Page 9 of Two for Charging

Breezy caught his eye and jerked his head, and Luca followed the cue to switch places.

They hadn’t discussed it beforehand, but it was a good play. Tom’s speed made Luca a more natural fit to go up against him. But Tom and Jax wouldn’t be expecting this—Luca’s footwork against Jax’s sheer power and Breezy’s strength against Tom’s finesse.

Breezy crossed the ice in time for Tom to catch him, battling it out for the puck. He managed to get it away from Breezy and send it in Jax’s direction, but Luca was quick to turn 180 degrees on his edge and grab it out from under Jax’s nose.

He sent it hurtling straight back to Breezy, knowing he couldn’t take Jax in a board battle, and Breezy sauced it straight through the lines of prospies on the other side of the ice, into the empty net of Tom and Jax’s nonexistent team.

Breezy whooped, cruised up to Luca, and grabbed him in an overblown celly. Off the ice, Luca wasn’t much of a hugger, but here, he let it happen, Breezy’s big, warm arms around him through four layers of sweaty hockey gear.

It was as close as he would get.

He was so pathetic.

“Coach,” Dmitriyev called from the goal net Luca and Breezy had been defending. “Can you play less good D-pair? I am very bored, and it gets cold.”

Everyone laughed, including Tom and Jax.

“Good show, guys,” Lindy told them as they hopped off the ice. “I like what I’m seeing. Hayes, Nieminen, you’re up on D. Mooney, Howie, you’re on offense.”

Phil patted both Luca and Breezy on the shoulder as they took their seats on the bench, shucking their gloves and helmets. “Nice work.”

Breezy’s leg brushed against Luca’s, and when he offered Luca his water bottle, their hands touched.

The brief brush of skin on skin did nothing to compensate for Hayes elbowing him aside later to get the showers while the water temperature was still decent, nor did it keep Luca from hearing Vanderbilt joking with some of the call-ups about the “queer charity bullshit.” Nonetheless, the sense memory of Breezy’s warm, sweat-damp touch lingered, reminding Luca of everything he loved about being here, in the NHL, on this particular team.

“Ugh,” Breezy groaned as they got into his car. “I’m so tired. All I want is the biggest bowl of carbonara in the state.”

“You mean tagliatelle in cream sauce,” Luca corrected. “Training camp has barely begun, and the meal plan is already worthless to you.”

“If you keep being rude about my mom’s authentic Italian recipes, I won’t make you any.”

“Oh no. Whatever will I do? I suppose I will starve.”

Luca didn’t even have to wait a full minute before Breezy relented. “Okay, fine. I’ll make you some.”

He smiled to himself as Breezy pulled out of the players’ garage.

“I’m on to you,” Breezy told him. “I’m going to teach you to cook someday.”

“But then what will I need you for?”

“Being your personal chauffeur.”

“The light up there is red.”

Breezy cursed and slammed on the brakes.

Luca didn’t have any more snarky commentary, and he still felt so sensitive about his role on the team he was afraid he’d reveal how much Breezy meant to him, so he let the conversation drift while Breezy concentrated on getting them home.

At some point midway through last season, Luca had to give up his attempts at getting Breezy to hate him. Breezy didn’t mind Luca snapping at him, Luca rejecting his claims at Italian ancestry, or Luca mocking his cooking. He smiled through it all, offering to make dinner and watch soccer, though Luca knew it bored him stiff because he spent half the game on his phone. Breezy was never going to hate him, and Luca was never going to get rid of his attraction to the man. Being rude and snappish when Breezy had done nothing to deserve it made Luca feel worse, so now, he saved it for when he would otherwise do something even stupider such as kiss his roommate.

Once he’d accepted Breezy’s friendship—whether he wanted it or not—Luca began to think of the excessive amount of time they spent together, both at work and at home, as exposure therapy. If he spent all day, every day with him, Luca must eventually become immune to his big, wide eyes, his stupidly broad shoulders, and his earnest nature. Luca did think every third thing out of Breezy’s mouth was ridiculous, so it shouldn’t be hard to teach his heart and his dick to feel the same way.

Nearly a year on, and he had yet to succeed.

Luca had great taste in women. His first girlfriend was an under-eighteen world champion figure skater, and his second was a girl from his Early Modern European history course at university. He’d loved both of them passionately at the time, but things had fizzled out under the half-long-distance, half-too-busy-for-dating strain of a hockey season.

He had no idea how he had gone from dating beautiful, accomplished women to a persistent and unavoidable fixation on a teammate, let alone one like Breezy who lived with one foot in perpetual cluelessness.