On the Brink: San Diego Barracudas, #2.5

By Kate Willoughby

Due to popular demand, Kate Willoughby brings you Hart Griffin and Jeremy Fenton's origin story. Hart first appeared in On the Surface, but he and his love, Jeremy, enjoy a lot more screen time in Across the Line. In this novella, you'll find out how these two met and fell in love... 

Holtzer University junior Hart Griffin won't let anything interfere with his future as a professional hockey player. No way, no how. He's the star forward of his college team and a first round NHL draft pick.

But one hot night with a male super fan calls into question everything Hart thought he knew about his sexuality and launches him on a soul-searching journey in which nothing is as it seems and his entire world is turned upside down.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate Willoughby
• Release date: Aug 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223130468

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

20 - Holtzer University, Michigan

Jeremy Fenton loved sitting right behind the glass at the Holtzer hockey games. Sure, he could see more comprehensively from higher seats, but as much as he loved the game, he loved watching the players more. At ice level, the guys were so close he could hear their grunts as they wrestled for the puck and see their sweat fly through the air. He had a close-up view of their grimaces as they fought for supremacy, and when they slammed each other into the boards, he felt the rattle in his own body. It was a visceral experience he couldn’t find anywhere else.

Tonight he had dragged his friend Bree with him. Both art majors, he and Bree met a couple months ago. She was brash and wry and was the reason why he was always trying to smother his laughter in their life drawing class, a place not known for hilarity. One person was naked and everyone else in the room was staring at him or her. Like in a museum, voices were hushed and the mood was serious.

Until Bree murmured something about the model having more hair on his back than Sasquatch. Jeremy would have to choke back his laughter and appear as if he were still intently drawing.

Now, looking around the arena, Bree remarked, It’s not much warmer in here than it is outside.

You’re going to love it, I promise, Jeremy said. Hockey’s the most exciting, fast-paced game there is, and the players are so sexy.

I don’t know. I’ve yet to see a hockey uniform that is flattering.

You have to use your imagination.

Bree rolled her eyes, but by the end of the first period, she was fully engaged, slapping the glass with her palms when the players were battling in front of them. She was yelling and cheering when the home team Hounds scored the first goal of the night.

Their seats were near the face-off dot because this put Jeremy in proximity with the object of his affection: Hart Griffin, captain of the team, number ten. A fitting number, since the man was perfect in every way. Jeremy had never actually met him in person. He’d only ogled him from afar, but judging from appearances, he was flawless. He had gorgeous streaky-blond hair, the face of a god, and the way he moved…with such masculine strength and confidence, yet with a grace that mesmerized Jeremy.

Bree snapped her fingers in front of Jeremy’s face. Earth to Jeremy. I said, is it Griffin you’re gaga over?

Jeremy blinked. What are you talking about?

I think you dragged me here, not because you thought I might like hockey, but because you have the hots for that player, Griffin.

It was the first intermission and Jeremy glanced toward the corridor through which the players had gone to the locker room. Is it that obvious?

Bree cocked her head at him. I’m pretty sure I heard your dick sending him your phone number in Morse code.

But isn’t he beautiful? Jeremy asked, unperturbed by her teasing.

I like them a little more rough around the edges.

Jeremy could attest to that. Bree loved to read about big brooding alpha males and always had her nose pressed to a paperback with a brawny guy on the cover. He usually had long hair and muscles on top of muscles.

Hart can be rough, Jeremy said, feeling the need to defend him.

Oh, it’s Hart, is it?

Jeremy ignored this. When he drops the gloves, he’s all fists and fury. At Bree’s questioning look, he added, When players throw their gloves off, it’s a challenge to fight.

Bree suddenly looked more interested. Like when knights threw down the gauntlet in medieval times?

Yeah.

Is there a fight every game?

No, but maybe we’ll get lucky.

Bree left to get a hot dog but Jeremy stayed and watched the Zamboni smooth over the ice. Griffins were spectacular mythical creatures, half lion and half eagle. Jeremy pictured Griffin the hockey player dressed in a suit of chain mail and with a wooden lance, not a hockey stick, in his grip.

God, Jeremy wanted to get naked with him. He’d wanted that since the first time he saw him play. Hart had been out with some kind of injury and had only just returned to the lineup, and the moment he skated onto the ice for warm-ups, Jeremy couldn’t help but stare. Hart was clearly the best player on the team. He skated like a boss, could score from what seemed like any angle and wasn’t shy about checking his opponents hard into the boards.

After Bree returned with a hot dog for him, the second period started and as before, Jeremy trained his eyes on number ten. A few minutes in, though, a weird thing happened. Before the linesman dropped the puck for the face-off, Hart glanced over at Jeremy and made eye contact.

Shit.

Jeremy glanced away, embarrassed at having been caught staring. But then he told himself to grow a pair because this was a spectator sport, for fuck’s sake.

Then it happened during a game stoppage for icing, but this time as the players waited for everyone to get in position, their eyes met again and held. Jeremy’s dick pulsed.

Did this second instance of eye contact mean anything? Probably not. He told himself not to be stupid. He was a dreamer. He knew that. It had been clear when he played pretend for hours and hours as a little boy, and now that he was a twenty-year-old man, that hadn’t changed. His mind still went on flights of fancy and instead of acting them out, he drew or painted them. But tonight, he couldn’t help fantasizing about hooking up with this Adonis on the ice.

After the game, Jeremy told Bree he was going to hang around and try to meet Hart.

Bree frowned. You think that’s a good idea? He’s a jock and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t play for ‘your team.’ She made air quotes with her fingers.

You’re probably right.

Except he kept making eye contact with me.

Okay, Bree said. Go ahead, but I want to go home where it’s nice and warm. See you later. Thanks for the ticket. It was pretty fun.

Jeremy asked around and found out where the players exited the building and waited there in chilly night air. There was a stark spotlight on the area but Jeremy stood just outside its arc. He had his hands in his pockets and his teeth were chattering because it was freezing but eventually the door opened and four guys tumbled out into the night. Hart Griffin was one of them. They were talking and laughing, probably because they’d won the game, four to one.

His heart pounding, Jeremy coughed. The group looked at him. Hart’s brows drew together as Jeremy gave a little finger wave.

Hart said, Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys later.

They stood there looking at each other until Griffin’s teammates had gone. Their breath was visible and the parking lot was largely deserted. Part of Jeremy thrilled that Hart knew Jeremy was there for him and had sent his buddies away. This meant Hart had noticed him.

What do you want? Hart asked.

What a loaded question. I want to see you naked in the shower, with the water running down your body. I want to rip your clothes off and lick your skin. I want get on my knees and suck your cock until you lose it and shoot your hot come into my mouth.

Jeremy couldn’t say any of that, of course, and even though he’d been waiting over half an hour for Hart to exit the building, he hadn’t thought about what he was going to say.

I just wanted to congratulate you on a good game. Two goals, one of them short-handed.

Hart lifted his chin. It would have been more if you hadn’t distracted me. Hart’s voice was dripping with irritation, but there was something in his stance and the way he couldn’t maintain eye contact. He’d seen Hart stare down opponents like a fucking gladiator, so what the fuck was going on? Could Hart possibly be attracted to him?

What do you mean? Jeremy asked. I was just watching you.

Exactly. I could feel your fucking eyes on me the whole game and it fucked with my head.

Sorry.

Hart scowled. No you’re not.

I couldn’t help myself. You’re…beautiful to watch.

Hart’s scowl grew darker. Jesus. Whatever. I’ve got to get home.

Jeremy nodded. Okay. See ya.

Damn.

Jeremy turned and started walking toward his car, his shoulders hunched against the cold, looking at the ground for icy spots. He felt foolish but told himself if he didn’t put himself out there, he’d never get anywhere. It had been worth a try. And Hart was a great player