by Van Barrett
And, sure enough, a few minutes later, I got the e-mail. I hit print and the printer noisily went to work, spitting out page after page.
“Jeez, what is that?” Lane asked.
“Oh, a document,” I said, grinning. I was terrible at keeping secrets. Thankfully, I'd only had to keep this one for a few minutes.
“A document,” Lane repeated. “From who?”
I shrugged. “My agent, Pete.”
“Oh! Shit!” Lane's spine stiffened and Deke jumped off his lap in a hurry. “Are you about to sign a contract right now?”
I pulled out a pen and put my signature on the last page. Lane anxiously sat on the couch, waiting to hear word of our future.
“Am I gonna like this or not like it, River?”
“I think you'll like it. We'll still be apart, but remember, it's only for a year until you move in.”
I sat next to Lane and handed him the contract. His eyes scanned it quickly.
“Minnesota!?”
“Yup.” I nodded. “Not the fastest drive across the state, but it's a pretty short flight. And when I'm making that much,” I pointed out the seven-figure dollar amount on the contract, “I'll happily fly you out there when we're both free.”
He jumped into my arms and hugged me.
“I'm so happy for you, River! And for us.”
“Me too, bud. I can't wait to get started.”
###
the end.
Epilogue:
The Years to Come
Lane milled back and forth in the Minnesota Wild's VIP section, waiting for River to emerge from the dressing room – freshly showered and looking handsome in his dapper suit, as always. His team had just won a shoot-out thriller in overtime. With two helpers on the Wild's only goals, River was named the #2 star of the game.
It was still October, and while the trees were turning yellow and dropping, River's third NHL season was only beginning.
Third season! Already! Lane thought. Man. The first two blew by so fast.
… And they sure had, that first year especially.
***
River's rookie year in the NHL, and Lane's senior year at UND, was a veritable whirlwind for both men, a turbulent push-and-pull of emotions.
To begin with, it seemed like the day River signed that NHL contract, everything changed. Like someone snapped their fingers and River was now an adult. Not just any old adult, but a legitimate famous athlete on a multi-million dollar contract, and with lucrative sponsorship deals being worked on by his agent.
The shift was immediate. It was nuts. From college star to professional star.
River's new hockey team, the Wild, told him they'd be having development camps within the week and he was expected to go. Of course, always the good soldier, River had no problem with that. He was beyond excited to start.
So, the same day River signed that contract, he started cleaning his apartment out. He gave away almost all his possessions on Craigslist – even his prized workout equipment. Flocks of Grand Forks folk showed up to take River's second-hand stuff. Not because they needed it, or could use it, but because word had spread on Facebook. And people wanted a memento for themselves; a small piece of River, something to remember him by.
With a sinking feeling in his heart while he watched River pack up his things, Lane could relate to that feeling.
Within a few days, River handed Deke over to Lane. And then Lane was driving River to the airport, wishing the drive didn't have to end. But it did, of course, and Lane had to fight back tears after he kissed River goodbye and watched him board that plane to Minneapolis.
Lane knew this first year was going to be a long one, and would make or break everything.
Lane trusted River – truly, he did, but he was also a worrier. He knew that River could have anyone he wanted, male or female. Not to say that Lane doubted River was gay, but … well, sexuality was fluid, wasn't it? Maybe River would realize he was bi, not gay. Surely women would continue to throw themselves at River, right? They wouldn't care if he was gay. Hell, they might even see him as a challenge: are you hot enough, irresistible enough to seduce the gay man? What a cruel twist of fate that'd be, huh!
So that first year, for Lane, was exhausting. He desperately wanted the year to be over before the first day of classes had even started. He hadn't felt that way since his senior year of high school, when he'd suffered from a serious bout of 'senioritis' and simply could not wait to get that high school diploma and move out to a totally new place: Grand Forks.
Back then, living in the dorms sounded like an amazing idea. Mainly because it was a new experience and living on your own, without adult supervision!, was so novel. Now, of course, you couldn't pay him to live in a 10x10 concrete box with a virtual stranger from Bettendorf, Iowa.
So those first few months absolutely crawled by. Lane was so ready for the next stage, it almost pissed him off that he still had to wait another year to move on. Couldn't he just be an adult?
But as the days passed, Lane had to begrudgingly admit, the waiting game became easier. Seeing River for the first time made it easier, too. That was huge, actually: it made the whole situation seem real in Lane's head; that there was indeed an end-point to the suffering. River wasn't just going to dump him now that he was an NHL star rookie. River was still his boyfriend. River was still human enough, still in love enough, to personally show up at the airport and to pick up Lane (and Deke, who always made the flight) and drive them both back to his place.
Lane and River got to see each other twice a month. Which wasn't nearly enough, but it was also way better than not at all.
Lane had a funny habit of coming with a prepared 'to-do' list of all the things he wanted to see and do as a couple in Minneapolis. It was only a 'funny habit' because that to-do list often went without a single item being crossed off. The two young lovers much preferred to spend too much of their time together in the bedroom, sucking & fucking, like a lot of long-distance lovers might when they finally find themselves together at last.
Not that Lane minded. The sex was incredible, the pillow talk was always sweet and wholesome and nourishing, and the talk about the future they shared, when they could finally be together at last, kept both men going.
And Lane always returned with a new to-do list.
River's rookie year went better than anyone could have expected. Despite his collegiate success, the NHL fans were more skeptical of River's talent. They'd seen and heard too many stories about young junior or college players who were supposed to come in and take the league over by storm … only for said player to not live up to the hype. Big players like River tended to physically dominate the college ranks, but then struggle when matched up against similarly large professional players.
So, somewhat surprisingly, River found himself entering his rookie year without the weight of the world's expectations. After a few scoreless games, in which River was “adjusting to the speed of the professional game,” River at last hit twine and scored his first NHL goal.
And from there, he only heated up. With every game, he gained more confidence and fan support. River quickly became a fan favorite – his play on the ice was an obvious draw. But so were his interviews. Fans loved his soft-spoken, open-hearted, and just a touch shy interviews. His #94 jersey quickly filled the stands as fans rushed to wear his name and number.
The same time River won his Calder Trophy for being voted the NHL rookie of the year, Lane earned a BA in psychology and a minor in journalism. River surprised Lane by making the graduation ceremony in Grand Forks; that's when River met Lane's extended family. They loved him, naturally.
And, after Lane's family went home, River surprised Lane once again by parking a 16' moving truck outside his apartment.
“What's this?” Lane said with a disbelieving laugh. “The motorcycle was definitely a sexier ride, River.”
“But I can't move your stuff to my place in Minneapolis on a motorcycle.”
“River! Really?
”
River scratched his head. He didn't understand why Lane should be surprised.
“Well yeah, man. We've been talking about this for a year!”
“Yeah … I know … but still! I can't believe it's happening!”
And so, just as fast as River had moved himself out of Grand Forks, he helped move Lane. Two days later, the two men parked the moving truck outside River's big, but still modest, house in White Bear Lake, Minnesota.
***
River and Lane's second year together was a lot smoother sailing than that first year.
River continued his life's work of fine-tuning his game and honing his physical conditioning to perfection. (Something Lane didn't mind one bit, thank you very much.) It didn't take long before River earned the trust of his coaches and teammates – which meant harder match-ups and more important minutes on the ice, all the while he was expected to score as he normally did. River, as always, thrived under pressure and soaked up the responsibility.
Lane's first priority – after filling the empty house River called home with furniture and plants – was putting that psychology degree to use. Lane quickly accepted a job at a high school, working as a guidance counselor.
It might not be his 'forever job,' as he liked to term it, but Lane loved his job regardless. He got to work one-on-one with kids who needed someone to talk to, someone they could trust and help them work through issues. Lane had a soft spot for kids who were struggling to learn how to navigate their way through the world; he remembered the feeling and wanted to help in any way he could.
Lane and Devon still worked on Bitch and Moan, too. They published weekly on their website, and maintained their loyal following that they'd built up during their Grand Forks years.
(Devon, for what it's worth, finally found her Mr. Right during her senior year. Not in class or at a bar, in fact; the two bumped into each other while getting their morning coffees at the local cafe. He asked her out on a whim, she said heck yeah, now they're married and expecting a baby. He works as a carpenter – somewhat surprising to Lane, since he always imagined Devon marrying some banker type. But then Lane understood when he actually met the guy: tall, jacked, a dark and permanent five o'clock shadow, and a hilariously witty guy who could make Dev laugh her head off … but also knowing when to be real and have a serious convo. Which is important. Guy's a heck of a carpenter too, apparently, if the glowing praise on his Facebook business page are anything to go by.)
Lane also continued to emerge as a budding hockey fan. He attended almost every home game, watching as River and his team continued to get better … but still fell short in the playoffs, a second year in a row. River was disappointed – but not too disappointed, since the team was still young and improving.
Besides, with the season over, River and Lane got to relax on their first official vacation together: the Swiss Alps. Their hotel 'room' was the entire top floor of the building – with an amazing view of Mt. Matterhorn.
The first night, the two went out for a romantic dinner; steak frites, red wine for Lane (he only drank on rare occasions now – River's habits had caught on!), and chocolate cake for desert.
River was acting kind of goofy all night. He couldn't stop smiling, for one. “Remember the first time you saw me wear this?” River asked, meaning his sweater: the white cashmere one that still fit him like a glove.
“Um, yes,” Lane laughed. “I couldn't wait to get my hands on it and see if it was real cashmere. And then … your motorcycle. Ahem. I got my hands on you, alright.”
River chuckled, too. “I knew you were copping a feel, dude.”
Lane sipped his wine. “You didn't seem to mind.”
“Hell no, I didn't. You know, if you'd made a move on me, you probably coulda had me that night.” River winked.
“Oh. Darn. See, you shouldn't tell me that.” Lane sawed off a piece of steak. “Because now I feel like I blew it.”
River laughed. “You didn't blow it. I think everything worked out pretty well in the end … don't you?”
“Yeah.” Lane thought it was rare for River to get so emotional over dinner, though. “Hey, what's gotten into you?” he asked.
“Nothing,” River said, but still he couldn't hide that grin. “Just glad to be on vacation with you, finally.”
Lane accepted the reasoning with a shrug.
But after a short, post-dinner stroll, the two returned to their hotel. Lane unlocked the door, stepped in, and immediately gasped. A trail of red rose petals adorned the hardwood floor. Hundreds, no, maybe even thousands of candles lined both sides of the path that led to the bed. The sight, and the heat from all those candles, was breath-taking.
“River!” Lane said after a delighted gasp. “You're so romantic.”
But when Lane got to the bed, there was another surprise waiting: River dropped to one knee and pulled a jewelry box from his trousers pocket.
“No way,” Lane laughed when the box popped opened and he saw the gold band. “No way.”
“Lane,” River grinned from ear-to-ear, “will you marry me?”
“Yes!” Lane shouted, hoisting River to his feet and immediately pulling him into bed.
***
Lane paced back and forth, toying with the gold band on his finger. Even though he'd worn it five months already, he still wasn't quite used to feeling it there. Not that he minded; it was a pleasant reminder of those amazing seven days they'd spent in the Alps. And, obviously, the fact that he and River planned to marry during the next summer.
At last, River emerged, his short hair still wet, and looking so fresh and clean and studly in his suit, as always.
“Hey there good lookin', great game.” Lane said as he neared.
The two hugged and, when the coast proved to be clear, allowed for a brief peck on the lips. They were always on the look-out for PDA, especially when they were anywhere near the arena. River's teammates knew he was gay, obviously, although it never came up. Which was how River liked it; he didn't want to be treated any differently because of who he was and what he liked.
“Thanks bud. You ready to go home?”
“Heck yeah!”
They made their way to the VIP parking. River loaded his gear into the back of their BMW coupe. After games, Lane liked to drive, and River liked to kick back and relax.
They climbed in and shut their doors. With tinted windows, PDA wasn't a concern. The two men leaned over the center console and shared in a proper kiss for lovers who hadn't seen each other for a few hours and were absolutely mad for each other.
But like most times they allowed their lips to touch, the passion only ignited something deeper and the wildfire tortuously spread. Soon, both men were short of breath and had racing hearts.
River managed to break away first.
“Gah. We have to get going.” He pointed at his lap. Even in the dark cabin, Lane could see the tower tenting his trousers. “'Cause you've got me way too worked up, dude.”
“You're so fucking sexy.” Lane shook his head, put the car in gear and drove off. “Can't wait to get you outta that suit, River Brame.”
A Word From Van Barrett
Hey! Thank you so much for reading!
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Also by Van Barrett
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Two straight guys. Seven Nights.
Months before graduation, Austin Rockwell makes a rare ‘mistake’ at a party. It’s the kind of innocent slip-up that a normal college guy could write off as a curiosity. But for the son of a prominent politician, it�
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Rugged and deep, Cedar Marten is as natural as the lush Minnesota north he calls home. The air’s fresh, the fishing’s great, and the girls can’t get enough of him. So why does he feel like something’s missing?
Before he jump-starts his career under his father’s watchful eye, Austin escapes to a lake resort to get his story straight. Will his burning but conflicted passions ignite when he meets the handsome and easy-going stud, Cedar? Would Cedar even go for a guy …?
***
Seven Nights is a 118,000 word stand-alone romance novel with a HEA. Narrated in past tense, dual first-person. No cliffhangers or cheating. Hot and steamy MM scenes are depicted. Contains light MF elements.
***
Read an excerpt of Seven Nights after the following teasers!
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