Page 25 of Phantom Faceoff (Daddies of the League #5)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Malachi

The downstairs bathroom at the Jock House has a faulty light. I know because I’ve been staring into it without pause while Zander dabs water, soap, and disinfectant over the various cuts and scrapes on my abdomen.

“I can’t believe you let me do that,” he mumbles, and I barely hold back a smile.

As soon as we both came off the sex high, Zander started fussing over me in a way I’ve never seen him act before. It’s sort of cute.

“I’m okay,” I say, but he shoots me a glare.

“There was dirt in your dick hole. What if you get an infection?” He’s whisper shouting and poking his finger at my chest, but when I circle his wrist with my fingers, he visibly calms. “Is this how everyone else feels when I jump off the deep end?”

I bring his hand to my mouth and kiss his knuckles. The feeling of those fingers in my hair shoving me around still tingles at the base of my skull.

Zander is right. I have a little bit of a pain fetish, but since I haven’t had a partner since figuring that out, I’ve never played around with it.

“Shower with me,” I say, and even I can hear the affection in my voice.

His eyes scan along my body, completely naked, and even though he’s worrying himself to death, there’s a twitch of interest behind his boxers.

“No sex,” I assure him, because the moment those eyebrows crease, I know he’s afraid he’ll hurt me again. “But you can touch me. Confirm with your own hands that I’m in one piece.”

I guide him forward, and he folds like paper, face pressing into the side of my neck, free arm wrapping around my waist. We sit like that for several minutes, just holding and breathing each other in.

His fingers travel up to trace patterns on my shoulder blades.

I rub my thumb over the veins on his wrist.

It’s peaceful and quiet in a way I’m not sure the two of us have ever been together. Not other than the night with Julian.

Zander pulls away first to start the shower, and I slip my hands into the back of his boxers to slide them off. My lips ghost along his neck, fingers leading an exploratory path across his abdomen.

Just slightly, he turns, brings a hand to my neck, and slots our mouths together. We kiss until the bathroom mirror fogs, half dragging each other behind the shower curtain. The water turns a muddy brown as it circles the drain, and we’re silent as the thickness of the night washes away.

Zander’s hands touch every inch of my body. Every crevice. Every nook. At one point, he’s on his knees rubbing a soaped up finger over my sore hole, and once he’s rinsed everything away and is convinced no damage was done, he presses in with his tongue and urges me to a much overdue orgasm.

I taste myself on his mouth, and he drags my hips to his. We’re both spent, soft, but we enjoy the company of each other’s touches until the water turns cold.

Zander grabs us both a pair of sweats from his room, and then sets us up on the downstairs couch.

“You don’t have to stay down here with me,” I tell him as we both get comfortable with the blanket pulled up to our laps.

He touches my cheek and kisses me—because he can’t seem to stop ever since we got out of the woods—and since I don’t want to get up to anything indecent in the living room, I pull away.

His eyes are troubled, and it draws out the protector in me. “What’s wrong, baby?”

He shivers and drops his forehead to mine. “I owe you an apology.”

It takes a moment for it to sink in that he doesn’t mean for roughing me up. He means the phone call. The yelling.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he whispers, and the way he says the name has the muscles restricting around my heart. “You’re not needy and overbearing. You didn’t deserve to get blown up on like that.”

I sigh into the minuscule space between us, but when he tries to move away, I anchor a hand on the back of his head.

“Are things with your family that bad?”

I expect him to get defensive, maybe a little angry again, but it’s like his whole body deflates.

“They’re nice enough,” he says, voice low. “They stop in for visits every couple of months. They call on game days, when they remember. They’re dutiful parents.”

The muscles in his neck are tense, so I dig my fingers gentle and slow into them.

“But?”

“But …” He lets out a heavy breath. “They don’t like me .”

“I find that hard to believe. Everyone likes you.”

I jolt as he pinches my nipple, holding back the moan that I know is the opposite of his intention.

“Smart ass. Fine. Less that they don’t like me and more that they … don’t know me, I guess.”

Zander shrugs and pulls away, throwing himself back on the cushions and bringing his knees to his chest.

“I have a little sister by like two years, Liliana, and she’s sweet as hell. She really is. I love her. I love being her older brother.”

He drags a hand through his hair, face twisted in a mix of frustration and regret.

“Around the time I started kindergarten, she got an autism diagnosis. My parents, they did everything for her. Every therapy she needed, braces for toe-walking, the industrial iPad so she could shout for more cheerios or Baby Shark across the house.”

I offer him a hand, settling across from him and bumping his leg with mine.

“They took care of me. Met all my needs. Signed me up for extracurriculars. Everything a parent is supposed to do, but they just … weren’t there.

Lili was always in the back of their minds.

They’d remember all of her restrictive foods but forget I don’t eat seafood.

We’d go to every sensory friendly event offered, but my games were too overstimulating, and they didn’t trust anyone to watch her. ”

He drops my hand to wrap his arms around himself with such a horribly sad and broken expression.

“Even now. They can’t stop talking about every single accomplishment she makes—and I’m happy to hear about it—but when I tell them that we are so fucking close to making it to the Frozen Four, I get tight smiles and a “that’s nice, honey”, and then they somehow bring it back around to Lili—like asking if I can let her borrow my truck to practice driving because they don’t want to risk the family vehicle. ”

As tears start to well in his eyes, I reach out and put my hands on his knees, spreading them and fitting myself between them. I put my arms around him, and he settles his head on my chest no questions asked.

“Tonight,” he says, mouth brushing my collarbone as he speaks. “They told me that Lili applied here, to North Haven, even though they’ve been trying to get her to go to some special school out west. They said if she’s accepted they want me to look into getting student housing with her. And I …”

The guilt on his face is louder than a thunder crash.

“I feel like an asshole saying I don’t want to do that! And then I feel more like an asshole because now I’m just hoping that she doesn’t. That they have to send her anywhere but here.”

His words grow wet, and I feel the coolness from the tears that fall silently down his cheeks. The only indication we aren’t just holding each other for the hell of it is how his shoulders shake, how his fingers dig hard enough into my ribs to bruise.

I hate this for him. Hate that he feels this way. Hate that there’s nothing I can do about it except hold him.

“I’ve got you, baby boy.”

He shudders again, works his lips up my neck until they find mine, and just like that I’m lost in him. Lost in us.

Zander wormed his way into the cracks in my heart, and as the patchwork sets in, he’s sealed inside. There’s no getting him out.

I’m not sure I want to.

When I wake up, I’m alone. The blanket is half lying on the floor, my back—and the many hickeys Zander left as we were trying to fall asleep—on full display.

It must still be early, because the place is still relatively quiet, and I contemplate dozing for a few more minutes when I hear voices drifting out through the kitchen.

They’re too far away to make out any details, but my body is intimately familiar with Zander’s sleepy rumble.

I give it all of a minute before my body is buzzing to be close to his, and even though I’m only in a borrowed pair of briefs and sweats, I make my way to my boyfriend’s voice.

He’s standing at the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee in his hands, blowing on the steam but stopping to smile when his eyes land on me.

“Hey there, sexy.” His eyes drink me in, causing a flush to spread over my body. “We have milk and sugar, but none of the fancy shit.”

It’s a good thing I’ve never been warmer or more alert than I am with Zander’s hungry gaze making silent promises.

A deep chuckle from across the room reminds me that we aren’t alone, and I spot his teammate, Ellis, sitting in one of the two chairs at the tiny dining table in the corner.

“Look who stayed to socialize,” he says in a laid back, humorous tone. “I’ve heard you upstairs but ain’t seen you do the walk of shame yet.”

My face flames, and Zander wraps an arm around my waist. “What shame?” he asks, dropping a kiss on my neck. “Pretty sure my boyfriend has a pass to hang out whenever he wants.”

Ellis’ eyes go wide, and his mouth stretches into a wide grin. “No shit? Halefire got himself a boyfriend? That mean no more party benders with Ash?”

Zander groans and hops up on the counter, pawing at me until I’m tucked between his legs with my back to his chest. His arms hang around my shoulders and his thighs squeeze me against him.

“The last time I let Ash get me drunk, I almost died. No thank you.”

His fingers play not-so-innocently on my sternum, making slow paths to circle my nipples but not touch them. Zander and Ellis are still chatting, but the blood pumping in my ears drowns it out.

He drags his nails down my ribs, making little suggestive strokes along the waistband of the sweats I’m wearing.

The air around us gets heavy, and it isn’t until I have to physically gasp to take in a breath that I realize it wasn’t the atmosphere, it was just me.

“Whoa. Hey, babe, you alright?”

We talked about Zander picking an alternative to “Daddy” when we’re in public, and based on the glare I gave him when he suggested “Babe” that’s what he decided to go with.

“Fine,” I grumble, rubbing at a sore spot on my chest.

He tilts my head back for a kiss, and the moment he prods my mouth with his tongue, it happens again. My chest feels tight, and I have to fight to force air into my lungs.

“Sorry.” I push away from him and try for a lighthearted smile, but I’m already starting to feel a little hazy. “I should get back. Check in with Jules.”

Zander waves his phone in the air. “Already filled him in. You can stay as long as you want.”

When I hesitate, he frowns. There’s a hint of hurt reflecting off the hazel in his eyes, but when he grabs my hand I feel the heaviness trying to settle in.

I don’t mean to jerk away, but that’s what happens anyway.

“Fuck. Sorry. I need … a minute.” I turn and hurry toward the front of the house, barely bothering to grab my phone and wallet from the coffee table before hightailing it out the door.

The first gulp of fresh air balms the sting in my lungs, and after a couple of minutes sitting on the curb with my head between my knees things start to clear.

I was fine when we had sex. I was fine when he touched me in the shower. When he touched me as we laid on the couch.

Why is this happening now?

The body never forgets the trauma it’s endured.

And Mack damn sure traumatized it.

What’s worse than the pain in my body is the ache in my heart. Because I had hoped to keep this at bay for a little bit longer. To spare Zander the awful details of my last relationship.

That’s what hits me hardest. Hurts the most.

The last time I was this deeply in love with someone, he turned that love into something dark and twisted.

I barely survived loving Mack.

Shit.

I’m in love with Zander.