Page 11 of Ethan

“I’m gonna go warm up some with Max. Play some sewer ball,” Charlie said, toying with the strings of his hoodie. “You wanna come with us?”

And spend more time watching dumb and dumber make googly eyes at each other? Ethan didn’t think so.

“Nah, I’m just gonna go do some stretches. Maybe do a few minutes on the bike,” Ethan said.

Charlie began to frown, like he didn’t like Ethan doing his own thing. But Ethanwantedto do his own thing, especially today. He didn’t want any of the front office or the coaching staff—or God forbid, his new teammates—thinking that he couldn’t do anything without being surgically attached to Charlie.

“Seriously, bro, it’s fine.” Ethan shot him a look like,we talked about this. Which, they had.

“Alright,” Charlie said, “but if you need anything—”

“I know where to go, and who to go to, thanks to Max,” Ethan said.

“Right. Right. Okay.”

Charlie finally left with Max, which was a relief, honestly, and Ethan finished getting changed.

He only got lost once trying to find the gym. But eventually he walked in and after greeting a few of the guys he hadn’t met yet—that was Matt Daniels, or Danny, as he was better known, on the leg press, and Gabriel Robles, another winger, doing deadlifts—took a spot on the mat and began to stretch out.

He was bending into a deep stretch, trying to keep his breathing steady, when a shadow crossed over his body and then didn’t leave.

Ethan flicked his eyes up to look and thenkeptlooking.

The guy was tall—definitely even an inch or two or maybe even three over Ethan’s six feet—and was built but slim. All long, pale legs, slender but unquestionably muscled. Filling out his shorts and T-shirt well.

He had messy dark red hair, almost auburn, curling against his neck, and bright hazel eyes that were currently squinting at Ethan.

“Hey,” the guy said, “you must be the baby Barnes.”

Ethan made a face. Straightened up out of his stretch. “Yeah, hey. I’m Ethan.” He extended his hand and the guy shook it. Ethan got a brief impression of a calloused palm sliding against his own. Nothing particularly special but he felt a weird electric surge anyway.

“Hank Tucker,” the guy said.

“Nice to meet you,” Ethan said, and to his own surprise,meantit.

It didn’t take more than a second for Ethan to put the name to the face. Hockey was a small world anyway, but when he’d been drafted by the Bandits, he’d looked over their roster, as well as their list of recent draft picks.

Henry Tucker, a defenseman, had been drafted two years before also in the first round. His first season after that, he’d gone back to juniors and then, the year after, had spent some time between the Bandits and the Syracuse Black Knights, the Bandits’ AHL team.

Ethan wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t recognized him. But this guy, and the gangly, slightly awkward redhead who he’d seen pictures of, felt like they barely resembled each other.

He’d scanned right over Henry Tucker as just another guy on his future team, butHankmade him sit up and pay attention.

“You’re at Portland U, right?” Hank crouched down so they were more on the same eye level, every movement of his long limbs shockingly graceful.

Thighs,Ethan thought stupidly,thighs thighs thighs. Even though he’d never been particularly into a guy’s thighs before. But Hank’s were right there, and they were so,so. . . well,something. Pale and muscled and thick and crazy strong. It was hard to pretend he was normal about them.

Ethan experienced a brief and very fleeting moment of sympathy for Charlie before shoving that annoying thought away. He wasn’t gay, and he wasn’t going to be weird about Hank Tucker.

No way.

“Yeah,” Ethan said.

Hank raised an eyebrow. “And heading back there, yeah?”

He felt a momentary urge to pretend that it wasn’t already decided and he wasn’t going back there. That he wasn’t nineteen and so fucking green.

But he was all those things. Ethan swallowed hard, nodded. “Yeah.”