Chapter 20
TWENTY
Ryan
It’s weird. Before Brandon, I didn’t have sex often, and when I did it was always a one-off with someone who would never in a million years know who I really was.
Most of my hookups have all been told the lie that I work construction.
It’s an excellent lie as it’s completely uninteresting.
No one wants to talk about what it’s like to place drywall for a living post quickie.
It also works as a plausible explanation for my abs.
But with Brandon, this is definitely not a quickie. At least that’s not what it is for me, and I hope to all the gay gods of Greece and Rome that’s not all it is for him.
I don’t think it is. He’s been quite the eager and willing participant. And tonight he was the one to text me and ask me to come get him.
Truthfully, though, when his text came through, I was already on my phone debating texting him.
It’s getting harder and harder to come home to my empty apartment.
And when I’m not playing hockey or wrapped in the sheets with Brandon, it’s getting equally as hard for me to block out all the old intrusive thoughts I have around my family.
So yeah, Brandon’s text was timed perfectly. It’s nice to want someone. Even nicer to be wanted back by them. And it’s not just Brandon. It’s everything that comes with him. His whole family wants me around. They always have, but I was too stupid to embrace it years ago when I had the chance.
But also, had I kept in touch with them, where would Brandon and I be now? Would what is happening between us still be in the cards? Or would he have arrived to join the Mules already tired of me and ready to throw me away like everyone else in my life?
I shake that thought off. Brandon and his family aren’t like that.
They’re good, wholesome people with values.
They’re grounded, humble, and always willing to lend a helping hand.
At times, I wish Brandon could see that better.
He’s surrounded by so much love and support and yet he still thinks he has something to prove.
Funny. That’s something we both have in common.
I’m desperate to know I’m worthy of love, and he’s trying to prove that he’s worthy of opportunity despite the name attached to him.
But slowly, I see him getting it. I see his confidence on the ice changing.
He doesn’t want to hear it, but he’s why the Mules have gotten where we are.
The last piece of the carriage we needed to fully become a wagon.
By the time I pull into Danton’s neighborhood, I’m feeling even more settled than I did after reading Brandon’s text asking me to come get him.
But I’m also feeling quite excited. I have that warm flutter of anticipation in my chest. Turning off my headlights, I park in front of his neighbor’s house.
And now I wait, with my eyes focused on my review mirror for signs of Brandon like a horny getaway driver.
Brandon
Look. I’m not alone here. Since we hooked up two weeks ago, neither of us can seem to get enough. Hence why I’m sneaking out of the Foleys’ house at ten p.m. while everyone else is asleep.
It’s easy enough to do. The basement being a walkout to their backyard makes for a quick escape. The trick is closing the door behind me quietly so as not to alert Moxy, followed by maintaining contact with the brick to avoid triggering the motion light.
Once I make it around the corner, the next step is to crouch so that I make it up the slope to the front of the house without casting my silhouette through any of the many windows.
With all six Foleys in the house—seven if I include Moxy—the last thing I want is to catch the attention of roving eyes avoiding their bedtime.
When I make it to the front of the house, I’m in the clear and I can sprint to Ryan’s car which is parked in front of the neighbor’s yard. He pushes the passenger side door open for me and I slide in.
“Took you long enough,” he says with a wide grin on his face.
I close the car door and put on my seatbelt. “I’d like to see you try it.”
“I have tried it,” he says. “I lived here, too, remember?”
“Yeah, like two kids ago. Things were different.”
“Not so different that the front door wasn’t an option.”
I flip him off. “Shut up and drive, would you?”
“Why? Are you in a hurry?”
“You know I am!” I exclaim then sigh in exasperation. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“You could spend the night,” he suggests as he begins to drive off. He waits until we round the corner to put his headlights on.
“Oh, could, I? Because that wouldn’t raise any alarm bells or anything. Mules rookie goes missing from captain’s house only to be found in bed a few miles away with Mules star forward Ryan Christianson. Yeah. That’ll go over really well.”
“I love that in this scenario, this is headline-worthy news.”
I intensely stare at the side of his handsome face while he focuses on the road. “Isn’t it, though? Do you not remember what the press did to Gavin and Connor?”
“Yeah, but…” Ryan tips his head. “They were fucking all up and down the Olympic Village.”
“According to Ander, they were always just in their room.”
He gives me a quick look. “My point is, they weren’t exactly subtle,” he says, then looks back towards to the road.
“Which, again, is why I’m insisting that we be careful.”
“And all I’m saying is that you’re not a kid anymore. Let alone one of Danton’s kids. You can come and go as you please. No one is stopping you.”
“Easy for you to say,” I grumble as my phone starts ringing in my pocket. I blindly pull it out and shake it at him. “See. That’s probably Danton right now wondering where I disappeared to.”
Ryan flashes me another look. “Again. He’s not your dad. You can come and go as you please.”
Still focusing my glare on him, I swipe to answer the phone. “I’ll be home shortly,” I say. “I ran out to grab a drink with Ryan.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Ryan laughs.
“Good to know you and Ryan are getting along,” my brother says on the other end of the call.
Fuck. This is worse than Danton.
“Oh, shit. Hi, Ander. What’s up?” I shift to sit properly in my seat and look out the front window. It’s a bit late for him to be calling me. Especially since Buffalo is an hour ahead.
“Not much,” he says. “Just got home from my game.”
Right. I watched them absolutely shit pump the Boston Bruisers for the second time before I texted Ryan to come pick me up.
“That was a good game,” I tell him. They’re probably going to sweep their first round.
“You watched?” he asks.
“Obviously,” I say, annoyed with him questioning me. He’s my brother. Of course I watched his game. I try to watch all of his games; he does the same with mine.
“Hey, since you’re with Ryan, put me on speaker.”
“Why?” My face scrunches up.
“So I can say hi to Ryan,” he says, like this should have been obvious. Which, okay, fair.
I switch it. “Okay, Mr. Social. You’re set.”
“Ryan! That wraparound goal you made against Winnipeg. That shit’s not fair,” Ander says; he sounds like he’s in awe. Like he’s the one talking to a Stanley Cup champ and not the other way around.
“It’s totally fair,” Ryan says, laughing.
“I mean, sure. But still. You keep that up and every goalie in the league besides Ivanov is going to put a bounty on your head.”
“I’m not the first person in the league to score that way,” Ryan says. “It happens all the time.”
“Not all the time,” Ander says. “I’ve never let one of those through.”
“And you also have Gavin Marshal on your team. I’d have better luck with a freight train than trying to move a puck behind your net when he’s around.”
“Was there a point to this phone call?” I ask. Ryan and I don’t get much alone time together and for fuck’s sake, I had to sneak out of Fort Foley to even get an hour’s worth.
“Damn, little brother,” Ander says. “Can’t I catch up with my former teammate?”
“Then what did you call me for?” I look at Ryan. He quickly looks over his shoulder at me and I roll my eyes. “If you want to talk to Ryan, just call him. It’s not like you don’t have his phone number.”
“Ryan,” Ander says. “Why’s my brother so wound up?”
Ryan looks me up and down and smirks. “No idea.” He looks back towards the road.
“Calm him down, would you?”
“I’m working on it.” Ryan laughs.
“This kind of energy can’t be good for his game.”
“I’m doing just fine,” I grumble. “Now what do you want?”
“Right,” Ander says. “So the league is making a pretty big deal about us defending the Stanley Cup, and we’re getting a lot of press around here.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “And this involves me, how?”
“Don’t play dumb; I know you’ve seen some of it,” Ander says. “Everyone is really hoping for our teams to play each other.”
“We haven’t even made it out of the first round yet,” I say.
“The finals are a bit of a reach, and I’m not thinking about that yet.
” Which is a lie. All of it. I know what fans want.
I know what my team wants. I know what I want.
I want that damn cup, even if I have to claw through my brother to get it.
“It’s not that big of a reach,” Ryan says.
“That’s the spirit, Ryan!” Ander says. “I’m so glad you two are hanging out. Brandon, listen to Ryan. He knows what it takes to win.”
He actually doesn’t, I want to argue, seeing as how the Mules haven’t won the Stanley Cup, let alone even made it to the playoffs until this season. But whatever, I’m most certainly not going to say that out loud.
“And we will win,” Ryan says, a bit of challenge in his voice.
“The hell you will!” Ander laughs. “Anyway. Keep up the hot streak, boys. Gavin and I don’t want to have to wait until next season to welcome my little brother into the league.”
“I don’t think body checking me into oblivion counts as a welcome package,” I say.
Ryan reaches over and gives the back of my neck a gentle squeeze. His fingers massage into my hair at the nape of my neck. “It’s a rite of passage.”
“You’ll survive,” Ander says.
“Great.” I melt into Ryan’s touch. “I feel so reassured.”
Our phone call ends right as Ryan pulls into his parking spot for his building.
“I can hear your gears running,” Ryan says as he shuts off his car.
“They’re not running.” They are. Suddenly I’m feeling all the pressure. Even more than I was already feeling.
“Come on.” Ryan reaches and ruffles my hair. I close my eyes as his fingers run across my scalp. “Let’s get upstairs and I’ll make you forget about the playoffs for an hour.”
Ryan
Sated and coming down rapidly, I roll over to reach my arm across Brandon’s body and hook my leg around his. With my head resting on his chest, I can feel its rise and fall, and hear his heart beating strong under my ear.
“Fuck, that felt good,” he says, his voice heavy and rumbling through his chest.
He’s right. That did feel good. It still does while I continue to come down and enjoy the taste of him I still have on my tongue. This time, I definitely won. He was the first to come in our blow-job race.
“If you stay,” I say and grip his side more firmly with my hand, “I’ll wake you up in the morning with another blow job.”
He laughs lightly under me, but also bends his arm so he can bring his hand to my head. He slides his fingers through my hair and grips it gently. “Is this a bribe?”
“More like a promise.” My eyes close as he continues to loosen his fingers in my hair then tighten them again. “There’s coffee in it for you too.”
“Any chance for French toast as well?”
I huff out a laugh. “Vicky’s been spoiling you.”
“Dude,” he says, his voice serious. “You lived there. You know what it’s like. I’ve never eaten so well in my life.”
I swallow around the tightness that just formed in my throat.
I do know what it’s like. The year I spent living with the Foleys was the second-best year of my life, and Vicky’s French toast is amazing.
But nothing has ever compared to Momma B’s meatloaf and mashed potatoes reheated and placed in front of me when I needed it the most.
“Stay,” I say again.
“I can’t,” he says. “Not if we want to keep this a secret.”
I know he’s right. It’s what I’ve been saying to him from the start. Except that I don’t think I agree anymore. Right now, I’m not so sure I want to keep whatever this is between us a secret.