Hat Trick

by Eden Finley

  Chapter Seventeen

  Soren

  Jet’s leaving already.

  Just when I thought this vacation had turned around, it’s cut short by the only light in it walking away.

  I know he has to. It’s his job.

  If a hockey player is traded, we have no choice in moving or not. It’s in our contracts, and work always comes first.

  I stare at the ceiling of my cabin, my hands under my head, and try not to think about it. Which means I only think about it more.

  He’ll go back on tour where he’ll see Harley every day. He’ll be near him, with him … most likely, he’ll go back to him because I know he’s not over him.

  After a few days together, I have no right to Jet, but I was hoping we’d get more time to figure this out.

  Bryce said I wasn’t in our relationship—not completely—and I think it’s because I’ve always had a what-if floating around my head.

  What if I’d chased after Jet three years ago?

  There’s a knock at my door. It’s not locked, but I get out of bed anyway because I’m only in boxers, and I might be playing dirty. If he leaves me here, he’ll miss my abs. I know he will.

  And yep, as soon as I slide open the door, Jet’s brown eyes are on my naked torso, taking me in from my neck to the V leading to something else that’s very happy to see him.

  “Good news,” he says.

  “You don’t have to go?” I sound way too excited about that.

  His face falls. “Oh, no. Sorry.” Jet reaches into his pocket. “Ema came by while we were out and restocked.” He holds up two condoms.

  “But you’re still leaving.”

  “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I wish I could stay, but we have tonight, maybe tomorrow too, so …” Jet waves the condoms in the air.

  “We could do that. Or we could talk about how you have to see Harley again.”

  “You don’t want to talk about that.”

  “Well, no, but I want to know where your head’s at.”

  “My head is at Harley being a giant dickweed, and I’m pissed he’s making me do this.”

  I pull him in for a hug because as much as I’d love to undress him and make him forget, he needs support right now, not someone mauling him. Sex will make him feel good temporarily, but his problem will still remain.

  His hands trail down to my ass.

  “Jet,” I warn.

  “Please? Please don’t make me face it yet.”

  I worry this is some defining moment and that if I do the wrong thing here, it will cement our future. If I give in and take away his pain by momentarily distracting him, that’s all I’ll ever be to him—temporary.

  I need to be more than that in Jet’s life.

  I kiss him softly but keep it controlled, taking it slow and letting my tongue move against his.

  When his hand makes its way between us and rubs over my aching cock, I know I need to pull back.

  “That’s all you’re getting from me.”

  His eyes crack open. “What?”

  “I’m serious. We need to talk this out.”

  “Why? We’re not about feelings and all that bullshit. You’re supposed to be making me forget love and all the crap that goes with it.”

  Good to know where he’s at. “Since when?”

  He waves a hand around. “I don’t know. Since there’s too much going on in my head right now, and I don’t need any more man trouble.”

  “I want to be the opposite of trouble for you. I want to be there for you. I want you to talk to me.” I lead him over to the bed to sit.

  Jet stays standing, and I pull him between my legs. My hands make quick work of his jeans, but before he steps out of them, he stares down at me with a smug expression.

  “I didn’t realize pants weren’t a requirement for talking.”

  “I want you to stay in here with me tonight. We’ll get Ema to bring us some food, eat in bed, and chill. But we are going to be talking.”

  Jet doesn’t fight it anymore and reaches back to pull his shirt over his head.

  I run my lips along his stomach, leaving light kisses as I go.

  “Again, if you wanna talk, you might want to stop doing that.”

  “Just because this isn’t leading to sex, that doesn’t mean I can’t show you what I want. I want to kiss you, and touch you, and worship the goddamn ground you walk on. I don’t want to be your distraction, Jet.”

  “What do you want to be then?” he croaks.

  Your everything.

  I can’t say that to him, though. Not when he’s this edgy. I don’t want to push him too far either way. Begging him to be with me will either make him run away or choose me out of guilt or feeling pressured.

  “I want to be the guy you can turn to. Whenever you need me.”

  “Unless it’s hockey season,” he says dryly.

  “We can still video chat, call, and text.”

  “What do you mean still? We’ve never done that.”

  “Then we should. Three years ago, we walked away from each other because we knew it would be too hard to stay connected.”

  “It’ll still be hard.”

  “But it’ll be worth it.”

  “Maybe.” Jet sighs. “I’m tired.”

  I pull on his arm. “Come on. Lie down.”

  He climbs into bed next to me, and we slip under the sheet. Jet’s lean body curls into my side.

  “I was going to stay in here anyway,” he says. “Luce is taking my bed.”

  “I’m thankful you’ve got someone looking out for you on the road.”

  “Me too. I just wish I hadn’t fucked up the other night by singing with that band. Then I could stay.”

  “You didn’t know you were being filmed. And even if you didn’t sing, you were drinking. According to Luce, you weren’t supposed to be doing that either. Either way, you would’ve been outed … err so to speak.”

  “I didn’t think. I should’ve kept up with the nodes lie to get out of it, but—”

  “But you belong on that stage and it’s hard to turn it off.”

  “Exactly.”

  I rub my hand down his arm and back up. “This isn’t your fault. It’s Harley who shouldn’t have demanded you fly halfway around the world again to go back to him. Do …” I bite my lip trying to pluck up the courage to ask what I really want to. “Do you think you’ll get back together with him?”

  “No.”

  Emphatic answer. That’s good.

  “I don’t want to. And I don’t know what he’s playing at. It’s like he wants to torture us both.”

  “Maybe he misses you and wants to be near you?”

  “Well, he’ll be surprised when I only turn up for my stage time and then bug outta there.”

  “Are you allowed to do that?” I ask.

  “Yep. Luce generally likes us to hang around until after the concert and meet backstage fans, but they’re there for Eleven, not us.”

  “You have fans. I’ve seen how rabid they can be on social media.”

  “They’re great, but we’re still building a brand. We weren’t an overnight success like Eleven. We’ve had to work and put our blood, sweat, and tears into getting where we are.”

  “Blood?”

  Jet laughs. “Totally. One day, Benji and I were roughhousing during a creative session, and we were bored because the inspiration wasn’t there. He’s this big Aussie guy, you know?”

  “I remember from that night in Tampa.”

  “Yeah, so there’s me, all five ten wispy me, trying to overpower him. He was barely using any strength, and I was going all out. We were wrestling on the floor, and somehow, I still don’t even know how, I threw him off me, and he rolled and smashed his nose on the end of the coffee table. Blood everywhere.”

  The reminder that Jet’s had this whole amazing life since that night we met makes the regret so much worse. Maybe breaking his bandmate’s nose isn’t amazing, but it’s a great anecdote.


  I’ve never been the type of guy to have the fear of missing out. I’ve done what I wanted, gone where I wanted, and haven’t worried about what I missed. When Bryce would go to gallery openings and art exhibitions and all those other places where his friends would make me feel like a dumb jock, I never got upset when he told me I could stay home or if I had a game and couldn’t go. I didn’t get jealous when he’d come home and tell me what happened.

  But right now, as stupid as it sounds, I wish I’d been there for Jet and Benji hanging out.

  Jet’s still laughing when I blurt out, “I’m jealous.”

  “Jealous?” he asks incredulously. “I mean, we could wrestle, and I can accidentally break your nose too if you want.”

  I shake my head. “Not of that. I’m jealous of the life you have and the people who get to be around you all the time.”

  “I can tell you now, there’s nothing to be jealous of. I have some close friends, and it’s amazing I get to experience that life with them, but … until Harley … it was miserable being on tour with no one real to share it with.”

  Share it with me, I want to say, but we both know that can’t happen. Preseason training starts in eight weeks. His tour still has three months left.

  Jet stares at the same ceiling I was staring at not ten minutes ago with the same contemplative gaze. “I’ve always dreamed of someone who’s mine waiting for me offstage. He’d give me a kiss as soon as I’d finish my set even if I’m sweaty and gross. He’d be there for me. Not for the fame. Not for the public exposure of being with Jay from Radioactive … He’d be there just for me.”

  The words tumble out of my mouth without proper thought. “I want to be that guy.”

  Jet’s response is expected. “You can’t be. Hockey.”

  “I can be for a little while.” My breathing stalls, and my heart beats erratically. “Take me with you. I’ll be that guy for you until I have to report back to New Jersey.”

  He’s hesitant, but I can see he’s truly contemplating it.

  “I don’t mean to put you on the spot, and you can say no. I just … I don’t want this to end yet. I’m not ready to let you go, and you know I love seeing you on stage.”

  “You’d … do that? You don’t have, like, LGBTQ sports stuff you have to do? And commitments?”

  “I may technically be the first out NHL player, but Ollie’s story became bigger than mine because he was dating a sports reporter. When I decided to come out, I did it so I could live a normal life without worry. I didn’t want to be some gay icon. I knew that came with the territory, but Ollie saved me from becoming that guy. And I’m not a player with a huge amount of endorsement deals, and that’s the way I like it too.”

  “I dunno … I’m not sure putting you and Harley in the same vicinity is a good idea. I’ve always felt connected to you, and I was trying to convince myself this means nothing. That I could have fun and not get attached. But that’s the problem I’m facing, Caleb.”

  “Uh-oh. You first-named me.”

  Jet doesn’t even crack a smile. “What if you walk away from the tour in two months and I’m even more heartbroken and lonely than I am now?”

  “Aww, baby.” I caress Jet’s skin along his back and pull him closer.

  I’ll never say it out loud because he’d want to kick my ass for suggesting it, but underneath Jet’s sarcastic confidence is a precious boy wanting to be loved.

  I’ve known loneliness. I’ve lived it. Being on the road for up to eight months of the year is hard enough. Doing it as a closeted athlete is even worse.

  I lived with the constant fear my entire world would reject me. Surrounded by an entire hockey team, plus coaches, and all the staff that work for the NHL, you wouldn’t think I could get lonely, but the thing about having a giant secret hanging over your head is you’re never truly with people. You co-exist alongside them and that’s about it.

  It’s the loneliest existence I’ve known.

  “I understand,” I say. “More than you’ll ever know. Take me with you.”

  Jet pauses but I feel the moment the fight leaves him. He sinks into my arms. “Guess we’re gonna have to tell my brothers.”

  Ah. Yeah. That.

  Even though I’ve wanted Jet to tell them, knowing it’s gonna happen already has my face aching from the possible punches thrown.

  Maybe Matt punches me so hard, the pain ripples through time and space and hits me in the past. Which is right now.

  I need to be prepared for worst-case scenarios here.

  “Then let’s do it,” I say, proud I can keep my tone even.

  “Tomorrow. Right now, I want to fall asleep in your arms.”

  “We’ll miss dinner.”

  “I don’t care,” he says already half-asleep.

  I kiss the top of his head.

  Jet’s laughter has never sounded so mocking which is saying a lot. “You look like you could puke.”

  “Not at all,” I lie. “I wanted to tell them, remember?”

  “Still doesn’t mean you’re not scared.” Slowly, Jet approaches from the other side of the cabin and runs his hands over my chest and shoulders. “It’s cute you’re nervous, but it’s not like you’re ‘meeting the parents.’ They’re your friends. They’ll be happy for us. And if they’re not, I’ll throw a giant hissy fit and create a diversion so you can run away.”

  “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever offered to do for me.”

  Jet stares down at my crotch. “That can’t be true. I’ve offered many sweet things.” He rubs my cock over my shorts, and I grab his hand to stop him.

  “Nothing to do with my cock has ever been sweet, and you can’t get me hard right now when we’re about to go tell everyone about us.”

  This makes Jet smile more. “I like it when you’re grumbly.”

  When footsteps sound on the deck, Jet moves away from me. That alarm system is coming in handy with this whole secretly hooking up thing.

  At the door, though, is Luce.

  “He here?” he asks.

  I step aside, letting him in.

  “How was your night?” Luce asks Jet.

  “Horrible. I had to spend it wrapped up in that.” He gestures to my body. “Feel sorry for me!”

  “You poor thing,” Luce says sarcastically. “You live such a hard life.”

  “I know, right? But anyway, we have some news. Soren’s coming with us.”

  Luce’s gaze snaps to mine and then flits between Jet and me. “You’re coming on tour?”

  “I am. But I need to be back in Jersey in September.”

  “September,” Luce murmurs and purses his lips. “Okay. We can work with that. It’s actually kind of genius. And the label will love it. Harley has a beard. You having one too should calm the rumors.”

  “I’m not a beard,” I point out and look to Jet for him to confirm that.

  Instead, he grabs Luce’s arms and jumps excitedly. “You want to come to breakfast with us? We’re gonna tell my brothers that I’m fucking Soren. There might be bloodshed.”

  “You said they won’t care,” I say.

  “Well, I mean, I believe my exact words were they shouldn’t care.”

  “Great. Just great.”

  Jet entwines our fingers and drags me out the door. “You’ll be fine. I promise. Besides, you’re a hockey player. You’re used to taking punches, right?”

  “Uh, right.” I guess. I’m not a fighter on the ice. All hockey players are to a certain extent, but I’m not known for it.

  On the walk to the food hut, I keep telling myself that Matt didn’t flip out at the idea the other day. Sort of. He said he couldn’t see us together but didn’t ask me to stay away.

  “Is handholding too obvious of an announcement?” I lift our joined hands.

  “Hmm, probably.” Jet releases me.

  As we enter, all sounds stop.

  Literally.

  Either I’ve gone deaf or some phenomenon is happening where the world h
as turned mute.

  Then I get over my ego and realize the silence isn’t for me.

  “What’s the verdict?” Matt asks Jet.

  “I’m going back on tour.”

  There’s a round of apologies and “that sucks,” and then Jet looks at me.

  I nod.

  “There’s something else,” Jet says, his eyes still locked on mine. “Soren’s coming with me.”

  More silence.

  Talon, as if sensing the tension, goes for the joke. “What, like, as a backup singer?”

  “No, dancer,” Miller says. “Duh.”

  “No …” Jet waves me closer and puts his arm around my waist. Mine goes over his shoulders. “As my boyfriend.”

  Mouths drop open.

  My stomach does a flip at the boyfriend label.

  Matt, Noah, and Damon all try to glare me to death.

  Matt and Noah would be thinking about Jet’s well-being. Damon would be wondering what this will do to my public image.

  “Twenty bucks on Matt kicking Soren’s ass,” Maddox says. When the glares are then sent his way, he cocks his head. “Daddy’s ass? If Jet has to call Soren that, does that mean we do too?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumble.

  Jet laughs.

  Luce steps in. “The best way to keep Jet’s ex off his case and the label off his back is by throwing his new boyfriend in everyone’s faces.”

  “Oh, so it’s fake,” Matt says.

  Jet and I look at each other. I want him to be the one to tell them no—that this is real. That’s what I was offering last night when I suggested this. Not a beard or distraction for his label.

  “We kinda, sorta, might’ve, maybe hooked up three years ago and never told you guys,” Jet says. “And now we have this second chance, so we’re taking it.”

  A relieved whoosh leaves me. For a second there, I thought he was going to tell them that it will be just for show.

  “Three years …” Matt says. “Three years and neither of you thought to say anything? Didn’t think to say anything the other morning when I went to you and said, hey, Jet has a thing for you?”

  Jet glares at his brother. “Oh, thanks for that by the way. There’s nothing like big bro telling someone you’re sleeping with that you’ve got a ‘crush.’”