7

“What the hell happened tonight, Raif? I mean—fuck, I’m sorry.” Zach tipped his head back. His dark blue suit was wrinkled, as though he’d put it on quickly after having tossed it haphazardly on the floor. His tie was crooked, which made Raif smile. In the minors, Zach had usually managed to look presentable even after they’d ripped off each other’s suits on the way into their hotel room. The only evidence of the rush to get dressed was always Zach’s tie.

Without thinking, Raif straightened it, like he always had. “This isn’t your doing, Zach.”

“If he stays—if you don’t drop the charges…” Zach raked his fingers through his short brown hair. “This makes the press and he’ll get traded. It might already be too late.”

“It’s not. I’ve already dropped the charges.”

“Raif…” Zach caught Raif’s wrist. Pulled him in until their lips met. His mouth was hot, his kiss rough, as it had always been. Raif felt the familiar surge of lust as Zach pressed against him. As he whispered, “Thank you.”

Lust, but…nothing more. The rage, the betrayal, all he’d felt when his car had been stolen didn’t compare to the pain as his flesh went cold and numb. As he had to finally face that Zach was lost to him.

The door opened even as Raif gently pushed Zach back. He looked over and couldn’t hold in the bitter laugh as he met Demyan’s eyes. He almost pitied the man. Only, between taking a joyride in Raif’s car and getting drunk, his night couldn’t have been the tragic comedy Raif’s had been so far.

“Scott.” Zach tripped away from Raif. Shook his head. “I—it’s—damn it!”

Demyan had already shoved past the officer, calling over his shoulder. “Tell Becky to come get me when she’s not busy. If she can’t, I’ll stay until they decide I’m sober.”

Zach couldn’t follow Demyan right away; the doorway was blocked. By Tyler, who stood there, staring at Raif as though the evil Raif had done could never be forgiven. Once Zach was gone, Raif stepped up to Tyler.

And didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “You may leave with me now or wait for your Mistress. And I couldn’t care less what you decide.”

Tyler folded his arms over his chest. Tipped sideways. Grumbled something as Raif held his shoulders to keep him on his feet.

Damn you, you stupid boy. There was no way Raif could pretend he didn’t care. The boy looked lost, and angry, and perhaps a little afraid. Raif didn’t believe Tyler was scared of Chicklet. If anything, he was likely afraid to lose her.

Not Raif’s problem, not something he wanted to get involved in. Raif should walk out and never look back. He had half a mind to ask for a trade. One he wouldn’t get this close to the playoffs. But he could bear another month or so—perform well in the playoffs and have several offers from other teams. Leave this mess behind.

“Scott is one of my best friends. You shouldn’t have done that—you really fucked things up for him.” Tyler blinked fast. Sniffed. “I fucked up too. Didn’t mean for your window to get broke. Or your lights. I’ll pay for them. But I’m not sure if I’m sorry.”

Now that was not what Raif had expected to hear. He put his hand on the back of Tyler’s neck and led him to the main area of the police station. Breathed a little easier when Tyler let him take his jacket from the officer and help him put it on.

Raif didn’t speak until they were in the cab he’d left waiting outside with the meter running. “Why wouldn’t you be sorry?”

“I had to show you how it felt to have something taken from you. But I didn’t take something that matters. So it doesn’t count.” Tyler slid over to the other side of the backseat. Leaned against the door as Raif climbed in beside him. “You were my hero.”

But not anymore. Raif sighed. “I know.”

“I still look at you that way. Like you can do no wrong. Heroes don’t hurt people. They’re supposed to be perfect. Why can’t you be the man you were in my head? How I feel would make so much more sense.”

“I never claimed to be perfect, Ty.”

“I thought you were. For a really long time.” Tyler slipped sideways as the taxi made a sharp turn. His head rested on Raif’s lap. “Be perfect again. Then I won’t care that you’re a boy.”

That light weight on Raif’s thigh made it hard to breathe. A flash of images ran through his head. Tyler smiling up at him as Raif taped his stick. Ducking his head when Raif looked at him in the locker room showers. Stuttering every time Raif came up to him and he wasn’t surrounded by friends.

“What do you want from me, Tyler?” Raif looked down at the rumpled curls, pale gold glowing in the streetlight. At the thick eyelashes resting on Tyler’s pale cheeks. In a restful state, the boy really did seem like an angel. Innocent and pure. Not capable of stealing cars or lashing out at anyone because he was lost and hurt. Who the hell had hurt him so much that he could go from being peaceful to defensive so quickly?

The cab had stopped in front of Tyler’s condo before he finally answered. “I don’t know.”

Shaking his head, Raif got out, asking the cabbie to wait again so he could see Tyler to his door. The young man looked like he was sleepwalking, but managed fine on his own, which was a relief. Raif wasn’t sure he could support Tyler right now in any way, not without becoming confused himself. Letting go of Zach still felt like tearing open stitches on a wound he hadn’t known he had. But one he could ignore once he put things into perspective. The life Zach had, one that appeared so perfect, wasn’t for Raif.

Who knew how long he would be with this team in any case?

When Tyler stopped in front of a door, Raif watched him, waiting for him to open it. Tyler took out his keys. Fisted them in his hand.

Then groaned and leaned against the wall. “Maybe I should go to a hotel or something. Talk to Chicklet tomorrow with a clear head—let her sleep, you know?”

Why a hotel? Raif opened his mouth, ready to suggest Tyler come home with him. But no, that would be a very bad idea. He wouldn’t touch Tyler while he was still feeling the effects of the alcohol. First thing in the morning, though? Raif would be tempted, and he’d had enough rejection to last him a lifetime. The next person he had in his bed would know exactly what they were getting into. They’d want what Raif could give. Which was much less than Tyler needed.

“If she’s sleeping I see no reason to wake her. If you don’t have your own bed, the sofa will do.” Raif held out his hand for the keys. The door was opened before he could unlock it. He smiled pleasantly at Chicklet before nudging Tyler toward her. “I think this belongs to you.”

“‘This’?” Chicklet stepped aside so Tyler could pass, her gaze never leaving Raif’s face. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” Raif inclined his head to Chicklet, his tone light. “You and I have nothing else to discuss.”