Chapter Seven

Kurt’s thighs burned as he raced down the length of the rink against the F-Bombs, Finn and Flynn. His lungs burned as he gulped in the icy air.

God, he freaking loved it.

Okay, it was probably the endorphins talking. But there was something about pushing himself to the limit—and skating right past his two best friends at the same time. Hard and exhausting? Hell, yes. Almost to the point of making his stomach turn inside out? Yeah. Totally worth it, though.

Kurt slapped the edge of the rink with his glove as he whipped into a turn. Damn. If he left the team, he’d miss this. Or maybe he didn’t have to leave, yet. He could keep going with this dream while chasing another. Talking to Noelle had opened up a whole realm of possibilities for him. So many that he hadn’t been able to sleep for two days going over everything in his head.

Well...fantasies of Lisette had something to do with keeping him awake, too. Proving how mixed-up he was, the only thing that helped Kurt get to sleep was hopping into the shower, picturing her luscious curves and taking care of business. He couldn’t wait to do it with her for real.

Cheers brought him back to the ice. Since official training hadn’t kicked off for the new season yet, things were looser. Most of the Rage sat on the bleachers set up around their training rink, whistling and shouting. He and the F-Bombs had the first round of tequila shots riding on the outcome. But their teammates were all betting dinner at Charlie’s Steakhouse on them. It gave an added edge to workouts. Something to make up for missing the excitement of actual games.

Ice flying from his skates, he stopped hard and heard the sharp breaths of his friends as they joined him a full two seconds later. At least if he did leave hockey, it’d be all his choice. Because Kurt was at the top of his freaking game. More fit than ever before.

Just not as focused. He’d have to figure out what that meant and what to do about it before official training did start. Not now, though. Kurt couldn’t look any further ahead than the party. It was the last thing he could do for Jasper, and he was damn well going to do it right.

Good thing he was still gloved up. Flynn’s high five would’ve split his palm otherwise. “Tight race, Hawk.”

“The only thing better than beating your sorry ass is beating Finn. What’s that forty-dollars-a-glass beer we saw on the menu last time? ’Cause I’m ordering that. On your dime, naturally.”

“Fine. And when I beat you next time, I’ll order a bottle of Cristal and slide the bill over to you with a shit-eating grin.”

“Trash-talk all you want. In fact, if you moved your legs as fast as you flap your gums, maybe you could beat me for once.” Kurt used his forearm to wipe the sweat from his forehead as the insults flew.

“Nah. Finn’s gone soft around the edges. Love turned him into a marshmallow.”

Finn whipped around as fast as if he was blocking a player rather than just Archer’s infamous bad mood. “Really? You want a go, Archer? Maybe if you were getting laid as regularly as me, the stick up your ass might finally fall out.”

“No more racing right now. I want to talk to everyone.” Kurt stuck two fingers between his lips and whistled his friends into silence. “I’ll send out an email with the details, but I wanted to ask you guys personally to do me a favor. I’m throwing a party a week from Saturday, and I want you all to come.”

Flynn bonked him on top of his head. “Going to a party’s the opposite of us doing you a favor. Hot babes, good food, free-flowing booze...go on, twist my arm some more.”

“I’m gonna have to, because this party’s only got one out of three,” Kurt said with a wince.

Finn’s green eyes narrowed. “Which one?”

Shit. He was sunk. “The food should be decent.” Thanks to Lisette.

Kurt’s big plan had originally been to bring in bags of burgers and nuggets. He didn’t remember exactly what she’d lined up, but she deemed it kid-friendly, theme-appropriate and adult acceptable. Not to mention heads and tails better than his sorry-ass idea. All that mattered to Kurt was that it was out of his hands. He wouldn’t have the chance to screw it up. Which apparently he’d been well on his way to doing before Lisette got on board.

Flynn moved his hand as if erasing everything Kurt had said so far. “How about this? You give us your credit card, and we’ll teach you how to throw a real party.”

“I’ve already got a party planner.” A thought occurred to him. One Kurt didn’t like at all. “And all of you had damn well better keep your hands off of her.”

“Forget the lame party. Now I want a crack at the planner, if she’s got the Hawk all tied up in knots,” Archer said with a leer all over his ugly mug. “Must be smokin’.”

“Keep Lisette out of it,” Kurt growled.

“Smokin’ name, that’s for sure.”

How’d he get pulled so off track? Lisette had a way of taking up all the available space in his head. Probably because it was damned confusing wanting her so much...while knowing he’d always remind her of the sadness she was trying so hard to leave behind. In other words, being with her was really fucking selfish.

Kurt just couldn’t force himself to stop.

Because it was really fucking great, too.

Another piercing whistle got their attention again. “Look, on my day with the Cup, I’m throwing a party for Jasper’s hockey team, so they can all hang with it and be cool for a couple of hours. It’d mean a lot if at least some of you could be there, too.”

“Dude.” Flynn poked him in the thigh with the end of his stick. “Why didn’t you just say it was for Jasper? I’m there.”

Finn raised his hand. “Me, too. No matter how shitty the food is.”

“Yeah.”

A chorus of yeses came from his teammates. All of them, from what he could tell.

Yeah, these guys were special. He’d been tight with the Quakes. Hadn’t really gelled with too many Snakes. But this team, the Rajuns, they’d been there for him in the darkest days of his life. And then they’d been right there, sharing the brightest as they won game after game and eventually clinched the Cup. They had a bond unlike any other team.

Shit. How could he even think about leaving them? About leaving them in the lurch as they scrambled to find another center as good as he was? About leaving the best team of friends he’d ever had? It’d be totally selfish. What gave him the right to screw up everyone else and their team mojo?

“I’ll show up for you and Jasper—but I’ll stay to try my luck with this hot mystery party planner.”

Typical Archer. He’d have to shut that down right the hell now. “She’s off-limits.”

“Why?”

He’d leave off the part where he prevented her from getting a job with the Rage. After all, Kurt never would have taken that step if he’d had any idea that she’d already quit her old job. He felt like shit about it every day. And stayed awake every damn night, wondering how to fix what he’d fucked up so epically.

“Because she was Jasper’s hospice nurse. She’s just helping me out while she’s between jobs.”

“That’d be awkward as hell for you.” Archer tossed off a practiced wink Kurt had seen aimed a hundred times at the paparazzi, the media and any woman within spitting distance. “Not for me, though.”

That cocky bastard wasn’t getting anywhere near Lisette. In the same don’t even think of fucking with me voice Kurt used during face-offs, he ordered, “Stay away. I mean it.”

“Because she’s already got Property of Kurt Lundquist stamped on her ass?” Everyone laughed.

Everybody but Kurt.

Which every-fucking-one else noticed.

Flynn rounded on him. “Jesus H., Lundquist, are you insane? Did you hit on your dead brother’s nurse?”

It sounded just as bad when put like that as it did when the little voice in Kurt’s head had told him from the start. The voice that sounded a lot like Jasper’s. “No! I mean, I didn’t hit on her. Exactly. It just sort of happened.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He’d take that verbal punch. But he wouldn’t take it alone. “We’re all idiots when we let our dicks do the thinking. Anyone who hasn’t screwed up for the sake of a good screw, raise your hand and I’ll buy you a steak dinner. Right after I call you a liar and a virgin.”

Laughter echoed off the plexiglass shields again, cutting through the confused tension in Kurt’s head. And not a single man raised his hand.

But he couldn’t let them think she was a one-night stand. That’d be wrong. Easy...but wrong. “We didn’t screw.”

His quiet statement cut off the laughter like he’d turned off a faucet.

Smirking, Archer said, “You couldn’t close the deal, Lundquist? Need me to give you some pointers?”

Not in this lifetime. Kurt could walk into a bar wearing an obnoxious as fuck Mardi Gras T-shirt that said Beers Beads & Boobs and still score before Archer got his drink ordered. “I can close any deal I want. You learned all your moves from watching me.”

“Then why haven’t you done her? I mean, besides the obvious dead brother’s nurse thing—which weirdly doesn’t seem to be a red light to you.”

It was a red light. Kurt just figured he’d gone temporarily color blind. “We’re flirting. Making out a little. Harmless fun.”

“Cut him some slack,” Finn ordered. “Sometimes, after a long time away, you need a scrimmage before heading into the big game.”

Flynn shook his head, stripped off his gloves and tossed them onto the bleachers. “Scrimmage is over. Time to do this thing for real. We’ll all be your wingmen tonight. You’ll have so many offers you’ll turn down the first five just because you can. And because you’re the guy who brought home the Cup to New Orleans.”

“Stop saying that. We all did it, and you know it.” Yeah, Kurt was the one they’d hoisted on their shoulders at the end of the championship game. But he steadfastly refused to take sole credit for their victory.

“Tell us your preference, Hawk. Tall, supermodel type? Big caboose to hang on to?”

Brunette. With big breasts and a smile as sweet and hot as a chocolate cup filled with a shot of whiskey. “Thanks for the offer. But count me out.”

“Dude,” Flynn said in a low, worried voice, “you gotta get back on the horse.”

Oh, he wanted to get on. Get on and get in her. Not that he’d tell that to his teammates. But Kurt needed to get all of them off his case. “Lisette’s still helping me with the party for the next week. And...stuff keeps happening whenever we’re together.”

Zim crossed his arms. “Well, make it stop.”

Great. The guy almost never flapped his gums, and this was when he decided to speak up?

“Sub Zero’s right,” Anders chimed in. Figured. Of course the team virgin wouldn’t know how hard it was to be twisted up by a woman.

“It’s not that easy.” He didn’t know how to explain it. Kurt couldn’t explain this to himself. There wasn’t just an attraction. He and Lisette had a connection that just got stronger every time they were together. He fucking craved it. “This thing with Lisette—it hasn’t run its course.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?” Flynn let his stick clatter to the ice. “She’s eight kinds of trouble, given the history you two share. You don’t need that.”

Finn nodded. “Yeah. Walk away. No matter how hot she is. Right after telling us exactly how hot she is.”

His friends meant well. They knew he’d been out of the game for a while. But at this point, Kurt couldn’t walk away if he tried. Because he had tried to walk away. Had tried not to start anything and had tried not to take it any further. It hadn’t worked.

“You don’t understand. I’m not chasing her. And it’s more than just a hook-up. I like Lisette. A lot. I know it’s complicated, but—”

“But nothing,” Ford barked out harshly. “You don’t have time for complications right now.” The guy lived and breathed hockey twice as deeply as anyone else on the team. But he had a point.

Kurt knew, in his head, that Lisette was one hell of a complication. But to the rest of him? She felt like a gift. Not that he’d get all gooey like that when describing it to the guys, or when defending his admittedly stupid quest to spend time with her. “It’s the off-season. Now’s exactly the right time.”

“Only for a couple more weeks. Anything as complicated as this will pull your focus away.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Away from what?”

“Away from the Rage.” Aleks Lazar, the team’s former captain, came out of the shadows at the top of the bleachers. “They need you now more than ever.”

“Aleks? It’s good to see you, man.” Skates thumping against the thin carpet, Kurt lurched forward to give the man the classic back-slap/hug combo. “What are you doing here?”

Finn stepped up next to them, clapped Aleks on the back, too, and then did the same to Kurt with his other hand. “We all thought it’d mean more to you if Aleks made the offer.”

“Offer?” Kurt was lost. But damned happy to have the whole team reunited.

After clearing his throat, Aleks said, “The team wants you to be their next captain, Kurt. Got the nod from Coach Courage, too.” He nodded over his shoulder to where the coach had shouldered into the suddenly tight circle around them. “And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have take over for me.”

Blindsided didn’t begin to describe it. The captaincy hadn’t been on his radar at all once Aleks stepped down last month. Which was weird, because it always had been a career goal for Kurt. A marker. One that said you were more than your stats, or your paycheck, or even the number of team calendars your shirtless pecs helped sell for charity. It meant the guys you skated with respected you. Wanted you to lead them. It was the ultimate MVP award, in his book.

The fact that all the members of the Rage chose him? It was as big a moment as getting his first pro contract. It was a car on his sixteenth birthday—not that he’d gotten one—and box seats at game seven of the World Series and having a beer named after him at that microbrewery he loved in Delaware. It was everything.

And Kurt had no idea what to say in response.

No. Fucking. Idea.

Aleks lifted his eyebrows. “Come on, man, what do you say?”

“He can’t say anything. Ha!” Finn slammed an open palm in front of Flynn.

“Damn it, I just lost five bucks. I was sure you’d make a speech.”

“You know, you have to say yes,” the goalie prodded. “We all vote, but you have to agree to do it.”

He couldn’t.

Because once he said yes, he’d be fully committed. He’d never go back on his word to his teammates. But Kurt sure as hell wasn’t ready to say no and open up that can of worms when he had no plan and, oh, no fucking actual decision made about his future.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Stripped off his glove, wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and tried again. “I...I need to think about it.”

“For fuck’s sake, Lundquist,” Coach Courage said. “We’re all aware that your contract is up for renewal. If this is some power play to squeeze more cash out of me, forget it. And I’ll tell your agent the same damned thing.”

Thank God. Coach Courage had just thrown him a lifeline without even realizing it. Kurt had put contract negotiations out of his mind. If he kept playing hockey, he wanted to stay with the Rage. Simple as that.

And until his conversation with Lisette? He’d dismissed his idea of college as a pipe dream. Nah, that wasn’t it. He’d been too chickenshit to figure out how to move forward on the dream. Lisette had given him the approval and nerve to think about turning it into a reality. But re-upping his contract? Going free agent? It was the perfect reason to not accept this honor on the spot.

Ripping off his other glove, he spread his hands wide, palms up. “Hey, you know my agent would kill me if I said anything one way or the other. I just push the puck. He makes the money magic happen.”

“We get it.” Finn nodded. Because Kurt wasn’t the only one in that situation. Contract time rolled around every year, and there was always a surprise or two. Hell, the biggest surprise already was Aleks leaving the team.

“Thank you all. From the bottom of my heart. There’s no team I’d rather lead. I just can’t give you an answer right this second.”

The other guys had hit the nail on the head. Complicated. That was the only word to describe his life.

Kurt had a feeling that if he didn’t make all the right choices, in the right order, at the right time, complicated would become fucked up in a heartbeat. Too bad he didn’t know what the right choices were.