Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JONAH
T he next morning, I shoveled oatmeal with peanut butter into my mouth while sitting at our dining table. I’d had a hard time sleeping and had woken up early. My brain couldn’t let go of the bullshit Owen had tried to pull. Ryan didn’t want me to take any action, but that wasn’t how I was built.
One by one, the squad piled out of their bedrooms and meandered into the kitchen, rummaging around for their carb-loading breakfast. Archer rubbed his eyes and stopped at the table, his chest bare and plaid pajama bottoms hanging off his hips. “How is Coach?”
“He’s good.” I set my spoon into my bowl. “Hey, I need to talk to you.” I twisted in my seat to the rest of the guys, pulling food out of the pantry and the refrigerator. “In fact, I need to talk to all of you.”
“Can we make our breakfast first?” Ace started the blender.
“Fuck, that’s loud.” Tyler winced.
“I’m ready.” Myles stepped to the table with a bowl of granola and a cup of coffee, then dropped into the chair next to mine.
Up-nodding me, Archer said, “Let me grab some of that granola, and I’ll be right back. ”
I spooned more oatmeal into my mouth. I’d wait. They all needed to hear this.
After everyone was seated at the table with their breakfasts, all eyes were on me. Archer asked, “So, what’s up?”
“That fucker, Owen, gave Coach Finley a letter detailing my relationship with Ryan.” I scoffed, heat swarming my chest. If I ever saw the guy on campus, there’d be no way I’d be able to hold back.
Everyone gasped.
“What the hell? Is Coach Gibson in trouble?” Archer stared at me.
“Not yet. Coach Finley was concerned it would cause a scandal and we’d fuck up our games in the championship.” Shaking my head, I rubbed at my temple. “So, he’s not going to tell anyone about it.” Thank fuck for that. Coach was right. It would be messy in all sorts of ways.
“Wait, did you get your invitation to the Leafs’ camp?” Ace wrinkled his forehead.
“I did.” Shit, I hadn’t even told the guys about it yet. I looked around the table at each of them.
“Right on!” Tyler high-fived Myles, and Mason said, “Yes!”
“Way to go, Jonah.” Archer patted my back.
“But if this shit gets out, could they retract your invitation?” Ace eyed me.
I hadn’t even thought of that. “I…don’t know.” I dropped my gaze to my oatmeal and pushed it around with my spoon, nausea pooling in my gut. That would be horrible. Through my teeth, I said, “If that happens, I swear I’ll beat the living shit out of that motherfucker.”
“You and me both.” Ace sneered. “Where the hell does this guy get off messing with you two like this? Why can’t he leave you both alone?”
With a shake of my head, I said, “I have no idea.” There had to be a way to stop the asshole. Wait a minute, I had all of them. “Guys.” I met each of their gazes around the table. “We all need to keep an eye out. What he’s doing is, he’s leaving letters in the coaching staff’s mailbox. At least that’s how Coach Finley found out.” I wasn’t going to mention he’d also seen me leaving Ryan’s room. “If we can all stop by the rink during the day at various times, maybe we can catch the fucker.”
“So, we what, take turns guarding the place?” Mason stuffed a protein bar into his mouth, then chewed.
That was asking a lot when everyone had finals to study for on top of our grueling schedule. “Not maybe guard, but just stop by if you’re in the area and take a look around. Maybe go to practice a little earlier or stay a little later. Hell, I don’t know.” With a long exhale, I dipped my head. “Just keep an eye out for the guy.”
“Yeah, we’ll do that, Jonah.” Archer grabbed my hand resting next to my plate. “Won’t we, guys?” He looked everyone over. “If someone’s close by, use our squad text to let everyone know you’re stopping in, so we’re not doubling our efforts.”
Tyler let out a soft snort. “Think of all the cardio we’ll get in from the extra steps.”
“Yeah? Hell, maybe I’ll make it a point to run over there between every class.” Mason grinned around the room. “Better than running on a fucking treadmill if you ask me.”
“Okay, it sounds like we have our marching orders.” Ace beamed at me. “And if anyone sees the fucker, text the rest of us so we can collectively scare the living daylights out of him.” An evil smirk swept over his mouth.
“Hell, yes. I hope we do see him.” With a broad smile, Mason bit into his bar.
My heart warmed. I had the best friends. “Thanks, guys.”
The rest of the week, no one had seen Owen around the rink and now we’d landed in Sioux Falls, South Dakota for regionals. If we won these games, we’d be in St. Louis in two weeks for the Frozen Four.
As I stepped off our rented bus into the crisp night air, my gaze landed on Ryan, and I touched my nose, letting him know once again I was thinking of him. We’d spent a lot of time together at his place last week and still, it wasn’t enough. I wanted more of him. I wanted every night with him.
A soft smile teased Ryan’s lips and he turned to walk off with Coach Hammett. No doubt they were strategizing like crazy right now. We were playing Colorado State tomorrow night. One game each, all or nothing. We win or go home.
“Boehm, how are you feeling?” Coach Finley peered at me.
“Good. I feel rested, actually.” I hefted my duffel bag out of the storage compartment at the bottom of the bus. Funny, but Coach hadn’t said a word to me about Owen. Maybe he figured he didn’t need to.
“Perfect. I’m starting you tomorrow night.” He patted my shoulder and walked off, past tall trees, toward our colonial-style hotel, lit up like a beacon.
I stared after him. Holy shit, had I heard him right? I never started. Under my breath, I mumbled, “Thanks, Coach.”
“Who you talking to?” Mason stepped up beside me, duffel slung over his shoulder.
“Coach. He’s starting me tomorrow night.”
“Awesome. About time I got you and Richardson as starters.” He slapped my ass. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
The next night, I was on the ice for the starting puck drop, my stick down, legs twitching and ready to move. I wanted to shine. I wanted to show that fucker, Owen, he couldn’t hurt me or Ryan. We’d win these games and come home as division champions .
Hopkins glanced at me, sending me a sly grin. I knew that look. He was pumped and ready to go.
The puck dropped and Hopkins scrambled for it, then broke free, skating like his life depended on it toward Colorado’s goal. I raced beside him, huffing to catch up. The fucker was fast.
Colorado’s D-man beelined it for Hopkins and shoved him.
With a shout, Hopkins shot the puck at me.
It hit my stick with a satisfying thump, and I worked it down the ice. As one of their wingers skated up beside me, I dug in my skates and pivoted in a circle, then pushed the puck to Hopkins as he swung around out of nowhere. Fuck, he was good. No wonder he’d been drafted so early.
Hopkins flew through an opening and shot.
The puck tore high and to the corner. The red goal light went off with the horn.
“Fuckin’ A. We scored!” As my heart flipped in my chest, I jumped on my skates to Hopkins, and we wrapped each other up in hockey hugs.
“Way to start the game, Boehm.” He cackled.
After winning the Colorado game and enjoying a much-deserved day of rest, we mentally prepared ourselves for our next match against Michigan. We’d spent the day reviewing game footage and coming up with a strategy. All the while, I was more focused than I’d ever been. I knew at the end of this my prize was Ryan. That single thought kept me from doing stupid shit, like ending up in his room after everyone went to bed. It did not stop me from fucking with him a little bit.
I sat on my hotel bed in my room with Archer, my phone in my hand, perusing Ryan’s Instagram photos. I glanced at Archer, playing a game on his phone. With a smirk teasing my lips, I opened my text app, then typed.
Jonah
Jerking off and thinking of you. Just thought you should know.
Rhonda.
With Archer in the room???
Jonah
How do you know he’s in the room?
Rhonda
Where else would he be? You’re supposed to be getting a good night’s rest.
Jonah
Still, it feels so fucking good.
Rhonda
You’re killing me here.
Jonah
Popped a boner yet? I’m so fucking hard for you.
My dick tingled in my pajama bottoms. Shit, just texting about it with him was making me hard, and I wasn’t even touching myself.
Rhonda
Damn it. Yes.
“Hey, who you texting? Coach Hot Stuff?” Archer’s gaze was on me.
“Uh, yeah.” I bit my thumb, willing my cock to stand down. Now was not a great time for a hard-on.
He threw me a smirk. “No sexting. I don’t need to see your fucking pajamas tenting like that. God.” With a scoff, he rolled over to his side, his back to me.
“Yeah? You did it to me with Leo.” I looked down. Yep, he was right. I adjusted myself. “At least I had the decency to leave the room.”
“Dude, we have a big game tomorrow. I’m not leaving, and you need to put the phone down or go in the bathroom or something.” With a huff, he punched at his pillow.
Jonah
I finished. There’s cum all over me. Good night.
Oh, that was mean. With the edge of my mouth curling, I made to set my phone down. It buzzed, and I tapped the messages open again.
Rhonda
Me too. I blew the biggest load and shouted your name. Hope no one heard me through the walls.
My dick pulsed in my briefs as desire flickered up my spine. That fucker. When we got home, I was going to pound his ass so hard he’d barely be able to walk the next day.
The next evening, we hit the ice with a solid game plan, and it was working. Ryan and Coach Hammett together had set up our defense so well that Michigan didn’t have a chance in hell of scoring all night. And my boy Archer shined like the soon-to-be Coyote he was.
I peeked at the clock. We had two minutes left to hang on to this win. We only had one goal, but still, a win was a win. I waited behind Hopkins for a faceoff in our defensive zone. All we had to do was snatch the fucking puck and run it down the ice.
The ref threw the puck between Hopkins and the Michigan center. It bounced off the center’s stick and flew toward me.
“Holy fuck.” I sprinted toward it and knocked it to the ice, then swiveled and sped toward the center line, coming in close to the boards.
“Not this time.” One of their D-men flew at me and shoved me into the board, then held me squished against it for a split second.
“Fuck.” As I smashed my face against the clear plexiglass, I threw my elbow back, hitting his chest pads. The fucker was forcing a penalty on me. “Get off me, asshole.”
“I thought you boys liked being taken from behind?” He cackled.
Shoving off the boards, I flung him backward. “Only if the guy’s got a dick bigger than a peanut.” I’d learned long ago not to let chirps like that bother me. With a smirk, my gaze searched the rink. Where the hell was the puck?
Their center skated off with it, speeding toward Ace.
Crouching with his knees buckling in, Ace was laser-focused on the Michigan center.
The center drew back with his stick, then shot a line drive straight at Ace’s chest.
Picking the puck out of the air, Ace chortled. “Nice one, douche.” He threw the puck onto the ice at Carlson, who swung around behind the net, then passed to Hodge.
Those two had become unstoppable. I skated toward them, just in case they got bombed.
The horn blew, signaling the end of the game.
“Holy fuck, we won!” Dropping my stick, I raised my gloves over my head and pumped my arms.
The team piled out off the bench and onto the ice, everyone coming together into a mass of hugging arms and jumping bodies. Wrapping around Carlson, Hodge, and Hopkins, I joined in the chanting, “Frozen Four, Frozen Four, Frozen Four…”
That night, we all celebrated with a team dinner at a pizza place, taking up long tables in the dimly lit interior. I sat with Archer on one side and Ryan in one of his dapper suits, his hair slicked back, on the other. I asked, “So, next week, Saint Louis?”
“You betcha.” Archer giggled and drank a mug of beer. “When we’re there, we need to get some barbeque. I’ve heard it rivals Texas’s.”
“Yeah?” Ryan smiled at me, then glanced down the table at Coach Finley, who was eyeing us.
I leaned into his side and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything untoward.” I wagged a brow at him. I’d stayed away from him as long as humanly possible. There was no way I wasn’t celebrating this win with him.
“Unlike last night?” As he curled the corner of his mouth, he sipped his whisky.
Elbowing him, I said, “Come on, I warned you about that.” I’d never admit I’d been faking it. I wanted him aching for me when we got home. Which would be tomorrow.
“So, Coach, what are the plans for next week? Anything special to prepare for the game against Boston Tech?” Tyler picked up a square slice of pizza from the platter between us and bit into it.
“I’m reviewing some special drills with Hammett. Boston is going to hit you boys hard, and we’ve got to be ready.” Ryan slid a slice of pizza onto his plate.
I beamed at him. He was so fucking gorgeous when he was being a coach. How could I not fall in love with him? And soon, we could do all the things we’d been denying ourselves and be together in public, on campus, anywhere the fuck we wanted.