Page 142 of Ethan

“It wasn’t that bad,” Ethan said, which he would say even if it was fucking terrible.

Normally, Hank might hold back, or let Ethan thinkyes, sure, you’re right, it wasn’t too bad. Just a normal day playing fucking hockey.

But Hank was kind of over pretending that it was okay, or that Ethan wasn’t working overtime to convince everyone that he was tough.

He rolled his eyes. “Nope, it was totally that bad. Nearly blindsided you, and on your way back to the bench? Yeah, it wasexactlythat bad, and that fucker deserved every punch I gave him, and more, honestly. It was a cheap-ass shot.”

Ethan frowned. Honestly it hadn’t occurred to Hank—though thinking had not really occurred to Hank when the moment had arrived and he’d needed to do something about this bullshit that kept happening—that Ethan might be pissed at him for fighting on his behalf.

Shit.Shit.

Not that he’d do anything differently. He wouldn’t. Ethan’s safety as a player in this league was more important than any argument they might get into over Hank being too heavy-handed about it. Hank would do it again, in a hot second, if he needed to.

“Okay, well, next time you’re gonna go all fucking ninja on a guy, can you give me a heads-up first?” Ethan complained.

Hank shot him an incredulous look. “I wasn’tplanningto do that.”

“I know, but . . .” Suddenly Ethan was grinning, the smile overtaking his whole face, lighting him up. “But it was really fucking hot, and I really needed a minute.”

Hank stared at him. Wasn’t sure at first that he’d heard correctly. “What?”

“Oh come on, it was hot.” Ethan gave him a little shove, still grinning. “Youknowit was.”

Hank knewhisblood had been hot. He’d been angry. Pissed off. Fucking furious, if he was really digging deep into it. But hot? Like jump-Ethan’s-bones-over-it hot? Not really.

Though he couldn’t say he was against the rest of the league knowing that if they laid a hand on Ethan Barnes, they’d be answering to him.

That was a little bit hot.

“Um.”

“Yeah,” Ethan said, nodding. “Okay, you get it now. Maybe hotter from my perspective, but you get it.”

Shit, Ethan was right. And they had a whole period of hockey left to play. Andthenthey had to go back to Max’s apartment, where they were sharing a bed, but couldn’t exactly kick their captain out of hisown place.

“Why aren’t we on the road?” Hank asked philosophically.

“Don’t worry.” Ethan’s grin turned sly. “I’m gonna take care of that.”

Hank almost told him no. Almost reached out and grabbed him again. Stopped him. Because really, it was pretty fucking embarrassing. They couldn’t wait to get their hands on each other enough that they were going to sexile Max from his own fucking apartment? Embarrassment burned through Hank in an unsteady rush. But accompanying that was a frisson of heat that had nothing to do with humiliation and everything to do with how much Hank really, kind of desperately, needed to get Ethan naked.

“Okay,” Hank said, and Ethan smirked.

“Finally,” Ethan said, tossing him one last promising look before he turned and started walking towards the locker room entrance, Hank trailing behind. “I knew you’d see reason eventually.”

The thing was, Hank just assumed—probably stupidly—that Ethan would be circumspect about it, and not announce thirty minutes later, in the middle of the locker room after narrowly edging the Senators, “Max, you need to go back to Charlie’s place tonight.”

Hank felt his entire face light up neon red as every set of eyes in the room turned in his direction.

There were some jeers. A few catcalls. Hank swore he heard someone say, “I’m not fucking surprised, not after that fight.”

Danny’s voice was more obvious, as it cut through the noise. “Yeah, you get it, baby bro.”

It was Charlie, not Max, though, who turned towards Ethan. “Oh, does he?” Charlie asked archly.

But Ethan just shot his brother a rather calm look back. “Yeah. You two are always snuggling up anyway. Do it at your place, instead of his.”

“Maybe wewantto do it at his place,” Charlie said, more than a little self-righteously.