CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Graham awoke the following morning, smiling before he even blinked his eyes open.
Last night had been …
Yeah, he felt a lot better now.
And not because of the sex, though that had been incredible. Graham could still feel the phantom ache from Thad’s cock inside him but there wasn’t a single ounce of regret in him, even though they did have a game today.
All he felt was drowsy contentment. Relief Thad had listened. That he’d seemed to understand what Graham was trying to say to him. That Graham wasn’t going to let him go without a fight.
That they needed to be in this together, fighting together for something so good it left Graham breathless and dizzy with the possibilities.
Graham squinted an eye open to check the clock and saw he had fifteen minutes left until his alarm went off.
Thad had left. Graham could tell already. The sheets beside him were cool and the apartment was still and quiet.
That was okay.
Graham didn’t have the feeling Thad had one foot out the door anymore. He wasn’t sure exactly what had changed. The conversation with Madison hadn’t hurt but he didn’t think it was all because of that. Because of him.
He thought it had more to do with the look in Thad’s eyes when he opened the door last night. The way he’d listened and what he said, and the way he’d touched Graham after.
Once they’d come down from the high of their orgasms, Thad had carefully rolled Graham onto his side and wrapped his arms around him, their bodies tangled together, his cum wetting the insides of Graham’s thighs and making him feel flushed with the reminder of what they’d done.
But it was the look in Thad’s eyes that had made Graham feel shaky and overwhelmed. The look was softer than usual.
Less guarded.
He’d kissed Graham once, slowly and deeply, then held him close.
For the longest time Graham had buried his face against Thad’s neck and breathed in the scent of him. Thad had trailed his fingers up and down Graham’s back while they lay there, not speaking, the touch enough to say exactly what they felt.
Now, Graham hugged a pillow to his chest and smiled, remembering the careful way Thad had cleaned him up after, whispering that maybe next time he’d use his tongue.
The thought, combined with the lingering effects of whatever Graham had been dreaming about made him hard and he idly stroked his cock now, remembering.
But he heard Murphy whining at the condo door, asking to be let out, and there was practice to get to.
Graham forced himself to sit upright and his gaze landed on the nightstand and he found a glass of water and a note.
Have a good day, baby. -T
Graham cocked his head, studying the note. Wait. No, it wasn’t a dash before Thad’s initial, it was a small heart. A funny, lopsided little heart that made Graham swallow thickly and press his fingertips to his mouth.
Thad, he thought, his chest aching with a sweet softness he’d never imagined feeling for another man.
Graham had felt so much tenderness in Thad’s touch last night.
He’d done everything in his power to give Graham the best possible experience bottoming for the first time. But it had been more than that. Some unspoken but tangible connection between them that had made Graham’s head spin.
It buoyed Graham still, his mood light as he shut off the alarm, threw back the covers, and went in search of Murphy. He scooped the dog up, spinning him in the air before he pulled him close and kissed the top of his head.
Murphy gave him a look as if to say, “What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?”
Graham’s good mood continued despite the cold snap outside and heavy traffic on the way to practice.
Graham could hardly sit still in video review or while he did his workout and when he took a seat at a table to eat lunch with the guys, Connor squinted. “What is up with you today?”
“Just feeling good,” Graham said cheerfully.
Connor’s look of grumpy suspicion deepened.
“Sooo,” Jesse said, plunking down his food across from Connor and next to Graham. “What did you decide on for a Halloween costume? Party’s tonight.”
“Uhhh,” Graham said because, fuck, he’d totally forgotten. He’d been too wrapped up in hockey and Thad to think about Halloween. “Um, Greek toga.”
His fraternity had held a themed party one year and the costume had traveled with him to his current apartment. He was pretty sure it was buried in the back of his closet and wrinkled all to hell, but he could probably steam the wrinkles out before his pre-game nap.
“Basic. Low effort,” Jesse said, wrinkling his nose. “But you’ll look good in it.”
“What’s yours?” Graham asked.
“It’s a surprise.” Jesse winked.
“What’s yours?” Graham asked Connor.
“I don’t know, and I am fucking terrified to find out,” Connor grumbled, glaring at his boyfriend.
Oh boy. Tonight was going to be interesting.
As Graham tore up the ice and sliced around one of Ottawa’s defensemen with less than two minutes left in the game, Thad held his breath.
Holy shit. Graham had been on fire all night, with two goals already. If he pulled this off …
The puck rocketed off Graham’s blade, sailing over the goaltender’s shoulder and landed in the upper left corner of the net.
Top fucking shelf.
The roar of the crowd was deafening, not only the building, but Thad’s chest reverberating with the noise as hats sailed down onto the ice.
Thad tried to focus on filming it, on capturing the jubilant celebration of the crowd, but his gaze was drawn to Graham’s face, and he zoomed in on his triumphant expression as Anker and Connor and Tanner and Crawford smothered him in a celly.
He re-appeared a few moments later, red-cheeked and sweaty and still beaming. He skated toward the bench for glove taps, his gaze lingering on Thad, and thus the camera lens, as he went.
Thad felt shaky when he finally lowered the camera. Fuck. He loved that man. He loved his skill and his talent. His hard work and his kindness.
He loved the way he smiled and his openness.
He loved every goddamn thing about him.
The ice crew came out a moment later, gathering up hats and dumping them into giant rolling bins. Because it was a home game, there were a lot of hats, and it took a while.
In the meantime, Thad panned his camera over the stands. People were still celebrating, some of them in costumes, a lot of them drunk, because Halloween games were always like that. Parents were home taking kids trick or treating, so games like this tended to run toward the older, rowdier crowd.
The Harriers had picked up on the energy early in the game, or maybe it was Graham’s good mood fueling them, because they’d been notching goals like they were going out of style. They were up 5-1 as they set up for the final few minutes of the game.
Although Ottawa must have known they were beaten, they put up an attempt at fighting back, creating the pressure and urgency that had been lacking in the earlier periods.
It didn’t do them much good though, not when the Harriers were playing like this, and by the time the final buzzer sounded, they’d won the game 6-1 off a goal from Tom Bass, with fifteen seconds left on the clock.
The tunes were bumping in the locker room when Thad slipped inside for media. As locker room DJ, Tanner had created the night’s playlist and Monster Mash filled the air.
Thad laughed, watching Tanner, Kady, and Jesse dancing to it—Jesse had been in fine form tonight, stopping pucks with ease and breaking out his dancing skills on the ice at every opportunity—and the happy mood in the room was contagious.
Several of the coaches appeared and so did Gavin and Finn. Tanner turned down the volume as Gavin nodded a greeting at Thad.
He then gave a little speech, congratulating Graham on his hat trick and the entire team on a game well played. Finn did the same.
Coach Hoyt gave Graham the third puck—the date and hat trick written on it in silver permanent marker by the equipment manager—to save for his collection.
Thad recorded it all, including when Graham got first star of the night and the team’s player of the game award. Graham made a short speech thanking the guys, deflecting the praise and turning it around on his teammates who had set him up for the scoring chances, because of course he did.
Thad felt another wash of affection for Graham. That was his boyfriend.
As Graham wrapped up his speech, pumpkin and skeleton confetti rained down over his head—because Jesse Webber sure did love his confetti cannons. That seemed to be the cue for everyone else to leave though and the coaches and upper management quickly exited the room.
Once they were gone, the music got cranked up again and the dance party heated up again.
After Thad finished recording, he lowered his camera and glanced over at Rusty, one of the equipment managers who was waiting for guys to finish so he could do his work and get home for the night.
“That ever drive you guys crazy?” he asked. “Having to clean up after it?”
Rusty shrugged. “Nah. Not really. Envelopes of cash always mysteriously appear after, so no one minds the extra work.”
Thad smiled.
On the whole, the phrase “a good locker room guy” tended to drive Thad a little nuts because of how overused it was in the hockey world, but Jesse certainly was adored by everyone around.
Honestly, Thad got it.
Jesse was a likeable guy, warm and friendly. Everyone on the support staff said he’d totally turned the team around. Not just because of his skill in net but because of the way he’d lifted the whole team’s mood.
Not to mention Connor’s.
Thad could see it now.
He watched, smiling and a little bit envious as Jesse danced his way over to Connor’s stall, stripped out of his bulky goalie gear but still wearing damp base layers.
He grabbed Connor’s hand and pulled him to his feet, looping an arm around him and shimmying until Connor smiled and bent down to brush their lips together as they swayed to the music.
On the other side of the room, Rafe sat in his stall, beaming up at Mickey who had his fingers threaded through Rafe’s hair. He tugged a little as he said something to him, Rafe’s eyes sliding partially closed.
Thad didn’t record either of those things—that was private, team-only stuff—but he did feel an ache he wasn’t able to go over and congratulate Graham the way he wanted, with a kiss and a promise to reward him later.
Instead, he called out, “Five minutes to media,” in warning, because as much as he was enjoying the show, no one wanted to be sporting an obvious erection around the media.
Next up was the media scrum.
Thad lingered a little, talking to the guys who weren’t being interviewed about their plans for the evening. The event wasn’t mandatory, but pretty much everyone was heading to O’Neill’s for the after party anyway.
Out of the corner of his eye, Thad caught a glimpse of Graham laughing with the reporters about something.
Thad was looking forward to the party, and he couldn’t wait to see what Graham had picked out for a costume. He just hoped he could get a few moments alone with him too.
Because after that performance on the ice, Thad desperately wanted to stride over, cup Graham’s cheek in his hand, and lean in to give him a deep, lingering kiss.
For a start.
But that would have to wait.
After the reporters filed out, the door was shut firmly behind them, and the volume of the music rose again.
Technically, Thad didn’t need to be in here anymore—he wasn’t recording at the moment, and he’d gotten everything he needed for social media—but he was enjoying the mood of the room, and no one had asked him to leave.
Instead, guys smacked his arm as they walked past, on their way to and from the showers, tossing out easy banter he responded to in kind.
Thad watched Crawford strut back into the dressing room naked and dripping wet, thwacking guys with a towel and making them yelp and shove him away, laughing.
Chirps flew thick and fast and Thad soaked in the energy and good humor, feeling a mingled twist of regret he’d never been able to experience this as a player and gratitude that at least he was able to join in this way.
A few minutes later, once he’d gotten his fill, Thad ducked out of the room, still smiling as he strode toward the offices where he’d pull the footage from his camera and upload it to his laptop, lightly edit a few bits, then get it all to the social media people who’d post it online tonight.
More footage would be posted tomorrow but Thad’s workload was pretty light tonight, thankfully. He worked quickly, finished up, and said goodnight and ‘Happy Halloween’ to everyone still there working.
They gave him distracted waves and he made a beeline for where he’d stashed his Roman gladiator costume. He changed into some of it and carried the rest. It would be too awkward to drive wearing a sword and shield.
As he walked out to his car, then drove to O’Neill’s Pub, he thought about previous Halloweens.
He remembered one from a couple of years ago, where he’d sat on the couch watching a horror movie and, guiltily ignoring the knocks of kids trick-or-treating in his apartment building because he hadn’t been able to afford to buy any Halloween candy.
This year, he’d bought a few bags of the good stuff, mixed it together in his popcorn bowl, then set that in the hallway outside of his door with a note taped to the wall telling kids to help themselves.
It would have been more fun if he’d been able to hand it out, but it didn’t bother him that he couldn’t. He was working, and he had the party tonight.
He was no different from anyone else in the Harriers with a schedule dictated by hockey.
Even if he wasn’t the guy with the multi-million-dollar contract like he could have been, he was doing well.
The future was bright, and he felt full of hope.
It was the happiest Halloween he’d had since he was eighteen.