Chapter 20
Jacob
“Hmmm,” Jacob half-yawned. “It’s… go time.”
The morning of the first playoff game dawned cold and gray over the unfamiliar city. Jacob woke in the sterile comfort of a high-floor hotel room, the kind with heavy blackout curtains and a view of nothing but concrete and distant highway lights.
“Urgh,” Jacob grumbled, slowly coming around and sensing that the morning wasn’t going to start quite like he’d want it to.
A dull throb pulsed behind his left eye—sharp enough to make him wince when he rolled over to silence his phone alarm.
The digital clock read 6:47 a.m.
Puck drop was still twelve hours away, but the headache already felt like it had been waiting for him.
Jacob lay there for a minute, staring at the beige ceiling, willing the pain to ease.
When it didn’t, he reached for the one thing that usually quieted his mind: the bright yellow Nintendo Switch on the nightstand.
He powered it on, loaded Animal Crossing, and tried to lose himself in watering virtual flowers and chatting with villagers who never judged his life choices.
But ten minutes later the cheerful boop sounds only made the throb worse.
Jacob tossed the console onto the duvet with a frustrated huff and scrubbed both hands over his face.
Fuck this.
I can’t go into game day like this.
Nope. Not happening…
Jacob swung his legs out of bed. The carpet was rough under his bare feet.
He didn’t bother pulling on pants—just the black briefs with the tiny white bears printed across the ass, the ones Tane had bought him as a teasing callback to that first disciplinary spanking.
They were soft now, worn from too many secret sleepovers, and right now they were all he had the energy for.
He cracked the door, scanned the empty fifteenth-floor corridor… standard Enforcers road-trip protocol: entire floor booked, security at both ends—and slipped out.
Tane’s room was four doors down. Jacob padded along the hallway, heart picking up speed with every step, the cool air-conditioning prickling his bare skin and raising goosebumps along his arms and chest.
He knocked twice.
Soft but urgent.
The door opened so fast a rush of warm air hit him. A large hand closed around his wrist and yanked him inside. The door slammed shut; the deadbolt clicked into place.
“Jesus Christ, Jacob,” Tane said, voice still rough with sleep. He wore nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants, hair mussed, chest rising and falling like he’d crossed the room at a sprint. “You trying to get photographed half-naked in the hallway on playoff morning?”
Jacob blinked up at him. Even through the headache he registered how unfairly good Tane looked—his broad shoulders filling the doorway, silver threads catching the low light at his temples, the faint scar through his left eyebrow from an old hit in Vancouver.
Thirty-eight suited Captain Tane in ways that still made Jacob’s stomach flip.
“Sorry,” Jacob mumbled, rubbing his wrist where Tane’s fingers had gripped. “I just… couldn’t stay in there by myself.”
Tane studied him for a beat, then the hard line of his mouth softened. He cupped Jacob’s face with one warm palm, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “Headache?”
Jacob nodded miserably. “Bad one. Switch didn’t help. Nothing’s helping. And I know we talked about… morning stuff before the game, but I’m not—” His voice cracked. “I’m not in the mood. I’m sorry.”
Disappointment flickered across Tane’s face for half a second, quick enough that most people would have missed it. But Jacob saw it, and a sense of guilt twisted in his gut. Then Tane’s expression settled into the steady, protective calm Jacob had come to rely on more than air.
“Hey. None of that,” Tane said as he pulled him in, wrapping both arms around him until Jacob’s forehead rested against his collarbone. “You’re allowed to not be in the mood, boy. Especially today.”
Jacob melted against his man, breathing in clean soap, his arms sliding around Tane’s waist to trace the old scar along his rib. Tane pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
“Come with me,” Tane said, commanding as ever.
He steered Jacob toward the rumpled bed, climbed in first, then tugged Jacob down so they were spooned together—Tane behind, one thick thigh hooked over Jacob’s, hand settling warm and heavy on his stomach. Slow circles with his thumb. Soothing with every movement.
“Room service,” Tane murmured against his hair, already reaching for the phone. “Honey and lemon, extra honey, no caffeine. Yeah?”
Jacob nodded, this throat tight.
Tane ordered in that low, no-nonsense captain voice that still sent a shiver through him even when he felt like garbage. When he hung up, he pulled the duvet higher and drew Jacob closer.
“Talk to me,” Tane said quietly.
Jacob swallowed. “I’m nervous. Like… really nervous. The Stormers crowd is gonna be brutal. They hate me… you saw the memes after last month’s game. And it’s the first playoff game and what if I choke and the Cardinis—”
“I hear you,” Tane replied, has is lips brushed Jacob’s temple.
“Breathe, baby. It’s okay to be nervous.
I was terrified before my first playoff game and I was twenty-two with nothing to lose.
You’ve got the whole league watching, plus the family breathing down our necks.
Anyone would feel it. I’ve got you. It’s chill. ”
Jacob turned his head so he could see Tane’s face. “I wish you were starting. I wish you were out there the whole game. With me. You know?”
Tane’s mouth curved—half smile, half wince. “I’ll be there. Off the bench, limited minutes, but I’ll be there. Doc and the trainers still won’t clear me for full throttle. Last thing I want is to re-tear anything and miss the rest of the run.”
Tane kissed the tip of Jacob’s nose in a way that made Jacob’s heart sing.
“But you,” Tane said, his voice low and gruff. “You’re ready. You’ve been carrying us all season. That speed, those hands, that cocky little grin when you swerve and cut back inside… that’s why we’re here.”
The words loosened something in Jacob’s chest. He reached up and traced the line of Tane’s jaw. “You’re really not mad I killed the morning sex plan?”
“Mad?” Tane chuckled, the sound rumbling through both of them.
“Jacob Gosling, I’ve waited twenty years to have someone I want to wake up next to more than I want to get off.
A headache isn’t gonna change that.” His hand slid up Jacob’s back, fingers gentle on the nape of his neck.
“We’ve got the rest of our lives for morning sex.
Tonight we’ve got a hockey game to win.”
Jacob smiled despite the lingering throb. “Rest of our lives, huh?”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you leaving half your Switch games at my place,” Tane teased. “You’re basically moved in already. The Cardinis can suck it—We’ll figure out the optics later.”
A soft knock at the door. Tane rolled out of bed, shrugged on a hotel robe, and answered it. A minute later he returned with a steaming mug. The smell of honey and lemon hit Jacob and his stomach finally unclenched.
“Here,” Tane said. “Little sips.”
Tane held it steady while Jacob drank, then set it aside and pulled him back into the nest of pillows. They stayed tangled and quiet, Tane’s heartbeat steady under Jacob’s ear, until the clock forced them to move.
Jacob knew tonight was going to be big.
And despite the fact that Tane wouldn’t be on the ice with him the whole time, he felt a whole lot better about things than he did thirty minutes ago.
* * *
The Stormers” arena was a boiling cauldron of white and electric blue. Twenty thousand fans screamed, stomped, waved thunder-sticks. Oh, and they were committed to booing Jacob’s name every time he touched the puck too.
The jeers started in warm-ups and never let up.
Gosling sucks!
Gosling’s a diva!
Jacob My Ass!
But Jacob kept his head down, stickhandling through circles, refusing to give the baying crowd the reaction they wanted.
First period was brutal: hard hits, tight checking, two shots that rang iron. The score stayed 0-0.
Second period, 1-1.
Jacob’s legs felt heavy from the morning headache, but he pushed. Every touch drew fresh boos. He skated past their bench and caught their captain muttering “bitch-boy.” But Jacob didn’t bite, he simply just flashed the million dollar grin he knew drove them crazy.
With 4:12 left in the second, Alex won a faceoff deep in Stormers territory. The puck slid to Jacob on the half-wall. He saw the lane… narrow, fleeting. A toe-drag, quick spin, and Jacob hit hard and true. The goalie never moved.
“Hell yeah, let’s fucking go!” Jacob hollered, pumping his fist and taking the plaudits from his teammates and a cacophony of jeers from the partizan home crowd.
The boos turned vicious, now almost deafening.
But above it all, Jacob somehow heard Tane from the bench, bellowing his name like a war cry.
The Enforcers held on. The final score 3-1. Not bad for the first match. And even better, Tane got some more minutes off the bench, skating on to provide some much needed experience and a calm head amongst the madness.
Jacob skated off the ice shoulder-to-shoulder with Tane, skates scraping in perfect rhythm. Sweat poured down both their faces. The headache was gone, burned away by adrenaline and that perfect goal.
Tane bumped his glove. “Told you.”
Jacob grinned, raw and buzzing and so in love it ached. “Thank you,” he said, voice hoarse. “For this morning. For believing in me when I’m a mess. For… everything.”
Tane’s eyes softened behind his visor. He leaned in just enough that only Jacob could hear. “You’re my boy, Jacob. On the ice, off the ice, in hotel rooms at 7 a.m. wearing nothing but those sweet as all hell bear briefs. Always.”
The tunnel swallowed them. Cameras flashed. Reporters shouted. But all Jacob felt was Tane’s hand at the small of his back… hidden, steady, possessive.
They were going home up 1-0.
And whatever came next, they would face it together.
* * *