Chapter 16 Tristan
TRISTAN
The rest of the team was out mourning our loss while I sat alone on the couch in the hockey house living room. Cole was upstairs, probably drinking. My mind circled around my brother’s words from earlier that week, about our parents, and about Eva.
Fuck. What was I supposed to do?
“He stood between her and the world,” Cedric had said. Like I should have done with Eva, instead of becoming another threat she needed protection from.
The hockey house was empty without the usual noise of my teammates. No music thumping through the walls, no shouting over video games, no impromptu wrestling matches in the hallway. Just silence and the weight of their judgment.
I’d earned their contempt. Knowing that didn’t make the loneliness easier to bear.
The doorbell rang. “I got it,” Cole shouted then thumped down the stairs in his bare feet before dropping onto the couch beside me. The leather creaked as Cole settled, bringing with him the sharp bite of winter air and the spicy notes of his cologne.
We’d always been physical with each other—rough-housing, shoulder-checks, casual touches I’d never thought twice about. But now, with his thigh pressed against mine and the memory of the kiss between us, every point of contact felt charged.
I opened the bag, surprised to find a couple of protein and vegetable bowls. “You’re not eating right, which is fucking unusual for you,” he muttered, the tips of his ears flushing, then looked at the TV and frowned. “What is this shit?”
He reached for the remote, and I caught the flex of his bicep under his thin t-shirt, the play of muscles I’d seen a thousand times in the locker room but never allowed myself to really look at.
The fabric pulled tight across his chest as he twisted, and my mouth went dry.
The steady thrum of the heating system seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of our breathing in the suddenly too-small space between us.
He turned the channel from the angsty art flick I was watching to some cooking show.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I reached over and wrestled him for the remote.
Instead of fighting me, Cole gave up and captured my lips with his, one hand fisted in my collar, yanking me toward him.
For a moment, panic froze me. Every defense mechanism screamed that this would ruin everything—our friendship, our dynamic with Eva, the fragile peace we were building.
But then his fingers tightened against my scalp, tugging on my braids in a way that made me weak, and I couldn’t help melting into him.
His lips were soft, but his stubble scraped roughly against my chin as he deepened the kiss. The contrast sent shivers down my spine. He stole my breath like a conquering hero, as if I already belonged to him, and he was simply reclaiming me, reminding me whose I was.
Fuck that.
I changed our positions, moving to nip at his chin, then down his neck, until I drew a ragged groan out of him.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Tris—”
Fuck. Fuck!
I pulled back then threw myself off him, slumping into the couch beside him, breathing hard. “I can’t do this,” I whispered, my voice raspy and rough.
Cole froze beside me, hurt rolling off him. I couldn’t bear to look at his face.
“Right,” he rasped. “You’re saving yourself for Eva, a manipulative liar who doesn’t even want you.”
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
I knew he was being cruel because the rejection hurt, but that didn’t make the knife slice any less deep.
“That’s not it.”
“No?” Cole stood and dusted off his pants, looking at anything in the room but me.
“Cole,” I said, reaching for his hand.
He stepped back from me, his face blank and hard.
“Cole!” I snapped. “This is why I can’t do this. Because the minute you don’t get what you want, you turn into a raging asshole instead of listening to me.”
I didn’t think it was possible for Cole to get any tenser. I was wrong. But he didn’t leave, so I pressed on.
“Do you remember at the end of our sophomore year, when I found you fucking dying in our dorm room?”
He swallowed but still wouldn’t look at me.
“You’re fucked up over Eva. You’re drinking again. You show up to practice hungover. I fucking can’t, Cole. I can’t—”
“Yeah,” he said softly, still not looking at me. “I’m a lot right now. I get it.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I grabbed his wrist and drew him to me so he was standing between my legs. “You’re an addict. And you’re fucking miserable. And I’ve got too much self-respect to fall into a relationship with someone who’s using me to rebound.”
Cole’s eyes met mine, startled and furious.
“A fucking rebound? You goddamned asshole. I have been trying to maneuver you into a relationship for fucking weeks. Why do you think I dragged you into blackmailing Eva? I wanted you. I want you. I will continue to want you. You’re my best friend, and I want your cock so bad, I can practically taste it, and you’re right.
That fucks me up really fucking bad, as bad as anything else going in my shit life right now. ”
My heart stopped.
Cole swallowed hard. “Every time I watched you with Eva. Every time you smiled at her like she hung the fucking moon.” His voice roughened. “I wanted you to look at me like that too.”
My heart started beating again. His confession hit me so fucking hard. Cole Carter, who took whatever he wanted without apology, had been waiting for me to notice him.
“So yes, I want this,” he said. “So fucking badly. And it’s not because of Eva. And it’s not because I’m looking for an escape. It’s because—” He cupped my cheek. “It’s because you’re my better half.”
Cole stepped away, swallowing hard. “But if you don’t want this, if I’m fucking wrong, if I misread the looks and the way you kissed me in that hotel—” He closed his eyes, his expression transforming into one of pained longing. “I’ll walk away right now. I swear it.”
“I want this,” I affirmed, nuzzling my nose into his palm. “But I can’t do it until you’ve sobered up.”
Cole stepped back, his face furious again. “You’re putting conditions on our fucking relationship?”
No. Fuck. No. Yes. “I can’t,” I said, my heart breaking again. I was going to lose my best friend. Fuck!
“Okay,” he said, swallowing. “I’ll stop drinking. I’ll stay clean. For you.”
“No,” I snapped, drawing back. “You have to do it for you. Fuck, Cole, I want you. I need you. You’re not imagining anything. But I can’t—”
He closed his eyes. “I’m not good enough yet. I get it.”
“No!” I surged up out of the couch, shoving him back a step until we were chest-to-chest, emotions high, both of our eyes gleaming.
I didn’t know how to explain that I couldn’t handle this right now. Couldn’t handle his addiction again, couldn’t handle trying to untangle how to help Eva, couldn’t handle Cole missing her, him not understanding that he had to change for himself.
He was a hot fucking mess. We both were, longing for a woman we didn’t deserve, with no idea how to be the type of men we wanted to be. “Promise me,” I rasped. “Promise me that this isn’t an even worse decision than blackmailing Eva was.”
“I can’t—” he said, stepping away, his eyes shimmering before he looked away. He swallowed again. “I can’t promise that at all.”
The vulnerability in Cole’s eyes killed me.
I couldn’t bear to see him hurting like this.
He already had my heart, goddamn him, just like Eva.
I cupped his face, dropping soft kisses on his cheekbones, his nose, and his lips, only for him to capture my mouth again, devouring me.
He pushed me back into the couch then followed the line of my jaw with his lips, biting and licking until he reached my ear.
I shuddered then shoved his shirt up so I could run my hands over his chest—cut, tattooed, stunning.
His skin burned under my palms as I mapped the ridges and valleys of his abs.
I’d seen him naked hundreds of times, but nothing compared to this, being able to touch him, to revel in the feeling of his skin beneath mine.
When my fingers skimmed over a nipple, he swore softly then shoved me down so I lay on the couch, one leg dangling off. He straddled me, grinning as he reached down to tweak my nipple.
“Oh, fuck off,” I said, shoving him backward.
Still smiling, he held a hand out to me. “Let’s go to my room.”
We raced up the stairs, shoving and laughing as we discarded our clothes until I slammed him against his door, locking it behind him, and trapped him as I stole a breathless kiss that turned tender.
My best friend, a man who’d never once made me feel like I was less because I had less, who’d saved me from myself time after time, and he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I couldn’t say no to him. I didn’t want to say no, even though a voice in the back of my head screamed that I should.
His cock pressed against mine through our sweatpants, and he reached his hand into mine to stroke against it. “Fuck, Cole, I’m going to come in my pants if you don’t stop that.” The immediate devilry that appeared in his eyes made me back away.
“Don’t you dare,” I growled.
Cole dropped his pants, and I did the same. He groaned when he saw me, running his fingers up the bottom side of my cock, tracing the barbells there. “Fuck, I forgot.”
I had to ask him, had to know how much care to take. No. I had to take care no matter what. But suddenly, I was desperate to know if I was his first. “Have you—?”
He stalked me to the bed. I could have resisted—we were the same size. If he was an inch taller, I was an inch broader, but I was enjoying the desperate need in Cole’s eyes.
“Have I what, Tristan?”
“Done this before? With a man?”
Cole’s smile was feral. “Have you?”
I frowned. “You know I’m as bi as the day is long.”
“I’ve never done more than made out with a guy before,” he admitted, vulnerability once again flashing over his face.