No.
There was no reply for a long time, and Etienne began to wonder if he’d pushed him too far, if Adam was rebelling. The thought of him jacking off made him catch his breath.
Sunday night, he sent. He pushed down his pants and took a picture of his own cock, his hand loosely fisted around the base, then pressed Send. Sunday night you can have this.
Promise?
Yeah, Etienne replied.
Even if you lose?
Etienne’s eyebrows went up and the bubble showing Adam typing popped into view.
Not saying you’re gonna lose.
You’re not.
You’re gonna kill ‘em.
But I mean…
Etienne could picture him, chewing on that sinful lower lip, eyebrows drawn together as he tried to get his foot out of his mouth.
Sunday night, Etienne sent again. No matter what. Goodnight, Adam.
Night, Tenny.
10
Etienne was a mass of nerves in the locker room the next afternoon. Players jostled him, calling cheerful abuse back and forth, but Etienne barely heard them. Adam was in the stands. Adam was going to watch him play.
Logically, Etienne knew Adam had already seen him play, that he had nothing to prove. But that didn’t stop his knee from jigging as he strapped his pads into place.
Rudy dropped onto the seat beside him and Etienne stifled a groan.
Rudy’s grin was blinding. “Hi.”
“Go away, Dad.”
“Nope. Sorry.” Rudy put a hand on Etienne’s knee, stilling it. “We’re gonna have a good game. Cary’s gonna be impressed. Maybe you’ll even get a hat trick.”
“Don’t jinx it, Jesus!”
“Fine, too far,” Rudy said, holding up his hands in surrender. “But my point stands. So get out there and show him what you can do.”
Etienne braced his elbows on his knees, staring at his skates. After a minute, he nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Let’s do this.”
Adam settled in his seat, parents on either side of him, as the players hit the ice to warm up and pucks went flying. He wasn’t usually on this side of the glass, but he liked it, finding Etienne’s broad shoulders immediately. There was Rudy, quick and elegant as ever as he worked through a complicated footwork pattern. Liam and Johnny, never far from each other, were on the other side of the rink, and Logan was warming up in his crease.
“Excuse me,” someone said from behind him.
Colette tapped Adam’s shoulder and he looked up. A small girl with fair hair in pigtails stood there, wearing a green and white Wolverines jersey with his number on the sleeve, her mother hovering just behind her.
“Can I have your autograph?” the little girl asked.
Adam nodded, feeling in his pockets for anything to write on. The girl thrust a piece of paper and pen at him, and Adam accepted it.
“Who should I make it to?”
“Molly.”
Dear Molly, you’re the best part about playing hockey, Adam wrote, and signed his name in looping flourishes. When he handed it back, she read what he’d written, burst into giggles, and clutched it to her chest.
“Come back soon,” she told him earnestly. “The Wolverines need you.”
Adam laughed and waved goodbye to her before turning back to watch the players again.
His father nudged him. “Getting used to that yet?”
“Not really,” Adam said, eyes on Etienne, who was talking to Rudy.
“Good,” William said. “It’s when you do get used to it that I’ll need to worry about the size of your ego.”
Adam glanced sideways at him, but William was watching Etienne as well.
“I like that friend of yours,” he said. “Hey Col, let’s invite Etienne out to dinner with us tonight.”
“Perfect! Adam, does he have plans?”
“No,” Adam said unthinkingly. “I mean. I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m not his keeper, how would I know?”
Colette’s gaze was a little too piercing, but she didn’t challenge his stammering. “Text him so he’ll know.”
Adam scowled but dug out his phone. Folks want you to come out with us tonight. Hope you don’t have plans bc I already told them you were free. Sorry. (I’ll make it up to you.) He tapped Send and shoved the phone back in his pocket as the first line gathered on the ice for the puck drop.
They were playing the Florida Everblades, a team known for its steady scoring and strong win/loss ratio. The Blades had gotten a new coach a few years before, and he’d turned their playing around, bringing them up through the standings until they had a real chance for the Kelly Cup.
The Blades were good, but so were the Thunder, and Etienne…. Etienne was amazing. Adam had known it before he’d seen him at practice, had heard his name mentioned with favor by several people, but nothing had prepared him for the actuality of seeing Etienne in play. He was an up-and-comer, sharp and hungry and lethal. And—Adam couldn’t help the bolt of lust that zinged through him as Etienne, challenged by an angry forward, dropped his gloves and swung—a good fighter, too.
The scrap was over quickly, Etienne taking his opponent to the ice and the linesmen immediately separating the two. Adam grinned when Etienne slapped the other man’s back before heading for the box.
The Thunder won the game by a narrow margin, 3-2 in the last period. Etienne sank the winning goal, sending the puck winging gracefully topshelf over the goalie’s shoulder. The goal horn sounded, Etienne’s team mobbed him, and Adam cheered until his throat hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that much fun in the stands.
Etienne turned on the ice and found him, eyes locking unerring on Adam’s form. He smiled, bright and sweet and exhausted, and Adam caught his breath, covering quickly with a cough. He had it bad for Etienne Brideau, he was beginning to realize.
He and his parents made it down to the tunnel and waited through the team handshakes, until the players shuffled off the ice. Adam leaned a hip against the barrier, signing autographs for the small crowd that had recognized him, while Etienne showered and changed.
His phone buzzed and Adam handed the last autograph off with a smile and turned to pull it out.
Are you serious right now?
Adam grimaced. I’m sorry, he sent back. I wasn’t assuming for you, I swear—she asked if you were busy and I said no and SHE just assumed… ugh okay I see what you mean.
Etienne’s reply didn’t take long. I’m taking this out on your ass, Caron.
Heat lanced through Adam and he cleared his throat as Etienne sent another text.
I’m in the parking lot.
“He’s outside,” Adam told his parents, gathering them up and shooing them toward the exit. “And he’s tired, so this is going to be a fast dinner.”
Since he had the dubious honor of knowing Toronto better than the others, Adam was left to choose the restaurant. He settled on a hole-in-the-wall Ethiopian place. Small, dimly lit, its interior barely visible through the smoke from both patrons and the grills in the kitchen—Adam had loved it from the first moment he’d stepped inside.