Page 32 of These Wicked Games (Wicked Sins #1)

fifteen

Oli

I knock on Grey’s door and wait to be let in.

I know I could just go inside, but unlike my nosy-ass friends I have manners.

I mean, it’s my fault I gave both Atlas and Grey a key to my house and neither of them knock now when they come over.

Grey lives about ten minutes from my house, up on a hill, secluded from any neighbors.

His house is a nice ranch-style home with a stone driveway and woods surrounding three-quarters of his property.

When Grey first signed his contract ten years ago, he bought a house his mother and sister could live in while their mother battled MS and his sister raised her baby.

Their mother succumbed to an infection nearly four years ago and passed away.

Now it’s just Grey, his sister, and his niece .

. . or it was until his sister decided to move in with our backup goalie, Landon.

While Grey is overly protective of her, I know it comes from a place that’s witnessed too much brutality, and he’s terrified the same thing will happen to her that their mother had to deal with from their father.

She’s already been through it with her deadbeat ex who has nothing to do with their daughter.

Finally the door swings open, and I’m surprised seeing Alyssa smile. Her strawberry-blonde hair is piled high on top of her head, and her heart-shaped face radiates warmth. She’s very pretty; it’s no wonder Landon wanted her the second he saw her. “Oli!” She hugs me tight, then let’s me inside.

“You home for a bit?” I ask.

“Actually . . .”

“She came to get the rest of her stuff.” Grey glowers with his arms crossed over his chest. When Landon first got signed he made it well known how much he liked Alyssa.

It’s been a real sore spot in our locker rooms. She’s happy, though, and Landon’s a good guy, and he loves her daughter. They’ve been dating nearly a year now.

“I’m going to murder him in the next game. No one will know.”

“Hey! Rule number one, don’t touch the goalie.” She grins wide, teasing her brother. “That’s my job.”

Grey’s hands fly to his ears. “Shut your tiny mouth right now.”

“Greyson. Stop being an overbearing dick. We both know I could do worse.”

“Worse than a second-string goalie?” He glares. “Doubtful.”

“Do you want a ride to the arena? I was on my way.”

Grey looks at his sister, then finally nods. “Do you want to come too?”

“So I can see my sexy boyfriend in his sexy goalie gear? Uh, yes,” she teases .

“Never mind,” Grey says. “In fact, I’m going to get you barred from the arena. Maybe a restraining order. Where is Lianna now anyway? I’ll adopt her. She can stay with me. We’ll have tea parties, and watch princess movies. She’ll forget all about you after like two days.”

“Lianna’s with David’s mother right now.

” Grey gives her the look . “Hey! Just because her son is a deadbeat who doesn’t help me with shit doesn’t mean his mother should be punished.

That’s her granddaughter. Lianna loves her, and unlike her stupid son she actually wants a relationship with her.

I don’t want to keep anyone from seeing her.

You know that.” Alyssa got pregnant when she was sixteen.

It was hard, but what was worse was Lianna’s father ditching them all months after she was born.

Luckily, though, Alyssa had a great support system, and even when she was sick their mother loved helping out as much as she could.

She sighs, walking over to her brother. “Hey, look at me.” He gives in, glaring down at her. “I’m twenty-four. I’m an adult.”

“Barely.”

“Grey, when you find your person I promise to be as insufferable to them, okay?” He shakes his head. She kisses his cheek, looking at me. “Come on, Oli. Let’s go. I have a goalie to check out.” She preens.

Yeah . . . me too .

I really love practice, I don’t know why.

While we train really hard there’s something about us all being together that I love.

Our team’s pretty close, and we don’t have many trades, so the guys all mesh well together.

We have fights and little rivalries here and there, but at the end of the day we’re family.

Then there’s Andre.

He’s fitting in really well. I’ve noticed him and Colton talk a lot. Landon too, but goalies always have a different bond then everyone else. Atlas has seemed to warm to him as well, and I can’t even be mad.

I’ve gotten real warm with him also.

Normally I love practice, but what I don’t love is the mess in my head.

We haven’t said much since that night in the hotel, when I fucked his throat raw, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it.

It’s all I’ve thought about. Nothing has ever felt half as good. I just don’t know what to do about it.

I try to find Andre, and see him skating over the ice, then he turns to the goal post and talks to it. I’ve seen him do this a couple of times now. I can’t help my curiosity, skating over to him and ignoring the look of judgment from Grey.

Atlas is skating around him in a loop as fast as he can to show off.

Grey’s told me he’s been through some really bad shit, but Atlas has never told me about it, and it’s his place to decide whether he wants to.

Still, I get curious. The most I know is it’s something to do with his parents and addiction.

Viktor shakes his head as Ryker skates by me singing Sabrina Carpenter with his headphones in. “He sounds like a dying owl.” Ryker loves pop music, and every practice he skates to the latest obsession he has .

I skate my way down the ice to Andre, who’s stretching now, and while warm-ups are in no way sexual, seeing him bent over stretching his legs is doing shit to me. “Hey.” He looks up, then gets up off the ice and takes off his helmet. “What were you doing?”

“Huh?” He takes his water bottle, squirting some in his mouth.

“It looks like you were talking to the crease.” He looks away. “What? What were you doing?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Come on. I’ve seen you crying on my dick. Why can’t you tell me?”

His hazel eyes pinch on me. “First of all, those were happy tears. Second. Fuck off, Oli.”

I grin; I can’t help it. “What is it. Tell me.”

“I hate you.”

“We’ve established. Now tell me.”

He looks to the side and I think I see crimson bloom across his freckles. “I uh, I um, name the goal crease.” My brows scrunch. “And uh, give them backstories.”

“Um, what?”

“It’s like, each place we go, I give the goals names and backstories. It helps me to defend the net better, I don’t know. Shut the fuck up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” I choke back a laugh, looking at the one he’s standing next to, then looking at the other end. “I’m already regretting asking, but what are their names?”

Andre glares at me for a moment. “This is Tiffany. Not Tiff. Tiffany. She really hates when people shorten it.” I wait for him to elaborate. “That post over there is Oscar, her estranged husband. She had a thing with the goal post in New York. Valentina. She’s Italian. They had an affair.”

“An affair?”

“You see, Tiffany and Oscar have been together since they were in high school and their relationship is fine, ya know. It’s fine, but Tiffany is looking for something.

It’s been over a decade and lately she’s felt like something is missing.

” Andre leans in, dead serious. “Her and Oscar haven’t even had sex in like seven months.

She also discovered later in life she’s queer and wanted to experiment.

Oscar wasn’t into an open relationship, though, even for experiments.

” Andre leans in, and I nearly flinch away at the close proximity. “He’s very insecure in the bedroom.”

“I’m afraid to ask but . . . why the one in New York?”

“Because Valentina is a smoke show, why else?”

“I . . . don’t know what to say to this.”

I jolt forward with impact. “Holy shit.” Ryker nearly knocks me over, looping his arm around my shoulders. “Did you fucking hear? I mean, Andre probably has but—”

“Heard what?” Andre asks.

“Tripp is here! Tripp fucking Ostrander.” He shakes his head. Normally I’d be so excited about this. Yeah, he kicked me off the Titans but I get it. I assaulted his son and I don’t hold that against him.

Something’s off, though. It looks like fear flashes in Andre’s eyes. All the animation he just had telling me about his crazy ritual . . . gone. Numb.

“So exciting. You think he’d sign my jersey?” he asks Andre. “No, that’s lame. I better be cool.”

There’s something there that scrapes at my brain.

“When I escaped.”

I didn’t understand what Andre had meant—he’d quickly corrected himself.

Still, there’s something there that makes my gut twist. I hear voices rise behind us when the man in question comes out on the ice along with Coach.

Everyone stops talking as they skate to the center of the ice.

We all skate toward Coach, and I look behind and watch Andre slowly trailing behind us. He looks tired.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” Ryker whispers. “I can’t believe this! It’s so fucking cool. You’re so lucky.” Ryker shakes Andre around the shoulders. “Sorry, I’m losing it right now. It must be awesome, man.”

“Yup,” Andre says tightly. “So . . . awesome.”

I watch him, and his eyes flick briefly to mine before looking forward. His helmet is still off and I can vaguely see some of the fading bruises from my belt on his neck.