Page 28 of Coach’s Son (Twin Cities #2)

Drew

It was priceless to watch Charlie’s eyes simmer with angst as he watched me next to Austin on the sideline last week, my arm wrapped around his pads.

For a minute I thought I might have rattled him enough to cost him the kick.

Imagine my disappointment when he tucked it in between those uprights—stubborn little sod.

I guess you aren’t as weak as I thought, baby brother.

What I do know is that it’s going to ruin Charlie when he finds out that he is royally uninvited to the wedding. It’ll crush his heart to little golden pieces. And I can’t wait to kick them across the field. Ha. Take that wanker.

Tonight, the Lumberjacks face the Bison in Kansas City. One of the top teams in the league, no doubt. Won the championship last year, but they’ve had a bit of turnover, from what the analysts say.

Before kickoff, I made sure to give Austin a little bit of my love in the hotel room.

Gave my boy exactly what he needed for peak performance.

Slow at first, then jagged enough to loosen those nerves.

By the time I burst, he was stretched, beaming with adrenaline, that bonfire in his chestnut irises blazing fiercer than any drug could offer.

Lover Boy is quite the athlete on the field and in the sheets.

He’s persistent and has endurance that you don’t see often.

Like a gazelle, legs pumping, always one stride ahead of the lion nipping at his heels.

You think he’s fragile, but he’ll run you ragged on the mattress, matching up with someone like me.

That’s the trick with Austin. He looks soft and harmless. With a warm smile, chestnut eyes, and a boyish chuckle that makes you think he’s easy prey. But he’ll grind away until the spikes on his cleats are worn from drills. That’s what makes him so precious.

He’s a force that looks innocent but deceives you with his grit.

And that’s why I can’t let him go. That’s why I’m obsessed. He’s my Lover Boy and I can’t afford to let him out of my sight. Even with my signature blazed onto his back, there are vultures out there that would try to snatch him from my grasp. Peck him to pieces the moment I glance away.

I’m all too familiar with men and what they would do to a precious gemstone like him, my own father abused me in ways that are unforgivable. Using me, breaking me, treating my body for his own pleasure. Passing on his ugly scars to me.

I’m different; I wouldn’t be like him.

Men like him would take advantage of Lover Boy and never let him see the light of day; they would keep him shackled in chains in some dungeon. Keeping him as some kind of fucked-up trophy.

I was the one who protected him from the wolves, saved him from certain death. Not Charlie, or any other bloke. I would kill or do anything to protect Austin.

“Hey, babe.” I plant a kiss on Austin’s cheek, tasting the sweet and salty essence of his sweat. “Feeling warmed up?”

“So much better than that,” he chuckles, a grin spreading his lips, putting his helmet back on.

“But there is something…” he hesitates, eyes dancing towards the ground.

“Did somebody do something?” My heart begins to flood with adrenaline. “Or say something? Tell me who and I’ll introduce their molars to my fists.”

He puts a hand on my chest. “No, no, no… nothing like that.”

“Then what, baby?” I ask, every instinct in my body ready to eliminate the threat. The chatter of the crowd goes silent to my ears. My pulse is the only sound registering besides Austin’s words.

His eyes meet mine after an eternity. “Charlie saw…”

My jaw clenches. “Saw what? I imagine he’s seen every crevice of your skin.”

“The tattoo…” he murmurs shamefully, like he’s in confession with a priest.

Immediately, I pull him in for a hug. “Don’t be ashamed of my signature, Lover Boy.

It’s for protection. From Charlie and all the men out there that might want a taste of you.

Maybe he’ll finally move on from doting over you.

I mean I don’t blame him for obsessing over you.

You are a diamond in a wasteland of coal.

I’ll protect you from him and whatever beast that tries to rip you apart. ”

“Do you really mean that?” His eyes twinkle with the glamour of a million shining stars.

“To my last breath, baby.” I pull his plastic helmet to my forehead. God if this helmet wasn’t on, I’d smash his lips in front of the crowd. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too, King.” He lets out a sigh, the joy returning to his smile, like the sun returning on a gloomy day.

“Now go get them killer. Make your King proud.” I give him a hearty pat on the back as he trots over to Jackson to go over the strategy of the first drive. He turns back to look at me and I give him a cheeky grin, blowing a kiss towards his direction.

Never in a thousand years did I think I’d find a man to be mine for more than a few hours. One worthy of my energy, my passion, and my dark desires. One that I’d travel to Kansas fucking City for.

My moment of reverie is short-lived, ruined by an unmistakable annoyance that pierces the air.

“Drew, what the fuck!” Charlie yells, making heads turn on the sideline as he rushes towards me.

“Well, hello baby brother. Long time, no chat,” I snicker. “To what do I owe this unfortunate pleasure?”

“What did you do to him?” he seethes, teeth baring like an amateur at a Halloween scare house.

“I don’t know what you are talking about?” I smile, offering him my cheekiest.

“You branded him?” His voice drops to a rumbling growl.

“I didn’t do anything of that sort, love.” I ooze my words, for extra effect. To maybe witness his eyeballs pop from their sockets.

If only I could be so lucky…

I would put him out of his misery for his own good, but that would be painfully obvious for the detectives. I’m not prepared for prison life quite yet.

Charlie’s jaw twitches. “Then tell me what I saw in the locker room!”

“Maybe your eyes shouldn’t be gallivanting on other men.” I taunt, licking my lips and purposefully avoiding his gaze.

“Kind of hard to miss your bloody name tattooed across the entire width of his back.”

“He wanted it… for my protection. To keep people like you away.”

“Like me?” he huffs. “I’ve only been kind and—”

I interrupt his speech. “And afraid to protect him? Afraid to step up when he actually needed you? Did you know that a pack of wolves was about to feast on him before I interrupted their foreplay?”

His mouth hangs open. “Uh… no. I didn’t know that.”

“Hmmmm, that’s what I thought baby brother. Always afraid to say or do something when it really matters. Just like when we were younger. You could have stopped our father. But you didn’t. You just wanted to be the golden boy, while I got ravaged.”

“I’m—”

“You are what? You are sorry? Want to offer me your dearest apologies? A little bit too late for you to step in now, mate. You think you deserve every bloody oyster the world has to offer, but you are too much of a bloody pussy to step your feet in the water. For your toes to even touch the sand. You scamper away from the slightest wad of conflict.”

His eyes are focused down at the white line stretched against the boundary of the field. Words failing to muster from those golden lips.

“Speechless, huh? Really bloody convenient. But what else can I expect from my little brother besides cowardice. Sometimes I’m genuinely surprised that you aren’t castrated, because you sure act like it.”

He starts to stumble towards midfield, scuttling away like the little bitch that he is and always will be. A coward afraid to spar.

“That’s right. Jog away, you spineless bastard,” I mumble mostly to myself.

What my father did to me didn’t break me—it made me a survivor.

I didn’t let him torture me forever. That’s the whole reason they sent me away to boarding school.

I became a liability to their reputation at home.

My father would have landed himself in a jail cell and probably wouldn’t have lasted long.

Fellow prisoners don’t take well to molestation.

Thank the heavens they did; it was my black ticket to live across an ocean from them. I found hockey, a perfectly acceptable American tradition to smash teeth and let your anger out.

Hockey hardened my edges, made me a ruthless champion with skates. Gave me the confidence to never back down. Never take my eyes off the prize in front of me.

And don’t you worry, Austin, I’ll never let you go.

I'll never let that pussy have you.

Kickoff commences, the opening kick wobbles, landing at their fifteen-yard line—allowing for a decent return. Charlie is obviously rattled. But a hefty dose of the truth might do him some good, instead of letting him fantasize away all the pains of the world.

The Bison turn and burn the clock on their first drive. Grinding away the minutes as if they’re grazing on the prairie. They keep it on the ground, with an occasional pass to keep the defense honest. Then their QB sneaks it in for a touchdown. Kansas City takes the lead 7-0.

The first play for Minneapolis is a slant route. Austin leaps in the air, hands sticking to the leather like glue as he hauls it in for a twelve-yard gain. A few run plays, and a few more passes. The Lumberjacks tie it up 7-7.

The rest of the first half is a scrimmage in chest, one yard gained, one yard lost. In the final seconds, it’s tied 7-7.

The Lumberjacks move the ball to their twenty-two-yard line.

An easy chip shot. A gimme if there ever was one.

And, fuck, I don’t even watch American Football.

But to tell you the truth, I don’t mind how tight these pants are.

Arses jiggling on the field with their trots—free entertainment between whistles.

They line up for the kick. I watch my baby brother with a fervour. He’s moving kind of sluggish compared to his normal swagger. But that’s to be expected when a wad of guilt smacks your consciousness.

The center snaps the ball. Charlie launches his leg to kick, the ball flies in the air, then veers ugly to the left. Wide, way too fucking wide. No good.

The home crowd cheers, thundering their approval at the misfortune. The Jacks just missed their opportunity to take the lead, for three easy points.

Charlie doesn’t wait for the cheers to finish, sprinting into the locker room for halftime, avoiding a glance in my direction. The shame must be pitting in his tummy, letting reality bear its weight on his shoulders.

Good. I want to see him suffer for once. I want to see him shedding tears.

For him to choke in his own pit of self-disappointment. For his coach to rip into his ass and tear him a new one. I want him to break down and check himself into the psych ward. Life has been way too kind to that wanker.