27 - Grayson
Grayson
The bar slams back onto the rack, the sound echoing through the weight room while Liam steps out from under it and immediately starts cursing at nobody in particular.
“That’s bullshit.”
“No,” Wyatt says from across the room. “You just suck.”
Liam throws his towel at him without missing a beat.
The entire team is scattered around the gym, moving through what Coach has labeled a workout but really feels more like active recovery.
A few guys are on bikes near the windows overlooking the practice rink.
Others are working through mobility drills with the trainers.
Classic rock is playing quietly through the speakers, losing every battle against the clanging weights.
My body is still aching from last night’s game, and we already have to play again tomorrow.
Playoffs are fucking brutal. Every hit feels heavier, and even our recovery days don’t really feel like much of a recovery anymore.
“Seeing how they play up close, it makes no fucking sense that Charlotte was ranked higher than us,” Nathan complains, stepping under the bar to take his turn.
“We did play like shit for a while there,” Wyatt points out.
Nathan grimaces, knowing his injury was partially why.
“At least we get an easy first round out of it,” I say, circling the bar to spot him.
The mood around the room is lighter than it’s been in months.
For most of the season, making the playoffs wasn’t even a guarantee. We spent weeks clawing our way back into contention after Nathan got hurt, and there were plenty of nights where it felt like we’d dug ourselves too deep a hole to climb out of.
Now, we’re sitting three games up in the series. One win away from advancing and proving a lot of people wrong.
I’m damn proud of this team. And I haven’t gotten my hopes too high, but I think we really have a shot at the cup.
Nathan powers through his set before reracking the bar.
“We finish it tomorrow.”
“Assuming nobody listens to Liam’s game plan,” Wyatt says.
Liam looks offended. “My game plans are excellent.”
“You wanted to celebrate Game Two by going to a nightclub when Game Three was the next night.”
“Better than crawling back into my hidey hole, grandpa.” Liam points at him. “Not all of us want to live in the middle of the woods by ourselves like a recluse.”
He’s loud enough that even Barrett, three racks over, snorts.
“Hey, rook,” Wyatt tosses out, turning to Barrett. “Shut the hell up before I end you.”
Barrett’s smile flickers, genuine fear flashing before he turns back to his weights.
I smack him. “Stop scaring people. It isn’t good for team morale.”
“Can’t help who I am.”
Nathan chimes in, “We know deep down you’re a softie.”
I shake my head, agreeing. “You pretended to be a racecar while running Mason around the backyard less than a month ago.”
He glares at me as if that were some deep, dark secret. “Even I can’t be an asshole to that kid.”
“See?” Liam throws his arm over Wyatt’s shoulder. “Softie.”
Wyatt shrugs him off, shoving him a solid distance away. “Fuck off. All of you.”
We laugh. Wyatt might act like he can’t stand us, but knowing what he’s gone through, I see it for what it is: mile-high walls.
Maybe that’s why Avery’s walls never scared me off. I’ve seen worse. And Wyatt’s got every reason for it.
I step underneath the bar while Liam swaps out the weights. The steel settles across my shoulders. I’d already told everyone to keep things light today, mostly because of tomorrow’s game.
Also, because I’m exhausted for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with hockey.
Every night that we haven’t been on the road, I’ve somehow found a way to spend it with Avery.
They’ve had a long home game stretch that’s about to come to an end, but we’ve taken advantage of it.
Last night, she’d shown up at my place after the game with takeout, which I’ve come to recognize as her version of home cooking. Then, I spent the rest of the night buried inside her, wondering why the hell there was ever a time we weren’t doing exactly this.
I’m in over my head because it’s still a secret. Still not a relationship. Still not enough.
Casual has never been something I’m good at. And I’m proving that because despite the constant reminders that I am supposed to be steering clear of dating, and despite her saying she doesn’t want a relationship, this sure as hell feels like exactly that.
We don’t talk about it, though. Both of us skirt around the edges of what we’re doing, completely ignoring the fact that we seem to gravitate toward each other, whether we say it’s casual or not.
“Are you going to squat or just keep zoning out?” Wyatt asks, snapping me out of my head.
I shift on my feet, getting comfortable under the bar while I dip down. The motion is ingrained in me after years of perfecting my form, so once I start moving, I let my mind drift again.
Physically, we’re both on the same page. Every time we’re together is better than the last. Not a minute can pass without one of us making contact with the other as if we’re magnets being pulled together. I’m not complaining one bit. It’s the best sex of my life.
My mind immediately supplies the image of Avery bent over her kitchen counter, which is a terrible fucking thing to think about while holding a loaded barbell. My cock twitches in my pants, and I stumble right when I hit the deepest part of my squat, almost dropping the bar.
Shit.
Wyatt catches it while I steady myself.
“You good, man?” Nathan squeezes the water into his mouth.
“Yeah, just got, um, distracted,” I stutter before steadying myself and trying to finish out my set.
Liam starts talking again, and I pretend as if I’ve been paying attention the entire time.
“It’s bullshit,” he continues. “Absolute bullshit. We win tomorrow, and do we get a couple of days to enjoy it? No. We don’t get to go out. We don’t get to celebrate. We don’t even get to sleep in. We immediately get shoved into the next series like we’re cattle.”
Nathan tosses a roll of tape at his head. “If we win tomorrow.”
“We’re going to win tomorrow,” Wyatt corrects.
I don’t say anything, too focused on not embarrassing myself a second time. Even still, my legs are shaky as I dip into my last squat.
Liam points at him and grins. “Exactly. Then we’ve got Tampa or Atlanta waiting for us, which means more travel and planes.”
Wyatt squints at him. “You do realize you’re a professional hockey player, right?”
“That’s my whole point. What good is being a professional hockey player if I can’t reap the benefits?”
“You mean benefits like a shot at the Stanley Cup?” I ask, reracking the weight.
“No.” He drags both hands down his face before groaning dramatically. “I mean getting laid.”
Nathan doesn’t even bother looking surprised, which makes sense considering how long they’ve been friends. “There it is.”
“I’m serious,” Liam says. “All this travel is killing my free time. Do you know how hard it is to maintain a healthy social life when you’re constantly in a different city?”
“A healthy social life?” Wyatt stares at him, taking his place at the rack. “You hooked up with someone last week.”
“Thank you for proving my point.”
My eyebrows lift. “How does that prove your point?”
“Because that was a week ago. Do you know how long that is?”
“Probably about a week,” Nathan offers.
Liam flips him off. “It’s a fucking eternity.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Speaking of your dick,” Nathan starts, but I cut him off.
“Maybe we don’t speak of his dick?”
Liam’s eyes gleam. “I mean, it’s a pretty great dick. In my opinion, it’s not talked about enough.”
“Fucking gross, bro,” Wyatt manages to say in between reps.
“I meant,” Nathan tries again. “About you putting your dick where it doesn’t belong.” He leans against the wall. “I’ve had to listen to Wesley bitch for weeks about the fact that you slept with Becca.”
Liam’s expression turns defensive, but he still manages to smirk. “If we’re being accurate, there really wasn’t much sleep–”
I slap the back of his head. “No one wants to know what you two got up to.”
Liam raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Fair, but she’s a grown woman, was fully sober, and obviously knew it wasn’t going to be more than one night. So, I don’t see the problem.”
Wyatt racks the weight. “He has a point.”
“Just tell Wesley it’s not her business,” Liam adds.
I snort, picturing exactly how horribly that would go.
Nathan’s mind must do the same thing because he responds, “I like my balls where they are, thank you very much.”
I shake my head and start stuffing gear into my bag, mostly content to sit back and enjoy the show unfolding around me.
It’s a mirror of how I’ve felt since spending more time with Avery.
A bone-deep contentment and comfort.
The longer it lasts, the more I realize that, regardless of what I planned for this to be, it’s real for me. It’s not just a couple of dates and good sex.
And maybe I was supposed to be taking this time without a girlfriend to learn how to be alone, but maybe instead, I’m learning that I can be alone; I just don’t want to be.
My chest tightens with certainty.
I want her. And I may have told her no pressure, but I’m not sure how much longer I can wait before I tell her.
Across the room, Wyatt catches my expression, his mouth twitching. I realize that my karma for calling him soft is already incoming.
Then he says casually, “Some people seem to be handling the travel schedule just fine.”
I glance up, glaring at him.
“Yeah?” Liam asks as he refills his water bottle.
“Yeah. Ask Grayson what he’s been doing to stay busy.”
The grin spreads slowly across his face, and I hate him.
I should’ve known he’d bring it back up eventually. He’s been far too quiet about it since New York.
Liam’s head swivels to mine. “Aren’t you supposed to be like celibate or something?”
I choke on air, dragging out the cough just to buy myself time before I have to out-bullshit the bullshitter.
“Yeah. I am supposed to be.”
“Wait a minute.” Liam’s head swivels between Wyatt and me. “It’s the chick from Bra-gate, isn’t it?”
Nathan narrows his eyes when I stutter. “You’re still seeing her?”
“How do you even have time to see her?” Liam asks.
I glare at Wyatt, thinking about all the ways I plan to make his life hell as soon as the chance presents itself.
“I knew you wouldn’t last more than a couple of months without a girlfriend,” Liam says, pushing open the weight room doors as we head to the locker room.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
It’s not a lie, but I hate saying it. Because it might not be technically true, but it doesn’t really feel that way. Just more proof that I’m way too deep for my own good.
“It’s been months since we found her bra, bro. That’s a girlfriend, whether you’re labeling it or not.” Nathan says, patting my back.
My heart trips hearing it put that way, but I can’t help but wonder how Avery would react if someone said that to her.
At my locker, I check my phone to see a message from her.
Chaos: A week-and-a-half away trip is cruel.
I type out my response.
Me: I know you’d rather spend time with me.
Chaos: Your ego is getting too big.
Chaos: But also, yes, kind of.
My pulse picks up at her confession. Every time she lets it slip that she might just like me more than she lets on, my stomach does somersaults.
Me: I wish I could spend more time with you, too.
Chaos: Don’t get me wrong, showing up at each other’s doorsteps after dark, just to catch up, have great sex, and then crash isn’t all bad, but I kind of miss the swan boats, you know?
I can’t resist teasing her.
Me: Great sex, huh?
Chaos: Of course, that’s the only part you read. I meant *somewhat okayish sex*
Me: Bullshit.
“Earth to Shaw.” Wyatt bumps into my shoulder, eyes still gleaming with amusement. “Liam here wants to know when we get to meet your woman.”
“I don’t have a woman.”
“Fine,” Nathan concedes. “When do we get to meet the woman who’s not your woman? Is she coming to a game?”
I snort, but before I can answer, the idea settles into my head. The image of Avery at my game, cheering me on.
It’d be nice.
“Probably not.” I shrug. “We’re not serious like that.”
Liam snorts. “You’re not exclusive? Since when are you not exclusive with a girl?”
My stomach plummets because no, I guess we’re not. Memories of her dancing with and kissing other men cloud my head. Sure, that was before we started sleeping together, but I had told her to do what she wanted.
Fuck.
Is that what she would want?
Me: Are you seeing anyone else?
As soon as I hit send, I regret it.
I’m supposed to be easy, no pressure. Instead, I sound like a lovesick puppy.
Chaos: I see lots of people.
My stomach sinks, thinking I’ve just made everything weird, treating her like a girlfriend when we haven’t even remotely had that conversation yet.
Me: You know what I mean.
Chaos: I do.
Chaos: You said this wasn’t a relationship.
I know what I said. It’s just not what I feel anymore.
Me: I know.
Chaos: Which means I can see anyone I want.
I deflate.
Chaos: Lucky for you, I’m not really into fooling around with multiple people.
My lungs fill again with renewed confidence.
Me: Just me, then?
Chaos: Are you seeing anyone?
I can’t keep the smile off my face, because I can picture Avery’s face as she types the question.
Me: I see lots of people.
Chaos: Asshole.
Me: No, Chaos. Just you.
Then I add:
Me: Can we keep it that way?
There are a million questions buried under the one I asked.
Chaos: Yes, please.
I smile so hard my cheeks hurt.
“Is that her?” Nathan asks when I glance up from my phone.
“Uh, yeah.” I slide my phone back into my pocket.
“If you’re smiling like that, this Bra-gate woman must really be something.” Liam tries to fist-bump me.
I slap it away. “Stop talking about that damn bra.”
“Oh. He’s got it bad, boys,” Liam announces to the locker room.
I shake my head, but my face heats. Wyatt catches my eye and quirks his brow, a silent question on his face.
What are you doing? What does it mean?
I don’t have an answer, so I just shrug. It’s still a secret. It’s not a relationship, but it is exclusive, and that’s a step in the right direction.
And I can live with that for now.