23. Allen
By the time they arrived at the Citadels’ practice, Allen had somehow been talked into wearing a Sloan jersey, while Jake proudly sported an Evans jersey beside him. Together, they looked less like spectators and more like members of an overly enthusiastic fan club or members of WAG.
Allen stayed tucked against Jake’s side for most of the practice with a book open in his lap.
He turned pages when he remembered to, but he had to keep starting over because he wasn’t really reading.
His thoughts kept drifting back to that morning—to waking up sandwiched between two warm bodies that smelled faintly of soap and aftershave, and to the way Riley had pulled him against his chest while absentmindedly running a hand through Jake’s hair to coax him awake.
Even Kingston, who had woken up grumpy at the alarm and early hour, had dragged himself closer to lie over all three of them, poking Riley, kissing Allen, and grinning at Jake.
The memory lingered stubbornly, replaying itself every time Allen tried to focus on the words in front of him. Having Riley and Kingston in their bed shouldn’t have been easy. Not that Allen didn’t want them there more than anything, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too easy.
The real test would come with switching partners whenever they got to that point, but even if they had to live as two separate couples who did everything else but fuck, he would be okay with that too. They would make it work.
A tap on the glass made him jump, and Allen looked up into Kingston’s cornflower blue eyes, already knowing that a teasing comment was about to be made.
“Monroe, blow me a kiss or something. You look like you’re thinking too hard.”
None of the other Citadel players besides Riley were paying them any attention, but Allen knew there were cameras around every corner, and someone was bound to notice one of the players being flirted with through the glass.
“Me first, Ally!” Riley shouted, sprinting across the ice and cutting to a stop that had him smacking against the glass. He whipped his helmet off and turned his cheek, like he was expecting Allen to start making out with the glass like they were in some corny teen romance.
“Aren’t you supposed to be paying attention to your coach?
” Allen hissed, pushing up off his seat so he could indeed press himself against the glass.
He was hoping to hide behind Riley and Kingston’s bulk to avoid being spotted as he blew each man a kiss and then flipped them off, but the two puckheads were making so much noise they were bound to draw attention anyway.
Jake made exactly no effort to hide his actions as he also blew a kiss at each of them, shrugging when Allen kicked his shoe.
“Sloan! Evans! You’re up!” The coach hollered, waving at Riley and Kingston like a parent trying to call her children off the monkey bars. “You’re running formations with Carr! Get your asses over here!”
Allen shooed them away when the two idiots paused to wave goodbye and sat down the second they were gone to keep from drawing any more attention.
He ignored Jake’s chuckling and picked up the book that he was never going to read, determined to look busy so Kingston wouldn’t catch him thinking too hard again and stop by to pester.
“Looks fun,” Jake said, speaking so softly that Allen barely caught his words over the crack of pucks hitting the boards.
Allen lifted his gaze to the ice, watching Riley skate. He moved with the confidence of a professional player who had finally settled into his role, firing pucks with effortless precision and reading the play before it unfolded.
But Allen knew he could be even better.
Not because Riley was lacking anything, but because Allen had seen what happened when Jake was the one centering for him.
He’d watched the two of them move across the ice like they shared a single mind, anticipating each other’s decisions before they were made.
Compared to that, whoever Carr was, felt like a placeholder.
Jake loved hockey—he breathed it, and yet he was forced to put on a suit and attend meetings that he didn’t care about. He was forced to memorize trends and numbers he didn’t care about. He was forced to do something he had no passion for, and that had to feel like a goddamn cage.
“Good morning, gentlemen.”
Allen thought that speaking of the devil was the only way to catch his attention, but apparently, thinking of the devil worked just as well.
Everett Valero approached them with the casual grace of a lion, looking regal with his handsome features and dressed sharply in his tailored suit. Allen knew the smile he wore was genuine, but it didn’t make him any less frustrated with the man.
“They look good, right?” Mr. Valero asked, letting out a sigh as he took the seat beside Jake. “Sully is whipping the team into shape, and I know we won’t be ready to make a cup run for a couple of years, but they’re a promising group.”
Jake nodded, not once taking his eyes off the ice—off Riley and Kingston.
Allen’s throat tightened as a surge of anger, frustration and sadness rose inside him. Everett was lucky they weren’t on the ice, and Allen didn’t have a stick in his hands because he wouldn’t be above taking a cheap shot to the back of the man’s knees.
“I’m hoping whatever GM we bring in will be able to procure more prospects,” Everett continued, unaware of Jake’s stoic silence and Allen’s rising temper. “But enough about that, how have you boys been? I saw you from the sky box and decided to stop by since you haven’t visited since Christmas.”
“You see me during meetings,” Jake countered. “Those meetings take place on the same floor of my penthouse. Feel free to visit any time if you want to see Allen and Riley.”
Everett chortled and relaxed into his seat, making himself comfortable despite the tense atmosphere. “I suppose I can keep Allen company while you’re running meetings and Riley’s playing at away games. It’ll be a good opportunity to get to know my son’s boyfriend.”
“I’ll be working,” Allen reminded him. “I keep myself busy when Jake’s working.”
It was a lie, but Everett didn’t have to know that. Jake had insisted on Allen only working now and then since they didn’t need the money, and he was happy to provide whatever was needed to convince him of that.
Allen had no shame about being a kept man, but he refused to entertain the head of the Valero family just for the hell of it.
“Well, if you change your mind, Allen, I’m only a phone call away.”
Allen nodded and took Jake’s hand, squeezing it until Jake mirrored the action. “Thanks, Mr. Valero. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Everett allowed the conversation to die, but his silence wasn’t enough to stop the thoughts from churning inside Allen’s head. He knew Everett’s control over Jake bothered him, but he couldn’t think of any way to fix it.
That frustration stayed with him through the rest of practice, through Jake’s goodbye to his father, and all the way to the car. It followed him to the hardware store, rode home with him, and continued to simmer beneath the surface long after they arrived.
By the time Allen found himself sitting in the living room, watching Jake, Riley, and Kingston attempt to build a bookshelf from scratch, the irritation still hadn't faded.
“Stop touching my wood,” Jake muttered, tugging the shelf-sized plank he was holding out of Riley’s hands.
Riley’s cackle helped chip away at Allen’s irritation, as did his boyish smile and the sound of Kingston’s snickering.
“I thought me touching your wood would be included in the relationship bundle,” Riley chirped, boldly pushing into Jake’s space until there was only an inch separating their lips.
This was obviously new territory for them, but when Jake hooked his finger into Riley’s belt loop to hold him in place and angled his head like he was about to kiss him, Allen felt tingles erupt over his skin.
“If you want my cock, Riles, then ask for it,” Jake drawled, ignoring the sound of a hammer dropping to the floor when it fell from Kingston’s hand. “But until then, I’m going to build this bookshelf, and you’re going to help me instead of annoying me.”
Allen grabbed his abandoned book and started fanning himself, needing as much extra oxygen as he could get when all the blood in his body suddenly rushed south.
They were never going to get the damn bookshelves built.
When Jake finally released Riley and returned to the pile of planks to grab more, Riley wisely kept his mouth shut and switched into serious mode.
Allen still didn’t understand why building furniture required so much effort when the store had already cut everything for them.
As far as he was concerned, they should have been able to nail the pieces together, slap on some paint, and call it a day.
Apparently, there were far more steps involved than that.
After an hour of watching the three of them argue, bark instructions, and occasionally steal each other’s tools, he grew bored. He retreated to the bathroom for another bubble bath—this time without any extra men invading his tub.
Allen couldn’t have been in there for more than an hour, but when he came back, Riley and Kingston were curled up together on the sectional, and somehow the room had gone from containing no bookshelves to containing three.
Allen stared at them for a moment, having absolutely no idea how that had happened other than the obvious explanation of magic or blood sacrifices, which…
“Where’s Jake?” Allen asked, searching the kitchen and every visible area of the penthouse for signs of his boyfriend.
“He’s here,” Kingston replied, pointing to the spot on the sectional beside him. “His head was hurting, so I made him lie down on my lap and close his eyes for a minute before he tried to jump into making dinner for us.”
Allen’s insides had already been squirming after spotting the cuddle session between Riley and Kingston. So, by the time he came closer and peered over the back of the sectional and found Jake lying on his back between Kingston’s legs, his insides turned to goo.
Riley, who was sitting with his back against the armrest with Kingston pressed against his chest, was alternating between kissing his boyfriend’s neck and playing with Jake’s hair, earning content sighs from both men.
No longer feeling agitated and not wanting to be left out, Allen joined them on the sectional and carefully climbed on top of Jake so he could use him as a bed.
It was as warm as it had been that morning when Allen woke tangled up in the three of them, and the snuggling came with head pats from all his men, including an ass grab from Jake.
“There’s still one more shelf to make,” Riley groaned.
Allen sighed as he and Jake were jostled around by a temperamental Kingston.
“Don’t get Jake going, jackass,” Kingston warned. “I just got him down ten minutes ago. We can finish the damn shelf tomorrow.”
“You’re making me sound like a toddler taking a nap at daycare,” Jake grumbled.
The offended confusion in his voice nearly broke Allen. He pressed a hand over his mouth, trying—and failing—to hold back his laughter.
Kingston patted Jake’s arm. “It’s okay, big guy. Just be a good boy and close your eyes.”
Allen could practically feel Jake’s bewilderment from underneath him. “My eyes were already closed,” Jake pointed out. “How exactly am I supposed to close them more?”
This time Allen snorted outright, the sound escaping before he could stop it, and the last of the frustration he’d been carrying all day finally loosened its grip.
Soon, he would figure out what to do about Jake’s career, but he needed time to come up with a good enough plan to convince Mr. Valero that he knew what was best for his son. Allen knew he could do it; he just had to wait a little longer for the pieces to fall into place.
Just a little longer.