Chapter 9 Skylar
NINE
SKYLAR
Skylar hated dealing with the consequences of his actions. He was finally making headway with Adam. Meaningful headway. He’d gone to Adam upset, and Adam had taken care of him. Made him a meal. Let him sleep on his couch. Energy crackled between them as attraction threatened to boil over.
When they woke up the next morning, Skylar offered Adam Stars tickets for that night. Grace had the night off. It was perfect.
Skylar went off to morning skate with a bit of a bounce in his step and got the news he’d been waiting for.
The Northern Lights had an injury during morning skate and needed someone now.
Instead of hopping on the ice, Skylar rushed back to his apartment, packed a bag, and grabbed his passport.
As soon as Skylar had a reason to linger in Iowa, hockey pulled him away.
He still didn’t have Adam’s number, but he DMed him on Instagram to let him know what was up. That the tickets to the game were still his and would be at will call if he wanted them, but Skylar understood if he chose not to go.
Then he got in his SUV and headed north on I-35.
This was the moment he had been waiting for. He wanted to be excited for it, but he just…wasn’t anymore. He’d been excited for Adam to come see him play.
At a gas station halfway to the cities, he got a text from Jackson Harper, letting him know Skylar would be staying at his place again.
He still wasn’t over the fact that he had Jackson Harper’s number in his phone.
The Northern Lights had a home game that night, and Jackson was the kind of captain who wanted to make sure call-ups got started on the right foot.
He plugged Jackson’s address into his GPS and checked his Instagram messages. He had one from Adam.
Sorry to hear we won’t get to see you, but I already told Grace about the tickets, so of course we’re going. You’re going to kill it up in the cities.
Skylar didn’t have a coherent thought to send back. He double tapped the message to leave a heart on it.
Skylar had moved around a lot. He went to college far away from home. He played hockey all over the place. And while he missed his family, of course, he never felt a magnetic pull back to the place he was leaving the way that he did to Adam.
Fuck. Beck was right. Skylar thought he could go bother a cute bartender because he was bored and hated spending time alone and have nothing come of it.
By the time he got up to the cities, two Red Bulls and three protein bars later, he pulled himself into shape.
He had a hard time controlling his emotions in general, but he thought about Adam and the deep breaths he’d led him through the night before.
It had helped. It was pathetic to have to be reminded to breathe, but it helped again.
Finally, he pulled up to Jackson’s house. He lived in a modest new-construction neighborhood in a white farmhouse-style home with too many cars in the driveway. Skylar parked on the street and grabbed his bag.
An eruption of barking came after he knocked on the front door, and then Ryan Cosgrove was pulling the front door open and holding back an excited golden retriever.
Ryan, former Northern Lights forward and current Jackson Harper husband, was also on Skylar’s shortlist of gay hockey players he idolized.
“Hey, come on in,” he said, shushing his golden retriever as he made space in the foyer for Skylar. “Welcome back, man. Jack and Riker are napping, so we gotta be quiet.”
“Of course,” Skylar agreed, holding his hand out to be sniffed now that the dog was calmer.
“Lola missed you.”
“I missed her right back,” Skylar said as Lola leaned her body against his legs as he pet her. He wasn’t a dog person, but Lola was a sweetie.
Ryan looked at his watch. “You don’t have enough time to take a nap, but you can get settled in before you have to get ready to go. Jack will drive you to the rink.”
Skylar didn’t need a tour—he was familiar with the space.
His eyes scanned quickly over the first floor.
Kitchen, mudroom, living and dining rooms, the bathroom, the door to the basement, which had workout gear if he was interested.
It all looked nearly identical to when he’d been there the year before. Then they headed upstairs.
They passed the double doors of Jackson and Ryan’s primary suite at the top of the stairs, then headed down the hallway. There were two guest rooms at the end of the hall, and Skylar had stayed in both.
“Riker is in this one,” Ryan said, pointing to the guest room with the en suite bathroom, “so I got you set up in here.”
The room had everything he needed. Queen bed, TV on the wall, minifridge.
The closet was empty. The bathroom in the hallway wasn’t attached to the room, but he wouldn’t have to share it.
It wasn’t opulent, but it was way better than being in a hotel room.
Especially for a guy like Skylar, who would have gone stir-crazy alone.
“I’ll let you get settled in. If you want something to eat, a snack or something, I’ll be in the kitchen. The boys will get up in an hour to eat before you leave.”
“Thanks, Ryan.”
He nodded and pulled Skylar’s door closed as he left.
Ryan Cosgrove was…hot. He was square and big, with full-sleeve tattoos that ran all the way up his neck and a body that didn’t look like he was a retired professional athlete.
His dark brown hair was cropped short, and his sweatpants stretched over his thighs enticingly.
Skylar was glad he was preoccupied with someone else at the moment.
Instead of thinking impure thoughts about his host, the thoughts he was having about male hotness melted easily into Adam’s smile.
Adam had slightly crooked teeth and a beard that was always perfect.
Short and dark. Soft, he knew, from the one time he touched it after they climbed together.
He was only a little shorter than Skylar and genuinely knew nothing about sports.
But Skylar had seen his body in shorts and a t-shirt.
He’d seen the raw strength he had in his forearms alone.
He let Adam know he made it safe and then texted the family group chat. His twin little sisters had started college this year, and he was trying to make a point to check in with them and stay connected.
He climbed into bed and let his nerves consume him while he scrolled on social media.
Yes, he’d played a few games in the NHL before, but this was the most high-pressure job interview that he could imagine.
He wanted to perform perfectly that night, to show the coaches and the GM that he was worth being up on the big team permanently.
He reminded himself that most guys spent time in the AHL. Jackson himself had a season and a half-ish in the AHL. Not the Stars, but out in California. And not every guy bridged the gap between the leagues, but it was possible. Skylar knew he could do it.
Eventually, he heard Riker open his bedroom door and head downstairs, and he took that as his cue to follow. He was nearly at the top of the stairs when Jackson pulled his own door open, his generally happy face splitting into a huge grin.
“Hey, man,” he said, holding his hand out to pull Skylar into a hug. Jackson was on the small side for hockey players, but he was fast and smart. “Glad you made it.”
“Thanks again for letting me stay with you guys.”
“Happy to have you.” Skylar followed Jackson down to the kitchen, where Ryan was cooking. Pasta and chicken. A prerequisite to being a hockey player was liking pasta and chicken.
The four of them ate around the dining table, and Riker and Jackson caught him up on how the Northern Lights felt that year.
Of the two of the homeowners, Ryan was the quiet one, but he smiled at Skylar when he caught Ryan slipping Lola pieces of chicken, while Jackson talked so much he nearly ran out of time to finish his meal.
They got packed up and ready to go, and Riker headed to the front door while Jackson rushed back to the kitchen.
“Good-luck kisses,” he said, bending down to press a kiss to Lola’s forehead before letting her lick his face, then stood up to give Ryan a kiss.
Skylar tried not to stare but when two hot people kiss… he was only human.
And then they were out of there. Jackson was chatty, like Skylar, and Skylar could see Riker’s relief when he realized that Skylar and Jackson could keep the conversation going themselves, without him having to contribute much.
Once they got to the arena, the pregame routine was comfortingly familiar. Off-ice warm-ups, sewer ball, getting his stick cut down and taped up. One of the equipment guys got him set up with a bunch of Northern Lights clothes for the new season to wear. It felt like Christmas.
He was on the bottom D-pairing, and his partner, Novikov, talked him through some expectations and helped calm his nerves.
And then, like most hockey games, it started and part of his brain shut off. The part that worried. The part that hesitated. The part that inhibited poor decisions. Sometimes that made him quick and lethal on the ice. Other times, it made him act like a dumbass.
He was lucky that night. He didn’t have a breakout game, but he felt solid. His quick decisions proved to be smart decisions. Novikov clapped him on the shoulder afterward and folded him easily into a conversation with some of the other boys about golf.
He left in Jackson’s SUV feeling like he could imagine his future as an NHL player more clearly than ever before.
They got home late. Ryan had gone to the game, but he’d driven himself so he didn’t have to twiddle his thumbs for hours before and after, and they found him asleep on the couch spooning Lola. It was such a domestic thing to walk in on, and Jackson’s face went all soft.
Someday, Skylar would have this. Maybe not the dog and the big house, but a man to come home to after playing a hockey game.