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33

Brendon

L ooking at the time on my phone, I cuss under my breath, scrub a hand down my face, and head to the parking lot. It’s later than I thought, and I need to sleep for a few hours, or I’ll be useless tonight. I already missed morning skate, so I hustle down to Paul’s car and get back to campus as quickly as I can without getting a ticket.

As I get off the elevator on the third floor, Preston and Jeremy are standing at my dorm, knocking on the door.

“Hey,” I call to them, and they both turn to look at me at the same time with the same confused expression. It’s kinda scary, actually.

“Where they hell have you been? You missed morning skate. Where’s Paul?”

I unlock the door and push it open, only to come to a stop when I see someone sleeping on my bed. What the actual fuck?

Jeremy runs into the back of me, and Preston grunts.

“Is there someone in your bed?” Jeremy asks, his head peeking out around me.

“Excuse me?” Preston growls. “I don’t give a shit what you guys get up to in here, but we are not joining in on your orgies.”

Jeremy starts laughing, and I turn around to face Preston with a serious set to my face. The urge to fuck with him is just too strong. After the morning I’ve had, I need this moment of normalcy.

“What makes you think Jeremy hasn’t joined in?”

Jeremy stops laughing abruptly, gaping at me. “Dude. Why would you do that to me?”

Preston stares daggers into the back of Jeremy’s head, and I smile.

“Excuse you?” Preston wraps his arm around Jeremy’s chest and yanks him back against his own chest, speaking quietly into Jeremy’s ear. A split second of fear flashes on Jeremy’s face before it melts into lust, and I shudder. Nope. I can’t watch Jeremy get his rocks off by Preston.

Rustling sounds behind me, so I turn my focus back to the trespasser.

Nikki sits up and stretches, the blanket falling to pool at her waist. Thank fuck she at least has a shirt on. I am so past giving a shit, though, and probably would have made her leave naked if that’s how I found her. I’m done.

“Get the fuck out of my room!” I demand, squaring my shoulders. “How did you even get in here?”

She looks surprised, like the idea of finding her in my damn bed wouldn’t at the very least annoy me.

“The door was unlocked.”

“And you took it upon yourself to come on in and sleep in someone’s bed?” Preston asks. “You don’t know what he does in there. Or when he washed his sheets last.”

“Hey!” I yell at Preston. “Rude.”

“I thought you left it open for me,” she says, scooting to the edge of the bed and sliding her feet to the floor.

“What the hell made you think that?”

“Why else would you leave the door open? You know I was going to be here before first skate!” she throws back, standing and putting her hand on her hip.

“I don’t know what you thought this was, but I’m not interested.” There. I finally said it. “You need to leave me alone.”

She walks straight at me, rears back, and slaps my cheek.

“What the fuck!?” I cup my hand over the abused skin that burns way more than it has a right to.

“How dare you lead me on only to embarrass me in front of your friends!” she screams before storming out the door.

“So where were you this morning, and where is Paul?” Preston asks as he shuts the door.

“The hospital.” I sigh and drop down onto Paul’s bed and pull his crocheted blanket around me. Preston and Jeremy are instantly serious and waiting for details.

“He has appendicitis and had to have surgery this morning.”

“Did you tell Coach?” Preston asks.

“Is he okay?” Jeremy smacks Preston’s arm and gives him a look that clearly says “wrong question, dumbass.”

“Yes to both.” I rub my face and lean my elbows on my knees. “It’s been a long night, but he’s okay. Surgery went fine. He’s in recovery and should be moved to his own room anytime now. The surgeon said Paul can call me once he’s settled.”

“Does he know your phone number?” Jeremy asks.

Fuck. I didn’t think of that. I have his damn cell phone.

“Goddamn it.”

“What hospital?” Preston has his phone out and is typing something.

I give him the details he asks for, and he leaves with his phone to his ear.

When I look at Jeremy confused, he smiles at me. “Preston’s dad was a surgeon, remember? He knows how to get information through.”

Oh, that’s right. Dude was fucking nuts, and I’m glad he’s dead.

“Are you playing tonight?” Jeremy sits next to me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. I lay my head on his and close my eyes, leaning into the comfort I need so fucking badly right now.

“Yeah, Coach said I could, but I don’t know who he’ll replace Paul with on our line.”

Jeremy rubs my arm as Preston comes back in. I can feel the tension radiating from him for the mere fact that I’m touching Jeremy, but right now, he can fuck off. Jeremy was one of my best friends before he came into our lives.

“Do you need anything?” Jeremy asks.

“I need to sleep,” I mumble. “But I don’t want to be alone.”

Tears clog my throat at the weakness. I’m supposed to be a grown man, but I still can’t handle anything on my own. I need reassurance that my friends don’t hate me, that my husband still loves me, that I’m not too much.

“Lay down. We’ll stay.” Jeremy kisses my hair, and I hear Preston come closer. I open my eyes and watch as he struggles with himself. His hand flexes, lifts a few inches, then drops back to his side a few times before he finally reaches out and lays a hand on my shoulder. The touch has tears flooding my eyes and falling down my cheeks, but this time, there’s no body-racking sobs. I know he’s weird about being touched. Jeremy is the only one that can get away with it, and Preston doesn’t touch anyone unless causing harm, so this simple, comforting gesture is everything.

“Thank you.” My voice is thick with exhaustion and overwhelming emotions. Jeremy squeezes me, then stands so I can lie down. I kick my shoes off, then crawl across the bed to lay my head on Paul’s pillow, wrapping my arms around myself so I don’t feel so alone. I breathe in a deep lungful of his scent and close my eyes, wrapped in his blanket.

“My sheets are clean, asshole,” I mumble, and I barely hear Jeremy snicker before I fall deep into the blackness of sleep.

* * *

When I wake a few hours later, there’s a white takeout container sitting on the bedside table with a note that says, “Eat this, dumbass,” in Preston’s sharp handwriting. My stomach grumbles as I sit up and reach for it. A chicken sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and red onion on wholegrain bread, packets of mustard and mayo, a bag of baked chips, an apple, and fresh veggies.

I inhale the food without any thought. I didn’t eat breakfast, and it’s about lunchtime, so I’m starving. There’s nothing left but the apple core and packaging when I’m done. I find a water bottle and chug that too, then search for my phone. When it’s not in the normal places I leave it, like the bedside table, desk, or bathroom sink, I check my pockets and find it.

There’s a missed call from a local Denver number and a voicemail.

“Hey, Little Menace, I’m okay. Super tired but in a room now. Kick ass at the game tonight. I want to hear all about it. Don’t let that shit stain from Minnesota get in your head. I love you.”

A watery smile turns up my lips, and I listen to it again. He sounds exhausted and a little scratchy, like his throat is dry, but in good spirits. He’s okay. The weight of what could have been lifts, and my shoulders finally drop, and I can suck in a deep breath.

There’s a knock on the door as it opens, and I look to find Jeremy and Preston coming in already dressed in suits.

“Did you eat?” is Preston’s first question, which makes me chuckle.

“Yes, Daddy, I ate.”

Preston shudders, and Jeremy laughs while I lift the food container to show him I did in fact finish my food.

“Smartass.”

“Your life would be boring without me.” I smile at the big grump and stand to stretch.

“Did you hear from Paul?” Jeremy asks, handing me the suit from my closet.

“Yeah, he’s in a room now.”

“Good.”

I strip out of my clothes without thinking twice about it, and Preston grabs Jeremy, turning both of them around.

“Both of you have seen my naked ass,” I say as I pull on the slacks.

“And I wish I hadn’t,” Preston deadpans.

“That’s disrespectful. I work hard for this ass.” I throw my balled-up T-shirt at him, hitting him in the back of the head.

“What makes you think I want to smell like you?” He glances at me with disgust and brushes the shirt away.

I grab my shirt and button it up while Jeremy leans into Preston. Honestly, I’m glad they found each other. Jeremy deserves to be loved completely, and while I don’t know all the details, I know Preston needed to be shown how to love. There was no one else that could have gotten through to him like Jeremy did.

It took a second, but Preston and I have managed to understand each other. I know he doesn’t like to be touched, probably because of his trauma if the news reports are at all correct, but I tease him about it while knowing he will not allow it. I would never actually do it, and he knows that too. I’m pretty sure threating to murder me is his love language.

I tuck my shirt in, adjust my clothes, and tie my tie. Preston huffs and steps in front of me, grabbing the silk and adjusting it while I grin up at him.

“Ohh, who knew getting pulled around by the tie was so hot?” I wag my eyebrows at him, and Jeremy snorts.

Preston freezes and looks like he’s about two seconds from punching me in the face.

“Are you trying to get your nose broken?” Jeremy shakes his head and opens the door for us to leave.

Preston finishes adjusting the tie, and I wink at him as he walks away. Jeremy and I follow him down the hallway where we meet up with some of the other players as we make our way down to the rink.

Everyone asks where Paul and I were this morning and where he is now. I tell the story for what feels like a hundred times by the time we’re changed into warmup clothes.

Through warmups, I’m able to get lost in the familiarity of each movement. My muscles remember how to do it, though I still have to think about what’s next and how many sets I’ve done. It keeps my mind busy, which I need right now.

My head is such a messy place that it’s not until we’re on the ice for the team skate that I realize what Paul said in his voicemail. We play Minnesota tonight. I’m going to have to face Chad. I’m afraid of falling apart again, spiraling and not having Paul to pull me back from the edge.

The weight of the last twenty-four hours pulls on me once again. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to go back to my dorm alone. Sleep alone. Then get up and do all this all over again tomorrow.

Coach put Riggs on our line for the game, so he’ll get some good ice time today, but I’m not sure how well the game will go since we haven’t practiced much with just the three of us. Riggs is eighteen, and while he has the potential, he’s still green. Jeremy, Paul, and I played together for years on the same line before Paul came out here for a year. We know each other inside and out.

Jeremy and I slap sticks and head out onto the ice, but it doesn’t feel right. Paul not being here, not even in the stands, puts me off my game. Is he watching on TV in the hospital?

Our first line gets set up for the puck drop and the game starts. I love how fast the game moves; there’s no time for anything except watching the puck. Guys are constantly in motion, the puck flying back and forth, the lines changing. It’s exhilarating.

Coach switches out the lines a few times, and we’re sent out. Albrooke and Riggs follow me out, racing for the puck before they can get it in the net. Jeremy intercepts a pass and flings the puck to Riggs who somehow loses it between his own legs and kicks it to me. I manage to get a breakaway, rear back, and slap the puck toward the goal. The goalie tries to stop it but barely misses it. The lamp lights up, and we are on the board!

We’re smiling when our asses hit the bench and the next line goes out. We get drinks of water or Gatorade and watch the game, knocking gloves with our teammates in celebration.

The game moves on, we get another two in the net before they score, but I can’t help but watch Chad and his stepdad. The way they talk in the box, motioning over here and looking at me. It makes my skin crawl, and I have to force my head not to go back into that locker room.

In the second period, Chad is on the ice at the same time as I am, and he’s on me like a virus. I can’t shake him. Every chance he gets he’s slamming me into the boards, waits until the ref turns his back and trips me, hits my back with this stick. It’s infuriating.

“Come on, birdy, you gonna chirp for us?” he calls loud enough for some of the guys around us to hear him. He makes a squawk sound, and a few of the other guys on his line do the same. Embarrassment heats my cheeks, and I want to hit him so fucking bad.

“You really need some new material,” Jeremy tosses back after hearing the same line a few times. This period of the game, Coach Williams has decided to throw Chad and his line out every time my skates hit the ice, so I can’t get away from them.

“I packed a bar of Irish Spring just for you.” Chad smirks as he shoves past me, and I swear I can almost taste it.

Even Preston is getting fed up with the bullshit and has started targeting the asshole when given the chance.

If I just look at the puck, that fucker is on my ass.

Chad shoves me into the boards, his stick against my throat and his face in mine.

“Come on, birdy, cry for me. It gets me hard when you act like a bitch.”

“Why don’t you grow the fuck up, huh?” I shove him off me.

“Because getting under your skin is a favorite pastime.” He smirks and turns his back to me. “The memory of you choking on my dick is a particular favorite of mine.”

God, I fucking hate him. My body trembles with rage and humiliation, but I refuse to let him see that it’s getting to me. I am not a victim, not anymore.

I get back in the game, racing after the puck and blocking a pass. I turn to hustle back up the ice, making it about halfway before I slam into a hard body. A shoulder gets me in the middle of the chest, and my face hits his helmet. White hot pain explodes across my face as my ass hits the ice, blood gushes from my nose and tears fill my eyes.

“Fuck!” I cup my face and lay on the ice for a second. There are whistles blown and people yelling, but I can’t see shit. I can barely fucking breathe! I think he broke my fucking nose!

From the sounds of the yelling and grunts, a fight has broken out, and I’m pissed I can’t get my own shot in at Chad’s fucking face. EMTs come out on the ice and pull my hands off my face. One of them shoves some gauze against my nose, and I yell as the pain intensifies.

“That fucking hurts!”

“How’s your neck?” a male voice asks, pushing on my neck.

“I’m fine,” I growl as I push his hands off and sit up. The crowd cheers, and I pull my gloves off so I can wipe my eyes enough to be able to see. Four of our guys and five of the other team are in the penalty box, and I can’t help but smile despite the blood dripping down my chin. Preston, Jeremy, Willis, and Carpenter are looking unamused behind the glass but, fuck, I love those guys.

I’m helped up, still holding the gauze to my face, and I leave the ice for the back where I can be looked at closer. On my way off the ice, I see Coach Williams screaming at a ref and Chad with a towel pressed to his forehead in the penalty box.

Scott, one of the assistant coaches, pulls my skates off, and I sit on the gurney for the EMTs.

A man with black hair pulled back in a man bun takes the gauze and looks at my nose.

“Yeah, that’s broken,” he tells his partner. To me he says, “Lay back, you’re going in.”

I drop my head forward to hang from my shoulders. “Come on, man. Just numb it up and reset it.”

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head, and I huff. Fuck’s sake. “Can I get a change of clothes?” I holler at Scott who gives me a thumbs-up and heads back into the locker room. I’m sure he’ll meet me at the hospital. I don’t know how he got tasked with medical duty, but he’s always the one who goes when someone gets hurt.

In the ambulance, I take my jersey off one arm so they can get my blood pressure, I’m asked a hundred questions, and they call it in to the ER. Maybe once they release me, I can sneak upstairs to see Paul since I won’t be back in time to play the rest of the game anyway.

The ER is busy since it’s a Friday night, and I’m already frustrated. The blood on my shirt gets some looks, and it’s starting to itch as it dries on my skin.

I get moved to a bed, and the EMTs leave to go back to the game. A nurse comes in with a folded sheet and gown.

“Can you get changed yourself, or do you need assistance?” She looks a little frazzled, so I don’t try playing with her.

“I can do it.”

She puts them on the foot of the bed, and I start stripping out of my gear. Now that the adrenaline is fading, my face hurts like a bitch. It’s still bleeding pretty good too, so I get blood on fucking everything before sitting back down.

I push the call button on the bed when blood starts running down my arm.

The nurse opens the curtain, takes a look at me, and without a question grabs more gauze. She tosses it on the bed, then puts gloves on and takes the dripping pads from me and disposes of them in the biohazard container.

She asks me another twenty questions, then tells me the doctor will be in to see me in a minute.

Dr. Nora Prow comes in and cocks her head at me. “Hello again.”

I nod at her as she puts on gloves, asks me the same questions I’ve already answered twice, then takes the gauze from me.

“Okay, we’re going to get the ENT doctor in here to take a look at you.” She puts the gauze back, takes her gloves off, and leaves my bed.

It’s hopping in here, but luckily, they don’t make me wait long. Another doctor with a mop of curly dark hair comes into the room putting on gloves.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Gray. I’m the ear, nose, and throat doctor. Can you tell me what happened?”

I groan but tell the story again while he takes a look at my nose and feels around, then presses on my forehead, cheeks, and eyes.

“Okay, let’s get a CT scan,” he says to the nurse I didn’t notice come in. “If that comes back clear, we’ll set this and use a Rhino Rocket to stop the bleeding.”

She asks something I don’t understand, and he agrees.

Scott comes in with my suit and asks for a bag for my gear since I didn’t get around to it.

The nurse hands him one, and he packs up my bloody shit.

“That’s going to smell amazing by morning.” He laughs.

“Yeah, hopefully I remember to take it back to the locker room when I’m done.”

I’m pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to get the damn bleeding to stop, but nothing seems to be helping.

“What’s the word?” he asks, leaning against my bed.

“Probably a broken nose.”

He nods with a sigh. “Right.”

“Hey, can you check in on Paul?” I give him the floor and room number. I don’t know if visiting hours are over or not, but I hate that I haven’t talked to him in hours. If he was watching the game, he’ll know I was hurt and probably worried too.

“I’m not supposed to leave you, but I’ll see if I can get up there really quick.” He puts my suit on the back of the chair and heads out.

I get wheeled to the CT room by a nurse named Jessica, asked if I have any metal in my body or on my body, then am laid on a bed. Blood drips down my throat, and I have to force myself to hold still instead of gag on the taste of copper from lying flat.

It only takes a few minutes for the scan, but it’s a weird whooshing sound that’s louder than I expected as it zooms around me.

The table is removed from the big circle, and I’m able to sit up, but it turns my stomach, and saliva fills my mouth.

“Puke,” I manage to get out, and the nurse with me hands me a trash can for me to vomit into. Dark red puke is very disturbing and hurts a broken nose like a motherfucker.

She takes the bag from the can and leaves the room for a few minutes while I sit on the plastic bed thing. I would kill for some water right now. Jessica comes back with the wheelchair and pushes me back to the bed. I feel like I’ve been here forever yet only a few minutes. It’s weird.

I wish I had my phone so I could find out the score of the game and call Paul. I hate that he’s not with me. Being on my own sucks.