8. Jon
CHAPTER 8
JON
I woke to Drake asleep next to me and had to stop myself from giggling like a fool. Felt like I was still dreaming, seeing his mop of curly blond hair and his sweet face pressed into the pillow. I’d have wrapped myself around him, but Loki was stretched out between us, and I wasn’t going to argue with a sleepy twenty-three-pound ball of attitude, so I let Drake be.
Sex last night had been… Well, thinking about it curled my toes and had me on the way to a morning wood. Given Drake’s deep breathing and my beast of a cat occupying the middle of the bed, another round wouldn’t happen for a while, so I sucked in a breath and let my growing arousal subside.
The softness of the light creeping into the room around the edges of the curtains hinted that it was early morning. Well, at least early enough that closing my eyes and falling back to sleep wouldn’t be unusual given how late we’d gotten home and—everything after that.
That was not happening. Brain wouldn’t shut up.
God, Drake had been perfect. Passionate. Thoughtful. Gentle at times, forceful and sharp at others. He’d been a fucking tease, but that had been the best thing. I hadn’t been kept on edge like that, blown like that, or fucked like that— Actually never. Never like that.
I hadn’t bottomed in a while. Hadn’t had penetrative sex, either. Mostly quick hand or blowjobs when I felt the itch to let off some steam. Hell, I hadn’t even had a BJ or hand job in a long time. Fucking around with Adam had been the last real bit of anything I’d done. Flirting? Yeah. A little kissing and fondling? Fine. My “rules” about dating before sex were more about me giving myself an out than anything else. No one had been worth opening myself up to or for until Drake.
I didn’t want to hurt the team. Didn’t want to throw my game off. Was busy enough at the bar. I could list a million excuses as to why I hadn’t dated anyone in five years, but the reality was that who the hell was going to put up with a queer odd duck aging PHL player who was never going to be more than that? I loved my life, but I knew what it was. It was mine, something I’d built from the ruins of everyone else’s expectations. I didn’t want the burden of living up to anyone’s hopes and dreams.
So I just… stopped looking.
Then Drake walked into my bar, my haven, before he’d even walked into the arena we’d share, and I’d been smitten instantly.
I shouldn’t have been. But there he was, a man with hopes and dreams that mattered, that could be achieved, and I’d wanted to see that bright star shine again. He’d had absolutely no expectations for me—barely had any for himself other than failure. He’d been vulnerable, and truthful, and here we were, in my bed, after he’d fucked me senseless .
Lovers. Teammates.
At least until he scored in a few more games, and the Lions realized he’d gotten his magic back. Then he’d be called up to the NAPH where he belonged.
I sighed and carefully slipped out of bed, grabbed some sweats out of the closet, and headed downstairs. Morose was not where I wanted to be, and I was very close to ending up there. Time for coffee and a lungful of fresh air.
I brewed up a shot of espresso, then took it and myself outside.
The brisk cold early December air chased away the cobwebs and the thoughts of a future without Drake from my mind. Maybe that would come to be—maybe not. No sense in worrying about it now. Today? Today, the day was bright and despite Drake’s very fine work last night, my ass felt fine. A day off with no rain or snow and a bright blue sky? I was getting on my bike.
When I stepped back into the kitchen, a bleary-eyed Drake was at the counter, staring at my espresso machine. “How do you make it work?” There was a plaintive note to the end of that.
“You could’ve stayed in bed.”
“Not without you” was his answer to that.
I’m not sure which warmed me more, the words, or the sharp look he gave me.
“Let me make you something. Espresso? Cappuccino?”
“Just…” He held out his hand like he was holding a mug.
“Okay, sleepyhead. Go sit before you teeter over.”
He sniffed, then shuffled to the island’s bar stools. “How are you so happy this early?”
I brewed up two Americanos. “I woke up next to you.”
That seemed to mollify him for a moment. He sipped his coffee and hummed. “But you left. ”
“Yeah, I know. I got up into my head.”
“You?” He actually sounded surprised.
“Me,” I said. “Happens sometimes.”
Drake put down his coffee mug, then snatched mine from my hand and set that down, too. Then he drew me into a long kiss that had time stopping, my heart pounding, and my dick tenting my sweats. When he broke it, he said, “I know emotions happen. Look at me. I’m kinda a poster child for that. But I hate seeing you sad. Or lonely. What can I do to make you not sad or lonely?”
I felt a wobble in my chest that had everything to do with now and the future. But the future wasn’t here yet, so I laid my forehead against Drake’s. “You’ve already done that. I’m not sad or lonely with you here.”
A sharp, deep, squawk of a meow startled us both, and I looked over to find Loki sitting by our coffee and staring back at me. “Especially not lonely with that one around.”
Drake laughed and reclaimed his coffee. “Okay, so you have the cats. You have me. Do you want to talk about what’s in your head?”
Hmm. He’d opened up about so much to me, the least I could do was open up to him a little. “It’s just how I process things. It’s like on the ice, except slower because stuff off the ice moves more slowly. I look down the road at all the potential twists and turns and figure out what’s going to happen and how I should react.” I took a sip of coffee, then continued. “Sometimes I wander too far down the paths and get too deep into the what ifs. Nothing’s set. Life can surprise you, but I can’t help planning ahead. I don’t like not having a plan. Or several. Just in case.”
He had that look I’d seen in a lot of other people—where they tried to puzzle me out. “My brain doesn’t exactly work in the same way as a lot of other people’s. ”
The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Yeah, I figured that out.”
Had he? A lot of people hadn’t when they thought they had. “I’m neurodivergent,” I said. “I could get into the specifics, but…”
His brow creased. “No, you don’t have to, unless you want. I mean—” he gestured around him. “You’re very specific about some things, so that makes sense.” He leaned against the kitchen island. “You’re actually the easiest person I’ve ever spent this much time with. It’s not like anything is a problem—I just don’t like seeing you sad.”
“I’m not sad, I’m pensive .”
I sounded peevish, but Drake smiled into his coffee, then glanced at the clock. “I should call my mom. I want to tell her about what happened.”
I knew he wasn’t talking about the game last night, but about what had happened with the jerk that was his bio father. “That’s a good plan. I’ll make some breakfast, then I need to head to Hideaway later today—you’re welcome to come along.”
“On your bike?” His face lit up at that thought.
“You said you’d never driven, right?”
“Yeah, but I’ve been a passenger before.”
Oh God, Mr. Roth, our GM, would be so mad if he found out, but the roads between here and there didn’t have much traffic, and it was a dry day— “All right. Call your mom, I’ll get us something to eat, and after we clean up ourselves and everything, we can head out.”