3. Gabe
3 /
gabe
By Thursday of the second week of camp, everyone was tired. After a morning of drills, Coach Criswell finally called time for lunch. The dining area was set up in a large meeting room, buzzing with conversation as I waited in line. The low hum of voices blended with the clatter of trays and utensils, filling the space with energy. After choosing a plate of grilled chicken, mixed vegetables, and fruit salad, I added two large brownies before scanning the room. Logan and Paquette were at their usual spot near the center, laughing about something. I started toward them but stopped short when I spotted Brody near the window, sitting alone. His head was bent over a plate of food as the sunlight played in his golden hair.
This morning, I’d said hello while we clomped down the chute to the ice, but all I got out of him was a quick “hi.” He skated away as soon as we reached the rink. It had been this way since camp started, and I was beginning to wonder if we’d ever be more than Gabe who thought Brody was hot, and Brody who was determined to avoid Gabe. Like every day, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from glancing his way whenever there was a break in the action, and each time, I’d caught him looking at me. The moment our gazes locked, he’d avert his eyes like he had something far more important to stare at, such as the wall, the ice, his glove—anything but me.
You can’t play goalie without having big, brass balls, so I put on my best smile and headed his way. My heart pounded harder than it should have, picking up more speed when I reached the table and Brody didn’t look up. “Mind if I sit down?” I asked.
He raised his head and squinted at me, making me worry he might say no. Then the corners of his lips lifted into a shy smile, and he nodded.
“Thanks,” I said, sliding into the chair across from him.
His fork hovered in mid-air, his smile frozen in place like he wasn’t sure what to do next. The air grew thick with tension while we looked each other over, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Eventually, I cleared my throat and broke the silence. “How’s your first camp as a Warrior going? You’ve been looking good. I’m sure management is glad they made the trade.”
My breath caught when our eyes locked. He gradually lowered his fork to his plate as his intense gaze sent a ripple of warmth through me. “Thanks. It’s going well, I think.” His voice was soft, and after a few beats, he widened his smile. “You?”
“My mind’s been somewhere else.” I fought the urge to say it was on him. “It feels good to be back, though. Like the world’s in sync again.”
His expression brightened, and his smile finally reached his eyes. “I know what you mean. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but this is a great facility, and everyone seems nice.”
“Best group of guys I’ve ever played with,” I said, leaning toward him. “You’ll love it here, Brody.”
He nodded again, and we started eating. At first, we were quiet, the clinking of our utensils filling the gaps where words might have been. Now and then, he glanced at me—soft, curious looks that lingered instead of darting away like they had all morning. The nervous tension between us began to dissolve as the silence shifted into something easy. Sitting there with him, sharing this small moment, seemed unexpectedly natural.
By the time we got to dessert—he’d grabbed a few brownies too—I felt like we’d made progress. We bit into the fudgy delights and smiled while we chewed.
“These are amazing,” he said after swallowing, his voice conveying a warmth I hadn’t heard before.
“They’re dangerous,” I replied, then chuckled. “Criswell would kill me if he knew how many of these I’ve had over the years.”
Brody laughed, a soft, deep sound that made me smile. “What’s it like living in Williamsville?” he asked, licking a smudge of chocolate from his thumb.
I raked my tongue over my lips, unable to tear my gaze away from his mouth. Finally, I looked into his eyes. “It’s a good spot. Quiet, but close enough to downtown when I want to go out. What about you? Settle in yet?”
“If you call getting all the boxes out of the main part of the house settling in, yes.” He gave me another smile and caught his lower lip with his teeth, making my heart skip a beat.
“If you’d like some company while you work on it, I’d be glad to help you out.”
His eyes widened, and he broadened his smile.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did I really say I’d be glad to help him out?
His smile morphed into a smirk, signaling that he’d picked up on the double meaning. Before I could think of a way to save, he met my eyes and nodded. “A little help would be nice sometimes.”
My heart kicked me in the ribs and did its best to speed right out of my chest. I knew flirting when I heard it, and since Brody had started it, I carried on. “Anytime. I’ll give you all the help you can handle.”
He kept a smile while he tore a tiny bite off one of his brownies, then put it in his mouth and made a big show of sucking the chocolate off his finger. My dick was already interested, and Brody’s slurp had it growing like there was something for it to do. While I got harder, Brody bore his eyes into mine, saying nothing.
“Yes, um… Been wanting to…” I took a breath. “I’d like that.”
“Maybe after you show me around? We could think about that help then?”
My pulse thundered in my ears. Was he actually suggesting what I thought? Grinning, I lowered my voice almost to a whisper. “How about tonight?”
Before he could answer, Jon Anderson—one of our PR guys—appeared out of nowhere. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, looking at Brody. “Tanner, the press would like a few words. Shouldn’t take long.”
The color drained from Brody’s face. “I… I’m not sure.”
Anderson offered a reassuring smile. “It’ll be easy. Tell them how you’re settling in and how great the team’s welcome has been. I’ll keep it short.”
Brody glanced at me, nerves written all over his face. I put on a reassuring smile. “Go give them a sound bite, or they’ll hound you till you do.” I waved a hand at his tray. “Don’t worry about this. I’ll take care of it for you.”
Relief softened his expression, and he let out a long breath. “Thanks, Gabe. I’ll see you later.”
He stood and followed Anderson, the sun streaming through the window framing him like a spotlight. His hair shone, the color of sand on a sunny beach, and my eyes raked down his body. His sweatpants hugged his ass, and I had a hundred dirty thoughts in the span of a few seconds. Brody Tanner was nothing if not fascinating, and I couldn’t shake the hope that maybe today had been enough to start tearing down the walls he’d kept in place since we met.
Nate Holcomb flew up the ice with Brody trailing a few feet behind, ready to provide cover. As Holky closed in, about ten yards out from the net, he veered sharply to his right. I tracked him, moving forward to cut his angle and wait for his next move. As he passed by, he unleashed a shot. I read the release, and the puck flew in on my left, a black blur. Piece of cake , I thought, snapping my glove up to make the save. In a flash, my confidence shattered as the puck sailed past the edge of the glove and into the net. Holky grinned— gotcha! —before looping around and skating away.
The afternoon scrimmage ended there, and I wondered what the hell was wrong with me. Memories of lunch with Brody came rushing back, providing the answer. I was more interested in him than ever, and he was distracting me from the game. Still, it was hard to believe I let Holky’s shot through.
“Everything okay, Gabe?”
I turned to face Enzo Leclerc, the goaltending coach. “Just an off day. Sorry about that.”
He gave me a long look. “Get it out of your system now. Even preseason will be tough this year.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be a hundred percent.”
“I have full confidence in you.” His narrow-eyed expression made me doubt his words, but instead of prolonging the conversation, he slapped me on the back. “Get out of here and relax.”
My teammates had made a quick getaway, so I clomped down the tunnel alone. The locker room was buzzing with activity, with guys in various stages of getting undressed and everyone yelling to be heard. I shed my gear and showered quickly, eager to head home. Thinking about a quiet evening at my house made me thankful training camp was at our practice facility in Amherst this year.
Harper Blanton’s stall was next to mine, and after we threw our towels aside and put on underwear, he shot me a grin. “Looking good out there.”
“Bullshit, but thanks for the vote of confidence. My mind was somewhere else today.” Shrugging on a T-shirt, I added, “Congrats on the A, man. Very well deserved.”
Harpy, who centered our first line, had joined the team a year earlier. He’d brought magic with him because his skill and enthusiasm transformed us from a barely decent team into a winning franchise that made it to the second round of last season’s playoffs. Ted Criswell, the head coach, had named Harpy an alternate captain at the morning meeting.
“Thanks. Hope I can live up to it.”
“No doubt. How’s Luca? His training camp doesn’t start for about a month, right?”
“It’ll be the end of October before he starts earning a living again. And he’s incredible as always.” Harpy’s fiancé, Luca Moretti, was the starting goalie for the Buffalo Steamrollers, the city’s indoor lacrosse team.
“Tell him I said hi. Let’s get together soon.”
“Hey, boys. Couldn’t help overhearing.” Holky had arrived. Loud, mischievous, and a hell of a great friend, he was always stirring the pot. “Logan and I are going out for drinks tonight. Join us?”
“I will,” Kirby Paquette said as he walked by, toweling his hair. “Text me the time and place.”
We all chuckled, and Holky said, “Good thing Packy’s a nice guy. Anyway, Revolution Hops, eight o’clock. You in?”
“Sounds like fun,” Harpy said, buttoning his shirt. “Luca’s going out with some buddies too.”
“Gabe?” Holky rumbled. “Give your latest blondie boy a night off.”
Harpy snorted. “He could probably use some recovery time. Come out with us, Gabe.”
“I’ll be there. We can’t get drunk, though. Not during training camp.”
“Just a few beers, and we’ll hang out for a while,” Holky said. “We need to blow off some steam before facing the drills Criswell scheduled for tomorrow.”
I reached for my jeans as Holky launched into a story I’d heard a thousand times before. The guys had joked about giving my “blondie boy” a night off, but they didn’t know I’d sworn off skinny influencers. The only blond I was interested in was currently confusing the hell out of me. In the two weeks since we met on the trail, Brody had basically ignored me.
Lunch today had raised my hopes, especially when he talked about wanting some help. Yet as soon as the afternoon scrimmage began, it was back to the same frustrating game. I’d look his way and catch him staring at me; he’d blush and immediately look away without so much as a nod.
A roar of laughter interrupted my thoughts, signaling that Holky had finished his story. “She said I was fucking useless at wine tastings and thought we should go to more movies,” he added, drawing even more laughter from the guys.
“See you all tonight,” Harpy said. “I have to stick around for a captains’ meeting.”
“The trappings of power,” I quipped, making everyone laugh again.
I glanced around the locker room, hoping to spot Brody and ask him to go out with us, but he was nowhere in sight. I checked the players’ lounge—empty—and when I returned to the locker room, Holky was leaving. I fell in step beside him, heading for the players’ entrance.
When we rounded a corner, my heart skipped a beat. Sid Jarvis, the Warriors’ general manager, was coming toward us with Brody walking beside him.
Brody’s eyes locked with mine, and he mumbled a quick, “Hi.”
“Gabe, I saw you and Tanner having lunch together,” Jarvis said, shifting his gaze to Holky. “Nate, have you gotten to know Brody Tanner, our new trade from Boston? Brody, I know you have a lot of names to keep straight, but this is Nate Holcomb, one of our forwards.”
“Criswell’s kept us so busy I haven’t officially met Tanner,” Holky said, offering Brody a fist bump. “But I know who you are. Welcome to the team.”
Brody nodded and tapped Holky’s fist, though his gaze never left mine. Out of habit, I extended my hand. Brody hesitated for a few seconds before he took it, and when he did, the world shifted. His hand was warm and strong, gripping mine with a confidence I hadn’t expected. The air between us crackled, thickening with an intensity I couldn’t ignore. He widened his eyes, and my pulse pounded in my ears as we held on.
Brody’s lips parted, drawing my attention to their fullness. They were a soft pink, and I couldn’t understand how I’d missed the delicate curve of his Cupid’s bow, shaped like a tiny heart. Vivid thoughts of what they’d look like wrapped around my cock immediately filled my mind.
“Donovan and Holcomb are two of our best players,” Jarvis told Brody, who still didn’t look away. “Boys, Tanner was a standout for the Beanies. We were lucky to get him.”
I finally pulled my head out of my ass, realizing I hadn’t said a word. “We can use another strong blueliner. I’m glad you’re here, Brody.”
“Yes,” Holky added. “You’ll love the Warriors.”
Brody smiled, but he was still wrapped up in my gaze. “Thanks. I’m excited to be here.”
Jarvis cleared his throat. “We should get to my office, Tanner. We have that meeting.” With a nod to Holky and me, he added, “See you tomorrow, men. Rest up tonight.”
Brody finally turned to acknowledge Holky. “Nice to meet you, Holcomb.”
“Yeah,” Holky stammered, looking confused. “See you tomorrow.”
Brody’s eyes returned to mine, and then he glanced down at our still-joined hands. I let go and kept my voice casual. “Hit me up, Brody, like we said. I’ll be happy to show you around.”
He nodded as the pink color from his lips spread across his cheeks. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Good.” I wondered if he’d given me a nod-okay-yes , or a nod-okay-no . Was I talking to the Brody I’d had lunch with, or the one who’d avoided me for weeks?
Jarvis started telling Brody about the practice facility, and though they walked on, Brody didn’t break eye contact until they’d passed.
Holky put a hand on my lower back and nudged me toward the exit. “What the fuck, Gabe? I know he’s blond, but he’s a big boy. I thought you liked your guys skinnier.”
“Fuck off. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t,” he said, breaking into a crooked grin. “I’ve seen that look in your eyes before, but never quite like that.”
“To say it again, fuck off.”
“You told him to hit you up so you could show him around. And he said ‘okay’.”
“So?”
“You really expect me to believe ‘show him around’ means taking him to see the sights?”
“Holky…”
“I know, I know—fuck off.” He chuckled as we entered the parking garage. It wasn’t far to my SUV, and he smiled when we stopped. “It’s okay, Chief. He likes you, too, but I’ve got to say it won’t work. Two guys on the same team? That could create all kinds of problems.”
“See you later, Nate.” I shook my head and got into the car.
At home, after eating a rice bowl with veggies and leftover steak, I went outside to water the plants on the patio. Instead, unable to resist the call of the pool, I dove in for a swim. The recent hot spell had finally broken, but after two weeks in the 80s, the water was still warm enough to enjoy.
My mind wandered back to Brody while I played in the water. Leaving practice, I’d been certain I wanted to ask him out, but now I wondered. Years of dating guys whose idea of “settling down” was sticking around long enough to fill their social media feeds had left me jaded. They’d stay until I started to like them and then move on, leaving me sitting at home wondering why they weren’t returning my calls.
You’re awesome, and I love your cock , one guy had texted me, but I don’t wanna tie myself down too much at my age. Good luck!
Twelve years with the Warriors, and I was as alone as I’d been the day I drove into town. Whatever happened with Brody, I couldn’t afford another mistake. My heart needed a break from hurting, and I needed a man who knew what he wanted—and that had to be me.
Brody was gorgeous, but what did his unreadable behavior mean? Realistically, I knew it was probably too soon to tell, but even if he was attracted to me, he wasn’t necessarily interested in dating. Plus, he was twenty-two, not that I’d looked it up. I shouldn’t forget he was about the same age as all the influencers I’d dated. Being an athlete didn’t mean he matured faster than other guys, and if he was still in twenty-two-year-old flaky mode, I didn’t need that in my life. Dating him would be the only way to find out for sure, but it might be safer to steer clear. I needed a change, not someone who was no more than an influencer in a muscular body.