Brandon nodded and pulled his helmet on, ready to head out for warmups.

  “And if you score, you’ll know he’s watching. And it’s a lot more fun to go home after scoring a goal.”

  Brandon had a lot of reasons to focus on his game out there. Everything Matty outlined, of course, as well as the entire future of his career. He wanted to display his skill. He wanted people to talk about the plays he was making and the goals he was scoring. Not his potential, but the reality of his skill.

  He had a rough first couple of shifts before he got himself focused. That was something he made a mental note to work on. He couldn’t afford to start every game losing face-offs like that.

  Then, instead of trying to push Gabe out of his mind, he focused on him. On the hope in his heart. Gabe was okay. He was safe, he was taken care of. Matty was right. Brandon wouldn’t be able to do anything if he was in Minnesota. He’d still be on the ice.

  Once he addressed his distractions head-on, he started catching passes, clearing their D-zone, posting up in front of the opposing net. He drew a penalty when he caught a stick in his skates, and the Northern Lights scored. He felt like he was contributing even if he wasn’t on the power play unit.

  He skated hard, his breath hot in his chest as he chased the puck into corners and finished checks. And in the second period, his hard work paid off. He caught a pass from Walker, who sold his shot to the goalie, leaving half the net wide open for Brandon to tap the puck in. He blew a kiss, knowing Gabe was watching, and yeah, it was cheesy, but he was riding on full adrenaline. He couldn’t heal Gabe’s hand, but he could score this goal.

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” Matty yelled at him when he skated past the bench for the fly-by high fives.

  When he got off the ice, he had more photos from Gabe waiting for him. Ones that made him slam his phone face down in his locker cubby so no one else would see them.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  GABE

  Gabe was in possession of a splint on his dominant hand, a batch of croissants from Duncan that “didn’t turn out” (Gabe was pretty sure Duncan baked them for him but didn’t want him to feel bad about eating eight giant croissants all by himself because they looked perfect), and a bright green and extremely soft Build-a-Bear frog that he and Otis were equally excited for.

  He also presently had an empty house. On a Tuesday morning. Even Parker was gone, in an extremely not subtle declaration that he was going to work from the coffee shop where Gabe picked up shifts, which was located in the entrance of the warehouse building that Mac and Duncan’s art studio was in.

  Gabe didn’t know when Brandon got all of his roommates’ phone numbers, but he knew they were all on a group chat without him now, for the specific purpose of talking about him. At the moment, it was cute, but he wasn’t sure how long he’d feel that way. Brandon’s plane got in at three a.m., and Jackson had forced him to go home and get a few hours of sleep before he came over.

  He’d wanted to see Brandon the second his body crossed over the state line, but he had to admit that sleeping through the night was a priority. Wyatt was serious about it, and he had apparently been an EMT at one point.

  By seven, Gabe hadn’t been able to stay in bed any longer, stiff and achy, and twiddled his thumbs as his roommates got ready for their days and conspicuously left the house. Then, finally, Brandon’s car pulled up in front of his house.

  Brandon, who sent him flowers every day he was gone. Brandon, who made sure Gabe’s bank account would survive the time he had to take off work. Brandon, who listened to him cry when Gabe realized he needed to withdraw from his classes, because between the concussion and the broken hand, finishing his semester would be impossible. Brandon, who wasn’t his boyfriend.

  Gabe didn’t fucking care anymore. Here, in this moment, the word that described what they were to each other didn’t matter as much as what they actually were to each other.

  Gabe watched out the front window as Brandon grabbed a full grocery bag from his back seat, along with more flowers—roses this time, red ones—trying to balance it all in his hands and also fix his hair at the same time, self-conscious until he caught Gabe’s eye through the window, the curtains parted enough for Gabe to spy on him.

  He beamed when he saw Gabe, which was such a departure from the way his roommates had been looking at him. He felt like everyone’s patient lately, being offered pain meds and fluids and favors. Knowing that if he didn’t text the group chat about the nap he was taking, he’d get woken up four times by people looking for him to make sure he was okay. Brandon’s excitement was a sharp contrast, and Gabe needed it.

  Gabe rushed to rip the door open, and Brandon dumped his armload of stuff on the porch so he could bundle Gabe into a hug. A very careful hug.

  “Are you okay?” Brandon asked, like something might have changed in the past eight hours.

  “I’m fine,” Gabe said, which was a lie. His body still ached, his hand throbbed, he was heartbroken because of his broken hand, and he was spiraling over his jobs and school. The only good recent news was that he didn’t need surgery. But Brandon was here, so everything felt good for the first time since he left.

  The cold winter air finally bit through his hoodie, straight to his bones, and he pulled Brandon inside.

  “I brought breakfast,” Brandon said, holding up the grocery bag. He looked awkward and a bit scared, his square face sweet and kind. He was everything Gabe had been craving over the past four days.

  And fuck it. If Gabe was the person Brandon was going to be putting in all this effort for—making his living room look like a funeral home, for one thing—then why the fuck was Gabe still holding on to the idea that he wouldn’t be a special first kiss for Brandon? At some point, that rationale stopped making sense. Maybe it never made sense.

  Brandon set the paper bag down on the kitchen table, and Gabe pressed him against the archway between the living room and kitchen. He wanted to hold on to Brandon’s coat tight enough that he’d never pull away, but since his grip strength wasn’t at its best, he held Brandon still with his left hand on his cheek and went up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

  Brandon’s lips stayed still for one moment too long, as Gabe’s mind ran through every potentiality of rejection in that moment. And then Brandon’s hands cupped his face so gently, and Gabe pulled away to look him in the eye. Brandon smiled like he couldn’t believe it, then leaned back in to kiss Gabe again. Gabe didn’t expect finesse or technique, but he was surprised by the emotion, how powerful this kiss felt, even though it stayed light.

  When it was over, Gabe stayed close, unwilling to put so much as an inch between the two of them.

  “Holy fuck,” Brandon said, a smile on his face. “My heart is beating so fast.” He took Gabe’s good hand and pressed it over his heart before bringing his fingers up to his lips to give them a kiss. Then he did the same, with an unnecessary level of caution, to his right hand.

  Gabe let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for months and unzipped Brandon’s coat, tucking himself against Brandon’s body, stealing the body heat his coat had trapped. He buried his face against Brandon’s chest, between Brandon’s shirt and the soft inside lining of his coat. They should get a coat they could share so Gabe never had to let go.

  Under his ear, Brandon’s heart was racing.

  Brandon had a hand on the back of his head and one between his shoulder blades, holding on to him as desperately as Gabe was holding on.

  “Did you know that before Jackson and Ryan became official, they were hooking up for ‘good luck’?” Brandon asked.

  Gabe laughed. “That’s so dumb.”

  “Yeah. And then they had a conversation about it, and apparently that is the method they recommend.”

  It was too late to temper his hopes. Gabe wanted it all, and if Brandon wasn’t setting this up to tell him that he had feelings for him, then what was the point of all of this? This was not friendship. It was not just sending someone you like money, or erotic drawings and sexy photos. At some point during fall semester, Brandon had become the first person he texted. The person he was always thinking about when scrolling memes. The last person on his mind before he fell asleep.

  “Do you want to have a conversation?” Gabe asked, reluctantly pulling himself out of the shelter of Brandon’s big coat.

  Brandon nodded, chewing his lip. He was nervous, and that filled Gabe with way too much hope.

  “Be my boyfriend,” Gabe said, hoping to hell that he was sparing Brandon the effort of mustering the bravery to ask and not plummeting them into the most awkward possible breakfast date in the history of the world.

  “Really?” Brandon asked, as much hope on his face as was in Gabe’s heart. He looked young with hope. Brandon always looked so fucking genuine, and it really did something for Gabe. “I had a whole speech planned out.”

  “You can still give it.”

  “It was about how much I care about you, and how my feelings toward you are more than friends, and how I feel fucking lost without you. I love you.”

  This time when Gabe kissed him, he was done being soft and sweet. They’d gotten Brandon’s first kiss out of the way, and Gabe hoped it felt special to Brandon because it was fucking special to him. Brandon’s hands gripped his hips gently, letting Gabe be in charge of their kiss. It was a little wet, and Brandon kept smiling too much, but those were champagne problems as far as Gabe was concerned. When he pulled back, he was smiling as much as Brandon was. “I love you too.”

  Brandon pulled him back into another kiss, and Gabe let himself disappear into it, into the feeling of Brandon’s body against his own.

  “Let’s take your coat off,” Gabe said after getting his fill of kisses, lips buzzing from use. “Stay a while.”

  Brandon directed Gabe to sit at the kitchen table as he emptied the grocery bag. It was from the fancy grocery store—not the one Gabe worked at—that had a deli and a hot bar, and a lot of breakfast options, it seemed. Gabe picked a breakfast sandwich as Brandon pulled out precut fruit (like a rich person) and several different canned coffee drinks. He must have spent upwards of sixty dollars on all the food in that bag.

  Gabe nearly proposed to him when he pulled the final item out of the bag. Cat treats. Not just any cat treats. Otis’ favorite.

  “How did you know his favorite treats?” Gabe asked as Otis left his perch on the back of the couch to come investigate the familiar bag.

  “Parker,” Brandon said. “I know Otis is technically Parker’s cat and everything⁠—”

  “But he’s my son too.” Brandon got it. Brandon got him.

  Brandon handed the bag to Gabe, who refused it. “You give him the treats. It’ll endear you to him.”

  Brandon sat on the chair next to Gabe, and Otis jumped into his lap, butting his head against Brandon’s hand immediately.

  “Okay, buddy, hold up. Let me get it open,” Brandon said, his voice transforming into something soft and gentle. His animal voice. He ripped the top of the pouch and pulled a few treats out.

  Gabe ate his sandwich because he was starving, but he still enjoyed the show as Brandon gave Otis treats, touching him so gently and backing off at any sign of annoyance or ask of space.

  “You’re good with him,” Gabe said, setting half his sandwich down to reach for the container of watermelon. Brandon scratched Otis’ little cheeks, looking very much like he was enjoying himself and not just trying to kiss up to his new boyfriend by being nice to his cat.

  “We never had pets growing up because Ashley is allergic. Especially to cats. So when I’d go over to a friend’s house with a cat, I’d pretty much have to strip naked in the mudroom when I got home, immediately wash my clothes, and put new clothes on. I don’t love being so far away from her, but I don’t have to worry about triggering anaphylaxis when I’m in Minnesota, you know? It’s also why I soak up Lola so much.”

  Gabe had reached his limit of being jealous of his cat and tossed a couple treats into the living room for him to chase, taking Otis’ place on Brandon’s lap. He wrapped his bad arm around Brandon’s neck and leaned in to kiss him again. These kisses were slow and soft, teasing, with a hint of tongue. He nipped at Brandon’s lower lip and drank up Brandon’s groan. These were the kinds of kisses that made him horny.

  “I’m distracting you from breakfast,” Gabe said, only a little apologetic.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Aren’t hockey players always hungry?”

  “Too nervous,” he admitted, taking a deep, shaky breath as he tried to hide his face against Gabe’s chest.

  God, the things this man did to Gabe’s heart. He had an indescribable amount of tenderness toward Brandon, and it only grew every time he did anything.

  “I really want to touch you,” Gabe whispered. A secret between them.

  “I really want you to.”

  “Fuck food, upstairs,” he said, fake rushing Brandon out of the kitchen.

  He knew Brandon was nervous because he was new. Because everything at this point was the unknown. Gabe was nervous because Brandon meant everything to him, and he wanted it all to be perfect.

  TWENTY-SIX

  BRANDON

  Being in Gabe’s bedroom always felt intimate. It was such an expression of him. Art, both his and others’, tacked up on the walls, art supplies coming out of every crevice, a general mess that made Brandon think about Gabe’s creativity instead of any uncleanliness. The shoebox size of it made it feel like a hug.

  Brandon appreciated the familiar setting. He was almost twenty-three, and while he understood intellectually that it was not any failure of his to have waited to have sex, he felt behind the curve.

  “Everything is going to be okay,” Gabe said, his body close to Brandon’s as they stood in the tiny amount of free space in Gabe’s room. He put his hands on Brandon’s chest, looking up at him with those sharp green eyes. “It’s going to be okay because we’re going to do it together. Whatever you want.”

  It was easy, reflexive, to pull Gabe closer by his hips, always thinking about every spot he knew Gabe was bruised. The closeness was intoxicating enough to him. He could hardly fathom his luck at getting anything more than this.

  “I’m going to need you to lead here,” Brandon said. “I don’t want you to do a single thing that hurts you.”

  Gabe leaned up to kiss him, his press of lips soft and slow. “You truly are pure sweetness, aren’t you? How about you sit on the edge of the bed, and I blow you?”

  The words weren’t romantic, but the way Gabe helped Brandon strip down was. The way he took inventory of the remnants of the bruise on Brandon’s thigh was romantic. The way he let Brandon take his clothes off, careful of his splint and bruises, was romantic. Brandon sat and pulled Gabe, standing, between his legs so he could kiss the bruise across his chest. It had already faded considerably, unlike the kinds of bruises Brandon got from blocking shots, but the remnants of it still made Brandon’s heart ache.

  Brandon was at half-mast, anxious and excited in equal parts, but then Gabe put a pillow on the ground for his knees and settled between Brandon’s thighs, and he was pretty sure the memory of this moment could get him hard for the rest of his life.

  “Wow,” he said, cupping Gabe’s jaw in his hands as Gabe looked up at him. He licked his lips, and the sweetness of the moment tipped into something dirty as Gabe leaned in closer and flicked his tongue over the tip of Brandon’s cock.

  “Don’t hold back. I want to hear every thought and feeling you have,” Gabe told him, backing off to kiss up his thighs. Brandon kept one hand on Gabe’s cheek and leaned back using the other. Gabe went slow, drawing out his movements as he sucked on Brandon’s balls, then finally closing his lips around his cock.

  “Baby, you feel so good,” Brandon told him, the thrill of being able to call his boyfriend “baby” during sex heightening the feeling of Gabe’s mouth around him.

  Gabe moaned, and the vibrations of it pulled a moan from Brandon’s mouth as well. Gabe was hard and leaking, eyes hooded with lust when he looked up at Brandon, like he was enjoying this as much as Brandon was.

  He knew his first ever blowjob wouldn’t be a showcase of sexual endurance, but as his orgasm crept closer, he was already sad for it to be over. “I’m close,” Brandon said, swiping his thumb over the sharp apple of Gabe’s cheek. Gabe was using his mouth and his hand with practiced technique, and in the last moment looked up at Brandon with a meaningful depth in his gaze. Brandon came, letting the moan that had been building in him loose, as Gabe sucked him through it.

  Gabe let Brandon slip gently out of his mouth, breathing hard himself as he rested his forehead on Brandon’s thigh. Brandon combed his fingers through Gabe’s rusty hair as he caught his breath and thought about how tightly this man had him wrapped around his little finger. He didn’t know what being in love would feel like, but this felt good. Better than he could have ever imagined.

  “Fuck, you taste good, you sound good, you felt so good in my mouth. I am incredibly wound up, just so you know.”

  “Let me take care of you,” Brandon said, helping Gabe up from the floor so he could stretch out on the bed on his back, long legs parted to make room for Brandon.

  Brandon hovered carefully over Gabe, because in the time Gabe spent between Brandon’s knees, he’d missed kissing him. His lips were kiss-soft, which was a brand-new revelation. They felt so different now than when they had started kissing—soft and pliant—and he lost track of time attached to Gabe’s mouth, until Gabe wrapped his legs around Brandon’s hips, pulling their bodies closer. He was hard and needed relief.

  “Sorry,” Brandon said with a blush. “Just obsessed with your lips.”

  “I promise you’ll be able to kiss me until you’re sick of it,” Gabe said, with the implied after I come.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Brandon said, even though he knew Gabe was aware of his experience level.

 

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