Harrison lay there, his hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on Jett’s back until he too drifted into sleep. His body needed rest too after driving for so long, and even though the circumstances weren’t ideal, having Jett pressed against him like this felt…settling. It was like he could finally relax.
“I love you.”
Harrison didn’t know if he said the words or just dreamed that he did, but he liked to think Jett knew either way.
Jett
He was warm…so fucking warm.
He felt like he was on his dad’s fancy fishing boat during one of their summer trips, lying on a bench under the sun, being soothed by the sound of the water rhythmically lapping against the boat.
Here, there was peace and happiness. There were no images of people getting shot, or his father’s crying face. There was no pain, misery or depression. The only thing he felt was a comforting weightlessness.
Harrison. This is how he felt when he was with Harrison.
That’s why he knew they would be good for each other before they even made it to being friends. Harrison made him feel safe from the very beginning. He may have put up a fight those first few weeks, but whatever this thing was between them made it that much easier for them to build trust.
The NHL had been his dream, but Harrison was his end game. He knew this, which is why he needed to get his shit together. If he couldn’t do it for himself, then he needed to do it for Harrison.
Jett opened his eyes and blinked the sleep from them. They burned from crying, and his head ached from the same damn thing. The bed moved under him, and Jett knew he was still lying on Harrison in his room, and it helped ground him.
This couldn’t be comfortable for Harrison. Jett was smaller, but he was fucking heavy.
Harrison seemed unbothered by his weight. The man was sleeping so hard that he didn’t move even when Jett pushed himself up and straddled his thighs. There was no catch in his breath, no shift in his expression—only deep sleep.
Harrison’s energy had to be depleted if he had lost his usual hyperawareness. He was normally so quick to wake up at the tiniest shift on the bed, but he was still out like a light.
Hewas so gorgeous to look at; those perfect, dark brows and his perfect, pouty mouth that always begged for a kiss. It was so dumb, but Jett was tearing up just looking at the man under him. His man. His Harrison.
God, he was emotionally wrecked if he was crying over the sight of his stupidly attractive boyfriend.
Jett didn’t know what time it was, but the sunset outside the window suggested it was getting late in the day. It wouldn’t be an awful idea to go back to sleep, but he knew his father, and—his captain? Were sitting in his living room right now.
He didn’t know why Ryan was there when he should have been in Boston getting ready for their second away game, but if he didn’t go out and show signs of life, he was bound to get dragged out by someone.
He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to leave his bed.
But the only way to get people to leave him alone was to confront them with a smile and make them believe he was okay. It had worked every time before, so there was no reason it wouldn’t work now.
First, he needed to wash his face. He had dried tears and snot stuck to him, and if he was going to sell the idea that he was all good, he couldn’t look like a mess.
He very carefully removed himself from Harrison’s lap and untangled himself from the bed. He didn’t breathe until he was in the bathroom and the door slid shut behind him.
Jett cleaned his face with perfunctory ease, avoiding his reflection in the mirror as best as he could. He didn’t want to know what he would see there, and the thought of meeting his own haunted gaze made him physically ill.
Hedidcatch sight of his shoulder, and it wasn’t pretty. Purple and red bruises took up an alarming amount of the right side of his body, and the stupid thing was, he’d forgotten it was there until he saw the evidence of it.
To remind him it was still there, his shoulder throbbed painfully enough to make sure he didn’t forget for a second time. Jett hissed and set his toothbrush down, picking it up with his left hand instead.
He finished in the bathroom with more effort than he was expecting to put in and returned to the bedroom.
Harrison wasstillasleep. Jett wanted him to rest for a little longer, so he changed his clothes and left as fast as he could before his luck ran out.
He had been so focused on escaping without waking Harrison that he didn’t stop to think about how it would feel when he left the bedroom and closed the door behind him. The second it clicked shut, he was gripped by an overwhelming sense of dread that made him break into a cold sweat.
It would be so easy for him to rejoin Harrison, but doing so would only prolong the inevitable. His father wasn’t going to leave, and Max and Ryan sure as hell weren’t going to either.
Jett took three minutes and counted them down. He needed three minutes to slow his heart rate and blink away more stupid tears that were burning his dry eyes. Then, with shaking hands clenched in the pockets of Harrison’s hoodie, he shuffled to the living room and tried to keep his head held high.
