There’s no hesitation as he answers me with one perfect word. “Forever.”

Thirty-Three

EZRA

STANLEY CUP FINAL

If anything, Anton’s game only got stronger after our relationship became public knowledge. Ollie Strömberg and Caleb Sorensen might be known as the first out players, but Anton and I will forever be known as the first couple in the NHL. And if we take out the game tonight, we will also be the first couple to win the Stanley Cup.

As we hang out in the visitor locker room before we need to get ready, I can’t help thinking the odds are stacked against us. We’re fighting it out with Vegas, in Vegas, in the longest seven-game series of my life. Three of the games, Vegas won easily. The other three were hard-fought, two of which were won in overtime. Vegas has sailed through the playoffs, while we’ve had to fight tooth and nail just to be here.

After our great regular season, the playoffs have almost killed us. Every single game, we pulled the win out of our asses. Somehow. Making it this far has been nothing short of a miracle.

I know better than to go into this with a defeated attitude, but it’s hard to tune out.

The voice inside my head trying to psych me up reminds me that Vegas might’ve had it too easy. We could use that to our advantage if we’re smart.

Some of the guys are stretching in the weight room, and others are sitting near their cubbies, trying to get in the zone. That’s where I am too, but my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Normally, I wouldn’t piss off the team by taking it, but when I see who the video call is from, I know they won’t mind.

I hit the Answer button and yell out to everyone. “Hey, guys, say hello to Westly.”

There’re rounds of shouting from all angles of the locker room along with a few “We miss you.”

I face the phone back toward me. “Aww, they love you.”

“No,” Diedrich yells. “It’s that Ezra is more tolerable when West is around.”

“What about me?” Anton asks.

“If anything, Ezra has been a bad influence on you,” Diedrich says.

I take that as a compliment. “That’s true. Anton’s not so uptight anymore. Not since he’s been getting the—”

Anton’s hand slaps over my mouth. Then he leans in so West can see him. “Hey, West. One day, you really need to teach me how to shut this guy up.”

“You know one way,” I mumble.

He releases me. “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“I thought so.” His big palm pats my leg. “I’m gonna go stretch.”

“Good luck tonight,” West calls out to him.

“Is that why you’re calling? To wish my boyfriend good luck? What about me?”

West winces. “Is it still way too weird hearing you say boyfriend. I don’t like it. It’s unnatural.”

“That sounds mildly homophobic of you, Westly Ann Dalton.”

“Ann is not my middle name. Also—” He gives me the finger. “It’s not because you’re two guys. It’s because you’re you. Last summer, you couldn’t even say relationship without calling it a thingy.”

“Well, I did say you and Jasper were so cute it made me want a relationship thingy. So I went out and got one.”

West shakes his head and mutters, “So unnatural.”