Excitement seized control of his body. Jett threw his stick down and ripped his helmet off, pushing into a run so he could make it to where Harrison was standing at the open gate.
“Did you see that?!” Jett hollered as he stopped hard enough to spray Harrison with ice. He ignored the glare and threw himself at Harrison, nearly toppling the man.
Harrison took a few steps back, bringing Jett off the ice to keep them steady. His arms wrapped around Jett, crushing them together.
“My leg is fucked, not my eyes,” said Harrison.
Jett had his arms around Harrison with his face tucked into his neck, ignoring the tickling of his beard. He hadearnedthis hug, and nothing could take this moment away from him.
Harrisonsmelled like his Old Spice shampoo and cologne. And even with his skates on, Jett felt small and safe in his arms. He was so warm—the complete opposite of the night of the storm. Jett couldn’t stop himself from pulling back to check the colour of his skin and lips, his mind caught in memories he couldn’t shake.
But the ice from his abrupt stop had left frosty flakes on Harrison’s dark eyelashes, which now melted into water droplets clinging there. It was just as distracting as Harrison’s lips, hovering mere inches from his own.
Harrison tensed in his arms, and Jett drew his gaze away from his lips to those bright blue eyes now locked onto his mouth.
Shit. He hadn’t meant for it to turn out like this, but—
Jett moved in just as Harrison let go of him and stepped back, putting distance between them.
Jett tried, and failed, not to feel crushed.
“Good job,” said Harrison in a strained voice. “I’m honestly surprised that it took you this long.”
Jett laughed, but the sound felt hollow, distant—like it belonged to someone else. He felt disconnected from his body, watching himself from far away, unable to stay fully present in the moment.
“Whatever. A deal is a deal.”
Something was wrong. Harrison wouldn’t look at him. Instead, he used the excuse of checking his phone, tapping at the screen with forced focus. Doing anything to avoid meeting Jett’s eyes.
“There, I told Arlo to text it to you.”
Despite how he was feeling, Jett’s laugh was real this time. “You’re such adick.”
Harrison’s gaze flicked toward him, and he finally smirked in that way that left Jett feeling flushed and breathless.
It only made the rejection sting worse.
When he realized the stinging in his eyes was tears and not shame, he threw himself onto the bench and started unlacing his skate.
“At least you’ll have more time to pack,” said Harrison. “You probably still have stuff at your dad’s house.”
Okay, he was hearing him loud and clear. Obviously, Harrison didn’t want him to stick around now. Had his attempted kiss pissed him off that much?
When Jett refused to say anything, Harrison sighed loudly and walked away.
Good, now Jett could lick his wounds in private and get his shit together, even though his ribs felt so tight he was sure they would crack and lacerate his already wounded heart.
Jett gathered his gear and shoved it into his bag before dragging it to his car and dramatically throwing it into the backseat. He didn’t bother looking at Harrison when he came inside and disappeared into his room. He took his time in the shower, even if he wasn’t overly sweaty, but he wanted to use the time to get his head back in the game.
It didn’t help.
He held back tears and threw his clothes carelessly into the suitcase, not caring how wrinkled they ended up. He had to be on a plane the following morning at 4 AM, and he felt so worn thin that he considered showing up to training camp late.
Cap would kill him, but he would also understand.
“Jett.”
“Ohhellno,” said Jett, glaring at Harrison, who was standing in his bedroom doorway. “Don’t talk to me using that tone. I’m not in the mood.”
