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chapter twenty seven
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2026-05-21 00:00:52
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His sisters boyfriend chapter forty seven
Chapter Forty-Seven: Cole pov The solo show in New York was three weeks away, and Jay was losing his mind.He paced the apartment at night. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Couldn't stop staring at his drawings, rearranging them, second-guessing every line and shadow."What if they hate it?" he asked for the hundredth time."They won't.""What if no one comes?""People will come.""What if the gallery cancels?""Jay.""What if—"I kissed him. "Stop.""I can't.""Yes, you can."He pulled back. Looked at me. His eyes were wild. His hands were shaking."I'm scared," he said."I know.""This is different. This isn't hockey. This isn't your career. This is mine.""I know.""What if I fail?""Then you fail. And you try again.""I don't want to fail.""No one does. But you won't.""How do you know?"I put my hands on his shoulders. Looked him in the eyes. "Because your work is amazing. Because Elena believes in you. Because I believe in you. Now stop pacing and eat something."He sat down. At
His sisters boyfriend chapter forty six
Chapter Forty-Six : Jay pov The summer after the Stanley Cup win was the quietest summer of my life.No crowds. No cameras. No interviews. Just Cole and me and our small apartment near the rink. The trophy was gone. Sent back to the league for engraving. The Hart Trophy was still on the nightstand, staring at me while I slept."You should move that," I said one morning."Why?""Because it's staring at me.""It's a trophy. It doesn't stare.""Everything stares if you look at it long enough."Cole laughed. "You're weird.""You love it.""I love you."He got out of bed. Walked to the kitchen. Started making coffee. I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything that had happened.The accident. The hospital. The recovery.The draft. The move. The new job.The art. The gallery. The sales.The Hart Trophy. The Stanley Cup.Two championships in one year. Cole had done it. He'd actually done it.I got out of bed. Walked to the kitchen. Cole handed me a cup of coff
His sisters boyfriend chapter forty five
Chapter Forty-Five :Cole pov The Hart Trophy sat on our shelf for exactly one week before Jay made me move it."It's staring at me," he said."It's a trophy. It doesn't have eyes.""It's judging me.""It's silver. It doesn't judge."Jay crossed his arms. "Move it.""Where?""I don't care. The closet. The bedroom. The bathroom. Anywhere but here."I picked up the trophy. Walked to the bedroom. Put it on my nightstand."Now it's staring at me while I sleep," I said."That's your problem."I laughed. "You're ridiculous.""You love it.""I love you."The off-season was short.Training camp started in September. New players. New coaches. New expectations. The rink felt different this year. Louder. Faster. More intense. Everyone was fighting for a spot. Everyone wanted to win.I was named captain during the first week.Coach called me into his office after practice. The room was small. A desk. A computer. Photos on the wall of teams from years past."Close the door," he said.I closed it.
His sisters boyfriend chapter forty four
Chapter Forty-Four :Cole pov The second NHL season was harder than the first.Not because of the hockey. The hockey was the same. Fast. Hard. Brutal. But because of the expectations. Last year, I was a rookie. Nobody expected anything from me. This year, I was a Stanley Cup champion. Everyone expected everything.The media was worse. Reporters followed me everywhere. Asked me questions about everything. My training. My diet. My relationship."Is it true you're dating a man?" one reporter asked."Yes.""Is it serious?""Very.""Are you planning to get married?""That's none of your business."The next day, the headline read: "HOCKEY STAR COLE ASHFORD PLANNING TO MARRY MYSTERY BOYFRIEND."Jay laughed when he saw it. "Mystery boyfriend? I'm not a mystery. I'm just a barista.""You're not just a barista. You're an artist.""An artist who works at a coffee shop.""An artist who got into the end-of-year show."Jay smiled. "That's true."The season started in October.The first game was in
His sisters boyfriend chapter forty three
Chapter Forty-Three : Jay povArt school was harder than I expected.Not the drawing part. That came naturally. The hours of practice. The endless sketches. The feel of charcoal on paper. That was the easy part.The hard part was the criticism.Every week, we had to bring our work to class. Pin it on the wall. Stand in front of everyone while they pointed out everything wrong with it."The proportions are off.""The shading is too dark.""The composition is weak.""Did you even try?"I wanted to quit after the first critique.Cole talked me down."You can't quit," he said."Why not?""Because you're good.""They don't think so.""They're pushing you. That's what teachers do.""It feels like they hate me.""They don't hate you. They're trying to make you better."I didn't believe him. But I didn't quit.The second critique was worse.One of the other students, a guy named Marcus, looked at my drawing and laughed."Is this supposed to be a person?" he asked. "It looks like a potato."Th
His sisters boyfriend chapter forty two
Chapter Forty-Two :Cole pov The summer after the Stanley Cup win was everything I'd ever dreamed of.Not because of the trophy. Not because of the parades. Not because of the money.Because of Jay.He was different now. Lighter. Happier. Like he'd finally found something he'd been looking for his whole life.He started drawing again. Every night, after work, he'd sit at the kitchen table with his sketchbook and pencils. He drew me. He drew our apartment. He drew the city skyline from our window."You're getting better," I told him one night. I was standing behind him, watching him work."I'm practicing.""You're improving.""I have time now."I kissed the top of his head. "I'm proud of you.""Don't be. It's just drawing.""It's not just drawing. It's you. It's your dream."Jay put his pencil down. Looked up at me."What do you want to do with it?" I asked."I don't know.""You should think about it.""Why?""Because you're good. And you deserve to be happy."Jay was quiet for a momen
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