Open Ice Hit (The Sin Bin Book 2)

Summer was both the best and worst season, but this year, it meant long stretches of time he got to spend with Tommy. Granted, it was broken up this year because his therapist, who Tommy had talked him into seeing, suggested it might actually do him some good to get some closure.

“It doesn’t mean you need to go home to stay,” she told him. “And you don’t have to be ready for this now. But you said yourself home isn’t a place. It’s where your heart belongs. It might be a good idea to remind yourself of that.”

Noah knew she’d only suggested it because he hadn’t stopped bringing it up during his sessions about his father. Not wanting to see him but wanting to reclaim that little piece of his past that had been partially responsible for the man he was today. The man Tommy had fallen in love with.

So he’d bought a ticket, kissed Tommy goodbye at the airport as his lover was getting ready to board a plane for Nova Scotia, and then they parted ways.

Noah was unused to the vicious jetlag he felt when he arrived but only because he was unused to flying over the Atlantic. The only time he’d gotten close to traveling so far in the last four years was when Sweden had asked him to join the team for the Winter Olympics. He’d initially said yes—because you don’t turn down the Olympics—but a bad fall on the ice left him nursing a fracture in his ankle for the next six weeks, and the choice had been made for him.

In the end, he hadn’t regretted it, just like he didn’t regret this trip back home. He’d told his therapist he wasn’t sure he was going to bother seeing his family, but when Klara asked him to come to dinner, saying yes had been a lot easier than saying no. Especially because he had Tommy to come home to when it was all said and done. His father could still hurt him, sure, but Noah was constantly reminded of his own worth now, the voices of Tommy, and his team, and now even himself, drowning out the ugly echoes of his father’s criticism.

So, he had one stilted dinner with his parents where they pointedly didn’t mention hockey, and a night out with Klara, which left him with a two-day hangover and a string of drunk texts to Tommy, which would have been mortifying if Tommy didn’t do the same thing to him on a weekly basis.

He also took time to visit the city, taking photos for Tommy and making promises during their late-night phone calls that he’d bring him back some day.

“It really is beautiful here. I’d almost forgotten,” Noah admitted, only slightly grudgingly. He hadn’t realized how right his therapist had been. How desperately he’d needed to close that chapter of his life. He hadn’t realized how the ache of his past had been hanging over his future with the Phantoms, with the NHL, and with Tommy like a dark cloud.

“You have to take me next time. I want to sleep in an igloo and see the northern lights,” Tommy said, his voice sex-heavy from their mutual orgasms, which had left Noah wanting because nothing was as good as having Tommy underneath him. Begging.

Noah smiled and rolled onto his side, staring at the window. “That’s not Sweden, but we can do that. Maybe during winter break next year.”

Tommy hummed softly. “Ice sex.”

Noah snorted a laugh, which turned into a yawn. “Go to sleep.”

The final week of his trip to Stockholm loomed like a wall of nerves, making him anxious to stay but more anxious to leave. Tommy was still in Canada, but they had a trip planned for the end of their break, ending right before preseason camp. They’d managed to avoid any major marketing campaigns, though their agents hadn’t given up trying to get them to come back to the States for another Calvin Klein campaign since it had sold so well the first time.

But they were exploring this new, tender, fragile thing between them, and Noah could see the worry in Tommy’s eyes that mirrored the one he felt at the base of his spine. The fear that one wrong word, one wrong move, one wrong interview, and it would all come crashing down.

It didn’t help that they were keeping things quiet. They both agreed they didn’t want to stay in the closet. There was no point these days, but they also didn’t want the public scrutiny that came with being sports celebrities in love.

“We can just say, if it happens, it happens,” Tommy said. They had been lying in Noah’s bed the night before his flight out to Canada, clinging to each other like it would be years instead of weeks before they were back in each other’s arms. “I mean, if some reporter asks me if my boyfriend is the hottest man in the NHL, it’s not like I’m going to say no.”

Noah kissed him for that, unable to come up with a sarcastic chirp back, and he smiled in spite of the uncomfortable tightness in his gut. “I can live with that.”

He had no plans to deny the man, but he also didn’t want to tempt fate. He’d seen what the paparazzi could do, and he couldn’t deny his fear that outside forces could tear them apart.

As his plane touched down, he was grateful he’d chartered a private flight instead of flying commercial. It meant Tommy could meet him at the gate. It meant he could sweep him up and kiss him and not feel like every stranger in the greater New York area was staring at them.

He drummed his fingers on his thigh, waiting until the metal beast came to a rolling stop. He couldn’t see anything in the mirrored windows, but he liked to imagine Tommy was waiting for him with keys in hand and his bags packed. They were wasting no time getting away. Seven whole days before they had to be back in the city and back on the ice with their teams.

Noah was honestly looking forward to the season. The sting of their loss hadn’t dogged his steps the way it had when the Sea Dogs had taken the Cup. This year, he felt more motivated to do better, to make himself and his team proud.

And Tommy.

Knowing how much his lover believed in him, respected his game, and admired him was like wearing a second set of pads that protected him from the ugly voice of his past that only occasionally broke through his defenses anymore.

They were also training a new guy, a recent acquisition from an NHL mess. Vanya was a beast, and he was mean on the ice. He also had a shit reputation, and the amount of trades he’d gone through was almost a record in itself. Most of the team was pissed, certain Vanya was going to be a liability. He was quick to fight and quick to let the stress get to him. But Noah had watched the guy’s tape, and he had a good feeling about him, and Henny had backed him up on it. There was a lot to work on, but there was also a lot to work with.

There was something in Vanya’s eyes that felt…familiar, in a way, and he wanted to see what the guy could do with all that fire.

For now, though, he had this.

He had the week, and his lover, and a chance to breathe before they let the wild recklessness of their chosen career take over those spaces in their lives.

Noah grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and tipped his head to the flight staff as he hurried out the door, down the stairs, and across the tarmac. His knees were aching a little as he headed in through the doors, and as he came around the corner, he heard his name.

“Viklund, you fuckin’ beauty.”

Noah grinned and dropped his bag just in time to catch two hundred and thirty-nine pounds of pure hockey muscle in his arms. In contrast to the hard, lithe body, Tommy’s lips were soft and glorious against his own as they stole kisses like he was owed them. Noah dug his hand into Tommy’s hair, knocking his hat askew, and they managed to tumble into a small alcove before Tommy pulled away.

“God, I missed your lips and that ass.” He slid his hand down and squeezed Noah’s left cheek. “And that dick.” His hand started to slide toward Noah’s crotch, but Noah caught it and squeezed gently.

Rolling his eyes, he lifted Tommy’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. His lover was ridiculous, but he didn’t have it in him to chirp the man now that he finally had him in his arms. “Were you waiting long?”

Tommy grinned widely. “Nope. And wow, your accent is thicker. God, that’s so hot.”

Noah rolled his eyes again and gave him a shove back. “So is yours. Where’s the car? I want to get out of here.”

Tommy bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for Noah to grab his bag, and he smiled even wider when Noah swept the hat up and jammed it over Tommy’s floppy hair that badly needed a cut. “I parked out front. I bribed the security guy, who wanted a player to have lunch with his niece. She’s apparently hockey obsessed.”

Noah groaned. “Well, have fun with that.”

Tommy’s eyes sparkled. “Nope. You’ll have fun with it. She’s a Phantoms freak.”

Letting out a bone-deep sigh, Noah gave his lover another quick shove and laughed when Tommy shoved back. “Come on. I haven’t had a proper meal in too many hours. And I need a nap.”

“And an orgasm,” Tommy said as he breezed through the doors.

As promised, the car was waiting, and Tommy shot the security guard a thumbs-up as he slid behind the wheel. Noah offered his own more solemn nod, but he’d honor the stolen vow Tommy made since it offered them the chance to get the hell on the road a lot faster than waiting for the valet or walking to the parking lot.

He sank against the leather seat and closed his eyes as a ray of sunlight cut across his face. He breathed in the scent of his lover, and of home, and of everything he had ever wanted. He listened to Tommy yammer on about the trades and about losing two of their rookies to the Aces, and how good their lineup was looking now.

He let his words flow over him like a river and felt contentment in a way he never thought possible.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Noah blinked, then offered a sheepish smile. “Mostly.”

Something a little dark and wary appeared in Tommy’s eyes, and it was like a stab to Noah’s gut. “If I’m being too much…”

Noah reached for him, dragging curled knuckles against the side of his neck where his pulse was beating a little too fast for an easy drive in the car. “I love you.”

Tommy froze, then his shoulders sank. “I’m being a weirdo. Sorry.”

“You are, but I don’t mind. I like you weird.” Noah let his hand fall to Tommy’s thigh, and he kept it there. “I was just basking in how good it finally feels to be here with you.”

Tommy let out a breath, then shook his head. “I promise I’m going to stop doing that, you know.”

“I know,” Noah said quietly.

At the light, Tommy gripped the wheel tight and looked over at him like it cost him something to do it. “No, I mean it. I’m going to stop assuming you’re…you know, putting one foot out the door.”

Noah shook his head. “I know,” he said with emphasis. “I don’t expect all that shit to just disappear now that we’ve said those three little words. And I can be patient. That’s the one thing I’m good at.”

Tommy laughed, but it was light and easy, and Noah felt something settle in his gut. “Okay, fine.” He cleared his throat, then squared his shoulders and nodded—though the gesture looked like it was mostly for his own benefit. “I love you too, eh. I mean…you know that, right?”

“Yes,” Noah said, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck as Tommy hit the gas and made the turn to hit the freeway. “Yes, I do.”

He sat back again and let the light from the sun ease him back into that state of easy calm. They had a week and then the season where he’d face Tommy on the ice again.

And then maybe the rest of their lives.