Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JONAH
I fluttered my eyes open to the scent of bacon. Ace must be up cooking a house breakfast. I rolled to my side and the room came into focus, the dark wood nightstand and rounded rattan lampshade. “What the fuck?” Last night’s hit barreled into my memories, me smacking the board, then falling backward, tripping over a fucking skate. I sat up and my head pounded and the room spun. “Fuck.” I pressed the heels of my hands to my temples, then lay back down. I had a concussion. It was minor, but tell my fucking head that right now. As I breathed through the pain, it lessened.
Ryan popped through the doorway, wearing only his pajama bottoms. “Oh good, you’re up.” He wiped his hand on a white dishtowel. “Breakfast is—” With his mouth dropping open, he rushed to the side of the bed, then sat on the edge. “Shit, are you okay?” He looked me up and down, grabbing my cheek, then my chin, turning my head side to side, inspecting me.
The room spun again and nausea balled in my gut. “Stop.” I shoved his hand off me. “Jesus, you’re going to make me puke.” I swallowed saliva down.
“You’re not okay. Should I call the team doc?” He hovered over me on a straight arm, his gaze darting over my face .
“I’m fine. I just need a moment and probably some Tylenol.” The memories of last night muddled into my brain, him taking care of me, holding me all night. My heart fluttered with warmth. “Ryan, I’m okay. You can’t call the team doc anyway. What would you tell him?”
His brows twitched together for a beat. “I’d tell him…well, I’d tell him?—”
“That you found me in your bed with a headache and a dizzy spell?” I choked out a laugh. “I have a concussion and I’ve been lying down all night. I just need to get up slowly and let things adjust.” I didn’t want to think about the blood in my head moving around my swollen brain tissue, but that was basically what was happening. Sometimes, it wasn’t so great being pre-med. I knew things. Slowly, I lifted onto my elbows, focusing on the television resting on his long dresser across the room. “See?”
He poured two pills into his hand from a bottle resting on the nightstand. “Here.” He held them out to me, along with a bottled water in his other hand.
With a soft grin, I threw the pills into my mouth, then gulped them down with water and handed the bottle back to him. Was this how he’d been when he took care of his mom? My grin widened and warmth bubbled through my chest. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Setting the water on the nightstand, he knitted his brows. “Do you feel well enough to eat? I made breakfast.”
“I think so.” I was damn well going to try. Very slowly, I made my way up to sitting, waited a moment, then threw my feet over the edge of the bed.
“You need help getting up?” He hopped off the bed and grabbed the back of my arm. “I don’t want you getting dizzy again and falling.”
“I’m okay.” As I stood, the room around me blurred, and I reached out for him. Maybe I did need to talk to the team doc.
“I’ve got you.” He wrapped my arm around his shoulders and draped an arm around my waist. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah, I can walk.” Fuck it. I’d let him help me and quit trying to be a tough guy. Being in his arms like this was nice. I rested my cheek on his shoulder as he led me out of his room and into the main room.
“Want to eat on the sofa and I’ll bring you a plate?” He stopped and turned to face me, hugging me into his chest and brushing his fingers down the back of my hair.
God, this was awesome. Leaning against him, I relaxed and sighed.
He kissed my cheek. “I love you, Jonah.” He held me tighter. “I hate seeing you hurt like this.”
“Love you too.” I splayed my hands out across his back. “I have to admit, I’m sort of liking being injured right now.” With a grin teasing my lips, I lifted my head, my gaze finding his.
“Oh? You like seeing me worry?” He rubbed the tip of his nose on mine as the corners of his lips twitched into an almost grin.
“I like you taking care of me.” I pressed a kiss to his lips. “You’re good at taking care of people. I can see why you’re such a good coach. Good coaches care about people.” Okay, now I was talking gibberish. But it was sort of true.
“I see your brain is still jellied.” He shifted his hold on me, freeing one arm. “So, table or sofa?”
“Table. The Tylenol is kicking in and the dizziness is gone.” I’d taken the meds on an empty stomach, after all. I straightened and walked with him to the table, then sat in a chair.
He brought out plated bacon, fried eggs, and muffins to the table, along with coffee and glasses of orange juice. “These muffins are from the queer bakery.” He dropped into a chair next to mine. “How many eggs do you want?” He forked one onto my plate.
“Three.” My stomach grumbled. I was hungry, despite the earlier nausea.
“Oh, you are feeling better.” He set two more eggs on my plate, then a few slices of bacon and a muffin. “These are Grand Marnier muffins, and they are to die for. ”
“Are you serious? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” I plucked the muffin off my plate and twisted it in my hand, taking in the brownish cake with flecks of orange skin in it, then peeled off the paper and bit into it. An explosion of orange and honey mixed with the tang of liquor flooded my tongue. “Oh, damn.” I set the muffin down and wiped my fingers on a napkin. “I can’t get drunk off these, can I?”
With a snicker, he said, “No.” He patted my forearm. “That wouldn’t be good for your concussion.” He ate a slice of bacon, studying me.
I cut into my eggs and stuffed them into my mouth. Yeah, I was definitely feeling better. After eating, I might even feel human again.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, Ryan tapping on his phone next to his plate and looking over emails.
“Anything interesting?” I’d eaten all my proteins, and now it was time to dive back into the muffin. I held it up and took a bite, letting a soft moan leave my mouth.
His gaze snapped to mine and his eyes darkened, then he squirmed. “You know you were killing me last night. Do you remember any of it?” He sipped his coffee.
“Some.” It was a little foggy, but had I wanted sex? “You wouldn’t put out.” I freed a soft snort.
“You’re not supposed to be exerting yourself.” He lifted a brow, holding his cup over his plate.
“I fail to see how you jerking me off is exerting for me.” Touché. I side-eyed him, my lips quirking. “I’ll let you do it after breakfast. How’s that?” My dick tingled and plumped. Hell yeah, I could go for that. Concussion? What concussion?
Shaking his head and wagging a finger at me, he said, “You’re so bad.”
“So bad I’m good?” I offered a bright smile. This was so nice, just sitting here with him in the morning, being silly, forgetting all the bullshit outside this apartment.
“Yeah, something like that.” He shifted in his seat and set his coffee down, his grin waning. “Listen, Jonah, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Oh?” I wiped my mouth with my napkin. This looked serious. “What?”
“I got a call from Laurent the other day. He’s coming out here for work.” He twisted his lips, watching me with narrowed eyes.
“Okay, when?” I sat back in my seat. Why hadn’t he said something earlier? Because of my injury?
“He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon. He’s staying at The Palms down the street.” He pursed his lips.
Heat prickled through my chest. This shouldn’t bother me, but it did. They’d been together for seven years. And how the fuck had the guy scored a room right down the street? “So, did he plan on staying that close to you?”
“I-I don’t know. Maybe?” He chewed his thumbnail. “It didn’t sound like he planned things that way, but you never know.” He shrugged a shoulder, his gaze raking over me. “You can meet him. Maybe we can all go have dinner somewhere? Well, as long as you’re up to it.”
With a choked laugh, I said, “Fuck, I’ll be up to it.” No fucking way was I letting him go out to dinner with his ex by himself. I set my forearms next to my plate and hung my head.
He reached across the table and covered my hand with his. “Jonah, you know there’s nothing between us. We’re just friends now.” He squeezed my hand. “I would like for you to meet him, but your health comes first.”
“Yeah, okay.” I stared at my plate, chewing my bottom lip. “How many days will he be here?” I cut my gaze to his. Way to ruin my good mood.
“He’s here until Wednesday.” He bit into a muffin, then set it on his plate and wiped his fingers on a napkin. “He wants to hang out some before he goes home.”
“So, like what? Every day?” I stared at my fork resting on the plate. Why was this bothering me so much? I trusted Ryan, didn’t I? He’d said he loved me. He didn’t strike me as a guy who cheated. Especially when he’d said he didn’t like his ex bringing third parties into their relationship.
“What’s wrong?” Leaning in, he skimmed his knuckles down my cheek.
“Nothing. Just, uh, brain fog from the concussion, you know?” Yeah, I wasn’t thinking straight, that was all. My brain was jellied, like he’d said. I forced a smile at him. “I should probably go lie down again.” I scanned over the table. He’d never let me help him do the dishes.
“Okay.” He ate the rest of his muffin, then set his plate over mine along with our silverware. “Let me clean up, and I’ll join you in bed?”
“Yes, please.” Grabbing his wrist, I pulled him toward me and pressed a long kiss on his mouth. More cuddling in bed would set things right. Gazing into his gray-blue eyes, I said, “I think having you in bed with me will heal my brain faster than anything else.”
“Yeah?” He tongued the corner of his mouth. “And no funny stuff. You need to rest.” He stood, lifting the plates off the table.
I’d spent most of Saturday in bed with Ryan, curled up in each other, with me dozing while he binged some series drama. I’d never done anything like this before. I was usually a guy on the go, working out, studying, practicing, or hanging out with the squad. The only time Ryan had left me was for practice and the Saturday night game. I’d been cleared to stay home, given the ruckus of sitting on the bench and the fact I needed quiet.
After the game, Ryan had brought me dinner and then gotten right back in bed with me. He could have gone out with the team to celebrate the win, but no, he’d wanted to be with me.
By Sunday afternoon, I was feeling much better, and I’d actually showered and dressed. Well, I wanted to show Ryan I was up to meeting this ex of his. “So, have you heard from Laurent yet?” I sat on his couch, drinking water and watching a replay of the Wild playing the Blackhawks.
Ryan rounded the couch and sank in next to me. “Yes, he texted. We’re going to pick him up at his hotel and take him into Old Town Scottsdale.”
“Yeah? Where?” I’d only been up there to hit the nightclubs on the weekend. I faced him, lifting a leg onto the couch cushion between us.
“I thought we could go to The Mission.” He laid an arm across the back of the couch.
“Oh yeah, I’ve seen that place. Mexican food, huh?” I was pretty sure it was next to some sort of historic landmark as well. I teased the hem of my fleece. Of course, he didn’t want to take Laurent to a restaurant in Tempe, not with me along. Someone might see us together.
“Latin food. Anyway, I thought it would be nice to show him something a little different. Something you only get in the American Southwest.” He ran his fingers through my hair at the nape of my neck.
A shiver played over my spine. “Yeah, well, I’m looking forward to it.”
“You’re feeling okay? No dizziness?” His gaze roamed to mine.
“No dizziness, not even this morning.” Okay, that was a tiny lie. I’d had some blurred vision when I’d first gotten up, but I was fine now. I wasn’t going to miss this outing.
“Okay. If you start feeling unwell, let me know, and I’ll bring you home.” Wrapping his fingers around my neck, he leaned in for a soft kiss.
An hour later, we rounded the drive to the hotel and stopped under the large portico. Palm trees rose up all around the property, giving the place its namesake. The hotel was built in the typical Spanish revival style that was common around here, with red clay tiles on the roof and a white stucco finish, made to look like the old mud they’d used on the buildings way back when Arizona was first settled. I peered out my window.
A tall man with short, dark hair, dressed smartly in a form-fitting gray polo and black slacks sauntered out of the sliding doors to the hotel.
“There he is.” Ryan climbed out of the car and met him on the other side with a quick hug and a kiss on each cheek.
I squirmed in my seat. The kiss was no big deal. This guy was French. It was to be expected. I glanced out at them again. Should I get out of the car? Shit. I should. I stepped out and stood, then waved. “Hi, you must be Laurent?”
“I am.” He hitched up his slacks and walked to me with his hand out, his brown-eyed gaze taking me in. “Nice to meet you, Jonah,” he said in an accent I couldn’t place. It was part French, part Canadian, and what? German maybe? Fuck if I knew. It was just different.
“Likewise.” I gave his hand a firm shake. I was a hockey player, for fuck’s sake, and I’d let him know it.
“So, get in, and I’ll take us into Old Town.” Ryan opened the back door behind my seat and gestured to Laurent.
With a smirk at me, he ducked into the back seat.
It was weird, but I felt like I’d won a prize because I got to keep my front-seat privileges. After I sat down, Ryan drove the car onto Mill Avenue. It would be a quick ride into Old Town, but all on side roads.
“So, Jonah, I heard you ended up with a concussion on Friday night?” Laurent leaned over to peer at me.
“Yes, but I’m better now. It was pretty minor.” I patted Ryan’s forearm while he drove. “Ryan’s been taking really good care of me.” I snuck a peek at Laurent.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Laurent chuckled. “You should have seen him with his mother before he came down here.” He cocked his head. “He told you about her, I assume? ”
“He knows all about Mom’s cancer diagnosis.” Ryan gazed at Laurent through the rear-view mirror.
“Have you heard from her lately?” Laurent looked out his window.
“I have. She’s doing great,” Ryan said, sneaking a glance at me and offering a soft grin.
“Good. She’s such a lovely lady.” He sighed. “Hopefully, you’ll get to meet her someday.”
“I’m sure I will. I’m being scouted by the Maple Leafs. So, I expect to be spending some time up in Toronto this summer.” There, take that. The corner of my mouth tugged up. Why was I being so petty? I needed to stop. But it’s not like I’d ever had a boyfriend, let alone met a boyfriend’s ex. This was uncharted territory for me. How was I supposed to act?
“That’s great, Jonah.” Laurent came forward in his seat and patted Ryan’s shoulder. “It would be funny if he ended up in Toronto with you staying here in Arizona.”
Ryan twisted his lips and glanced at me. “Yes, well, we’ll see how things go.” He grabbed my hand from my thigh and held it over the center console. “We have time to figure things out.”
With a nod, Laurent said, “How long have you two been, uh…?” He waved his hands between us.
“I met Ryan around New Year’s.” I glanced back at Laurent. What was that supposed to mean? I should have talked more to Ryan. If I’d had my wits about me, I would have wanted to know what he’d told Laurent about us. Like, did Laurent know we were in love?
As we passed the short buildings of Old Town with their quaint covered walkways, I chewed my fingernail. There was a definite competition going on between me and Laurent. But I supposed it was to be expected if he cared about Ryan.
Ryan pulled into an angled parking spot on the street in front of a building resembling a true Spanish Mission, all in white with curvilinear gables and parapets. “We’re here.”
We all climbed out of the car, and I stretched. God, I could go for a margarita, but Ryan would never allow it with my damn concussion.
Snatching my hand, Ryan led me toward the heavily carved wooden doors of the place and Laurent followed. Ryan opened the door and waved me and Laurent inside. “I have a reservation under my name.”
Laurent strolled to a hostess stand and a woman in black led us through the darkly lit main room, large crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling between hand-hewn beams. The walls were beige-gold and painted to look antiqued between hanging mirrors and sconces.
I followed them through tables of four with white linen tablecloths and fake candles centering them. This place was fancy.
The hostess stopped at a table in the corner and set menus down.
Dropping into a leather chair next to Ryan, I picked up my menu. “Nice place.”
“Yes, very.” Laurent, sitting on the other side of Ryan, smirked and glanced over his menu. “The food looks delicious.” He glanced at Ryan. “Look at all the margarita flavors. Think I’ll have to try the prickly pear.”
“That does sound good.” With a grin at me, Ryan squeezed my hand, resting next to my plate. “You ever try a prickly pear margarita?”
“Can’t say that I have. I’ve seen it on menus before, though.” I threw a smirk at Laurent. “I usually go for Cadillac margaritas.” I’d love to say something unmanly about fluffy drinks, but I’d keep my mouth shut for now. I’d just met the guy.
“Okay, prickly pear it is.” Shutting his menu, Laurent beamed at Ryan. “Why don’t you try another flavor so we can taste different ones?”
Heat flickered across my chest. That idea bordered on being date-like. If someone was Ryan’s date, it was me. “Maybe I could have a?— ”
“No, you shouldn’t be drinking.” Ryan brushed his hand up my forearm.
“I was going to say taste. I wasn’t proposing I order myself a margarita.” I huffed. Him watching out for me in private was one thing, but in front of his ex? I wasn’t sure I liked it. It sort of felt like I was out with my two dads. Gross.
“Oh yeah, sure.” Ryan sipped from his water glass.
A waiter stopped by our table and took the margarita orders, my iced tea order, and Laurent put in an order for their special guacamole, made right at the table. How touristy of him.
“So, what sort of Mexican food do they have up there in Toronto?” I drank some water. I wasn’t sure what else to talk about.
“Not as good as here. Aren’t you from the Midwest? It’s probably about the same as what you get there.” Laurent studied me.
“Yeah, I’m from Minnesota. Mexican food is definitely better here. It’s more authentic.” As the waiter set down our drinks, I picked up my tea and sipped it from a straw. This conversation was a little on the boring side.
“Have you been to Mexico?” Laurent sipped his margarita, puckered his lips, then widened his eyes. “Damn, that is good.” He placed it by Ryan. “Here, try some.”
“Uh, yeah, I went to Rocky Point for spring break freshman year.” I twisted my lips, running my index finger over the rim of my glass. The only reason I’d gone was because the drinking age down there was eighteen and I could get into the clubs legally. Okay, and it was party-central.
“Yeah? Where’s that?” Ryan’s gaze swept to mine.
“It’s on the Baja peninsula, about three hours south of here. It’s on the Sea of Cortez.” How I’d remembered that I hadn’t a clue.
“Oh, maybe we should go some time.” Ryan offered a warm grin.
“Remember our trip to Puerto Vallarta?” Laurent took a sip of Ryan’s cucumber jalapeno margarita, then hissed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Oh my God, that’s good, but it’s got a kick to it.”
The Frenchie can’t handle the heat. I chuckled to myself. I wasn’t going to ask about their trip. I wasn’t falling for the bait.
“Yes, Puerto Vallarta was so much fun.” Ryan nodded, then tapped my forearm. “We took these ATVs on a tequila-tasting tour up in the mountains.”
“Did you now.” I forced a smile at him. Was I really going to be subjected to listening to all the fun things they did together as a couple without any alcohol?
“Yes, and there was this iguana at the one place that loved Ryan.” With a quick laugh, Laurent scooted his chair closer to Ryan’s. “Well, Ryan fed him some tortilla, and that was it.”
“Love at first bite?” Ryan turned his warm smile on Laurent.
“Exactly.” Taking a long pull of his drink, Laurent leaned toward Ryan. “Iggy—we named the iguana Iggy—climbed up Ryan’s back and sat on his shoulder for, like, a half-hour.”
“Iggy.” I freed a stuttered chuckle. ’Cause what else are you going to name a fucking iguana? As I made to give Ryan an eye roll, I stopped myself. I had to be more mature than this. Laurent and Ryan were close friends now, nothing more. But then, why was I getting this competitive feeling in my gut?
The server brought out all the ingredients for our guacamole on a cart and made it for us, squeezing out fresh lime at the end of the demonstration, then placed it on the center of our table with warm corn chips. As we dove into the guacamole, he took our order. We’d all ended up with various taco combinations.
“So, Laurent, what do you do exactly?” I swiped a chip in the guacamole, then stuffed it into my mouth. What had Ryan seen in him anyway? I mean, yeah, he was a good-looking guy, but he seemed a little on the arrogant side to me. And why had he wanted to share Ryan with other people in bed? I’d never share Ryan with anyone. No way, no how .
“Oh, I work for an electronics distributor. We sell electronic components of all sorts.” He lifted
a shoulder, then drank his margarita. “Did you try my drink yet, honey?” He set his drink down in front of Ryan.
“No, not yet.” He sipped Laurent’s margarita. “Yeah, that’s good,” he said, sneaking a glance at me. “Want to try it?” He pushed the drink toward me.
Honey? What the fuck? As I shook off the comment, I peeked at Laurent and nodded. “Yeah, sure.” I slid the drink closer to me.
Laurent wrinkled his nose, then flipped his napkin out as he unfolded it.
“It is good. We should come back here again when my concussion is healed so I can have a few of these.” I pushed the glass away from me. “Can I try yours, Ryan?” Honey? I smirked. I’d have to think of my own pet name for him.
“Of course.” He set Laurent’s drink in front of him, then pushed his toward me. “Watch out, the finish is a little hot.”
Stirring the margarita with a straw, I said, “Don’t worry about me. I can take the heat.” As I took a long sip of the drink, I wound my gaze to Laurent’s. I was back to being childish again, but fuck if I cared. “Mmm, good.” I slid the glass to Ryan.
The waiter stopped off with our tacos, each one of us getting a mixture of roasted pork shoulder, butternut squash, and mahi mahi.
I looked down at my plate, meat, cheese, and vegetables spilling out of the tortillas, and my mouth watered. As I rubbed my hands together, I said, “Looks good.”
“Sure does. I don’t think I’d ever find anything like this up in Toronto.” Laurent brushed his fingers down Ryan’s shoulder. “Thanks for taking me someplace special like this.” His gaze locked on Ryan’s.
Slack-jawed, I stared at them. For a second, I could see what they’d looked like as a couple. Shit. But they weren’t a couple. Ryan was with me now, new as it was. This whole thing was really fucking with my head. Or maybe my brain still wasn’t working right because of the concussion?
“You’re welcome, Laurent. I’m glad you could come down here and experience a little bit of Arizona.” Ryan picked up a taco and bit into it, the contents spilling onto his plate. “Damn, these things are a little messy.”
“But so, so good.” Laurent ate a bit of his pork taco. Swallowing his food down, he wiped his fingers on his napkin. “Jonah, what are you studying in school?”
“Oh, uh, I’m pre-med.” I straightened my shoulders. At least it sounded impressive.
“Wow, so if you don’t become a star hockey player, you plan on being a doctor?” Laurent tilted his head, the edge of his lip curling.
“I am. But I think my prospects for hockey are a little better now.” I glanced at Ryan. What had he told him about me? Had he told Laurent anything?
“They are.” With a chuckle, Laurent downed the rest of his margarita, then flagged down the waiter for another. “Ryan told me there’s a fun gay bar down the street from his place. You ever been?”
As a smile hung on my lips, my attention was drawn to him. “Sure. In fact, the first time Ryan and I got together, we started off the night there.” Ryan hadn’t told him about that, had he? Didn’t seem like it.
“You did, eh?” Narrowing his eyes, Laurent focused on Ryan. “You didn’t tell me that.” He tagged Ryan’s arm.