Chapter 3
LUCAS
“You’re meeting your brother and his husband tonight, right?” Evan stood in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open.
“I am.” I buttoned the top button of my blue shirt, then unbuttoned it. I didn’t want Mason to tease me at dinner for looking like a nerd. Fuck it. I unbuttoned the next one down, exposing a little more of my upper chest. I checked my flow in the hallway mirror by the front door of our apartment.
“Why are you so nervous? It’s not like you’re going on a date.” He chuckled and grabbed some leftover chicken from a glass container.
“No, but you never know when a cute little puck bunny will come around.” I ticked a brow at him.
I’d been doing my best to think about women, but Ezra kept sticking in my head.
I’d almost, almost clicked on a porn video with a long-haired dude in it who looked a little like him. But no, I’d been strong.
“I see. So, you think a puck bunny will be interested in two gay guys?” He set the chicken on the counter and grabbed a plate from an upper cabinet. “Anyone who knows hockey knows about your brother and Jett Jarvis.”
I shot him a quick glare. “Women love gay men. Especially hot ones.” Ew, was I calling my brother hot? “You’ve gotta always be ready, Crosby.” I tucked the front of my shirt into my designer jeans.
“Yeah, whatever.” With a soft snort, he set the chicken on a plate and slid it into the microwave. “Say hi to them for me.”
“I will.” I raked my fingers through my long bangs and strolled to the door. “See you later, man.”
“See you,” Evan called out.
Fifteen minutes later, I’d found the Thai place they’d wanted to eat at. I’d moved into downtown Scottsdale a few months ago with Evan, but between practices and travel, I hadn’t had time to venture out.
I glanced at the sign above an awning, reading Melee’s on Main. This part of town was mostly one-story plazas with fancy restaurants, kitsch gift shops and art galleries. The tourists were endless, and so were the palm trees lining the streets. I wasn’t in Minnesota anymore.
I walked under an overhang with red clay tiles held up by hand-hewn wooden poles and into the restaurant.
The place was low-lit, but the walls were all painted white.
Four-top tables in dark woods scattered across the narrow floor and bamboo pendent lamps hung from the ceiling.
As I stepped to a hostess stand, my phone buzzed. I slid it out of my jean’s pocket.
Mason
We’re at the back patio. It’s too nice to be inside.
I glanced at the hostess, watching me.
“I’m uh, meeting someone. They’re on the patio.” I tucked my phone into my pocket and sniffed. A mixture of curry and garlic floating on the air. It smelled heavenly in here.
“Right this way.” The hostess waved behind her.
I followed her past a short bar and some booths, and then through a small archway into a fenced patio. Beyond, a glass building rose, the orange and turquoise sunset reflecting off its panes. Summers here were brutal, but the sunsets made up for it.
Mason waved to me. “Bro, over here.” His dark bangs were slicked back and his blue-eyed gaze caught mine.
Next to him, Jett smiled, his dirty-blond hair parted at the side and falling past his green eyes and to his cheekbones.
We all wore similar outfits—button-down shirts and jeans.
I guessed I’d gotten the unspoken dress code correct. “Hey, guys.” As I approached, they both stood. I greeted them with side hugs and sat in the chair across from them. “This is nice.” I took in the bare-bulbed lights crisscrossing overhead and the plants on trellises against the fence.
“I’ll only take you to the best places.” Mason gave me a broad smile. Tall amber drinks sat on the table in front of them with pineapple slices hanging off the lip.
“What are you drinking? Mai tais?” I picked up a menu that was resting in front of me.
“Hell yeah. You should get one.” Mason glanced at Jett. “Or two, since you walked here.”
“Sure.” I chuckled. “Which one of you drove?” I perused the menu—a mixture of soups, noodles, and curries. With our crazy schedules, it was rare to have time to hang out with Mason and Jett, so I’d take him up on the two drinks.
“I did.” Jett gave Mason a knowing look. “I knew you two would want to catch up.” He sucked his drink through a straw.
“See how great my husband is?” Mason kissed him on the cheek.
“Yeah, yeah.” With a soft laugh, I set my menu down.
A server stopped by the table and I ordered my drink along with a few dishes for us all to share. I wanted to taste a bit of everything.
“So, how’s practice?” Mason tented his fingers on the table. “They’re starting you, right?”
“They are.” Damn, the last time we’d talked was during training camp. Sharing the ice with my brother was a blast, but I knew I’d play in the PHL this year.
The server set my drink down.
I sipped the Mai Tai, the fruity drink mingling with the rum as it slid over my tongue.
“Fuck, that’s good.” I mixed it with the straw.
Too much rum floated on the top. “I’m vibing well with Crosby.
We’ll be unstoppable this year.” I offered a smirk.
Yeah, I could be as cocky as my brother sometimes.
“No doubt. You two looked great. You even impressed my buddy Archer.” He sat back in his chair, looking me over. “I can’t believe you’re twenty-two. Damn.”
“Your baby brother is growing up.” Jett beamed at me. “And he’s as handsome as you, babe.”
Mason shifted forward, planting his forearms on the table. “How many puck bunnies are after you?”
With a snicker, I said, “None, yet. I don’t have time.” Ezra fluttered through my mind. Why was I thinking about him now? Shit, I should ask about what I saw. “Hey, did you guys hear about the calendar we’re doing for charity?”
“The one for Phoenix Children’s Hospital?” Jett narrowed his eyes.
“That’s the one. I did my photo shoot yesterday.” I stirred my drink and sipped it. “The photographer was gay and I uh…”
“You what?” Mason’s gaze widened, and the corner of his lip curled. “You telling me you’re queer? Did you get a hard on for him?”
“Jesus, Mason.” Jett scoffed and shook his head. “Let him speak. Not everyone is queer.”
Shit, I’d almost gotten a hard on. Because I’d mistaken him for a chick at first. Right? Tilting my head, I said, “His boyfriend came at the end of the shoot and was a real dick.”
“Oh, he has a boyfriend.” Mason twisted his lips. “What, did you argue with him?”
My gaze cut to Mason’s. “I did. He was a jealous prick. I think the boyfriend’s abusing the guy. Is there abuse, like physical abuse, in gay relationships?”
Jett pursed his lips and leaned forward. “Lucas, deep down we’re all people, prone to the same emotional manipulations, fears and insecurities, no matter our sexuality or gender. So, yes, there can be.”
With his lips parting, Mason swung his gaze to Jett. “Wow, babe. I guess you know abuse after dealing with Eleanor.”
“I do.” Gripping his drink, Jett shifted.
“With abuse in a heterosexual relationship, it’s usually the man abusing the woman.
But it can go both ways. My father was emotionally abused by his second wife for at least a decade.
” He clenched his jaw. “He’s only now realizing it after a few years of therapy. ”
“Damn.” What I’d seen at the studio was abuse for sure. “The photographer, Ezra is his name, well, barely smiled and when his boyfriend came in and accused him of, shit…” I blew out a breath, the scene replaying in my head. “The asshole accused him of—” I made air quotes. “—Looking at us.”
Slowly, Mason said, “He was taking pictures of you. How can he do that without looking at you?” His brow arched.
“That’s basically what Ezra told him.” I brushed my fingers up and down my glass. “When he caved, the guy backed down. He looked so…sad. We had a blast, fucking around and laughing, and then this douche came in and ruined it all. It was like this dude sucked the life out of him.”
“He probably is.” Mason lowered his brows. “You can’t let this happen, Lucas. You’re a Hopkins.” He jabbed his finger at the table. “We don’t let injustice go in our family. Maybe Ezra needs a friend to talk to. Maybe you could be that friend.”
I stared at Mason, my pulse waking. “Won’t that piss off his boyfriend?”
“So?” Mason scoffed. “Where do you think Jett would be right now if I’d let shit go?” he glanced at Jett, who grabbed his hand over the table and smiled softly.
“I guess I can try.” I drank more of my Mai Tai. Mason was right. Ezra might look for a way out.
“One thing abusive people do is isolate their partners. Make him see he’s not alone. Try starting there.” Jett leaned back as the server dropped off plates of food.
“I’ll stop by the studio tomorrow.” Spooning rice onto my plate, I clenched my jaw. I’d help him. “He took some special photos of me, so I’ll say I want to see them.”
“Special photos?” Mason smirked. “Naked or?”
I scoffed. “No, close ups of my face.” Jesus, his mind was always in the gutter.
The next day at the morning skate, I worked on quick twitches with Evan to learn how to better stick to the opposing team’s players. I tossed my stick to the boards and held my gloved hands on his back. “You’re not getting away from me this time, Crosby.” I’d been learning all his moves.
“Yeah? Think so?” Hunkered over, he pivoted and took off like a shot, skating up the side of the rink.
“Fucker!” I caught him, slapping my hands on his back, matching my strides with his. “Gotcha.” He wasn’t getting away from—
His skate caught mine, and he stumbled.
Flailing, I fell backward, my ass smacking the ice and then my back. “Fuck.” I lay there, staring at the rafters in the arena.
Coach Sullivan’s helmeted head appeared in my vision. “You all right there, Hopkins?”
“Yeah, just decided we needed a snow angel.” Might as well make fun of my fall. With a sharp snort, I spread my arms and legs out, swiping them over the thin powder on the ice’s surface.