LOGIN“Hayes?” Jax said, brows lifting as the door slammed shut. “What the hell are you doing?”“Go,” Ryder snapped, already reaching for the seatbelt, hands a little too rough. “Just drive.”Jax huffed a laugh, incredulous. His fingers stayed loose on the steering wheel. “You’re a really shitty hitchhiker, Hayes. What is this—some kind of power trip? You want me chauffeuring you around now?”Ryder’s head whipped toward him. “Power trip?” He let out a sharp breath, heat flaring. “Oh, you’re one to fucking talk.”Jax waited, eyes steady, clearly expecting Ryder to finish the thought.Ryder didn’t. He scrubbed a hand over his face instead. “You know what—never mind. Just drive.”Silence stretched, taut as a pulled line.Jax glanced ahead, then back at Ryder. “Where?”Ryder hesitated. The truth crowded his mouth and stalled there. “I don’t know.”Jax’s mouth twitched. “You tryin' to race Connor back or something?”“No,” Ryder said immediately. Too fast. “No. Just—go somewhere. A bar. Downtown.
Larsson didn’t drag it out.That was almost worse.The locker room went still, the usual team noise flattening into something tight and watchful. Ryder sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, jaw set. He could feel Jax across the room without looking.Larsson cleared his throat. “Goalies first.”A groan rippled through the room.“Starting goalie,” Larsson said, eyes flicking to the clipboard, “Dane Riker.”The groan got louder.Dane lifted a hand like a king accepting tribute. Ryder rolled his eyes and caught Connor doing the same a few stalls down.“Backup,” Larsson continued. “Max Sullivan.”That one landed easier. Expected. A few nods. Max gave a tight smile and looked down at his skates.“Defense.” Larsson took a breath. “Connor Reynolds.”Connor exhaled and bumped his shoulder against the locker behind him, satisfied.“Drew McKinley.”Drew lifted his chin, calm as ever, like he’d known all along.More names followed. Backup defensemen. Ryder zoned out again, letting the sound wash
Ryder woke to Lila’s arm thrown over his chest. She stirred as he shifted, murmured something soft, and kissed his shoulder before rolling away.“I’ve got conditioning,” he said quietly.She made a sympathetic noise, pulling the blanket higher. “Text me later,” she sighed, already half-asleep.Connor’s Jeep rattled as it pulled away from the house, coffee cups shaking in the console, Drew already scrolling his phone in the back seat.Ryder leaned his head against the window, watching the familiar streets blur past.They rolled into the rink lot and, without thinking, Ryder’s eyes went to Jax's usual spot.The Mustang wasn’t there.Ryder’s frown formed slowly, a knot twisting low in his chest. Calloway didn’t miss conditioning. He didn’t miss class. He didn’t miss practice. And Ryder didn’t like how quickly his mind jumped back to the way Jax had moved the night before.Conditioning started as it always did.Ryder noticed the empty spot anyway.The drills were the same ones they always
Jax lay there, sprawled and wrecked, chest rising and falling hard. The sight of him like that still felt unreal to Ryder, loose, exposed, not the version of Calloway he knew how to hate.Ryder wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a reflex he couldn’t stop, humiliation prickling hot along his neck. His hands felt wrong at his sides. Too empty. His body hadn’t caught up yet, still buzzing, still confused by how much he’d enjoyed being the one to do that to him.Jax stared at the ceiling for a second, then let out a breathy laugh that sounded more like disbelief than humor.“Fuck,” he said. Then, quieter, “Hayes.”Ryder stayed where he was, pulse loud in his ears. Part of him wanted to bolt. Another part wanted to lean closer, like proximity might explain what had just happened.“Just—” Jax dragged a hand over his face, already pulling himself back together, armor sliding on by degrees. “For future reference. If a guy you’re blowing tries to push your head away…” His eyes slid to
“What if I wasn’t… a hundred percent straight.”Jax’s gaze flicked with something dark and hungry.Just a glance, and then he forced his eyes away, jaw tightening like he’d bitten down on something sharp.He snorted. “You down to ninety‑five percent or something?”Ryder bristled. “The fuck— I’m serious.” He took a step forward, then stopped himself. “You know we—”“Yeah,” Jax cut in, dry. “And plenty of straight guys like having their asses touched.” His mouth twitched. “The ones who’ve found their prostate do.”“Will you stop being a prick for one second?” Ryder snapped.Jax looked at him.Not amused. Not dismissive.Waiting.Heat crawled up Ryder’s neck under that stare. He shifted, hands useless at his sides. “Look,” he said, forcing the words out. “I’m not gonna tell anyone. About this.” He gestured, small, toward Jax’s body. “Any of it.”He swallowed, bulldozing through his own discomfort. “So let’s just— I don’t know— friends with benefits or something.”Jax went very still. The
“How the hell do you expect to drink this,” Ryder said, holding up the glass, “lying flat on your back?”Jax opened his eyes. “I’ll sit up.”He tried.The effort showed immediately. Jaw tight, shoulders tensing, breath hissing as he pushed an elbow into the mattress.Ryder was there instantly.“Hey—Fuck.” He set the glass aside and caught Jax under the shoulder, steadying him before he could fall back. Their bodies ended up too close, Ryder braced on the edge of the bed, Jax half-upright, their chests pressed together.For a second, neither of them moved.Something charged flickered between them, heat and awareness snapping tight as a wire.Ryder swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus. He picked up the glass again and brought the pills closer. “Just—take these,” he muttered.Jax took them, dry humor flickering in his eyes even as his fingers brushed Ryder’s. He tipped the glass back, throat working as he swallowed, gaze never leaving Ryder’s face.Ryder watched it happen, pulse jump
Ethan went rigid.Milo could barely breathe, heart pounding so hard it made him dizzy. I’m a virgin. The words hung between them like a match held to gasoline.For one long beat, Ethan didn’t move. His chest heaved, slick with sweat, trembling faintly. His arms around Milo’s waist were rock solid
"Don’t make me fucking ruin you, kid. Not unless you’re sure."Milo couldn’t breathe.Couldn’t think. Could only press tighter against the impossible heat caging him in.Then Ethan groaned, a broken sound, and suddenly the arms around him were flexing hard, tense."Fuck," Ethan rasped. "I can’t—Chr
Noah woke up to silk sheets, a pounding head, and the unmistakable ache of thoroughly satisfying sex.He groaned and flopped onto his stomach, burying his face in a pillow that smelled like Sterling. Clean, expensive, and faintly spiced, like bourbon and power."Mmmfuck," he mumbled. "Dead. I’m dea
Noah wasn’t sure why it hit him so hard.He knew Sterling had played hockey. Pro. In Crestwick. He’d seen glimpses of that past in the way Sterling moved, the way he coached, the way his body remembered things before his mind did. But to see it now, in crystal-clear video, Sterling younger than Noa







