Page 14 of These Wicked Games (Wicked Sins #1)

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Andre

" W hat the hell happened?”

My father barely looks up from his desk.

How is he so unbothered? While I know he hates me, Oli is like a second kid to him.

I don’t understand what happened. “He’s just stressed with his mother being sick.

” He finally sets the papers down. My nose throbs still.

The doctor set it but I know there’s going to be a wicked bump on it. “Sometimes people hide their demons.”

And sometimes they only show them to certain people.

“This doesn’t make sense. Oli would never—”

“Enough!” I flinch at the rise in his voice, and it’s this right here . . . I hate this. I hate how I’m an adult, I’m bigger than him and probably stronger, but he still scares me to death. “He’s off the team anyway.”

“You can’t do that. He needs this—”

He stands abruptly, nearly knocking his chair backwards. “I said enough! I am not having someone on this team who assaults his teammates over a failed drug test.” I almost laugh at the irony of that, but keep my mouth shut.

“There has to be something you can do. This doesn’t make sense.

” Oli would never ever jeopardize his shot—his mother’s shot.

I know how much he needs this, even if he’s too embarrassed to talk about needing the money.

I’ve almost stolen from my father to help him, but my father keeps all my money safely away in his own bank account, and what little money I make goes straight in there.

There’s no way he’d accept me taking a few grand out to help Oli.

Even though we don’t even need that much money. It makes me sick. I want to help him, but my father would beat me, and Oli wouldn’t accept it. I know he wouldn’t. “What’s done is done, Andre. If another team wants to sign him, let them. He won’t be playing for the Titans anymore.”

I want to scream. I want to argue. I want to punch something. In the back of my mind, though, I think about how angry Oli was. “Why did he blame me?”

My father sits back down, sighing heavily. “Because he’s mad at himself.” He starts typing away at his computer. “Sometimes people take their anger out on the ones closest to them. Oli has no one to blame but himself.”

Still, even as the irony of my father’s words punch me in the gut, it doesn’t feel right. Something is off and none of this makes sense.

Even so, does it matter? Oli hates me.

There’s nothing I can do to fix that.

I wake with a start. Rubbing my eyes, I can’t believe I passed out. Between the fight with my father last week, then staying with Vee and her spawn who think sleep for Uncle Andre is optional, and then the flight and the move . . .

I dropped the second I fell into bed after getting home from The Treasure House. I stare up at the cracked ceiling. This place is a fucking dump.

I’m going to need more cash soon, but that’s tomorrow Andre’s problem. When I left only I took out a couple of grand on my way to the airport. I’m sure he’s noticed by now. The only thing my father ever paid more attention to than me is his money.

I’m going to need a new bank account, though.

My father can keep my millions, I don’t care.

I’m too afraid to transfer it, or use my card to take money out and leave a paper trail.

Not that he won’t find me. I know he will.

It’s only a matter of time before he’s going to see me on TV and know I’ve been traded.

Maybe I’ll go out of town this weekend, and find a bank where I can withdraw a substantial amount of my money, then deposit it again back in town.

I don’t care. I don’t care that this place barely fits both my ass cheeks inside it.

I don’t care that it smells a bit musty, and that the paint has seen better centuries and may have an unspecified level of lead in it.

It’s mine. It’s all fucking mine.

I don’t have to come home after games and worry about getting beaten.

I wonder how I’ll play now that the pressure is off.

I don’t want to disappoint my teammates, and I’ve always been a great goalie, it’s just that I’ve always had this anxiety coat every game, my fear of fucking up never really letting me enjoy it.

I guess instead, I’ll have to worry about a certain captain beating me up during the game.

Oli.

Fucking Kuli. What a dick.

I know he hates me, that’s not what confuses me.

Our history aside, I’ve made it my mission to push his buttons whenever possible.

Fuck him very much. The fact that he could believe I’d do something so awful pisses me off.

How would I even go about doing that? We used to be friends.

Best fucking friends. Since then Oli has made it his mission to kill me with those blue eyes every time he sees me.

Stretching as I get out of bed, I’m just happy for a day off.

I walk to my couch and drop down, thinking about what I want to do.

No practice today. That thought brings a smile to my face.

I love hockey, I do, but that’s all my life has ever been.

If I’m home, I better be sleeping, eating, or practicing. It’s constant.

Now I don’t know what to do.

I go back to my bedroom, grabbing my suitcase.

I’ll need more clothes and a new suit before the game, but that’s a tomorrow problem.

I pick out a pair of sweats, slipping them on, then go to the shopping bag from earlier, grabbing the coloring books and new pencils I bought from the local craft store.

This one is pretty cool—aquatic animals in various intricate designs.

Animals are my favorite thing to color. Grabbing my supplies, I make my way onto the enclosed balcony.

Luckily, while this place does look like a shithole, the heat works really well, especially out here on the balcony.

It’s only the beginning of October, so it’s not too bad out here right now anyway .

I drop down into the ratty chair that isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as I thought it’d be.

I put my feet up on the footstool and open the book, finding a page that speaks to me right now.

I choose a whale swimming up to the surface, nearly colliding with a small ship on the water.

There’s a reef, fish, and lots of intricate little details to keep me busy for hours.

I can’t draw for shit, but I love to color.

It’s one of the only things that puts my mind at ease.

One time, I had a panic attack when I was with Vanessa, and she suggested a bunch of things to help with the fear and anxiety I live with.

Something to shut my brain off. I laughed at it, but after she hit me in the back of the head with one of the books she was coloring in, I gave it a shot.

It worked, and I can feel my mind calming as I scrape the blue pencil along the outline of the whale.

I like to outline the drawings first, then softly shade them in.

I think I’ll color the jellyfish pink and give the water a greenish-blue tint.

I wish I’d grabbed the one from home I’d been working on.

That one had a bunch of cute and creepy little occult designs, and I was nearly done with it.

Tripp has probably turned my room upside down by now.

All my coloring books were kept under my bed, and I can just imagine his confusion when he sees them.

Whatever. I’m free. I never have to go back there. It’s pathetic, how scared I am of him. I’ve let this old fucking man bully me my entire life. I don’t know what my mother ever saw in him. Not like she was alive long enough for me to ever ask her, though.

I push those thoughts out of my mind, and instead my brain goes down another unwelcome path.

I was shocked seeing Oli and Grey walk into The Treasure House last night.

It’s a popular queer club that knows how to keep it’s secrets, hence the name, and whenever we’d play the Otters, I’d stop there after our games.

Personally, I don’t give a shit who knows about my sexuality, but I’m careful anyway, only visiting queer-friendly spaces with airtight NDAs thanks to my agent.

Fuck. My agent.

Yeah, he was not happy at all about me leaving and dropping him so quickly. I feel really bad. I just couldn’t keep him, he was too close with my father. I’m going to need a new one, and I know just the person to ask.

Boy, do I just love trouble .

I try to shut my brain off for a bit, and I nearly have the whale completely done an hour later.

I think this is the first day off I’ve had in .

. . well, ever actually. It’s weird just sitting and not having to run drills.

We do have a game tomorrow, and while Oli hates me, I’m also the new guy and have something to prove.

My stomach turns, thinking about that game with Rocky.

While I had been at the other end when it happened, I’ve seen the replays.

His skull bounced off the crease without a helmet.

Having four to five six-foot-plus men basically skating on knives coming at you about twenty miles an hour .

. . yeah, that shit is terrifying and can cause serious injuries with the helmet on .

I move on to the ship, coloring it with a nice brown.

Outlining the wood grains, my mind drifts back to Oli.

While he’s a real dickhead, I have to admit—and only to myself—how gorgeous he is.

It’s part of the reason I started talking to him way back during our camp days.

He was a scrawny kid then, but now . . .

fuck, Oliver Kulivov is sexy. I hate the thought, but I can’t lie to myself.

Tonight he looked good. His dirty-blond hair looked more brown than blond, and those ocean-blue eyes grab my attention every time I’m in their path.

He’s big—bigger than I am—and I don’t think I’d be able to wrap both hands around his biceps.

Despite his size, he moves on the ice with the grace and speed of a figure skater.