Page 62

“Yeah,” he says. “I love you, big bro.”

“I love you too, little bro.”

“You try and get some sleep, okay? You’ve got school and practice tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he agrees reluctantly.

“Message me in the morning?”

“You got it. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You didn’t. And stop apologizing.”

“Yeah. Okay. Sorry.” My chuckle at him apologizing again is full of pain.

“Sleep well. We’ll talk tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The call cuts, and I drop my cell to my chest and close my eyes as I think about those two boys suffering in a house that should be full of love and support.

I don’t know how long I lie there on my guest bed. As much as I know I need to return to my own room, I’m scared.

He’s left. Not only did I hear him go, but my cell pinged with the movement from the camera at the front door.

I shouldn’t have agreed to him going. But I knew that I wouldn’t be in any kind of mood to continue what we started. There’s only ever one reason why Hux calls in the middle of the night, and it means they need me—and in that moment, there isn’t anywhere else more important than being present for them. Even getting laid after a dry spell.

The second I step into my bedroom, I regret telling Garrett to leave.

His scent still lingers in the air, the sheets are still ruffled from where we were messing around, and there on the corner of the bed is the condom I pulled off, sitting beside the empty packet, taunting me.

So close, Nash. So close yet so fucking far away.

Angrily, I swipe it all from the bed and dump it in the trash can in the bathroom.

As I approach the shower, I notice that it’s wet.

He had a shower in here before leaving.

He stood right there naked and let the water run over his body, and all the while, I was in the other room.

I can’t regret answering that call to Huxley. I never will. But I can regret sending him away when, instead, he could have waited for me.

He could still have been lying out on that bed, still primed and ready to go.

My dick jerks sadly. It desperately wants to get hard again, but it can’t.

I get it. I’m too fucking sad as well.

I have a very quick shower, allowing his scent to disappear down the drain before I step out, dry off, and then head straight for my bed.

I already know I’m not going to sleep. It’s always this way. I lie here worrying about them, waiting for my cell to start ringing again.

It never does. I must fall asleep at some point, because the next thing I know, my alarm is blaring.

We might not have a practice session scheduled for today, hence the party last night, but that doesn’t mean I’m breaking routine.

It doesn’t matter how little sleep I’m running on; my focus has to be hockey. I can’t afford for it to be any other way.