Let's Do This

by Loren Leigh

But tagging myself with Burkie’s last name makes me smile. It’s a cooler name than Keenan. At least across the back of a hockey jersey, which is what counts the most.

I can’t think of anything that he could ever tell me that would turn me away.

On the ice, it’s part of his job to protect me. D-men look out for their goalie. But sometimes, Burkie gets that protective vibe off the ice too. And I get it. I feel that way about him. I don’t like bad things happening to him.

His eyes darken into a deep, vivid brown. And holy hell, I’ve never seen that look on him before. I doubt he even realizes that it happened, but it’s so . . . potent. Like ball-squeezing intensity.

Shut it down. Turn it off. Fade it black. It’s what I do when it comes to Shaw.

I’ve had so many questions flying around in my head, weaving in and out, confusing me, dragging me to different places. But looking across at Shaw, it all settles.

“What’s, uh.” My voice is rough, cracking with uncertainty. “What are we doing?” “I don’t know.” His smile evaporates, his heels coming back down on the floor. “But whatever it is, I kinda don’t want it to stop.” I swallow. And then the truth is there. Right on my tongue. “Me neither,” I say.

For Shaw? I would do it again. I would fuck myself over and over. Every time.

“I get it,” I say, lowering my voice to a whisper. “No kissing.” He frowns slightly. I hook my duffle over my shoulder. “You’re weirdly quiet, and it’s fuckin’ odd, and I’m worried that—‍” “I’m quiet,” he says, brows pulling together under the backstrap of his ballcap, “because I wanted to.”

But what happens after you kiss your best friend? Do you just go back to casually fist bumping or spotting each other at the gym or whatever else?

“I want you to fuck my mouth.” He licks his lips, his chest pitching with a shaky breath. “Until I fuckin’ gag on you, and I don’t want you to stop until I’ve sucked every drop of your cum deep down my throat.” My hand stills. “Dude.” Holy hell . . . “Were you thinking that the whole time?”

A heart appears on my reply. He didn’t heart anyone else’s comment, but he hearted mine. And for a guy who doesn’t smile much at all, I can’t seem to stop lately.

I don’t have to turn around to know who’s behind me. I’d know his voice anywhere. I’d know it in my sleep, a thousand miles under water. I’d know it twenty years from now, even if I never saw him again after this moment.

“I just want to go somewhere where shit’s okay. Where I don’t have to pretend to be anything. And that’s kinda turning out to be your bed. But if that’s not where you’re headed, then I’ll go where you are.” His green eyes come up to meet mine. “Because I don’t think it’s actually about the bed.”

“You always make things feel okay. Not sure how you fuckin’ do it. But you always make me feel like shit’s going to be okay.” “You have no idea how much you do the same for me.”

Friends. Teammates. Roommates. Guys who I depend on. Who I try to always be there for. It feels a lot like family. Not the one with my father at the helm, but the one that could exist. When people care about each other. When they listen to each other. When they fuckin’ value each other.

He’s my rock. Steady and strong. And I can be his. Outside of my family, I don’t know if I’ve ever been someone’s rock before. But it’s easy to be his. I want to be.

I am not capable of playing it cool.

real

He’s always moving. And I fuckin’ love watching him. Just the constant energy he has.

My feelings keep being so big when it comes to Shaw. So fuckin’ deep.

I never in my life thought that a man like Shaw would look at me the way he is right now. That I’d be worth it.

Can’t believe I used to avoid kissing. But then, I’d never kissed a Burkie before.

“I love you.” It comes out quietly, tenderly. But strong. Like the truth that it really is. “I want everything with you. A life. A home. Marriage. I’d give up Montreal in a heartbeat for that. I’d give you a home you’d never have to lose.”

Our dreams matter. His and mine. We’ll only get this life once.

“I fuckin’ love you.” He says it the way he did before, soft and cut with so much feeling, and I think he’ll say it that way every single time. Like it will never be an offhand thought. It will never just be a habit or carelessly said. Like he’ll always mean it.

Everyone goes through their last-minute game rituals. Mine is telling Shaw that I love him. Every game.

But these moments, when it feels like I’m slipping down that mountain of gravel, questioning myself, calling myself names, he’s fuckin’ there. Giving me a rock to stand on. Pulling me over and giving me a way out of that spiral.

“Don’t tell my wife this, but I’m jealous. He must understand what it’s like after games like this, no?” I clear my throat, wiping under my eyes. “There’s nothing like it.”

There are so many damn emotions. So much fight to get back to where we’ve always belonged. On the ice. Him and me. Together.