In short, it didn’t matter how solid any of his relationships were; he constantly felt like he was one moment away from losing everyone he loved.
“You don’t…” Jett stopped to gather himself so he didn’t fuck this up. Harrison waited patiently, still rubbing the soreness out of his muscles. “You aren’t weirded out by the fact that my brother was a killer?”
Harrison’s hands left his thighs, and he wrapped his arms around Jett’s waist, tucking him impossibly closer. “I mean, I would be a little concerned if it was your brother I was dating, but I’m with you, so I’m not sure why it would affect us.”
Jett could accept that explanation.
“But in the context of like, kids and stuff.” Jett held Harrison’s hands, playing with his fingers. “There’s nothing about my DNA that freaks you out? You wouldn’t be worried if we had a kid using me instead of you?”
“Are you kidding me?” Harrison closed his calloused hands over Jett’s and squeezed them. “I would prefer you as the bio parent. I don’t think you understand how perfect you are, Sunshine. Could you imagine having a baby who looks like you? Fucking adorable.”
The stupid thing was—Jettcouldsee it. The thought of Harrison helping him raise a child was something he desperately wanted, even if it was too soon. It didn’t stop him from picturing it; Harrison holding a mini version of him behind the bench, coaching the team through the glass like the badass he was.
Not even paternity leave would slow a man like Harrison Killinger down.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Harrison said softly. “You are not your brother, Jett. You never were, and you never will be. There’s no darkness lurking inside of you, take it from a man who has looked darkness in the eye and told it to get fucked.”
Jett didn’t know if he would ever believe that, hence he needed therapy, but the important thing was the unspoken acceptance Harrison had of him. He had seen him at his worst, and he hadn’t left him. He didn’t care about what his brother did, and was willing to look past it because he loved him.
And maybe—maybethat could beenough.
Jett placed his hand on Harrison’s knee, slowly sliding it down the front of his leg, fingers tracing the jagged scar. Harrison’s breathing turned unsteady, but he didn’t stop his wandering hands or tell him to stop.
Jett was careful when he reached the worst part of the scarring. He could feel the metal screws under the skin if he pushed hard enough, but he didn’t have the stomach for it.
He was touching the remnants of the injury that ended Harrison’s career. The man he once thought of as untouchable was only flesh, bone and metal in his hand. He was holding the weakest part of the man he loved, and he felt nothing but strength radiating between them.
Harrison was his. Harrison Killingerbelongedto Jett fucking Fraser.
“Jett?”
He drew his hand back so Harrison would relax and turned in his arms so he could kiss the pouty frown from his mouth. “Thank you.”
Harrison raised one dark brow, his lips quirking into a smile. “You’re welcome for whatever you’re thanking me for.”
Jett might tell him someday, but for now, he would keep him guessing. Because, according to Killinger himself, if it were too easy, then how could they trust it was real?
Harrison
Leaving Boston with the win was a great boost for the team’s mentality. And with the way the Sunburst players celebrated in the dressing room, one would have thought they’d won the Stanley Cup, not a 1-point victory against a mid-level team.
It wasn’t really about winning; it was the excitement of having their star player back to a level they were familiar with. Jett almost got a Hat Trick, and the only reason hedidn’tget one was because he passed the puck to Cote so he could get the first of his NHL career.
Hat Tricks were hard to come by in today’s game with all the skilled players, and even more skilled goalies, so the fact that Jett did something like that for their rookie…
Fuck, Harrison loved him.
He wasn’t the only one impressed by Jett’s act because ever since the game ended, he had been dealing with calls and texts from everyone in their group. And Mari was obsessed with how the game went. The media had been trying to paint Jett as a fake golden boy, but it was impossible.
No one was saying a bad word about him now, and the usual culprits who had been doing so were now silent in fear of backlash from the public.
Harrison did not doubt that by the time they returned after Christmas break, the negativity toward Jett would be gone.
They’d decided to take a direct flight from Boston to Nova Scotia, skipping Toronto entirely. Harrison had already called a distant cousin to check on the house, but there was still plenty to do before they got there—picking up groceries, stopping for supplies, and buying gifts.
He had no idea what the hell to get Jett. An engagement ring? A kitten? A baby? All three seemed wildly inappropriate—or at least way too much. Socks were starting to look like the safest option. Maybe a nice scarf. Something he couldn’t mess up.
He was terrible at this. There was a reason he’d never been an official anything to anyone. Who would want to date a neurotic mess with emotional landmines, and the occasional need to disappear into the woods like a cryptid?
