Page 41 of Bonus Game
He set it down, making a mental note to order a frame so he could hang it on his wall instead, and then went through the other contents of the box. Most of it was memorabilia, like the puck from Allen’s first goal, a few medals and signed posters by him. But the most interesting object was the pictures and cards that came with stats on the back.
Seeing Allen geared up for a game definitely did something for him, but Jake could see the sadness in those brown eyes staring back at him, and it made him want to pay a visit to Allen’s parents and get some answers. How could they push Allen into playing a sport he hated, even if—damn, his stats were amazing.
Good enough to go pro, maybe earn himself a spot on the line of an NHL team and hit a streak that would turn him into a solid player. Had that talent been nurtured instead of demanded, Allen could be enjoying the last of his prime years as he slowly worked his way to a well-earned retirement, not resenting a sport he was obviously gifted at playing.
“The silence is a little unnerving,” said Allen, and the sound of his voice was so jarring that Jake’s head snapped up in surprise. “Is it weird? Oh fuck, this was too weird, wasn’t it?”
“No, not at all.” Jake put the card he was holding down and smirked at Allen as he began unwrapping the stick. “This was yours? I can’t believe you went with this curve—what was the highest number of points you had in a season?”
Allen sighed and folded his arms. “Don’t ask me. My parents have it all written down in the notebooks I gave you. I think I was so traumatized by my childhood that I’ve blocked most of it out.”
Screw talking to them. Jake wanted to fight them.
“Do you have anything else?” Jake asked, keeping his voice cheery. “Don’t throw it out. I want it all.”
Allen crinkled his nose, but Jake didn’t miss the blush that was forming on his cheeks. “I have more sticks and pucks in my storage locker downstairs. My equipment bag is there too, but I don’t know what’s in it. My dad dropped it off one day because he was pissed at me, and my dumbass brought it inside instead of throwing it in the dumpster. I played for two teams, so if you want the jersey from my first one, I can give it to you.”
Jake would take everything. The sticks, the gear and the man himself. It could all stay safe in his home, where it belonged, and be loved and cherished forever.
“Okay, jeez. I’ll let you have everything you damn hoarder.” Allen nudged him with his foot and winked. “Please eat your food before it gets too cold. I can’t be the only one who needs replenishment after last night.”
Jake frowned, but Allen was right. He pouted as he put everything back in the box and set the stick aside, only smiling again when Allen laughed at his ridiculous behaviour.
The eggs were cold, but it was the best breakfast Jake had eaten in a long time. Sitting with Allen and watching corny Christmas movies was a new tradition in his books, even if his boyfriend got easily disgruntled over them.
Jake’s phone chimed as he was finishing the last of his bacon, and he pulled it out to see an alert from the security cameras inside his apartment. He already knew who it was before he opened the live feed, just in time to see Riley lift his shirt and start playing with his nipples, staring directly at the camera.
He was so lame.
Riley dropped his shirt and started texting on his phone, and the message was delivered to Jake’s device seconds later.
Get the fuck over here. Bring Allen. Let’s get drunk.
“You’re making a face,” said Allen.
Jake was still recovering from the nipple play, so yes, he was.
“Riley’s at my place,” Jake told him, holding up his phone to show off the text. “We usually spend Christmas together, but I’ll tell him to enjoy his alone time at the apartment, and I can visit him later?”
He hadn’t meant for his tone to turn the offer into a question, but he didn’t know how to ask Allen to come to his home without it seeming like things were moving too fast. This was the part of social interaction that he hated. Should he say the words and risk sounding like an asshole, or should he drop it and tell Riley he was bailing?
Allen had caught on to his indecisiveness and was folding his arms across his chest again, looking as threatening as a cute hamster while he stared Jake down.
“Stop hesitating to talk to me,” said Allen, his foot nudging Jake’s leg. “What do you think I couldpossiblybe scared of after you literally fucked me all night, dressed me in a pair of frilly underwear, and then asked me to marry you?”
Jake dug his teeth into his bottom lip. “They’re not frilly, they’re lacy.”
Allen raised an eyebrow. “What theyare—is soaked with cum and sitting in my laundry basket to be washed, Mr. Literal. Telling me you love me can’t be easier than asking me whatever mind-blowing question is spinning around in that sexy head of yours, so spill it.”
Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Jake wrung his hands together, piecing the words into order until they became clear.
“I’m too big for this place.”
Sonofabitch. That wasn’t what he meant tosay.
While Jake began to have a mini-breakdown, Allen was tossing his head back to laugh. Tears gathered at the corners ofhis eyes, and Jake paused his freak out to watch Allen wipe them away, only for more glistening beads to return the next second.
“Jake—please—you are too fucking adorable.” Allen abruptly pushed off his blankets and stood, crawling closer to swing a leg over Jake’s lap so he could sit and cling to him like a baby bat.
