“I had a disagreement with the floor,” said Jett. “We ended on bad terms.”
Townsend, who had the same colouring as his cousin but was a little too on the pretty side for Jett, blinked at him like Jett had spoken in a different language.
“Ignore him,” said Killinger. “Your buddy, Mike, threw the first punch. Fraser threw the last.”
“It was less punching and more dribbling his head against the floor like a basketball,” Jett admitted.
Townsend looked between them, trying to piece together the events of the last ten minutes and failing. “Are you saying that you beat the shit out of that self-hating homophobe?”
“Yeah,” said Jett.
Townsend’s grin was way more pleasant than Killinger’s mean smirks. “Did he lose any teeth?”
Jett shrugged. “Probably.”
“Great. Burgers and beers at Harrison’s place tonight. You’re officially my new favourite person.”
“My favourite part of this conversation is when you asked if you could invite people to my house, Arlo.” Killinger narrowed his eyes at his cousin, and even though Jettreallywanted to hang out with them, he also didn’t want to die.
“Don’t get your fucking panties in a twist,” said Arlo. “I thought people celebrated when they got…news.”
Harrison held out his hand, and Arlo passed him the binder he’d been holding without question. Jett watched while Killinger flipped through the pages, his eyes darting back and forth as he read the contract, because Jett knew it for what it was. And he knew the team logo that was printed on the front.
Killinger closed the binder when he got to the end and took a deep breath. “You signed it.”
“Yeah,” said Townsend. “Three years with the Montreal Bastilles. Forty thousand as a signing bonus, and I’ll end the season a millionaire.”
“Fuck, kid. It’s not about the money.” Killinger cleared the space separating them in two steps and grabbed Townsend in a crushing hug. “You did it. I knew you could. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Jett saw Townsend’s torn expression and had to turn away. It wasn’t hard to piece together why Mini Killinger looked ready to cry. The reason was the man who was currently squeezing him. The older Killinger, who would be left behind in a few weeks, while Townsend moved forward to chase his dream, leaving the person he cared for behind.
“Fuck it, we’re celebrating,” said Killinger. He let go of Townsend and smacked the binder to his chest. “Let’s get this scrappy idiot into my car.”
Scrappy idiot? Jett frowned at Killinger, who smirked right back.
“Harrison—”
“Tomorrow, Arlo,” said Killinger. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
Jett grabbed the chair and leveraged himself into a standing position, but Killinger wrapped a hand around his bicep and effortlessly pulled him up, placing him on his feet like he didn’t weigh 240 pounds.
Holy shit, thank fuck for his baggy jersey because he was instantly at half-mast from that one touch alone. He didn’t know if he could survive the night without embarrassing himself if Killinger was this close all the time.
Jett didn’t care. Killinger was permitting him to be on his property and in his presence. Embarrassing himself was the least of his worries, not when this was something he’d wanted to do since…forever.
Still, if he made it until morning without drunkenly confessing his love to Harrison Killinger and proposing marriage, he would walk away with the win.
Harrison
No more than one drink, that had been Harrison’s rule since the accident. He didn’t like the feeling of being drunk. He didn’t like the memory loss that came with being intoxicated. And he didn’t like the stupid decisions drunk people made when they were drunk.
But fuck, Fraser made him want to break the one drink rule, if only so it would help him relax and he could avoid catching a murder charge before the sun rose.
“Where did Jett go?” Arlo asked, as if noticing for the first time that Fraser hadn’t been helping him prep supper, and instead had been snooping around the house when he was supposed to be cutting tomatoes.
“Where hasn’t he gone?” said Harrison. “I’ve pulled him out of three rooms so far, and chased him out of the basement ten minutes ago.”
Arlo went to pass him the plate of hamburger patties he had just finished seasoning and shaping, only to pull them back. “Wait, I’ll get these on the barbecue. You can go find the raccoon-dog.”
