by Eden Finley
“It’s not a big deal. The media wasn’t interested in me and Bryce because he was a no one. It’ll be different with you, and I’m only contracted for this season, so it’s just Damon being his usual cautious self. He’s worried about how it could affect next season’s contract negotiations.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I never would’ve let you get tied up in my media bullshit.”
Soren approaches and wraps his damn arms around me, making me melt into him. “I chose to be here. It’s okay.”
“What if you don’t get another contract because of this?”
“I will.”
“What can I do to make it better? We can tell everyone we’re fucking around instead of trying to push some loved-up relationship on them.”
Soren runs a hand through his hair. “That might be worse.” He pulls me down so we’re sitting on the end of the bed. “So, everyone knows there are all those puck bunny sites and single guys pop up there all the time partying with different girls. This is seen as relatively acceptable by the teams and the NHL in general because it’s always going to happen. What they don’t like to see is married guys on there. While they haven’t explicitly said it, they’ve hinted about not wanting me on such a site with guys.”
I frown. “I don’t understand.”
“Being gay in the league is scandalous as it is. Even three years after Ollie and I have come out. We have morality clauses in our contracts, and you saw what that did to your brother when photos leaked of him with some guy on his knees.”
“Meaning …”
“The NHL would probably rather me not date you at all or …” Soren lets me get to the conclusion myself.
“Or the opposite. Be in a fully-committed relationship.”
“But that is way too much pressure to put on us right now, and I don’t want to do that. So, we’ll play this by ear. See what happens. Damon and Luce can keep an eye on the media coverage for us.”
I don’t think that’s a good idea. “You know the media will run the story how they want to unless we control the narrative, yeah?”
“Control the narrative. Look at you talking PR lingo.”
“Ignoring that condescension. Take your shirt off.”
Cute lines appear on Soren’s forehead. “Media … narrative … shirt off … Yup, I’m not following that train of thought.”
“Trust me.” I reach back and pull my shirt over my head.
“Makes more sense now.” Soren follows. He goes to pull me against him again, but I don’t let him.
Instead, I reach for his phone and then climb behind him on the bed.
Wrapping my arms around his wide hockey shoulders, I stick my tongue out and take a selfie at the exact moment Soren cracks a smile at the camera.
I hit some buttons and post it to all his social media. Then I hand it back to him.
He looks at what I did and laughs. “Nothing beats waking up next to him. Hashtag official. Hashtag Disney love.” Soren bites his lip. “Disney love? Bit much, isn’t it?”
I kiss Soren’s cheek. His neck. “So, we’re exaggerating what we are. We know our truth. Let them believe whatever so long as it helps both of us.”
“Our truth. And what is that again? We kind of left Fiji without any real plan. Am I a friend helping you get through this tour? Are we boyfriends? Are we seeing if we’ll even survive a few weeks on the road?”
Shit. “Umm …”
“It’s okay if you don’t have an exact answer for me. If you tell me all you can handle right now is a friend to distract you, I’ll give it to you. I just want to know where we stand.”
“I don’t know what the rest of this tour is going to be like. Working with Harley again … it could be a disaster. I want this thing between us to work. I want to try … but fuck, my life’s a mess right now.”
“I don’t want to put more pressure on you than you need. Just know I want you. All of you. Whenever you can give that to me.”
“Do you think you can handle not having a definitive answer?”
“I can handle anything you throw my way, baby. I promise to be patient.”
Shifting around so I’m no longer behind him, I straddle Soren’s lap. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He kisses me softly. “Never.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Soren
I’m decked out with an all-areas pass as we’re led into KeyArena in Seattle. Jet’s edgy and kind of distant. I don’t know if this is what he’s like before a show or if it’s because the inevitable run-in with his ex is going to happen tonight.
I’ve walked into empty arenas and stadiums and ice rinks a billion times, and it seems the atmosphere is the same whether it’s set up for sports or a concert.
The ghosts of audiences past fill the space with phantom screams. Anticipation is built into the walls of this place and can be felt just passing through the corridors.
And as we hit the side stage area, I think I get the answer about Jet’s headspace.
The Eleven guys are rehearsing or doing soundcheck or whatever they call it, and Jet’s steps falter.
There’s a moment where the whole group of us—me, Luce, Marty, Freya, and Benji—freeze with him.
The guys onstage keep going, but Harley locks eyes with us.
He and Jet stare each other down, and even though animosity passes between both of them, I can’t help noticing the heartbreak and unresolved emotion there. With one intense look.
“Let’s go.” Jet stalks off, heading for backstage.
“That was more brutal than I thought it’d be,” Benji says.
Jet looks over his shoulder. “Heard that.”
Benji has a point though. That was more than brutal.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to react. I promised to be there for him even knowing he and Harley are in a completely different place than Bryce and me.
I have no reservations that breaking up was the right thing for us. I’m not sure Jet and Harley have reached that point.
And yeah, maybe I’m reading a hell of a lot into one look, but shit, their connection is fucking palpable.
“Babe?” Jet’s voice snaps me back to him, and my feet automatically follow.
We’re taken to a dressing room backstage, and Jet beelines it to a guitar case.
“My baby,” he coos and immediately takes it out. “I’ve missed you.”
“Should I be worried he’s never spoken to me like that?” I ask. “He’s been without it for, what, two days?” I haven’t seen it since arriving at LAX.
Benji claps my shoulder. “Yeah, you’ll need to give them a moment alone.”
“Hope you don’t mind sharing with his true love,” Marty adds. “I don’t want to know just how close he is with that guitar.”
“Fuck all y’all,” Jet says, but he’s smiling as he says it. He takes a seat in the corner and strums his guitar.
The riff is “He’s Mine.” Jet glances at me and winks.
The room has a living room setup with couches and a coffee table full of snacks and drinks.
I grab a water and take the seat closest to Jet. Freya and Benji cuddle up on the love seat, Luce disappears and says something about stage time, and Marty scrolls through his phone.
Roadies and stagehands come and go, and when someone new enters the room, Jet’s song freezes. It’s for less than a split second, but it’s every single time.
I grip his thigh and squeeze. He throws me a smile.
A voice comes from the doorway. “Couldn’t stay away, could you?”
I take a deep breath. Here we go.
But Jet’s face lights up at whoever it is.
I turn to find one of the other guys from Eleven.
Jet jumps out of his seat. “Ryder.”
“Ride her? I barely even know her!” Ryder smirks. His light-blue eyes shine in mischief.
He and Jet hug. Guess they’re close.
“So, what’s this about leaving the tour the
n not leaving the tour? You’re sick and now you’re not sick …”
Jet turns serious as he says, “What can I say? Apparently, your whole tour was fallin’ apart without the best fuckin’ opening act in the world. Had to come save your asses.”
Ryder laughs. “Well, I’m happy you’re back even if others might not be.”
“Others?”
Ryder avoids Jet’s gaze. “I’m guessing Harley cutting out of soundcheck early had something to do with you guys turning up?”
“He left?” Jet asks.
Ryder nods.
The tension seeps out of Jet’s shoulders as he relaxes.
Ryder sees it too because he scoffs. “Typical Harley.”
“Typical?” Jet asks.
“You know him when he doesn’t get his way. And I think forcing you to come back instead of letting you go was the ultimate temper tantrum.” Ryder glances at me. “Bringing that with you was the perfect counter move.”
“That is Soren.” Jet playfully shoves him.
I shrug. “I’m cool with being treated like a plaything.”
Everyone laughs at me, and then Jet’s right there, climbing into my lap.
“Let’s get one thing straight. You’re not just a plaything.”
“Aww, thanks.”
“Let me finish. You’re not just a plaything. You’re my plaything.”
“I’m here to look pretty,” I say.
“Good boy.” He pats my head like I’m a golden retriever, and I don’t even care.
I lower my voice. “I would say isn’t that my line, but then all the Daddy jokes will start again.”
Jet pats my cheek. “Oh, babe. That implies they stopped.”
“You’re lucky you’re adorable.” I pull his face down to mine and kiss him, ignoring the groans from everyone in the room about PDA.
Jet’s tongue teases my lips before he pulls away.
“When you’re done with all the kissy face, soundcheck,” Luce says from the doorway.
“I’d rather stay here,” Jet says.
I kiss his cheek. “Go. Get to work.”
Marty stands. “Come on, Soren. I’ll take you to where you can watch.”
I follow him back through a million corridors, and then we come out a door beside the stage.
“You’ll be able to watch the show from here tonight too,” Marty says. “It’s a better view than from the side of the stage, but it’s up to you.”
“I don’t care either way. I just love watching him.”
Like right now. All that’s happening is he’s being fitted with earpieces, and I can’t tear my eyes away.
“Aww, you guys are so cute.”
“Thanks.” I side-eye him. “You and Luce make a good team.”
“We just know how to handle Jay. The job itself is brainless.”
Luce appears behind us, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. “Brainless for you.” He glances at me. “Marty was a molecular engineer in a past life.”
“Whoa, no way.”
“I’ll go back and finish my PhD one day, but until then, I’ll pretend to be Luce’s assistant instead of the real brains behind this band.”
Luce kisses the top of Marty’s head in the same way I would do to Jet if Jet said something similarly egotistical.
“You gave up your PhD to follow the band around the world?” I ask.
“Yep.” Marty doesn’t appear at all upset over that. “I mean, if we want to get technical, I did it so I could be with Luce, but the band is a huge part of my life. Has been since before I even met Luce or Jay.”
“Marty played ‘He’s Mine’ for me, and it made me want to rep the band.”
I can’t help smiling. “That’s the song that made me fall for Jet—er, Jay before I even met him.”
Marty’s whole face lights up. “Me too!”
“Marty had a huge crush on your man.” Luce grins.
“Until I met Luce.” Marty winces and holds his hands up. “Please don’t hit me.”
I laugh. “I’m not a violent guy. Or all that jealous.” Well, not a lot jealous.
“You play hockey, though,” Luce says.
“Okay, I’m a little violent, but only on the ice. And barely even then. We have enforcers for a reason—they know how to fight.”
Marty assesses me. “Note to self. Don’t leave the hockey player in a room where Harley can get to him. He doesn’t know how to fight.”
“Oh, I can definitely hold my own if I have to.” Not that I’ll have to with Jet’s ex … right?
Before I can ask about the chances of that happening, Jet’s guitar interrupts our conversation.
Then he’s there at the mic, his hypnotic voice hitting my ears, and even though it’s only a soundcheck, he brings the magic that is one hundred percent Jet.
Marty says something, but I don’t hear it.
“What?” I ask, not taking my eyes off Jet.
He says something again that I miss, but I don’t miss him turning to Luce and saying, “We lost Soren.”
Yeah, they did.
Nothing can beat watching Jet on stage.
Not a crowd of hockey fans screaming my name.
Not scoring a goal or even a hat trick.
Jet in his element is everything.
“Thank you, Seattle!” Jet yells into his mic.
His audience screams. They really are his. He has everyone captivated.
During the band’s whole set, the crowd has gone nuts for him and Benji. The entire stadium is full of fans. They may be here to see Eleven first and foremost, but they love Radioactive too. It’s obvious. This was what Jet told me was his dream that first night we spent together.
He has worked his ass off for three years to get here.
“I know y’all are waitin’ for Eleven to come out here.” His Southern accent is more pronounced onstage than off, and yeah, that’s adorable too.
Did I mention all those screaming fans are teenage girls? I hold my ears as they become even louder at the mere mention of the main event.
“But we’ve got one more song for you.”
A roadie goes on stage with a stool, and Jet takes a seat.
“Everyone’s been wonderin’ why we disappeared last week, and the truth is, I had to pick somethin’ up in Fiji.”
Wolf whistles ring out, and Jet’s loving it just as much as the fans are loving him.
“I’m sure all y’all know who Caleb Sorensen is by now. Apparently, we’re trendin’, baby.” He glances at where I am down in the front but off to the side. I feel all seventeen thousand pairs of eyes on me. “And this one’s for you.”
Jet breaks into a slow, acoustic rendition of “Hat Trick Heartbreak,” turning the upbeat song into Jet’s style of anguish that cuts deep. When he hits the chorus, he picks up the pace, and the backing band joins in, kicking into the original version.
If it wasn’t such a shitty reminder of what I did to him, I’d be able to enjoy it to the fullest, but like it always does, this song haunts me, and guilt takes over.
“This was Radioactive’s first number one,” Marty says in my ear.
“I know.”
“Then stop looking like he’s singing your obituary. This”—he gestures around the stadium—“Jay owes all of this to you.”
“Doesn’t make me feel any better about inspiring that.” I point to the stage as Jet belts out the line about me being nothing but his heartbreak.
Then Jet makes eye contact with me again, and he smiles.
“Just don’t break his heart again,” Marty says. “Come with me. He’s about to finish up and come offstage.”
I follow him to the backstage area just in time for Jet to end his set.
I’m reminded of what he said back in Fiji. He wants someone waiting for him after his concerts.
I hold out my arms.
“I’m all sweaty.” He ditches his earpiece and mic, handing it to a stagehand.
“Don’t care.” I remember that was a
stipulation too.
Jet wants someone who’s with him for him. Not for his music or the fame but for him.
He pauses only for a second before jumping into my arms and kissing the fuck outta me.
I groan into his mouth and pull back. “You were amazing, Jay.”
“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head. “Everyone else calls me Jay. I don’t want to hear that name on your lips.”
“Whatever you want, Jet.”
“That’s better.” He kisses me again and takes my hand as we’re ushered with the rest of the band back to the dressing room.
I go for the couch, but Jet doesn’t let me sit.
He pulls me through to the bathroom and shuts the door behind us. The lock clicks in place, and Jet’s expression is downright devilish. “I like my plaything being on tour with me.” He shucks off his sweaty shirt.
“That should make me feel cheap, and maybe I should care, but I don’t.”
Jet laughs. “Good. Now hurry up and get naked.”
“Mmm, you think you’re the one in charge here?”
“Yep. My tour, my rules.”
“Your tour?” I grab Jet’s wrist and spin him so he’s facing the wall and then pin his hands above his head. My free hand trails down his back and lower. “But this is my ass, so I think I get to decide what to do.”
Jet pushes back into me. “Fine, but whatever you’re gonna do, just fucking do it.”
“I love how you don’t even dispute that your ass is mine.”
“Why would I do that when all I’ve been thinking about all night is jumping off that stage and having you take it?”
I flatten my body against his and reach around to undo the button on his tight leather pants. “Performing does it for you, eh?”
Jet turns his head. “You watching me perform does it for me. I could feel your eyes on my every move.”
“I can’t help it when you’re onstage.” Or when he’s off it, really.
Jet’s presence turns me into someone I don’t even know. I’m filled with a need to claim and possess him like some caveman.
I always used to roll my eyes at guys like that because I never understood it.
And then Jet happened.
I struggle with his pants. “Are these things painted on?”
