Page 10 of Ethan

“Right,” Ethan said. “Well, I told you not to worry about it, so don’t, okay?”

Charlie nodded.

The thing was, Charlie wasn’t entirely wrong. Charlie had been beingverystupid, Ethan wasn’t going to argue about that. Not for a second. But the stupid thing had nothing to do with Charlie being drunk.

When they walked in the front door, after posing for the social media team, Ethan flushing and almost embarrassed at how transparent this whole thing was, he was proven right because Maxwaswaiting for them. Leaning against the back wall of the front entrance, just under the hand-painted New York skyline.

Maximilian Meier was the Bandits’ captain and Charlie’s best friend on the team. Probably his best friend in the whole world, Ethan thought. Max was also the guy Charlie had been weird about from his first day on the Bandits, progressively getting weirder until three summers ago, Charlie had gotten drunk and spent a good twenty minutes waxing rhapsodic about how fucking incredible and amazing and hot and perfect Max was. One of their friends had videoed the whole goddamn thing, and it kept making its rounds in the group chat, even now.

Charlie hated it.

Personally, Ethan thought what Charlie hated was that there was solid irrefutable proof that he wasnotnormal about Max.

“Hey, Ethan, welcome to New York, or I guess . . . New Jersey?” Max greeted Ethan in his softly accented voice, shaking his hand before pulling him into a quick half hug. Then he turned his attention to Charlie. Because of course.

“Good to see you again,” Ethan said. But he was already forgotten, becauseof course.

“Barney,” Max exclaimed, and Charlie fell into his arms like they’d been separated by a freaking war, instead of less than twelve hours.

Ethan considered inserting that they’djusthad dinner at Max’s condo—five floors up from Charlie’s—last night. But if he had, nobody would have heard him, anyway.

“Max!” Charlie mumbled back, wide smile on his face even as they pulled back from each other.

Last night at dinner, Ethan had texted Avery that it turned out that it wasn’t just Charlie who was weird about Max, but it went the other way too, and turned out that he was still right.

These two, man, Ethan thought as they grinned at each other like idiots, barely holding back the grimace he wanted to make.

Ethan would have asked Charlie again if they were fucking, becausesurelytwo people who were that obviously into each other were at least touching dicks at this point. But Charlie’s reaction when he’d asked the first time—red and then bone-white face, paired with his incredibly defensive negative answer—stopped the words in his throat.

His phone dinged in his pocket twice as Max led them around the facility, showing him where all the offices were, who Ethan would need to go to for which things. Showed him the gym and the training rooms. Introduced him to the equipment manager.

Ethan was being good and didn’t take his phone out of his pocket. Not until after they’d walked into the locker room, and he’d had a momentaryholy shit I did itmeltdown as he saw his nameplate above his stall. Playing for the Evergreens was great, for sure, but it wasn’t the same as being in the NH freaking L.

Not that he really was. He was going back to Portland after this. But for now, for the next week, he was a professional hockey player.

The texts were unsurprisingly from Avery.

what’s he doing now?

And then,don’t tell me he and max are slobbering over each other again.

Ethan chuckled under his breath. Charlie glanced over from his own stall, four down. Right next to Max’s. Because the two of them might die if they weren’t plastered together constantly.

Ethan thought that the Bandits’ front office should’ve been more worried about Charlie and Max using each other as a security blanket than anything to do with Ethan.

But he wasn’t going to say shit, because he’d promised Charlie he wouldn’t.

that’s a constant thing,Ethan texted back.but nah, he’s just so fucking intense.

Avery responded quick. Like he’d already typed out this response. Knowing Avery, he probably had.you know he’s under a ton of pressure from a lot of people. for a long time. maybe while you’re there you can help him relax some.

Personally, Ethan didn’t think that was going to happen—maybe the only person Charlie might listen to was Max—but he could try.

He sent a thumbs-up and shoved his phone into one of the storage shelves in his stall, pulling out his warmup stuff.

Charlie was already ahead of him. Even if Ethan hadn’t been texting, he probably would’ve still been ahead.

He was crazy efficient like that.