My hands run over his rock-hard abs. “So fat.”

“You know what I mean. There’s hardly any time on the schedule to work out. I’ve been given maybe half an hour in two different cities. Hell, there’s no time on the schedule for us to go sightseeing or even have some alone time. You’re constantly surrounded by people, and they’re always coming and going. It makes my head spin. You have one of the hardest jobs in the world. Dealing with an ex at the same time …”

As much as I appreciate the acknowledgment about how hard it is, freak-out soldiers march in my stomach.

I guess I didn’t realize until this second that while I’ve been keeping naïve, heart-eyed Jet in check, he’s still getting stupid ideas. Like Soren might want to stay on tour with me instead of going home. Which is really stupid because that can’t happen. He’s under contract. And if it was an option, he wouldn’t if he’s not enjoying himself.

“You’re not having fun?” I ask.

“I didn’t say that.” His lips touch mine. “I do love the time I get with you. I love watching you on that stage. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Except maybe a gym?”

“Mm, maybe. But I’d rather be with you.”

I make a mental note to fit in some time where Soren can go for a workout and where we can get away for a few hours.

Soren kisses me, long and deep, and I grind on top of him.

“Ready for that distraction now?” he rasps.

Instead of answering him, I climb off him and pull him toward the bed.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Soren

Jet keeps playing up the serious relationship angle to the media and to his ex, and I want that to be real, but I’m not sure he believes it no matter how much I want him to.

It’s obvious he’s still hung up on Harley. If the way he was rattled by their impromptu duet on stage wasn’t enough proof of that, how he handled drunk Harley would’ve tipped me off. He was trying to stay strong around him, but I saw the softness between them.

Their connection is obvious, and it’s no wonder they couldn’t keep their relationship a secret from people on the crew.

Part of me even feels guilty for coming between them, but at the same time, whenever Harley’s been around, I’ve wanted to grab Jet and growl “mine” until Harley backs off. My want for Jet outweighs the guilt by a thousand.

Waking to a cold bed and empty room, I reach for my phone to see if Jet left me a message. Which he didn’t. But social media notifications take up my whole screen like they have been ever since Jet made us publicly “official.”

I really need to work out how to turn those off. I’d ask Jet but then he’d mock me about being an old guy who doesn’t know how technology works.

I rub my tired eyes and get out of bed but only reach the couch before I lie down again.

I wasn’t lying when I said touring is exhausting, and I’m not even doing the heavy work. But I wouldn’t change it. No way. For the first time in a long time, I see my life without hockey in it. I’m living it.

All athletes have that fear of what will happen when we retire. Our careers have short shelf lives, and then what are we supposed to do?

Jet has made me realize I can do anything I want.

Something digs into my side, and I shuffle around to pull it out from under me.

It’s the book I’ve seen Jet write lyrics in.

I don’t mean to look because that would be like reading someone’s diary, but it’s open to a page where the words stand out and cause giant alarm bells to go off in my head.

On bended knee

Not in front of me

We couldn’t promise forever

But we never said never

I gave you my heart

You tore us apart

Living a lie

Though I understand why

Living a lie

My heart breaks for Jet but possibly even worse for me. I don’t know if I can compete with this—what he has with Harley.

I have no doubt in my mind that if Harley wasn’t bound by his contract and he could be with Jet for real they would be together, and that doesn’t sit right with me. But I can’t let him go.

The door to the hotel room clicks open, and I don’t have time to drop the book of lyrics.

“I wasn’t reading it,” I blurt out.

Jet laughs. “Yeah, that sounds believable.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean to read it. My eyes did it on their own.”

“Unless you’re plannin’ to cut an album and steal what’s in there, I don’t care if you read it.”

“Really?”

His eyes move to the page in question. “They don’t mean anything. Those were rambling thoughts that came to me. Probably won’t even become a song.”

Tags: Eden Finley Fake Boyfriend M-M Romance
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