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Neither of us mentioned that.

I climbed into bed beside him, and Ash watched me settle against the pillows before one eyebrow rose.

“You know you technically have your own room.”

“So I've been told.”

“And you're not going to use it?”

“I haven't decided what I'm doing with it yet. Perhaps I'll use it for storage.”

His mouth curved. “For what?”

“My emotional baggage. I'm told I have quite a lot.”

Ash laughed softly enough not to hurt himself, and the sound made something warm spread through my chest.

He shifted carefully onto his good side and moved toward me.

This time there was no medication involved, no exhaustion severe enough to blur his judgment, and no half-conscious instinct either of us could use to explain the choice away. Ash knew exactly what he was doing when he put his head against my chest, just as I knew exactly what I was doing when my arm went around him.

Tomorrow afternoon we'd play Game Five.

His father was still out there, Doryu was still investigating him, and I was lying beside Ash carrying knowledge that was becoming harder to justify keeping from him with every hour he trusted me.

Then there was my own secret.

Ash knew almost everything about the worst moment of his life, while he still had no idea the man holding him wasn't entirely human.

The thought should've ruined the moment.

Instead, it made me understand that the conversations ahead of us could no longer be avoided indefinitely.

Just not tonight.

Tonight, Ash knew I was aware of the worst thing he believed about himself. He'd woken sober, remembered every important part of what he'd told me, and waited for me to leave.

I hadn't.

We'd crossed the airport together, and he'd rested against me on the flight. When we'd reached the hotel, he'd made no attempt to pretend I wasn't following him.

Now he was sober, fully aware, and curled against me because that was where he'd chosen to be.

His breathing gradually deepened against my chest, and I pressed my mouth to his hair before closing my eyes.

For tonight, staying was enough.

Chapter seventeen

Empty Net - A goal left undefended after the goaltender has been removed, usually so the team can add an extra attacker.

Max

I woke up hard and confused and very, very warm.

For a second, I didn’t know where I was. The light coming through the curtains was the flat gray of early morning, the Strip finally asleep, and the sheet had been pulled down to my knees. My sweats were gone. That registered dimly, a fact without context, and then the context arrived all at once in the form of wet heat sliding down my length, and I made a sound I would have been embarrassed by if I’d had any room left for embarrassment.

“Ash.”