by Eden Finley
“You told him?” Matt booms at me.
“I was there,” Jet yells back.
“Awkward,” Maddox sings.
I wave my hands in front of me. “Okay, this is getting out of hand. Truth is, the night you guys came to my Stanley Cup final, I didn’t know who Jet was outside of his band. I didn’t know he was your kid brother, and stuff happened.”
Jet’s hand tightens around me. “Then I went on tour, and we haven’t really seen each other since until this trip.”
“And now you’re together?” Noah asks.
“Well, no, but we’re … dating?” Jet says and looks up at me.
It’s not how I’d describe it, but it’s not like serious boyfriend fits either. “I guess that’s the closest description.”
“They’re so fucking,” Maddox says.
Damon puts a hand across his boyfriend’s mouth. Thank God. “Stop trying to get the man killed.”
“Killed?” Matt leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his wide chest. “Not gonna kill anyone.” His voice is high-pitched and kind of scary. “Why would I need to kill anyone for keeping a secret for three fucking years?”
“That’s why you’re mad?” Ollie asks. “I thought it’d be that Soren’s sticking it to your little brother.”
I lean into Jet. “When do we leave for the tour? In the next six seconds might be a good idea.”
“It’s not like we’ve been dating for three years,” Jet says. “I didn’t realize I needed to inform you of all my hookups. Want me to write a list? According to the tabloids, I might need a whole legal pad.”
“When do you leave?” Matt says, still edgy but now trying to cover it better.
“I’ll handle it,” Luce says. “Most likely, we’ll be out of here this afternoon or tomorrow morning at the latest.”
We can’t leave right this minute?
Chapter Eighteen
JET
“He’s too old for you,” Matt says while I pack my bags.
“Say it louder. I don’t think he can hear you a hundred feet away.”
“He’s older than me.”
“This may come as a shock to you, big brother, but I’m an adult.” I gasp. “Fucking surprise! I grew up. And, as a side note? He’s only ten years older than me. I’ve been with guys ten years older than him.”
Matt puts his hands over his ears. “La-la-la-la-la.”
“Age doesn’t mean anything. Especially when you’re as immature as Soren. Or you, it seems.”
My brother looks confused. “He’s immature?”
“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe. He totally did a ‘that’s what he said’ joke the other day. I was so proud.”
“Stop talking about me. My ears are burning.” Soren appears on the steps leading to my hut. “And I’m not usually immature. Jet brings it out in me.”
“Because you’re too old for him,” Matt says.
“Fuck off,” I grumble at my brother. “Always with the babying. How the hell do you think you’re gonna do with an actual baby? Maybe you should worry more about that and less about me. I’ve been on my own for three years now. I can date who I want, and that includes any of your friends.”
“Is he my friend though?” Matt raises an eyebrow at Soren. “Isn’t bro code something like ‘Thou shalt not fuck each other’s siblings’?”
“In my defense, I fucked Jet before I was friends with you, so technically …”
Ooh, brave move, Soren.
Matt steps closer. “We want to get into technicalities? Like how you technically lied to me for three years?”
“Put your dicks away before you start a pissing contest, okay?” I turn to Soren. “Babe. Go finish packing.” I turn to my brother. “This is happening. Deal with it.”
Matt throws his hands up. “Fine.”
Soren kisses my cheek. “Fine.” He lowers his voice. “I like it when you’re bossy.”
“And I like it when I can’t hear shit like that,” Matt says.
Soren ignores him as he leaves.
“You’re going to have to get over this. You know that, right?”
Matt waves me off. “I know. And I will. I’m more pissed at the secrecy than you two being together.”
“Then what’s all the age talk?”
“An easy shot?”
“It is pretty easy.”
Matt’s brow scrunches. “The more I think about it, the more his behavior makes sense. I always thought he was semi-distant all these years because that was just him or maybe because Bryce was influencing him. Now I reckon it was because of what happened with you.”
“He’s a great guy. He cares about me, and he understands my music the way I wish all my fans would.”
“And what’s going to happen when he has to go play hockey?”
“He goes to New Jersey, and I finish off the tour.”
“Then you’ll be recording again and setting up the next tour. What kind of relationship is that?” He’s not saying anything I don’t already know, but it pisses me off all the same.
“That’s for me and Soren to work out. Not you.”
“You know if he hurts you, we get to kick his ass.”
“Yes, yes, you’re all big badasses who are violent and scary and fighty.” I pat his cheek.
“JJ …”
There was a reason I didn’t let the label make my new name JJ. It’s what my brother calls me. Matt was my protector growing up. He fed us, looked after us, and I know it’s natural for him to worry about me.
“Matt, I’ll be fine. Soren won’t hurt me.”
He can’t. He promised.
After an over-the-top goodbye with hugs all around from the guys, Joni drops Soren, Luce, and me at the airport to do the long-ass trip to the States. The flight to Fiji wasn’t too bad because we had just finished the Asian leg before we were supposed to kick off the US tour.
Soren’s presence by my side the whole way both eases my mind and makes me edgy.
I want him with me.
I love how he looks at me and the way we are with each other.
I wish Fiji could have lasted longer to explore this thing between us, because bringing him into my real life is going to add pressure I don’t need.
And then there’s Harley.
When I’m away from him, I can pretend I’m strong. Either I’m really good at being in denial or he has some sort of hold over me in person because when I don’t have to see him, I’m convinced I’m over him.
But I’ve been there before. All it would take is for him to turn up at my door, looking so damn broken, and I’d let him back into my life and my heart.
Soren shifts in his first-class bed, waking up from a long sleep on the plane.
His hypnotic amber eyes and that smile that makes him look boyish have me asking “Harley who?” which also scares me.
How will I handle both of them in one place?
Luce has already talked about running interference for us. We have a team of roadies, personal assistants, and a backup band to keep Harley away from us, but I don’t hold too much faith. They were trying to do that the last few months, but we still found a way.
Maybe now that it’ll be one-sided, it’ll be easier to keep us apart.
“You didn’t sleep?” Soren asks, his voice raspy.
“Not tired.”
I don’t tell him the only time I’ve slept more than a few hours in the last three years has been at home in New York, visiting with Matt, or the nights I’ve spent wrapped around him.
He reaches over and holds my hand while he puts his bed back into the seat position. “It’s no private plane but still comfortable.”
Luce snorts behind us. “We might have found you a man as spoiled as you are, Jay.”
“NHL bucks,” I retort.
“I’m sure that’s chump change to rock stars.”
I shrug. “I never see any of the money. We were given a black Mastercard and the label takes care of it all.”
“You don’t know how much money you have?”
“I have my own accountant. He knows that stuff.”
Luce leans in. “Let’s just say, ever since ‘Someone Else’s Perfect’ went multi-platinum for Eleven, Jay doesn’t have to worry about money for the foreseeable future. You know, unless he pisses off his label by pretending to have nodes and gets sued.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I fucked up. That’s why we’re here.” I gesture around the plane.
“Getting nervous?” Soren asks.
“About Harley? Nah.” About what I’ll do when I see Harley? Yeah.
“Just remember I’m here for you, whatever you need. If you need me to be a friend or you need that escape you wanted … I’m here for you.”
My tongue feels thick in my mouth.
No one has ever treated me with the kind of respect Soren has since landing in Fiji, and doesn’t that say something about me? Or maybe it says more about the people I hang around with and date.
Even Harley was known for being selfish—somehow always turning the topic around to himself.
Like this one time when I was being interviewed by some teen magazine and they’d quoted me saying some bullshit about being able to be persuaded by the other side if the right girl came along when I’d said it sarcastically and then mouthed off about how that’s not how gay works. Yet, the article still made it sound like I was bi or pan, which there’s nothing wrong with, but I was pissed she’d purposefully mislabeled me. To get more clicks online, to build controversy, I don’t know, but the point is, when I was losing my shit over that article, Harley was there telling me about the time some other interviewer basically screwed him over years ago and how they almost fucked up his entire career.
Not helpful to my situation at all.
In a selfish world, voices get drowned out by everyone trying to out-woe each other.
Soren isn’t like that. In fact, apart from a few comments about Bryce, he hasn’t spoken much about himself at all.
Now who’s the selfish one?
“Tell me about hockey,” I say.
He looks confused. “What do you want to know?”
“What made you want to be a hockey player?”
Soren’s face turns derisive. “Please, I’m Canadian.”
I laugh. “Okay, but not every Canadian makes it to the big show. What makes you special?”
“My dad was a coach. I’m sure the first shoes I ever wore were a pair of skates.”
“Oh, wow. Pressure.”
“Not really. I loved every minute of it. He could be hard on me, sure, and there were times when I wanted to quit, but I never would have. I love it too much.”
“How did he take it when you came out?”
Soren purses his lips. “It’s a bit of a sore spot. Both my parents had known or suspected. I came out to them when I was twenty-five. Dad only said I was smart keeping it quiet from the NHL but apart from that didn’t support or condemn it. He was sort of indifferent, and we don’t talk about it. Mom was great. So was my sister. She’s the one who dragged me to Noah’s benefit that night the first time I saw you on stage.”
“Ah. So I have your sister to thank for turning you into my very first fanman.”
“Grace would love to meet you.”
Okay, I didn’t mean we should jump to that.
Soren laughs. “You look terrified. We can wait for the sisterly introduction. But just think, what if she hadn’t been visiting or didn’t make me go to that benefit? We might not be here now.”
I don’t want to even think about that, because even though Soren and I have danced around each other ever since we met, and I’ve been hesitant and holding back this Fiji trip, I couldn’t be more thankful for him now.
We talk more about Soren’s family and his life until we land at LAX.
Focusing on him is a good way to keep my mind off everything, but now, arriving back in the States, there’s no fighting the inevitable.
Starting with the paparazzi waiting for us curbside next to what is no doubt our chauffeured Escalade.
“Couldn’t have ordered a normal-sized car?” I ask Luce.
An Escalade basically screams famous person. Chances are, the paps don’t know who they’re waiting for, but once they see me, it’s gonna be question after question about the tour and the “fight” with Eleven, which is the story mainstream media is running with.
“Joystar’s fault,” Luce says. “Here.” He hands me his sunglasses.
Soren gives me his ball cap.
It doesn’t help.
“You get Jay in the car,” Luce says to Soren. “I’ll put the bags in the back.”
The driver helps him, and I’m quick to climb into the backrow seat, but that doesn’t stop the shouts or cameras going off.
“Jay, why did Radioactive leave the tour?”
“Jay, is it true you got into a fight with Blake from Eleven, and they asked you to leave the tour?”
“Are you going into rehab?”
“Are you really sick?”
I don’t answer any of them.
Soren shuts the door behind him, but the flashes keep going off even though they’d only get reflections from the tinted windows.
Luce opens the door on my side and takes one of the two seats in front of us.
“Okay, I’ve never had that many paparazzi after me. Not even after I came out,” Soren says.
“See. I’m a real celebrity. You’re just an athlete.”
“Not anymore,” Luce says. “It’s going to take them three point two seconds to figure out who he is, and then they’re going to want to know why a hockey player is with us.”
I didn’t even think about that side of things. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
Soren reaches for my hand. “It’s okay. I did. And it’s not like I’m completely new to all this. It’s just on a much bigger scale.”
Luce is on his phone, scrolling through something. “Okay, first stop is Joystar headquarters to grovel and talk about when we’ll be rejoining the tour. Then home. Benji and Freya are already there.”
“Home?” Soren asks.
“The band owns a place in the Hollywood Hills,” Luce says.
“We bought it as a reward for hitting our first number one.”
“And you all live there?” Soren asks.
“When we’re in L.A. yeah, we live together. It’s rare though. Benji and Freya go home to see Freya’s family in New York a lot.”
“You don’t go with them?”
I share a look with Luce and wonder how much I should say. “Not so much this past year, no.” Because when we haven’t been on tour, I’ve stayed in L.A. with Harley. That remains unsaid.
My life in L.A. almost feels foreign to me. It’s not my real home. I always see Noah and Matt’s place in New York, or even their Chicago penthouse, as home.
Home has always been people, not a place, so L.A. feels as empty as when I left it, but when I look at Soren, that same sensation that hit me that night he came to see me perform in Tampa is back.
He’s a piece of home and sets me at ease.
I reckon I’m gonna need that to see Harley again.
Chapter Nineteen
Soren
Okay, I’ve stepped off a plane and right into the chaos that is Jet’s real life.
There are more paparazzi outside of Joystar Records when we arrive.
“Don’t say anything,” Luce says. “Just get inside.”
When I exit the car, questions are thrown to Roman, and I can only assume they think I’m Roman Josi. I pause in my steps.
Just leave it.
Roman and I get mixed up all the time. We’re used to it. Still, it’s annoying.
Jet slams into my back. “Keep going.” That’s when he hears it too. He grabs hold of my hand and drags me toward the building, but he gives a backward glance. “Do your research, boys. Wrong hockey player.”
More flashes and yelling, and we don’t get a
break from it until we’re safely inside where the paparazzi can’t go.
What have I gotten myself into? This is just the beginning.
The question rings through my head, but with one look at Jet, I’m reminded of why I’m doing this.
I still don’t know how things will work when I go back to hockey or even how long I’m still going to be playing. Perhaps Jet and I owe it to each other to take a few more years—him to experience all the success and me to retire.
But ever since the second he stepped off that helicopter in Fiji, all I’ve been able to think is this is our chance, and I’m going to take it—paparazzi, ex-boyfriends, and record labels be damned.
I follow Jet and Luce into the elevator, and we go up to the top floor.
When Luce points us toward a waiting room, he goes to speak to the receptionist.
“Sorry about that,” Jet says. “I figured the paps should get their facts straight.”
“I’m sure Roman is thankful.”
“They should put you on the same team and call you twins. Ooh, you could swap jerseys and confuse people.”
I laugh. “Thanks, but I have no desire to play for Nashville.”
Jet’s face falls. “Yeah, that’d be one way for me to dump your ass faster than you can say daddy issues.”
“I know about your shitty family back in Tennessee. Your brother has talked about it some—mainly, how your parents basically sold Wade to Matt so he would pay off their debts.”
Jet looks away and folds his arms. “Hey, at least they thought Wade was worth something. They threw me out and didn’t care where I ended up.”
Stepping forward, I wrap myself around him, and he buries his head on my chest. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“It’s fine. I get the last laugh, right? They never supported me, so fuck them. They’re not going to see a dime of my money. I don’t know why Matt bothers with them.”
I have a fair idea—that Matt being the oldest, he feels obligated to provide where their parents can’t—but I understand the subject is touchy, and now’s not the time to dwell on it. Jet has some groveling to do with the label execs.
