Page 17

SEVENTEEN

jack

It’s been three days, three excruciating days filled with pent-up longing and desperation to relive what Carter awoke in me when we were in Minnesota.

After an endless number of cold showers to rid myself of the memories, I still can’t scrub Carter’s phantom fingerprints off my body.

I can feel them dance over my skin, tenderly trace over the lines of my scars, each touch scorching my soul like tiny erotic flames that I can’t fucking figure out how to extinguish.

I lower myself to the ice at the Play It Forward rink, gripping my hockey stick as I lean into a stretch before our afternoon session begins.

The chill in the air does nothing to cool down the X-rated fantasies that have looped through my mind since that night at the hotel.

Thoughts of Carter’s lips capturing mine, of my mouth wrapped around his perfect pink cock as he gave himself to me in a way I’d only dreamed about, of him inside of me making me feel…

I grit my teeth, give the ice a good slam with my stick, and change positions to work my calves.

Making me feel more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life .

And trust me, I know fear.

Hell, that was probably the most normal and common part of my fucked-up, crazy, dysfunctional childhood.

Saying those things to him and walking away like that…

yeah, it was a shitty thing to do, but I had no choice.

I saw the flicker of doubt in his gaze after he gave me the most insane orgasm of my damn life and immediately shut down to keep my heart from being ripped out of my chest when he decided he’d made a mistake.

The look on his face confirmed it.

I get it. You don’t just go your whole life being straight and then boom, decide you’re gonna be gay to help a teammate out.

No matter how much of a savior you are.

And I couldn’t wait around to witness him flip the fuck out again, just like he did the first time I kissed him.

So my mind didn’t give a crap that my heart was ready to explode with fucking glee at what he’d just done to me, at what we could do together.

What we could be together.

All it knew was that there would be danger ahead if I stayed in that bed with him.

So I didn’t.

I ignored my heart and left.

Got myself a different room and slammed the door closed.

Literally and figuratively.

Haven’t spoken or looked at him since.

Classic asshole move.

The next day, I played the best game of my life against the Minnesota Kings.

I knocked their asses off their thrones during those three periods.

And it wasn’t because I finally busted a nut, either.

It was because I was able to lock in.

Yeah, I got off, but more than that, I finally got my answer.

I didn’t realize I’d even been waiting for it, but Carter’s face and eyes left no room for interpretation.

All those seemingly longing looks, all those personal questions, all those pokes into my mind to get me to open up…

it was all for the good of the team.

Nothing else.

And while Carter might have been curious about what sex with me might have been like, he’d never do anything to jeopardize his place on the team.

He was scared shitless that someone might have seen us kiss years ago at junior hockey camp.

I’m supposed to believe that he’d be good with people knowing we fucked?

Hell no.

How could I trust him, knowing how quickly he fell apart after just a kiss?

The regret would crush him, and then me, if I waited around for a second longer.

He made a big sacrifice to keep the team on top.

Must really want that ring.

I guess as the unofficial captain of the Raptors, he did what he needed to do.

Talk about taking one for the team.

I pull myself off the ice as some of the kids walk into the rink.

They wave, smile, call out their hellos.

Still fucking hurts, though.

I should know by now that the relationship crap isn’t for me.

Fooling myself into believing it can be is just plain stupid.

It’s damn obvious I can’t get past my own issues to trust anyone, and nobody worth anything is gonna wait around for me to figure out how to do that.

I drag myself off the ice and clap my gloved hands together.

“Okay, guys, start warming up. We’ll work on some drills first. ”

One of the kids, Jeremy, walks into the rink, shoulders slumped, eyes staring at the floor as he dumps his duffel bag onto a bench.

I skate over to him.

“What’s good, Jer?”

He raises his eyes to me, and the pain glaring back is like a swift kick to my gut.

“Not much.”

“Did something happen at school?”

He rubs the back of his neck then unzips his bag without answering my question.

He’s quiet for a long minute before speaking again.

“Do you think I’m any good, Coach?”

I furrow my brows.

“Yeah, of course you are. You’re one of the best forwards here. You know that.”

He looks at me, his lips quivering the tiniest bit.

“Here, sure. But what about out there ?” He motions to the door with his hand.

“Do you think I can really do this?”

“Sure, I do. You work hard, you’ve got talent.” I lean closer.

“Where’s this coming from?”

His eyes glaze over.

“I just need to get out,” he mutters.

“I need to be the best so I can make it to the NHL. It’s the only way?—”

He shuts down then, the tear in his voice makes my breath catch and my heart shudder.

“The only way to?”

I can barely get the words out.

Because I know exactly what comes next in that sentence.

It’s the only way I can survive.

Jeremy just looks at me, his lips twisting.

“It’s fine. I know it’ll be fine.” His fingers grip his stick.

And it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as well as me.

I put a hand on his shoulder and he winces.

“Jeremy, do you?—?”

“Jack,” Sam calls out.

Fuck .

“Give me your number,” I say.

He looks at me blankly.

“Why?”

“Because if something’s bothering you or you need to talk, I don’t want you to have to wait until we see each other here. You can always call me.”

“Okay,” he says.

He gives me the number and I type it into my phone, then send him a message.

“Now you’ve got my number. Use it whenever you need it. Never worry about it being too early or late. I’ll always be around.”

“Thanks, Coach. I’m gonna go warm up with the guys,” Jeremy mumbles, pulling his eyes away and heading for the blue line where the other guys are stretching.

I stare after him for a long minute before turning my attention to Sam.

“What’s wrong?” His eyebrows knit together.

I give my head a swift shake.

“Nothing. I just…I was talking to Jeremy and I think…” A hiss of air leaves my lips.

“I think he’s got some shit going on at home. Some bad shit.”

“Did he say something to you?”

“Nothing specific. It was just a feeling I got.” I rake a hand through my hair, looking back at Jeremy.

He warms up a little bit away from the other guys, on the outskirts of the talking and laughing.

His face takes on a wistful look and my throat tightens.

“Something doesn’t feel right. I don’t like it.”

“You can’t just assume something is going on at home, especially if he didn’t say anything about it.”

But everything around me fades to white noise, my past lancing my brain like poison-tipped knives.

“Are you listening to me, you little prick?”

My father grabs me by the hair and shoves me into the back wall next to the front door to the shit box I call my house.

House, never home .

“I said you come home right after school. You’ve got chores to do.” He leans in close, the stench of stale cigarette smoke and beer on his breath making my stomach roil.

“You think I should be the one doin’ all the work around here? Or are you too good for that because you think you’re a big hockey star?”

I puff out my chest, my jaw tight.

In three years, I’ll be eighteen and on my own.

It’s not forever. I can do it.

I can do anything.

Clenching my fists at my sides, I glare at him.

“Screw you and your piece of shit house. I’m getting the hell out of here and away from you.”

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, you shit stain. And as long as you live under my roof, you’re gonna do what I say. Got it?”

He holds the glowing tip of his cigarette up to my eyes and hisses, “And if you don’t, you know exactly what’s gonna happen.”

Sam snaps his fingers in front of my face to get my attention, jerking me back from my jaunt down Toxic Memory Lane.

“You here with me or what?”

I let out a frustrated sigh, anger bubbling deep in my chest, the way it always does when I think of that fucking abusive asshole.

“Yeah, here.”

Christ, I wish that somebody’d have paid attention to the words I never said, to read between the lines of what I did say so I’d be saved from that bastard.

But they never did.

They were too blinded by what I could do to hear my silent cries for help.

“The event to kick off the charity game circuit is tomorrow night. You didn’t forget, right?”

“Nope, I’ll be there.”

He claps me on the shoulder.

“Great. We got a bunch of guys on the roster for the first hockey game. Sorry to say your buddy O’Callahan volunteered.”

I roll my eyes.

“Please tell me he’s on the opposing team. At least if I play against him, it’ll be justified if I run him into the wall a few dozen times.”

“Violence is never justified, Jack.” Sam winks at me.

“But I’ll try to make it as painless as possible for you. I think it’ll be really good exhibition because you’re killing it with Oakland. The game out here should bring in a ton of spectators because of you and VK.”

I almost choke on that.

“VK?”

“Yeah, he volunteered to play, too. The night at Electric Lunch He didn’t mention anything?”

“No,” I grunt.

Fucking Christ. Even when I don’t have to share a room with him, he’s still a thorn in my goddamn side, stabbing me harder even now that he’s not on top of me.

No pun intended.

I swallow a groan.

Nope, not thinking about that .

“You don’t sound thrilled. I thought you guys were cool now.”

“Super cool,” I choke out.

Sam flashes a wide smile at me.

“Great, because I seated him at your table tomorrow night. I figured it would be good press, the two new superstars of Oakland coming together to support the kids.”

Coming together.

Well, VK was right about one thing.

I really can’t escape this time.