Chapter 10 The Re Dinner #3
Fletcher was so angry. Not the kind of anger where you punch a wall to feel better. It was the kind of anger where you broke down and cried yourself to sleep. It was hopeless frustration.
Taylor squeezed his hand harder, seeming to be able to read his expression perfectly. “You’re too valuable to the team,” he assured him. “They’re not going to get rid of you.”
Fletcher fought back tears. He felt pathetic and weak the way he was so vulnerable in front of Taylor. “I know.” Fletcher shook his head.
“I know he can’t void my contract. I made sure of it. The part that actually upsets me is that he’s so concerned with his fucking image that he can’t bear to see me happy and thriving all on my own. Because it makes him look weak that I thrive on a different team.”
“Armstrong,” Taylor said so softly it came out as a whisper.
A single tear fell down Fletcher’s cheek. He quickly wiped it away and turned his head to the side so Taylor couldn’t see him cry.
“Armstrong,” Taylor repeated sadly.
He let go of Fletcher’s hand and hesitated for a moment before wrapping it around Fletcher, pulling him in for a hug.
Fletcher froze for a minute, unsure of what to do.
He had never hugged him before. He had never hugged anyone before like this.
Emotional. Vulnerable. Comforting. Not even his mom had hugged him like this.
But…Taylor. His heart clenched with a foreign feeling.
Like he was approaching a startled deer, he slowly wrapped his arms around Taylor.
Like it was a test or something. But it wasn’t.
Taylor let out a soft sigh of relief as Fletcher settled into the embrace.
Fletcher rested his chin on the bare skin of Taylor’s shoulder.
He was warm in Fletcher’s arms. And so… solid.
All muscles. Fletcher was practically all muscle too now, but somehow his body melted right into Taylor’s.
It was like he was a missing puzzle piece that blended in with the floor, but once he was pulled into the warmth of Taylor’s body the puzzle was finally complete.
Heat pooled in his stomach. It was weird. But he liked whatever was happening.
He felt lightheaded. Or drunk. It could’ve been both.
They remained just like that, embracing one another.
Neither of them pulled away. It was weird…
but comfortable. It definitely made Fletcher feel better.
Taylor held the back of Fletcher’s head.
His fingers ran through Fletcher’s damp curls and Fletcher tipped his head down to rest his forehead against Taylor’s shoulder.
A chill ran down Fletcher’s spine, feeling like a jolt of electricity.
Neither man spoke. Because if they spoke, then it made this real.
Somehow, their bodies just knew what to do. Without thinking, Taylor slowly laid down on Fletcher’s bed, pulling Fletcher down with him. Fletcher rested his head against Taylor’s bare chest.
He listened to Taylor’s heartbeat as his chest rose and fell.
Taylor still held a hand in his hair while the other rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.
It felt so good that it made Fletcher sick to his stomach.
He shouldn’t be enjoying this. He rested the palm of his hand on Taylor’s chest. He memorized the way it felt. Skin to skin.
He brushed his thumb softly over his chest. His skin was so soft there. As smooth as butter.
His breathing stopped as he felt Taylor crane his head down and press a whisper of a kiss to the top of his head before laying his head back down on the pillow and letting out a deep sigh. Was it a sigh of regret? Shock? Confusion?
Their legs intertwined. Taylor’s hand moved up beneath Fletcher’s shirt. His body burned with lust and desire as Taylor’s hand explored the skin of Fletcher’s back. It felt perfect. Taylor holding him. It was perfect.
Fletcher didn’t know how long they laid like that.
Together. Neither of them dared to speak.
Speaking would make it real. It would break the bubble that had encapsulated them in a world where it was just the two of them.
A world where they weren’t teammates or playing in the NHL.
Where they didn’t always have eyes on them, being made into spectacles.
A world where it was just him and Taylor.
But Fletcher knew a world like that would never exist. It was wrong.
“Fletcher,” Taylor whispered. Their bubble popped. Fletcher squeezed his eyes shut.
He took a deep breath as reality slowly crept back into him. This shouldn’t be happening, Fletcher thought. This was so wrong. He and Taylor. They couldn’t. Fletcher needed to put his guard up to protect himself. He needed to.
He slowly opened his eyes and lifted himself off Taylor. “We should probably go to bed.” It sounded so cold coming out of his mouth. He swallowed.
Taylor sat up and nodded. Disappointment filled his eyes. “Are you okay?”
Fletcher nodded, refusing to look at him. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Let’s just… forget about it. Okay? My dad was just saying all that stuff to get under my skin.” That wasn’t what he wanted to forget. But he couldn’t actually say it.
Taylor still seemed to understand. “Okay.”
He cleared his throat and awkwardly slid off Fletcher’s bed to move his own. Painfully awkward. Fletcher wanted to scream and pull his hair out. What the hell just happened?
Fletcher reached over to the light switch between the beds and turned it off.
Darkness enveloped the room like a blanket of safety.
He turned away so he wouldn’t have to face Taylor.
He needed to put as much distance between the two of them as possible, which was basically impossible if they had to share a room.
He heard Taylor slide inside his covers and let out a loud sigh.
“Forget,” he echoed slowly beneath his breath, but Fletcher heard him anyway.