20. Chapter 20 #3
Silas didn’t tend to make in-game changes, but on the bench, Ethan could feel him vibrating with annoyance and nobody was possibly surprised when after the period ended with the Bandits down 1–0 still, Silas walked up to Hank in the locker room.
“You’re with V,” he said. Looked over at Jonesy. “You’re with Keegan.”
Ethan felt bad for Jonesy but he was excited for Hank; this was an incredible opportunity. The break was almost over when he headed over to Hank’s side of the room. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” Hank said, setting his Gatorade down. “You good?”
“Oh, I’m fucking fantastic,” Ethan said. “I came over to make sure you’re solid.”
“Little nervous, but . . .” Hank glanced around and, when he was convinced nobody was paying attention to them, continued. “Excited, too? Ready to try this? Your brother is so fucking—”
“Don’t go liking my brother more than me,” Ethan interrupted, making an exaggerated face, and Hank just laughed.
Hank tipped their foreheads together briefly. It wasn’t much of a touch, but for Hank in the locker room, it was practically an X-rated public display of affection. “Never gonna happen,” he promised. “But I do like Avery. He’s . . . he’s kinda cool, actually?”
It surprised Ethan how much that soft-spoken comment thrilled him.
He hadn’t really worried or even considered how his brothers or Livvy would feel about Hank.
He’d liked Hank, and that was obviously the most important thing, but now he realized he wanted them to like Hank, too.
Because Hank wasn’t going anywhere. Obviously.
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that,” Ethan teased.
“He’s about as cool as I am, how about that?”
“Better.” Ethan grinned. “You’re gonna kill it, I know it.”
“I think . . .” Hank let out an unsteady breath. “I think so, too. I think this is gonna be really good. For both of us.”
Ethan agreed with that, too. Naturally.
His brother and his boyfriend teaming up and using their extraordinary skills to win them hockey games? Ethan was never gonna be mad about that.
They were only on their second shift together, and when Charlie’s line came off the ice, Ethan shot both of them a quick grin before taking the puck from Avery and taking it up the ice.
He passed it to Gabby, who he was learning could match his speed as well as the twisty way he liked to approach the offensive zone. “You pretend to be straightforward,” Gabby always said. “But you’re more like Barney than you want to admit to.”
And maybe he was, Ethan thought as he went around the back of the net, seeing the play laid out in front of him.
He switched edges, changing direction effortlessly, and took it back the way he’d come, passing the puck across to Max, who passed it back to Avery.
Watching, Ethan hesitated too as V paused, having a split-second debate between whether he should take it in himself or he should pass it back to one of the forwards, and he knew, almost before Avery did it, what he was going to do.
That meant Ethan was already moving, stick already ready to receive Avery’s pass, and he took one stride and then another, then he shot, sliding the puck in the sliver of space between the Flyers’ goalie’s kneepad and the edge of the goal—just before he could close the gap.
Ethan hit Avery with a solid thump, celebrating the goal. Glancing over as Hank joined them, matching bright smiles.
“Sick pass,” Ethan told his brother, who just grinned and shot Hank a look.
“Someone was a good partner,” Avery said. “Almost sent it his way, but you had the better angle.”
And then he did, less than ten minutes later, Charlie on the ice with his line, and instead of passing the puck to his brother, he passed it to Hank, who didn’t hesitate.
At the end of the second, they were up 3 to 1, and as the guys filed into the locker room, Ethan couldn’t help it. He tugged Hank out of line and dragged him into a hallway, just next to the locker room. A hallway he knew would be empty.
“Gorgeous,” Ethan said, meaning it, and loving the way Hank’s face flushed with pleasure at Ethan’s words. “I love it. I love you.”
Hank just laughed. “What do you like more? Me or winning?”
“Both? I want both,” Ethan said. “You gonna help me out with that?”
Ethan loved every version of Hank—every single one he’d met; the frustrated Hanks and the happy Hanks and the funny Hanks and the sleepy Hanks—but there was nothing like seeing his boyfriend’s pretty hazel eyes light up with confidence.
Especially the kind of confidence he’d seen that very first morning they’d met.
When Ethan had looked up at Hank and realized, I want him.
He’d wanted him and he’d gotten him, and nothing was ever going to be better than that feeling. Even winning, though that was pretty good, too.
“You got it, baby,” Hank said, and they turned together, ready to go win the game.
Ready to go win it all.
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