MasukThe campus gym smelled like rubber flooring, old sweat, and a handful of guys pretending they weren’t hungover. Ryder pushed through the double doors like he owned the place. Chest out, jaw tight, every part of him screaming in protest.He ignored that.He ignored everything.Especially the aches lower in his body that had absolutely nothing to do with hockey.Leo trailed behind him, wary but mostly unfazed.Ryder slapped his ID at the check-in desk. The student worker barely glanced up before waving him through.He turned immediately, eyes scanning the place. Treadmills. Free weights. Squat racks.No Calloway.He scowled. Had the bastard already come and gone? There was no way. It took weeks, sometimes months, to get card access as a transfer, and Jax’s name hadn’t been on the sign-in logs Leo filled in.So where the fuck was he?"You good?" Leo asked quietly."Peachy," Ryder muttered.He marched straight to the row of free weights, grabbed a dumbbell that was far too heavy for the c
Ryder woke up in his own bed with a much smaller headache than he'd hoped for.A pounding, brutal hangover would’ve been convenient right now. Something he could blame it all on. Hell, maybe he could claim he’d been drunk all week. But the dull throb behind his eyes wasn’t nearly enough. He blinked at the ceiling, as the memories of last night hit. Hard.The face Jax made when Brooke yanked him down beside her. That quick, sharp widening of his eyes, shock and discomfort, before he erased it completely. That look stuck under Ryder’s skin like a splinter.Then the rest of the night flashed behind his eyes with brutal clarity.Jax’s fingers in Ryder’s hair, tight and commanding. Ryder’s knees hitting the floor, the hardwood beneath him. And then Jax’s cock against his lips. The heat of it, the weight of it, the way Jax’s breath broke when Ryder took him deeper, thighs tense on either side of Ryder’s shoulders like he was losing control. Ryder’s hands had trembled, trying not to think, n
Jax didn’t waste a second.He reached into his back pocket, tearing a foil packet open with his teeth like he’d been waiting to use it. Ryder’s breath stuttered as he watched Jax roll the condom down over himself, the thick length of him disappearing under smooth latex.Then Jax slicked himself with lube, stroking once, slow and deliberate, his jaw tightening like he was fighting to keep control.Ryder’s legs were already lifted, draped over one of Jax’s shoulders. His sweatpants and boxers still tangled around his ankles, shoes still on, exposed in a way he’d never imagined he would be.Jax lined himself up.Ryder felt the blunt heat of him press right against his entrance. Hot, solid, undeniable.His lungs faltered.Jax’s grip on his thigh tightened.And then he pushed in.The stretch hit Ryder all at once. Sharp, shocking, burning in a way that stole the air from his lungs. His fingers clawed at the floor, his head tipping back as a broken sound scraped out of his throat.Jax didn’
For a split second, Ryder forgot how to breathe.His mouth hovered over the head of a man's cock, close enough that he could feel the heat of it on his lips, close enough that the faint, clean scent of Jax’s skin curled into his head and rewired something fundamental.Fingers tightened in his hair.Ryder’s pulse thudded so hard it made his vision pulse too.He’d never done this before. Never even thought about doing it. Not to a guy. Not to anyone like this, on his knees, being guided instead of doing the guiding.And yet he didn’t pull back. Didn’t stop Jax from lowering his head. Didn’t stop himself from letting it happen.His lips brushed the tip, barely, and Ryder’s breath hitched hard.Jesus Christ.It was warm. Soft. Heavy. Too real. Too intimate. Nothing like the guys in porn he’d half‑ignored his whole life. Jax’s cock pressed against his mouth carried a heat that made Ryder’s stomach flip.His tongue moved before he could think, just a tiny flick against the underside.Jax’s
Ryder wasn’t sure when the night went sideways, but something in him snapped the second Brooke tugged Jax down beside her.He didn’t even fully understand it. A moment ago, he was ready to ditch Calloway and finish the 'tour' the way he always did, with a pretty girl balanced on his cock. But something ugly twisted behind his ribs.Brooke touching Jax shouldn’t matter.Jax liked women. Obviously. Lila had said he was bi, and she wouldn’t just pull that out of nowhere. He’d fucked her with zero hesitation, right in front of Ryder. Like it was nothing.So why the hell did it make Ryder’s stomach tighten when Brooke ran her hand along Jax’s hip? Or when she giggled and leaned her head on his shoulder?He told himself it was the alcohol. The heat. The competition.But deep down he knew it wasn’t.He kept side‑eyeing Jax as they walked, Brooke chattering between them, her hands roaming wherever she pleased. Sometimes on Ryder’s chest. Sometimes on Jax’s arm. Sometimes sliding too low, too
The bass thudded through the floorboards as the party surged on, bodies weaving and spilling through the house like heat waves. Ryder needed a drink, needed to shut his brain up for five minutes.He eyed the makeshift bar counter.Then his gaze landed on a girl across the room.Red hair. Crop top. Brown eyes lined with gold glitter that caught every flicker of the string lights. Pretty in the kind of way that made guys trip over themselves for a smile.She was holding a tray of shots, laughing with two friends, flashing Ryder a bright smile.Jax saw her at the same exact moment, the bastard’s gaze tracked smooth and lazy across the room, landing on her with the same cool, calculated interest he took into drills.She noticed him noticing. Her smile sharpened.Great. Just what Ryder needed: another competition he didn’t ask for.Fine. Game on.He plastered on a grin and pushed off the wall. Jax pushed off his in perfect sync, shoulders rolling under his fitted shirt, the fabric stretchi
One week later, Ethan was stuck at yet another red light, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Every intersection seemed rigged against him, every light red, every driver too slow. Irritation prickled at him. He needed to get home.Milo was sick. Pushed himself too hard for too long, just li
A few weeks later, Crestwick felt different. Milo’s mom had moved into town.When the season ended, Milo finally told her about Ethan—and eventually about Caleb too. At first she’d been concerned, her brows furrowing as she repeated the details back at him: a guy a decade older, with a child, and t
Milo woke before the sun, slipping quietly out of bed with care not to wake Ethan. The house felt still in a way it rarely did. Caleb had gone to visit his mom for the first time last night. It was the right thing, Milo knew that, but the absence lingered in the quiet corners. Both he and Ethan wer
“Milo?” Ethan called again, patient but firm.Milo bit his lip. “Just a second!” he managed, voice higher than he meant.There was a pause, then the sound of Ethan’s knuckles rapping lightly against the door. “Everything okay in there?”Milo shook his head, even though Ethan couldn’t see. “No, I—I







