Sticks, Tricks, and Dicks – Part 8

Everyone in this story is 18+.

“One of them turned, helmet tucked under his arm, sunlight catching in his hair. Jake’s breath hitched. I frowned, glancing at him. “Hey, you okay?” His jaw worked, throat bobbing like he had to swallow before he could speak. Finally, barely audible, he said, “That guy on the other team… that’s him.” “Who?” He didn’t look at me. “Ash. My best friend. Or he used to be.”

Ash saw us at the exact same moment. His face lit up like someone had flipped a switch, a cocky, lopsided grin that made my stomach twist.

“Jakey!” he shouted, jogging over, arms already open. “Holy fuck, man, look at you!”

Jake froze for half a second, then let Ash yank him into one of those full-body, back-slapping hugs that lifted him clean off the ground. Ash’s hand stayed clamped possessively on the back of Jake’s neck even after the hug broke, thumb rubbing the spot like he wanted to establish dominance.

“Been way too long,” Ash said, loud enough for half the parking lot to hear. His gaze slid to me, sizing, dismissive. “Who’s the accessory?”

“Grayson,” I said, offering my hand. “Good to meet you.”

Ash gave it the limpest shake on planet Earth, then immediately turned back to Jake like I’d vanished. “Come say what’s up to the boys, they wanna see the legend.”

He slung his arm around Jake’s shoulders and started steering him toward the other team’s bus. Jake shot me a quick, helpless look over his shoulder as he got dragged away. I followed at a distance, hands jammed in my pockets, teeth grinding so hard I could taste metal.

◆◆◆

The visitor locker room was pure chaos: country music blasting, tape ripping, guys trash-talking across the benches. Jake and I grabbed two spots side-by-side near the back. I was lacing my skates when he finally spoke, voice pitched low under the noise.

“He acts like the kiss never happened,” Jake muttered, staring at his gloves like they’d done something wrong. “Like he didn’t tell me to get the fuck out of his house and then ghost me for six months.”

I yanked my laces tight enough to cut circulation. “That’s what he does, Jake. Pretends he’s still in control of the story. Always has.”

Jake exhaled through his nose. “I thought seeing him would wreck me. Instead I just feel… tired. Like I’m looking at someone I used to know in a past life.”

Across the room Ash barked a laugh at something one of his teammates said, then looked straight over and crooked a finger. “Jakey, c’mere a sec!”

Jake’s shoulders rose and fell with one slow breath. He started to stand.

“You don’t have to go over there,” I said.

“I know,” he answered, but he went anyway.

I watched Ash pull him into the circle of his teammates, arm draped heavy across Jake’s shoulders again, thumb rubbing that same spot on the back of his neck like a brand. My stomach twisted so hard I almost gagged.

◆◆◆

Warm-ups were brutal. Ash spent the entire time chirping Jake every time they were within twenty feet of each other.

“Still soft on the boards, Jakey?”

“Miss playing with the big boys yet?”

“Bet your boyfriend can’t hit like I can.”

Jake answered with body checks that rattled the glass and left Ash picking himself up off the ice more than once, but his eyes kept flicking to the clock like he was counting down to something worse than the game.

We won 4–2. When the final horn sounded, Ash was waiting by the tunnel, helmet off, hair plastered dark with sweat, grinning like he’d been the one scoring goals.

“Still got that fire, Jakey,” he said, punching Jake’s chest pad hard enough to echo. “Wanna meet up after. Real talk, just like old times?”

Jake rolled his shoulder under the weight of Ash’s arm. “Sure, back at the cabin later?”

Ash’s grin widened. “Yeah, man. Can’t wait.” He squeezed the back of Jake’s neck, hard, possessive. “See you tonight, Jakey-boy.”

◆◆◆

I told Jake I’d hit the vending machines and give them space. Really I just walked endless laps around the frozen lake behind the cabins, boots crunching through fresh snow, breath fogging white in the cold. Every circle the same thoughts hammered louder:

The way he acted. He still touches him like he owns him. I’m in way too fucking deep, and I hate that Ash still has any piece of him.

Thirty minutes in, or maybe just 5, my fingers were numb and my chest ached from more than the cold. I couldn’t take it anymore. I headed back, planning to lurk outside the cabin until Ash left.

But the voices carried before I even reached the porch, raw and loud through the thin wooden walls.

“…one drunk kiss and you threw away six fucking years?” Jake’s voice cracked like ice under too much weight. “You said you loved me that night, Ash. Then you told me to get the fuck out like I was garbage!”

“I told you I’m not—”

“You don’t get to rewrite it!” Jake roared. “You don’t get to show up acting like my best friend again and pretend you didn’t break me!”

Silence for a beat. Then Ash, quieter, venom dripping: “You got your pretty new boyfriend now anyway. Bet Grayson loves picking up my sloppy seconds.”

I’d heard enough. I shoved the door open so hard it slammed against the wall and bounced.

Jake was on his feet, chest heaving, fists balled so tight his knuckles were white. Ash stood by the table, arms crossed, looking smaller than his six-three frame had any right to.

“Get out,” I said, voice flat.

Ash’s eyes cut to me. “This isn’t your—”

“Out.” I stepped forward until we were toe-to-toe. “You had your chance six months ago. You blew it. He’s done carrying your baggage.”

Ash looked back at Jake. Whatever he saw, pride, hurt, absolute finality, made his jaw twitch. He scoffed, snatched his coat off the chair.

“Fine. Whatever! Enjoy my leftovers, Grayson.”

He shoulder-checked me hard enough to make my teeth click, then slammed the door behind him so hard the windows rattled.

The cabin went dead quiet except for the wind howling outside and Jake’s ragged breathing.

He stood there like he didn’t know what to do with his hands now that they weren’t fists. I crossed the room slow, reached out, uncurled his fingers one by one, and laced mine through his.

He stared at our joined hands like he couldn’t quite believe they fit so perfectly.

“I’m done letting him make me feel small,” he said, voice raw and cracked open.

“You never were small,” I told him. “He just needed you to think you were so he could stay big.”

Jake let out a shaky laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob. He dropped his forehead to mine, eyes squeezed shut.

“I don’t want to go backward anymore, Gray. I want forward.”

My heart slammed once, hard.

“Then let’s forward,” I said.

He kissed me then, soft, slow, certain. No rush, no desperation, just the quiet click of something huge sliding into place. When we pulled apart, his blue eyes were shiny but steady.

Outside, snow had started to fall in fat, silent flakes, blanketing the world brand new. Inside, we sank onto the bottom bunk, backs against the wall, knees touching, hands still tangled. Neither of us said anything for a long time. We didn’t need to.

A new chapter. And for the first time, we were both all in.

But there was still one person I had to talk to before any of this could truly begin.