“It does today.”
Jett had ten minutes to soak up Harrison’s presence, so he wasn’t letting go of his hand until the last possible second.
The locker room was its usual chaos when they entered, but it went quiet as a graveyard when they saw Jett and Harrison come in together. Some guys looked startled, while others, like Powers, were grinning like maniacs.
“Killinger!” Ryan’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding in the silence. He stood up from the bench, his expression unreadable as he started toward them with purposeful strides.
“Fuck, kid—it’s good to see you! I was hoping you would show up after I sent those tickets!”
Jett was nearly knocked off balance by Ryan’s rough hug as the man pulled Harrison in and gave him a solid slap on the back.
Tickets? What tickets?
Harrison’s grumpy frown looked so much cuter without the beard hiding it. “I was going to buy my own tickets.”
“Yeah, but the seats behind the opposing team sell out fast.”
Behind the bench? There was no way that Harrison had been sitting behind his bench the whole time, and he never noticed.
Some of the other guys came forward, and Jett reluctantly let go of Harrison’s hand and moved out of the way. He accepted a water bottle to hydrate while he watched Harrison shake the hands of the players who would have been his teammates. Wolf was surprisingly one of the more excited ones; he smiled and also gave Harrison a hug and a slap on the arm.
Harrison’s expression remained passive during the multiple exchanges, but Jett knew this had to be painful. Guilt rapidly rushed forward, but then Harrison took his hand and held it tight, squeezing to let him know he was okay.
Adams showed up to make sure they were hydrating and cooling down. His gaze flicked to Harrison, and he gave a curt nod before he clapped his hands to quiet them.
“Cote’s goal was expected, but still exceptional. I’m not changing lines, but if any of you want to tap him in, give the signal, and I’ll approve. I want to see Cote and Fraser on the ice together, but only if Fraser can get to where he needs to be mentally and skate like I know he can.”
Ryan nodded and looked around the room, smiling at the Sunburst players. “We’re not out yet, guys. I know we can beat them. We just need to get fired up.” His eyes went to Jett, gesturing at Harrison. “I’m guessing that won’t be a problem now?”
Ohfuck yes.
Jett felt it now, the same fire that filled his veins whenever he played to prove something. He knew they were going to win this game. He wasn’t going to lose with Harrison watching.
“I’m going for a hundred-point season, Captain,” said Jett. “Count me in.”
“Welcome back, Fraser! Let’s kick some ass!” Wolf shouted, prompting the rest of the team into cheers.
The guys returned to their chaos as they wrapped tape and checked their gear, talking loudly enough to give Jett and Harrison privacy.
Jett grinned and glanced at Harrison, only to see him returning the grin tenfold. He was about to go to his locker and get one of his jerseys forHarrison to wear, because he needed to stake his fucking claim, but then he saw the shirt Killinger had on.
The white Sunburst logo was bright against the navy colour of the cloth, shining like a beacon for everyone to see.
“Just noticed I’m wearing your number?” Harrison asked him in that teasing tone of his.
Jett felt his mouth fall open. He grabbed Harrison and turned him around so he could see the back, the bright-white embroidery with the number 25, and the name Fraser.
Fuck.
Harrison turned and smiled at Jett and leaned in to whisper, “Careful, Fraser. You don’t have time to change your gear if you come in your pants.”
Jett smacked his hands against Harrison’s chest playfully, but he didn’t miss how solid the man felt now. He had been keeping up with their routine, Jett could tell. Harrison had muscles before, but if he was working on them for the entire time they were separated—
“Jett, we have three minutes,” Ryan shouted over the noise. “Stop drooling over your boyfriend, sit down and ice that damn wrist.”
Jett flipped him off, but he did as he was told.
Harrison took the empty spot beside him, leaning in to whisper into his ear, “Good boy.”
