Page 24 of Offensive Edge
“No.”
“Will you kiss it better?”
Theo gently guided Rowan’s splinted fingers to his lips.
“Will you make me a sandwich?”
Theo smiled, liking the way Rowan needed him. Being the focus of Rowan’s attention always made Theo feel special. Chosen. Plus, Rowan was sweet when he was needy.
“You don’t want to nap?”
“Too keyed up to nap. I need to run laps or something.”
“You’ve had a broken finger for, like, two days. You can’t be going stir-crazy yet.”
“So…yes to the sandwich?”
The shift in the tone of Rowan’s voice told Theo that he had a smile on his face. The one that could get Theo to go to the ends of the earth for him. And something about Rowan needing him activated that instinct into overdrive.
“Alright. If you keep me company.”
They headed into the kitchen, and Rowan hopped up to sit on the counter. Michelle had scolded him for it in the past, but she wouldn’t get home from work for at least another hour, and what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. If it made Rowan happy, Theo would let him do whatever he wanted.
Theo pulled out bread and lettuce. He sliced a tomato and grabbed last night’s rotisserie chicken from the fridge. He found the chipotle mayo, and before he put the second piece of bread on top, he salted and peppered it. It was, objectively, a masterpiece. He cut it into triangles and slid it over to Rowan, who beamed at him as he took a bite.
“Split,” he said, nudging the other half back to Theo. Theo wasn’t all that hungry, but he took it. If he’d made himself a sandwich, it would have probably been a PB&J. He didn’t whip out next-level effort for himself.
He ate his half of the sandwich while he listened to Rowan compliment him, a mouth full of food the entire time. And when they finished, Rowan pulled him in close, wrapping his arms and his legs around him.
“No one takes care of me as good as you do.”
Theo was sure it was hyperbole. Still, he pressed his nose to Rowan’s neck and breathed him in. Maybe he wasn’tthe next great thingthe way Rowan was, but he didn’t need to be. He just needed to be worthy of Rowan, to bask in his vibrant glow. Everything else would figure itself out.
CHAPTER16
ROWAN
Rowan didn’t skiphockey games for nothing. Since he started playing in the NHL, he had played with a fever more than once. He’d gotten a puck to his jaw that later needed surgery, but he still finished the game out. It was a stereotype, but he loved feeling tough in that hockey-specific way. He loved being there for his team.
His body felt weird all day, but he survived morning skate. He could make it through the game. He got suited up and almost made it out to warmups before it finally hit him, and he had to sprint in his skates to a garbage can to empty his stomach.
A trainer pulled him to the side and grabbed the coach. Coach Peters told him he looked “sickly pale,” and when he asked if Rowan thought he could handle playing, he had to turn back to the garbage can again.
“Alright, change out of your gear and head to the press box.”
Rowan put his suit back on, and by the time he made it to the press box, he knew he must have a temperature. He was freezing cold and burning up. He grabbed a little garbage can from the corner of the press box and sat by himself, shaking. By the second period, he couldn’t use his brain to process what was happening. And he still felt guilty for not being on the ice.
Hockey guilt was a fucking trip.
Tommy, who was out with a separated shoulder, brought him back to the player’s lounge after the game, and he plopped himself in one of the leather chairs. They’d lost the game, which made Rowan feel worse, and he wallowed while the rest of the team undressed, did media, cooled down, showered. One of the trainers came to check in on Rowan and told him that if he found out Rowan wasn’t guzzling fluids at every available opportunity, he would be pissed. In a caring way. Rowan just accepted the BioSteel from him.
“Hey, bud. Time to go home.” He could tell Vic’s deep baritone from a million miles away, which is about where he felt at the moment.
Rowan stood and followed Vic toward the car. Vic bundled Rowan into the back seat of the car, and he fell asleep on the twenty-minute drive back to their house.
“I was planning on going over to Julia’s,” Vic told Theo as the three of them made it inside the house. “Her birthday is during the roadie, and she’s bummed. T, can you keep an eye on him? Keep him alive?”
Theo sighed and huffed, his arms across his chest, defensive. Rowan didn’t need another reminder of how much Theo hated him right now.
