Chapter 1 Archangel
ONE
ARCHANGEL
THREE YEARS LATER
Wolfe stands with three women all over him. I’m more than used to it at this point. He still hasn’t dated anyone, which makes me happy and sad in mixed measures. Neither of us has really dated a ton. I’ve had a few short relationships, but for the most part, men in NYC like to get on apps and fuck.
Maybe I should be less selfish, but I can’t bring myself to break the promise I made.
Or maybe I can’t bear to share his nights with anyone else.
Either way, it’s going to change in a year, because there is no way Wolfe won’t be at the top of the draft.
I’m shocked he waited this long. It’s impossible to ignore him or tell him no, for that matter.
He’s already had offers to go early, but he wants to play his senior year with the Gods.
Since I’m irresponsible, and live my life day to day, I have no idea what I’m doing after college.
I don’t exactly want to play in the AHL and I don’t think I’ll be drafted like he will.
I’m good, but there are only so many spots open.
Plus, as much as my family hates my gay ass, they still won’t cut me out of the will.
Thank God. I was not made for a nine-to-five.
I shudder at the thought. But I probably should have considered before my senior year how I’m going to use this art history degree, because I dread being forced back to Savannah if I have no prospects after college.
I gag a little and decide I need another drink. There is only so long I can watch Wolfe being hit on before actually vomiting.
As the night winds down, the women vie for his attention, trying to be the one to go home with him.
He doesn’t even have enough arms for them all, but he eats up the attention, and I watch like I do often.
It’s a guilty pleasure, and even draped in women, he’s hot.
Bigger than he was four years ago. He’s put on a lot of muscle in college, and with as tall as he is, he dwarfs most other hockey players.
Wolfe breaks free from the gaggle of women, much like a real-life Kool-Aid Man breaking through the wall, and bounds over wrapping me up in a massive hug.
“Are you okay?” I ask, not sure what brought on the sudden dose of affection.
“I missed you!” He slurs his words.
“I’ve been here all night.”
“I know, but I forgot for a minute.” His golden retriever energy has only grown with his size.
“You’re drunk.” I pull back.
“I might be a tiny, itty-bitty drunk.” He holds up his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart.
“I don’t think you’re itty-bitty anything.”
He ignores me. “But I am not too drunk to know something is going on!”
“What is going on?”
“Seaborn! He’s been acting weird since our game against the monsters.” Wolfe chastises like I should know.
“And? He’s been hard on himself about Ktytor. He’ll get over it.”
“This weird is different, and if I don’t talk about it, it will get trapped in my brain, and I won’t sleep.” He does have a one-track mind.
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Please!”
“There are three girls begging for your attention. Distract yourself. I’m going to go get my dick sucked by the guy who keeps messaging me on Grindr.” I try to pull out of his arms, but my protest only makes him squeeze me tighter.
I lean into him and for a second want him to stop me, but I’m not new to this game. I know how this goes. I’m not getting my hopes up.
“I won’t sleep.” He sticks out his lower lip.
“Go take one of those girls to bed. I’m sure they can help you sleep.” I give up fighting his hold.
“But I can’t gossip with them.”
I stare at him. “Why not?”
“Because no one gossips like a cunty, gay man, and you know it.”
I sigh, because he’s right. “It will have to wait until tomorrow. I’m not in the mood. I’m horny, and speculating about Seaborn’s sex life will only make that worse.”
Wolfe does a double-take. “What?”
I’m confused. “Huh?”
“I asked you first.”
“What are you asking me?” I’m way too sober for this.
“Why would Ronan turn you on?” he demands like it’s personally offensive. Wolfe used Seaborn’s first name, which means he’s serious.
“Have you seen him?” The guy wasn’t bad to look at. “But he’s straight. Calm down.”
Why would he care? Am I reading too much into this?
“He’s not straight.” Wolfe huffs. “But you two are not allowed.”
My brows dart up on both accounts. “Excuse me? I’m allowed to do anything I want, and he is straight. He sleeps with as many puck bunnies as you do.”
“No.” He grinds his teeth and doesn’t elaborate.
Something about all of this is really getting to him. But why?
“If he’s seeing someone that makes it a non-issue anyway.”
Wolfe narrows his eyes like he doesn’t trust me. “Promise?”
“Yes.” I laugh because the whole thing is absurd.
He holds out his pinky. I lock mine through it.
What is his deal? He’s never been like this with me before.
One of the women he’s been hanging out with tugs at his arm, making him release me. “Wolfe, come back.” Her whiney voice is like nails on a chalkboard.
I’m almost sad at the loss of contact, but I’m sure it already has people talking. Since I’m out, Wolfe needs to be careful.
“One minute, darling,” he says before turning back to me.
I nod for him to go. “Go get laid. You’ll be in a better mood. Like I said, I need my dick sucked.”
Maybe that’s his issue.
Wolfe fumes for a second, then growls. “If you leave me to go get a meaningless blow job, I will listen at the door and critique every sound I hear!”
I blink. “Excuse me?” My face heats as his words sink further into my brain.
He can’t be serious. Right?
“You heard me. I will judge every moan!” He crosses his massive arms and glares.
Can he see how red I’m getting?
Shit. I do not need this right now.
“Wolfe, drunk you is being really fucking weird right now. Do I need to put you to bed? Or have someone else put you to bed?”
He shakes his head and holds out his hand. “You’re putting me to bed, but we are gossiping first.”
What is happening?
“I want to get laid.” I give him attitude.
I cannot deal with Wolfe being all fucking cute with as worked up as I am. There will be no staying cool. I’m already half hard at him being weirdly possessive. I cannot read into it. I’ve been over my crush for too long to let it creep back up.
“Do you really want me listening at your door?”
“No!” I hesitate.
…yes…no?
Solid maybe.
I will have to revisit that with my therapist.
“Then you’re coming with me.” Wolfe, in a grand drunk gesture, barrel hugs me again, but this time picks me up and walks toward the stairs.
“I think I’m being kidnapped,” I say to no one in particular.
The worst part is no one bats an eye. Everyone is used to Wolfe being Wolfe. He does not stop until we are in his room with the door closed behind us.
Finally, he sets me down and grins, all proud of himself.
“Feel better?” I ask, fixing my crop top that’s ridden up.
He thinks about the question, then nods. “Yes.”
“What did you need to talk about so badly?” I sit on the edge of his bed.
“Seaborn! I think he’s seeing someone in secret.” Wolfe unbuttons his shirt, and I barely hide my reaction.
I clear my throat, keeping my gaze on his so I’m not watching him slowly undress. “We’ve established that he probably is. Who cares?”
“Okay, so who is it?” Wolfe lets the dress shirt fall off his arms.
My eye twitches, but I’ve seen him mostly naked enough in the locker room to not have to look. I have some self-control. “I don’t know.”
Next, he’s opening his belt. “Who has he talked about?”
Is he trying to torture me?
“No one. He’s secretive. Maybe he’s not seeing anyone. His dad has been sick. It’s probably just that and the Monster’s player pissing him off.”
“It’s more than that. He seems way happier, and that’s fucking weird.” Wolfe wasn’t wrong. Seaborn had been smiling at his phone a lot.
“Maybe his dad is doing better?”
“When a guy goes from not dating to dating, I want to know. I’m nosy. Why aren’t you? This is what we do. We gossip about the team.”
Wolfe pulls on gray sweatpants and jumps into bed, nearly bouncing me off the mattress.
“Do you hate me?” I ask after I right myself.
“I forget how big I am,” Wolfe says, a little sheepish.
I didn’t mean the bouncing, I mean the fucking sweats, but I don’t correct him. “Why do you want to know who Seaborn is dating so badly?”
He lifts his shoulders. “Why do you not understand how gossip works? It’s like you’re new to this friendship.”
“I’m not new. I just don’t know, and I’m tired.” And fucking horny, which he’s not helping, but I can’t say that to him.
“You are so cranky tonight.”
“I told you I needed to get laid!” I say exacerbated.
“Friendship time is important too.” Wolfe acts a bit dejected. “Life isn’t just about sex. I need conversations and emotions, too.”
“I’m sorry.”
Is he feeling left out? I don’t get why he’s suddenly like this.
It’s not like we don’t spend a ton of time together.
“Lay down and talk to me.” His words make something click. Between Seaborn and the friendship time, it finally occurs to me what all this might be.
“Do you miss dating?” I ask, dreading the answer.
He doesn’t look at me, which tells me more than he says. “It’s not that I miss dating.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, I don’t trust women! I am emotionally scarred!”
I pat his shoulder. “Someone else would be different.”
“But I can’t know the future, so I don’t know that for sure.”
“You will have to settle down at some point.”
Everyone does.
“Or we can just be roommates forever.”
I barely stifle a laugh. “You know what they say about guys who are just roommates their whole lives?”
Wolfe’s expression changes to confused. Sometimes he’s just too innocent. “What?”
“Never mind, but you shouldn’t be lonely for the rest of your life because Steph is a terrible person.”
“I’m not lonely. I have you. We even gossip at night.” His words make my heart ache and my dick a little hard, and to make matters worse, he stretches out and gestures for me to join him.
Reluctantly, I do, and since it’s a king, there is plenty of room, so we’re not touching even with his size. I don’t think I could handle it tonight. “By kidnapping me.”
“Potato tomato. Not lonely.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not going to like it when I’m grinding against you in my sleep because I haven’t gotten laid.”
“What happens in my sleep can’t hurt me.” He taps his temple like he’s come up with some hack.
I open my mouth, but my brain is empty.
Is he serious?
I try to process what he said, but it’s just not computing.
“Follow me for other tips and tricks,” Wolfe says when I still haven’t spoken.
Is he a little bisexual when drunk?
“So gay sleep sex is fine?” I shouldn’t ask, but I have to know.
His face contorts like he’s doing equations in his head. “Can’t hurt me.”
I need to go jack off immediately, or I’m going to explode and die. I start to mutter some excuse, but Wolfe is already speaking.
“I’m lucky to have you as my best friend. You turned down a blowie just to spend time with me, and that means something.” Wolfe has entered the rambling stage of drunk, and I almost feel bad being fixated on his non-objection to gay sleep sex.
“You know I love you, and I’d do anything for you,” I say, trying really hard to be nice before I run the fuck out of here.
He puts his hand on mine. “I know you would. And I’d do anything for you,” he murmurs, clearly falling asleep.
Which may or may not include sleep sex…
Stop it!
I would smack myself if it wouldn’t wake him.
Get the fuck ahold of yourself.
I just need to let him fall asleep, and then I can go jack off to images of sleep blow jobs.
It only takes another minute, but he falls asleep with his hand still on mine, and my chest aches. I need to go back to my room. Back to my bed. But I just want to stay here a few minutes longer and live in the delusion of half-cuddling my best friend.
It would be too easy to fall asleep.
To wake up next to him.
To play pretend for one night.
He shifts and rolls over, flipping a massive arm over me in his sleep.
He’s cuddling me, even if he doesn’t realize it’s me.
I try to move but I’m pinned in. The weight of his arm and warmth of his body fill my heart, but I’m not allowed to have this.
It’s wrong on so many levels. He would not be doing this sober, and it feels like I’m taking advantage by staying.
I want to, but I’m hard, and I need to go find a release.
Even with everything in me screaming to stay, I have to get up.