“Tell me you brought a change of clothes.”
Jett grinned, not caring if he looked manic. “Oh, don’t worry. I brought all the change of clothes.”
Harrison turned on his heel and walked away, scurrying into his house and disappearing inside. Jett rushed after him, but there was no sign of Killinger in the kitchen or the living room when he went inside.
Jett hurried to his room, cursing himself for not remembering a towel as he dripped water on the hardwood floor. He needed to clean up before Killinger found out and kicked his ass.
He changed and mopped the water, then spent the next five minutes trying to locate the closet hiding the washer and dryer, but he found them in a designated room he’d missed on Friday.
Like the rest of the house, the laundry room was fancy and neatly decorated, but it felt so impersonal. He hadn’t seen family pictures in the other rooms, but for some reason, in the laundry room of all places, he found the first photos hung on the wall. They were mostly of Killinger and a boy who had to be the younger brother who passed away in the accident. There were others of his parents, and one of a teenage Killinger standing with his arm slung over the shoulders of a blond guy as they posed in front of the frozen lake in the snow.
Seeing all this evidence of the life Killinger had lived before it was tragically torn from him made things feel more real. Jett knew he was strong because he had survived his fair share of shit too, but could he handle a loss that big? Could he lose everything and keep going?
He didn’t know. He didn’t think so. At the end of the day, he still had hockey, and Harrison didn’t.
He heard the door open when Killinger resurfaced from his room, and Jett threw his clothes into the washer, starting the machine before he was caught snooping.
“Where the fuck did you run off to now, Fraser?”
Jett couldn’t roll his eyes at the bitchy tone in Killinger’s voice when he’d just been tearing up over his family pictures. He had to be poised and control his emotions, and—
The sound of a bag crinkling loudly, accompanied by whistling, echoed through the house.
Was he calling him like a dog?!
Jett stomped to the kitchen, where he found Killinger leaning against the island, looking smug. “Really, Killinger?”
Killinger shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“You are the absolute worst, dude,” said Jett, and because he was hungry, he snatched the bag from Killinger’s hand and shoved a handful of chips into his mouth.
“Were you doing laundry?” Killinger asked, stealing the bag back to take some chips for himself. “You don’t have a problem making yourself at home, do you?”
Jett shrugged. “I might as well if I’m staying here for the next two weeks.”
He had turned away from Killinger to avoid the glaring he knew was coming, but the way the chewing noises suddenly stopped made him grin.
“You have a house,” said Killinger. “There’s no reason for you to stay here.”
His tone wasn’t as angry as he thought it would be, so Jett turned to face him again.
“Mydadhas a house. And you have a big lake house with four empty rooms,” said Jett. “Less travel time means more hours to train and meet your stupid friendship conditions. I’m being smart.”
The teasing smirk Killinger gave him made him feel all wobbly inside. “I wouldn’t go as far as to say you’re being smart. You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“Whatever, man.” Jett had to look away to save himself from the distraction of a smirking mouth. God, it was a nice mouth. Killinger looked like he would be a good kisser, or maybe that was the Killinger he had built up in his mind, not the real one.
And with that single line of thought, he realized that he was a gay man in Killinger’s house, and Killinger was also a gay man. They were alone in a private location, single—as far as Jett knew—andfuck, the look the Killinger was giving him made him think he had just realized the same thing.
Jett had hooked up with enough guys to recognize the hunger in those blue eyes and how he was staring at him like he was mentally undressing him…
Shit.
Friday night’s conversation had derailed after he and Arlo joked about their preferences, and it occurred to Jett that he didn’t know Harrisons. Were they…compatible?
Fuck, was he going to be able to do any practicing these next two weeks, or was he going to be stuck in the bathroom jerking off every five minutes?
“You done stuffing your face?” Killinger asked, and it took all Jett’s willpower to keep his eyes from flicking downward.
