33. RYAN
RYAN
It’s noon on Sunday, but the rest of the condo is still asleep. Griff, Cooper, and I should be at North Point. If we really are going back, we’re all getting so many demerits for this not being signed out. Hell, I’m not supposed to be signed out at all.
Sleeping next to Tate’s still a novelty for me.
We haven’t done it much. And I guess he thinks so, too, because we slept wrapped around each other.
But the space next to me is empty. Still warm.
A spring breeze blows in from the veranda.
Covering myself with a blanket, because Tate will probably bitch if I go out there naked where anyone can see me, I pad across the carpet. My feet meet cool stone.
Tate’s there, forearms resting on the balcony ledge, like the way he rests on the boards, staring at the city as if he’s watching a hockey game.
All he’s wearing is a pair of black boxer shorts.
He still thinks he has to be invincible.
I don’t think I’ll ever convince him otherwise; Jasper beat it into him too deeply, but this moment has been chasing him, and it’s finally caught him.
The turmoil on his face is the same as whenever Jasper comes up.
I slide up to him, opening the blanket and wrapping him up with me. Our hot skin presses together.
“You’re naked,” he says.
“Mm-hmm.”
He pulls the blanket around us tighter, making sure no one can see an inch of me. I guess someone could see us if they were spying from a nearby building, but no one from the street is going to see me up here. He’s in the penthouse. I stare at nothing with him.
“Did you believe me?” he asks.
“About Jasper?” I knew his mind was there.
“Yes.”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe you’re happy he’s gone.”
“I was at first. But then it was boring. He gave me purpose. A villain needs another villain.”
I laugh. “I think you mean an antihero needs a villain, baby.”
He shrugs. “I said what I said.”
“Did you really kill him?”
Tate presses my nose. “You’ll never know. Implication, sweetheart.”
“If you did, he deserved it.”
“He deserves to rot,” Tate agrees. “He was abusive, cruel, and sadistic. Which is why I’ll never understand why I miss him.
I talk to him in my head sometimes, even ask him for advice.
I wouldn’t have done that if he were alive.
Asking for his counsel was either a suicide mission or a one-way ticket into servitude. ”
Tate’s fingers slip into my hair, looking for an anchor, reminding me of the way he looks for my heartbeat.
“I’m still so mind fucked by him. He had a special finesse for making you so miserable you wanted to kill him, while at the same time addicting you to him. Craving his praise. Needing him for purpose.”
Tate presses his lips to my crown, while I quietly seethe. I hope someday I can erase Jasper from Tate’s mind. I’ll meet him in the darkest parts of himself if that’s what it takes.
“Now that the only thing left for me to protect is you, we have options,” he says.
I lean back to look at him. “We do?”
I thought things were shot to hell. I assumed we were lying when we told Kline we’d be going to North Point and that we’d actually be on the run or living under lock and key at the brewery.
Tate and I are also a scandal. Student and coach.
Rival teams. Over a ten-year age gap. Social media is going to make us into a circus.
Tate’s still pensive. He won’t look at me, but he says something that’s too much of a grumble for me to catch.
“What was that?”
“I said, your happiness matters to me, dollface. Tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen.”
Ah. I know what’s going on here. His insides are flipping out. He just put the ball in my court. Tate doesn’t do that. Tate keeps all the balls in his court.
“Anything I want?” I make sure. I shouldn’t fuck with him. But I doubt he’ll make a habit of saying shit like this. He’s more likely to quietly do the thing instead of talking about it.
He takes a hitched breath. I can practically see the thorns hooking into his flesh and scraping up and down with the rise and fall of each careful inhale and exhale. “Anything.”
“What if I want to go to Shadowridge?”
“I’d have to leave, but I’m sure I could get you in.”
“What if I want to go back to professional hockey?”
“I know a lot of the scouts. They’d be fucking stupid to pass you up.
I’d travel with you as much as I could, but I can’t leave my business or my cover until we know your brother is okay.
I’ve left Kline in play because he was useful this time, but it could bite me in the ass.
It’s something I have to keep an eye on. ”
“You also left him in play because he’s going to get revenge on my father.”
A satisfied smile spreads onto his face. “Better him than me. I would have loved to, but that situation would have been …” he searches for a word. “Complicated.”
He doesn’t know how I feel about my father. Fuck, I don’t know how I feel about my father, except that I’m glad I’m free of him.
Tate turns to face me, and the blanket falls from him, still surrounding me. I search his steel-gray eyes as he traces over my spider tattoo. Fierce anger burns in them. The anger isn’t for me. It’s not regret either.
“Are you mad that you fell in love with me?” I ask, because I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.
“Mad that I’m … Ryan, no. I’m mad that I have no fucking idea how to handle love.
I’m a love virgin. I’ve never felt this much emotion over one person in my life.
You’re going to pick one of those options, and then what will I do without you?
What did I do before you? Can’t remember.
I’ll have to go on a murder spree to work through all this feeling. I’ll have to take up a hobby.”
I laugh. “Before or after the murder spree?”
“After. And it’ll be something I hate like crocheting or building historical dioramas,” he grumps.
“What? Historical dioramas?” I laugh.
“I saw it on a Reddit thread. It’s a shockingly popular hobby.”
“Why would you start a hobby you hate? I’d think you’d get into knife collecting or something.”
“I’d love knife collecting, which would remind me that I love you, and if I’m reminded of that …”
“Got it. Vicious cycle.”
“So?” His frown deepens.
“You follow questionable Reddit threads.”
“Ryan.”
“I’m not going to Shadowridge,” I tell him. “Not going back to professional hockey either. At least not for now.”
“You’re … not? I thought you’d pick that one for sure.”
“Tell me with a straight face you would have actually been able to let me go.”
“That’s not important. You said you’re not doing those things. We don’t need to talk about hellscapes that may never come to fruition—it’s better not to give me nightmare fuel.” His relief is tangible. “But are you going to be happy without a professional hockey career?”
That’s hard to say. I need time to figure out who the fuck I am without my father’s chains holding me hostage.
“Not one hundred percent sure. I’m young enough that I can think about it in a year or two.
I’ve still got a couple more seasons of college hockey in the meantime.
And if Griff insists on staying at North Point, I’m not leaving him.
” I bump his shoulder. “Above all, it turns out that the thing I want the most is you. I’d be too fucking miserable without my husband for that long. ”
Tate smiles. “Not gonna lie, I’m relieved. Okay then, onto Plan: North Point.” He claps his hands, rubbing them together, moving on quickly as if he thinks I’ll change my mind.
“You have a plan for that?”
“Of course I do. It’s not as awesome as Plan: You Live at the Brewery, but it was my second choice.”
“Definitely not living at the brewery.”
“I don’t think you’ve considered it long enough. You’d have the run of the place—”
“Tate.”
“I’d hire your own personal assistant—”
“Tate!”
He grips under my thigh, pulling it around him, burying his face in my neck. “I’d build you your own apartment—”
This time, he’s cut off by a loud banging at the door. He takes my hand, and I grip the blanket with the other. Inside, the banging is louder.
“Coach! Coach! I have good news.”
“Just a second, McKinnon.” He tosses me a pair of sweats from a drawer and grabs a pair for himself. Tate in gray sweatpants should be a religion. But, like, I’m the only member of that religion. Once we’re half-clothed, he opens the door enough to talk to McKinnon. “What?”
“That hockey fight where your crazy-ass husband almost gave me a concussion? Made me totally famous. It went viral on socials, and I’ve got companies barraging my DMs with paid partnerships for our channel.
We were already fine for money with what we set up with the other frat house, but this right here is security. ”
“Are you sure you don’t have a concussion, McKinnon?”
McKinnon makes a frustrated sound. “Whatever. Sorry, Ryan. Socials don’t look so good for you. I’d maybe stay off them for a bit.”
Of course, not. The world shines on McKinnon, leaving dark clouds in its wake for me. That’s how it is.
“Luke’s still loop-de-loo, so he’s gonna have to stay here until he’s okay again, unless you want my dad asking questions. The rest of us are gonna get breakfast started out here.”
“With what food?” Tate says.
“Ordered groceries.”
Tate face palms. “Fine. Tell us when it’s ready. Until then, we’re busy.” He shuts the door in McKinnon’s face.
“The guy was born under a lucky star, and the world bends to his will,” I say.
“It’s annoying.”
“Agreed.”
Tate pulls me into his arms, planting a sensual kiss.
“Fuck him. I’d rather be in a dark fairy tale with you any day of the week, dollface.” We kiss some more. He slides a hand over my ass. “I want you again. I want you forever. I love you.”
Still fucking surreal to hear him say those words to me, but looking back, knowing Tate like I do now, it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He wouldn’t have come running to me like he did if he didn’t need me more than breath. He would have simply cut out my eye and kept it in his pocket.
“If I die before you, I give my permission for you to carry a piece of me around with you forever.” No matter how fucking creepy that is, I don’t add out loud.
“No goddamn way, dollface. Remember what I said? If you have a cold, I want a cold. If you have pneumonia, I want pneumonia, too. If you die—which, let’s agree to talk about that never again—I’m fucking out of here.
I’m racing so fast to the white light, I’ll show up in time to carry you the rest of the way. I’m not living a minute without you.”
I smile. “Hey, I keep meaning to ask you, how did you find me so fast? Kline’s wasn’t exactly the obvious option.”
His eyes widen, a sheepish hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, you know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“Tate.”
“But first, I’m going to make you feel good, baby.”
“Tate!”
But his mouth is on my cock soon after that, and I lose interest in anything else but him.