Page 11

ELEVEN

jack

The room is dark when Carter keys into the room.

I’m turned on my side facing the shaded windows, pretending to be asleep because I can’t handle any more of his questions.

I definitely can’t stomach any more lies.

Like how I told him to let me go when all I really wanted was for him to hold me.

Goddammit, why does the one guy I actually want have to be straight?

And why did he have to be right about that jackass last night?

I was so focused on hightailing it out of the bar and getting away from Carter that I snoozed on everything else.

I let him schedule the Uber and pick a place.

Where the fuck was my head?

A little clouded from all the booze, but not enough to let go of control like that.

No, it was Carter who had my head in a twist.

He tried to stop me because he’s a good guy, not for any other reason.

I think that got me even more pissed off than anything because I didn’t want him to save me .

I wanted him to claim me.

Clenching the bedsheet tight in my fists, I squeeze my eyes shut.

But it doesn’t quiet the words that grate against my brain.

“We know you’re leaving for Ohio tomorrow, so we won’t fuck you up too bad this time, pretty boy. But we’ll be watching. And waiting.”

An icy sensation snakes through my insides.

This time.

What the hell do they have planned for next time?

They let me go without much other than the threats.

No real clues about why they’d cornered me in that hotel room; although, I can probably make a good guess.

And even though I got in a few good punches, it wasn’t long before one of them flashed his gun in front of my face.

It has to be about my father.

Who the fuck else would come after me like that?

But if that was the case, why didn’t they take the cash I had on me?

Chances are very good that the deadbeat druggie asshole gambled his way into a huge hole of debt and that they were there to collect now that I’m commanding an even heftier salary than I was in New York.

So much doesn’t make sense to me.

And going to the cops would mean exposing myself to more bullshit because there’s no way the press wouldn’t get hold of the story.

The last thing I want is to expose my filthy past and have it stink up my future.

I’ll wait, too, motherfuckers.

I figured my father’d be dead by now with the kind of toxic lifestyle he had.

No such luck.

He’s still around to haunt me, even after all these years.

I grit my teeth .

Shoving me out on the street with nowhere to go because I’m gay.

He’s got some fucking nerve to come back for help after the hell he put me through.

Seconds stretch into hours that feel more like days.

At least we’re on the road for the next few games.

I can put one problem on hold.

Finally, when I give up on sleep altogether, I fling off the covers and roll out of the bed.

I stand up, my eyes landing on Carter.

The other problem is still a fucking thorn in my side.

I push my hair back.

His muscular legs are tangled in the sheets, his head half covered by the pillow, his arms flung above him.

Even in the darkness, I can make out the cuts of muscle that my tongue yearns to trace.

My cock jerks and a frustrated sigh makes my shoulders sag.

I bite down on my lower lip.

I’ve always wondered how his hair would feel between my fingers, how his skin would feel against mine.

Christ, I’ve wondered so much, it would make his head spin if he knew.

I pad into the bathroom and close the door.

Placing both hands on either sides of the cool porcelain sink, I lean forward.

My eyes look sunken from lack of rest, face pale except for the splashes of color around my bruises.

I drop my head.

Nobody has it all.

And I’m damn lucky to have made it this far as a professional hockey player.

My stomach twists when I think about that email from Coach Dalton, the toxic memories of just how far I had to go to keep myself on solid ground since I basically had nothing besides my talent working for me.

Sometimes, that’s just not enough .

At least, that’s what I was told.

And why I made the choices I did.

Did the rest of my life really need to be a complete and utter shit show?

I turn on the faucet until the water runs ice cold.

I splash it on my face and it wakes me up immediately.

Probably not my brightest move, since I just killed any chance I have of getting sleep tonight.

Running a hand through my hair, I pull open the bathroom door and walk out.

I sink onto the bed and adjust my pillows so I can lean back and stare into the darkness, hoping sleep eventually comes.

My eyes droop closed.

“Tell me about Play It Forward.”

They fly open again and I choke on a gasp.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Carter flips onto his side to face me.

“I thought maybe talking would help you relax.”

I swing my legs around the side of the bed and glare at him.

“What makes you think I need to relax?”

He looks at me, his blue eyes glittering in the tiny sliver of light that pokes through the curtain.

“You’ve been tossing and turning for hours. I figure it’s because you’ve got too much on your mind to let it rest. And if you don’t get some sleep, you’ll be a mess for the game.”

“My game, my problem.”

“Wrong. It will be everyone’s problem. And as your roommate and teammate, I’m responsible for looking out for you. That’s what we do for one another.” A teasing smirk lifts his lips.

“Not that you even really got the concept of teamwork before.”

“Fuck you,” I grumble .

“You’re welcome.” He uses his leg to wind the sheet around his feet and beats the pillow to raise his head up.

“So, talk.”

“I don’t want to?—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You don’t want me to stick my nose into your business, blah, blah, blah. But I’m putting aside the past and focusing on the present, taking one for the team. Pun intended.” He pauses.

“I spoke to Sam at the bar last night and he was telling me about how you volunteer there. What got you involved? Can’t say I’m not a little shocked. Never knew you cared about anyone other than yourself.”

A knot of anger lodges in my throat until I see the teasing smirk lift Carter’s lips.

I deserved that.

Still, I don’t respond.

“I’m gonna get you to talk. You might not remember, but I’m pretty relentless. I will crack your asshole shell. Believe that.”

“Well, I guess the only way for me to get some sleep is to shut you up by giving you what you want.”

“Guess so.” He waves his arm out.

“Listening.”

I ball up my own pillow and punch it a couple of times for good measure.

“Just so you know, I’m imagining that my pillow is your head right now.”

“Dude, whatever lets the aggression go,” he says with a chuckle.

“Although, I can say the same thing right back to you.”

I flip onto my stomach and turn my back on Carter, my unbruised side pressed against the pillow.

“I started there because of Sam. He’s a do-gooder type, always doing shit for other people, always helping.”

“What a fucking dick,” Carter says in a mock-annoyed voice.

“People like that really piss me off, you know?”

I crack a smile.

He really is a total pain in the ass .

God, I still want him so badly.

“I did it to be close to him, to work my way back in.” I let out a breath.

“And he let me, for a little while. But we never really started up again. He was too into Brixton.”

“You kept volunteering, though.”

I slowly roll onto my back.

“Yeah. Because I wanted to help the kids there who…”

The words are on the tip of my tongue.

Who were just like me.

But I bite them back.

“Who wanted to learn the game but didn’t have money.”

Clean.

Simple. Close to the truth.

Maybe I did it because there was such a void in my own life that being with those kids made me feel a little less alone.

They may not have gone through the same shit I did, but they all wanted to connect.

That’s all I ever wanted.

And the kids make it risk-free.

I never have to worry about getting hurt or being rejected.

It’s a safe place for me.

I peek over at Carter, who’s waiting expectantly.

I can’t tell him any of that.

He’d never understand.

I saw him at the restaurant with his dad.

Just enjoying a quiet dinner together.

Talking like they actually care about one another.

I don’t have one single memory of doing that with either of my parents.

Sam’s family felt more like mine than my actual family ever did.

“It’s really a great thing that you’re doing for those kids,” he says in a low voice.

“You’re giving them an amazing gift, Jack. Not just with your time and talent, but your heart.”

Speaking of hearts, mine swells in my chest at that .

“So maybe I’m not the self-centered jerkoff you thought I was?” I glance at him, lifting an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, you definitely are,” he says with a chuckle.

“But only like ninety-percent douchebag. The other ten percent is halfway decent.”

“Just halfway?” I ask, turning my head in his direction.

I wince when the bruised parts of my face hit the pillow, but his heated gaze pulls me in, making the sharp pain fade to fuzzy static.

“Yeah.” He holds my gaze for a long beat and my breath hitches, the air crackling with a whole load of things I want to say but can’t.

“Until you decide that you’re willing to go further.”

And it may be wishful thinking on my part, but I swear that his words hold a question…

one I don’t know if I’m strong enough to answer.