by Avon Gale
“Look. I don’t believe in sugarcoating shit or whatever it is people tell you to do to inspire today’s youth, because that just turns today’s youth into a bunch of spineless brats who think they know everything.” Coach Spence scowled. “And I hate that, Kennedy. I hate it. If I wanted to deal with that shit, I’d go be a coach for kid’s soccer. Fuck every single motherfucking parent at those games. I swear to God. Our youngest is some kind of soccer prodigy, and my wife won’t let me go to the games anymore, because I almost decked this little brat’s dad with a lawn chair.”
Ethan had absolutely no trouble imagining that.
“So here’s what you need to know. You’re slow as molasses out there, and I know you can skate better. So stop smoking so goddamn much. If you don’t? You’ll be like that tank disguised as a hockey player who pummeled you into the ice. You’re an enforcer, but you’re on my goddamn hockey team. So you play hockey. I don’t keep goons on the bench. So if that’s what you’re going to be, you’ll go be it somewhere else. You understand me?”
Ethan nodded. “Yes, Coach.”
Coach Spencer sighed. “I’m scratching you for the game tomorrow. And when we get back, you’re going to come in on two of your off days for conditioning. And you’re going to watch some goddamn game tapes of guys who played your role and played it well. Understand? Because you’re not the most talented player I’ve got… but you don’t suck.”
As compliments went, that wasn’t too bad.
“Now go get on the bus and don’t tell anyone I said a single nice thing to you. I’m gonna eat a sandwich and make ’em wait another twenty minutes. Get out of here.”
For a moment Ethan was envious of Coach Spencer’s kids. Something told him they’d never wonder what it was like to have a dad, even if their dad might embarrass the hell out of them for the rest of their lives.
The coach yelled at them all the way back to the hotel and then kept yelling when they got there too fast. He made the bus driver circle the block four times so he could finish.
When he finally stopped yelling, he sent them all to their rooms and to bed—no going out and definitely no going to the hotel bar to talk about what a dick their coach was.
“I didn’t know they had a bar in the Super 8,” Ryan muttered.
“Captain Sloan, there’s a time for you to be funny and there’s a time to shut the fuck up,” Spence said. “And I bet I don’t need to tell you what time it is. Besides, it’s a Best Western. Now go to bed.”
No one was in a good mood after that, so it probably wouldn’t have been a very late night even if they weren’t sent to their rooms. But Ethan wanted to see Riley, even though they both had roommates and it might just make things worse if they were in the same room.
Halley put a hockey game on, but it was a game between the Phoenix Coyotes and Florida Panthers, so neither of them cared about it. Halley took out his phone and left the sound on while playing Angry Birds, the ass. Ethan texted Riley.
Sorry i got everyone in trouble.
Riley’s response came back a few seconds later.
I want to shove you against a wall.
Ethan blinked, his face heating even if he wasn’t sure what Riley meant.
To beat me up ha-ha or calm me down?
His face didn’t get any less heated by Riley’s answer. He gave a quiet laugh.
Does it matter?
Ethan should have stopped sending Riley suggestive text messages, given he was already wound up. But apparently it wasn’t his night to be sensible.
No. But I don’t want you to be mad.
Ethan bit his lip. He felt like an idiot for sending that, but it was true.
I’m not mad. It was hot.
Oh. Well, then. Smirking, Ethan settled back against the headboard.
It was hot when you got mad too.
Riley’s response made him laugh out loud.
Even Brodeur hits his stick sometimes.
Maybe I’m a bad influence, Ethan sent.
That shouldn’t have been a goal, Riley responded.
Would you make me suck you off?
Ethan sent that because he didn’t want Riley thinking about the game, and because sending sexy text messages wasn’t as lame as he always thought it would be.
But he drew the line at calling it “sexting.”
Riley’s next reply was Do you really want to know what I want?
Ethan’s breath caught, but there was only one response to a dare like that, so he didn’t hesitate.
Yeah.
He stared at the screen for a long time, waiting for Riley’s text. It seemed to take forever.
I want to fuck you.
Oh. Ethan swallowed hard, stared at his phone, and flushed hot as he thought about Riley doing that to him. Part of him really liked the idea, and part of him didn’t. Blow jobs were one thing, but getting fucked…? It made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t sure he liked.
Was that what it felt like to be pressured for sex? Holy fuck. If any loser douchebag ever made either one of his sisters feel pressured to put out, Ethan would end the guy. No question. Ethan didn’t feel that way about Riley, of course, but he still wasn’t sure what he thought about… that.
It’s okay, Ethan.
Ethan looked down at the message from Riley and felt himself breathe again.
I know. Wish you were here. That was kind of sappy, but he did wish that.
Thanks for standing up for me, Riley sent.
Ethan looked at his phone for a long time. He was pretty sure he was in love with Riley Hunter. He wondered if he should tell him. If he said it first, that could totally be blow job leverage, right there. And Riley deserved it anyway, for coming up with “I want to fuck you” during a text exchange that was entirely about blow jobs.
Predictably Ethan was then distracted by the thought of blow jobs. Which meant that when he went to text Riley back, he wasn’t thinking. He meant to send something playful, easy, like “Anytime.”
Instead he texted back, Count on it.
Ethan sighed and leaned up to turn off his light. Good job, idiot. You might as well have put a little heart after it.
Oh, well. No one had ever accused him of being subtle.
Chapter Eleven
“ARE YOU really mad that I didn’t tell you about my Christmas plans?” Riley asked as the plane began its descent. Ethan was certain that Riley was asking him just to distract him from the fact they were landing. Even in their comfy, roomy first-class seats, Ethan still hated that part.
“You mean, am I mad I heard you telling Sloany and Becker you didn’t have Christmas plans and were going to stay in our apartment by yourself?” Ethan hit him in the arm. “Yes, asshole.”
“I didn’t want you to feel like you had to invite me home with you,” Riley said. He leaned back against the seat. “Which is what you did.”
“Of course it was,” Ethan said, gripping his armrests. Fucking airplanes. He almost wished they’d decided to drive after all.
When he heard Riley say that he wasn’t going anywhere, Ethan had told him that he could come home with him—and did he mind doing some driving to get there? Because by the time Ethan tried to book his flight home for the holidays, they were all so expensive that he couldn’t afford it.
Riley’s parents, his younger sister, and her boyfriend were going to the south of France for the holidays, so Riley couldn’t borrow the family plane. Ethan would rather drive, because a small plane felt more dangerous than a large one and besides, he’d die if he showed up at home in a private plane. But it was cool to think about, because it made him feel like Tony Stark. Although he’d rather just have that Iron Man suit and fly himself. Since both of those options were out, Ethan’s great idea was that he and Riley drive to New York.
If they took Riley’s car, they could spring for a hotel room or two and not have to sleep at a rest stop. His mom wasn’t pleased to hear Ethan’s plan, and told him about a show she’d watched about teenage runaway
s who were kidnapped and had their fingers cut off. That was the plot of the last season of The Killing, but Ethan didn’t bother pointing out that he knew that. It didn’t even seem to make Maura Kennedy feel better to know that Riley would be there, too.
Despite never having met Riley, Ethan’s mom thought of Riley as the responsible one. But she still hated the idea of them driving. Ethan hadn’t told his mom that Riley was his boyfriend. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing you should spring on your mom over the phone. Much better to do it when you were home for Christmas, in front of your whole family. Way more dramatic—which was the Kennedy way.
Two days after springing the “we’re driving home” plan on his mom, Riley skated up to Ethan at practice and said, “Hey, Kennedy.”
“Hey, Hunter.” Ethan tapped his stick on the ice. “I’m going to score three, four goals on you today. Ready?”
“You’re not scoring a goal on me.”
“Now that you said that, I’m totally going to.”
Riley crossed his arms and looked fierce and hot in all his goalie gear. “You can say it all you want, but you won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you never score on me.”
Ethan leaned in and said in a low voice, “I did last night.” He winked.
Riley rolled his eyes. “Not twice, though. Do better.”
“I’m about due for a hat trick,” Ethan agreed. “What’s up?”
“I did something and you’re going to be mad about it,” Riley said. “I’m telling you now so you can’t hit me.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”
“I bought us two round-trip tickets to New York.”
“No,” Ethan said immediately. “Fuck you. You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can.” Riley’s chin went up, and he looked as stubborn as he did in goal. “That’s not all.”
“Fucking hell. Really?”
“I called your mom and told her.”
Ethan was speechless. “Low. That’s low, Hunter.”
“She called last week and told me she’d rather talk to you on Skype on Christmas Day than worry herself sick about us driving. She sounded so upset, Ethan.”
“Of course she did, idiot,” Ethan growled and banged his stick on the ice. He liked hockey. There were plenty of ways to throw temper tantrums and lots of useful equipment with which to throw them. “She’s my mother. Where the fuck do you think I get it from? I bet she told you all about the kidnappings and the missing fingers, huh?”
“Yeah. But that was the plot from The Killing last season,” Riley said, and Ethan remembered he was in love with Riley and hit the ice harder with his stick.
“Those aren’t free, Kennedy,” Spence yelled.
What was the problem? Couldn’t a guy have a heated argument with his secret-billionaire boyfriend at hockey practice without an audience?
“Look. I did it, and we’re going.”
“I didn’t want you to do that.”
“Yeah. But I don’t want to spend all that time in a car with you either. So it’s really for me. Merry Christmas.” Riley skated off before Ethan could yell at him anymore.
That night at home, Riley pinned him to the floor and teased the fuck out of him until Ethan was panting and tried to buck up against him with all his strength. He was completely unable to make Riley do what he wanted.
Riley stared down at him and waited.
Finally Ethan called him a litany of foul names and gave up. “Fine. Fine. Thank you. That’s going to mean a lot to my family. I hate you so much. Would you please get me off now?”
Riley kissed him and then sucked him off. Which was great. But it wasn’t until they were boarding the plane that morning that he casually mentioned, “Oh. By the way we’re flying first class. They were the only seats left.”
Stupid Riley.
Who wants to fuck me.
Every time Ethan thought about that, it made him all hot and flushed. Riley hadn’t brought it up again, but Ethan couldn’t stop thinking about it. The other night when Riley had him pinned to the floor, Ethan was so tempted to say “Do it. Go ahead,” because he kept thinking maybe he’d like it.
But that was not what he should be thinking about when they were about to go meet his family. “Oh, hey,” Ethan said. He grabbed Riley’s arm as they made their way off the plane and toward the baggage claim. “I forgot something.”
“Like I forgot to tell you how they were first-class tickets?”
“We’re not all manipulative assholes, Riley,” Ethan muttered, but he smiled and bumped Riley’s shoulder with his own to show he was teasing. “I’m gonna tell them. My family. About me and you.”
Riley stumbled a little, which made it the first time Ethan had ever knocked him off-balance. Success. “You are?”
“Yeah.” They followed the crowd into the loud, noisy baggage claim area and searched for their carousel. “I can’t not tell them. Okay? They’re my family. And they know me. Also, it’s a small apartment. What if someone catches me kissing you?”
“Blame it on the mistletoe?” Riley cleared his throat. “Please never tell anyone I just said that.”
Ethan snorted, but his face was serious when he asked, “Is it a problem, if I tell them?”
“Not for me,” Riley said. “Just don’t do it unless you want to. You don’t have to, I mean. For me.”
Ethan spotted his sister a few seconds later. He immediately jumped up and waved his arms so madly he almost knocked over a sullen-looking teenager who was wearing giant earphones.
And people thought tattoos made you look like a punk. Geez.
“Wait. They’re here at the baggage claim?” Riley asked, looking a bit pale and shifting his bag to his other shoulder as Ethan’s family made a beeline for them. “Why?”
Ethan stopped his frantic signaling. Something sad twisted inside him at the genuine confusion on Riley’s face. You gave me a Christmas present. Now I’m going to give you one.
Holy shit. Being in love was seriously damaging his tough-guy cred. He better get a pair of those earphones and a few more tattoos, just to be safe.
Chapter Twelve
RILEY THOUGHT he was prepared for the onslaught of the Kennedy family, but he totally wasn’t.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise, though. He always felt that he had Ethan kind of figured out and knew what to expect—or was accustomed to his behaviors. Like getting to know a shooter on the ice, or learning what asinine tricks his stupid teammates were going to try in practice to get a shoot-out move nailed down. Ethan threw him for a loop more often than not, and Riley didn’t think there was any way to prepare himself for a holiday with the Kennedy clan.
But his teammates still scored on him (except for Ethan, and Bennett Halley, because Riley didn’t like him), and Riley had no idea what it must be like to have someone miss you as much as the Kennedys clearly missed Ethan. And Ethan looked so happy as they hugged him and asked him a thousand questions all at once. Happy in a way Riley didn’t understand but wished that he did.
He went from passive observer to participant when Ethan’s mom turned to him and said with a bright smile, “And you must be Riley. Look at you! What a gorgeous young man you are. So tall.” Before Riley could hold his hand out to shake hers, Maura Kennedy had wrapped him up in a fierce hug. “We are so glad you came home with Ethan. And that you didn’t let him drive.”
Riley remembered his manners and hugged her back. “Thank you, Ms. Kennedy, for having me.”
“Oh, none of this Ms. Kennedy stuff, Riley. You just call me Maura. Brittany. Stop showing your brother that mermaid tattoo and say hello to Ethan’s friend. Riley, this is my daughter Brittany.” She hooked her arm through Riley’s as they turned toward Ethan’s sister.
“It’s a siren, Ma. I told you. Not a mermaid. Hi,” Brittany Kennedy said as she turned Ethan’s smile on him—and oh wow. She was Ethan with tits, which was a completely disrespectful thing Riley wo
uld not say out loud. Ethan and Britt looked alike. They were the same height and had the same eyes. But it was more than that. She was as boisterous as her brother. Her laugh was loud, and she couldn’t stand still either. “Call me Britt.”
She was also really hot, covered in tattoos with her blue black hair rolled up in the front, making her look like a pinup girl from the sixties. And she was wearing bright red lipstick and matching cat-eye glasses.
Riley had a mental image of Brittany Kennedy and Zoe Mays making out. It was a very, very nice mental image, and he was sad that he couldn’t share it with Ethan. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you, Britt. Ethan talks about you a lot.”
“Yeah?” Britt beamed at her brother. “Everything he learned about fighting, by the way, he learned from me,” Britt said as she flung herself at Ethan again. “Tell him, big brother.”
“Oh yeah.” He looked at Riley over his sister’s head. “I let her win,” he whispered, and then his sister punched him in the stomach.
“My God. Children, this is an airport. What will Riley think of us?” Maura waved her hand. “Ethan, stop encouraging your sister to be violent. She’s in a customer-service profession.” Maura beamed. “I’ve got an artist for a daughter, a professional athlete for a son, and soon my youngest is going to be a scientist going to the moon. Kelsey, come here and meet Riley.”
Kelsey Kennedy was tall, with Maura’s auburn hair and striking green eyes. Even dressed casually with her hair up in a ponytail, she was pretty enough to be a model. “Hi,” she said, a little more shyly than her mom and her sister. “We’re so loud. I’m sorry.”
Riley laughed. He definitely liked her. “It’s okay. I live with Ethan, so I’m used to it.”
As they waited for the luggage, Riley was content to watch them and occasionally answer questions about Wyoming, Florida, being a goalie, and being tall.
“Your family doesn’t mind you coming here for Christmas?” Kelsey asked, looking skeptical. “Ethan said they were going on vacation and you couldn’t go because of your schedule. But Ethan told me my hamster went on vacation when I was eight, because Britt locked it in the Barbie Dream House to pretend it was a monster movie.”
