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When he held out his hand for me, I knew following him was going to break me in the best way possible. Which would also turn out to be the worst way.
“I thought he was my hat trick.” “Hat trick?” “The perfect package. Everything I want in a partner. Hot, sweet, smart enough to hold a real conversation.” If he was looking for someone with brains, I was shit out of luck.
The crowd went wild, but the object of my attention stayed cool as ever, still smiling at me with that blinding gorgeousness that was Soren.
“You’re perfect, Jet.” Right. That was why he was rejecting me. “Yeah. Perfect for someone else. Got it.”
I should be happy for him. He got to share his last couple of years with someone special, which is what I wanted for him. Only now I can’t remember why I wanted that when it makes something go wrong in my chest. I don’t like the thought of him with someone else even though it was never an option to be with me.
He pulls Maddox close and kisses him softly, and my chest lurches while longing fills my veins. Not for marriage, not for kids, but for that—a loving relationship that’s so emotionally secure that nothing, not a piece of paper, not what anyone else thinks, not anything, can create doubt. Not even a rejected marriage proposal.
Melodramatic, sure, because I’ve spent a total of one night with him, but Tampa crushed the idealistic image I had of him in my head. Yet, he still has the ability to make my heart race and dreamer Jet come out. The Jet who had stars in his eyes and fame in his heart.
“Oh. Then yeah, true. Because I don’t exactly want to hear about you with other guys, but if you need to talk, I’m here.” “Why don’t you want to hear about it? This is what you wanted for me. To fall in love. Though I don’t know why because it fucking sucks.”
“I remember a lot of things I shouldn’t when it comes to you.”
“I’ve tried to get myself to think of you that way, and when you’re not in my presence, it’s easy to write you off as Matt Jackson’s little brother. But I can’t when we’re in the same room sharing the same air. I can’t when you’re two feet in front of me, and all I want to do is reach for you. Touch you. Kiss you.” “Then what was all the overprotective shit you pulled that night in Tampa with all the drugs and groupie bullshit?” “That wasn’t me trying to protect you. That was me wanting to claim you.”
“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. I know what I want to do and what I should do, but I don’t think either is the right solution.” “What are you supposed to do?” That’s easy. “Walk away.” “What do you want to do?” Less easy. I swallow hard as I say the words I know I shouldn’t. “Never stop touching you.” “What are you gonna do?” Jet whispers. “I don’t know.” “Soren?” “Yeah?” “The correct answer to that was kiss me again.”
“You won’t let me fall?” My fingers intertwine with his. “Never.” He doesn’t need to know I mean in general.
“Just because this isn’t leading to sex, that doesn’t mean I can’t show you what I want. I want to kiss you, and touch you, and worship the goddamn ground you walk on. I don’t want to be your distraction, Jet.” “What do you want to be then?” he croaks. Your everything.
Harley whines. “Damn it. Why’d your boyfriend have to be nice?” “He’s Canadian. He can’t help it.” “Sorry.” Soren shrugs.
Songs are emotions felt in a passing moment in time. Some mean more than others.
“Hey, question,” I say. “Wasn’t there a horror movie about this? If we don’t figure out the clues, we die?” Jet looks horrified. “And you thought to bring that up now after getting locked in here?” “A hockey player and a rock star using their brains to save their lives.” “We’re fucked,” Jet says, and I laugh.
“If I got to be with you, I’d go to the fucking moon.”
I don’t know why I bought the guitar. I can only tell you why I’m showing it to you now.” “Why?” “Because you’ve always held a piece of my heart, but I’m giving all of it to you right now. I love you, Jet.”
Jet’s warm eyes blink up at me. “I guess I must be your hat trick, huh?” “No.” Jet pouts. “You’re so much more than that. You’re a goal in the last minute. A five-on-three powerplay. You’re the crowd screaming for the win.” “I don’t know what that means, but good to know.” I laugh. “Jet, you’re everything. You’re my Stanley Cup.”
You’re the most important thing in my life and being with you forever is my only goal.”
