Page 53 of These Wicked Games (Wicked Sins #1)

twenty-five

Andre

G oalie gear is a pain in the dick to get on.

I do it easily now, but I still feel like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man when I have everything on.

Landon was supposed to play tonight, but Coach thinks it’s a good idea to put me in.

I don’t mind, I’m actually excited to play.

I’m not sure why this adrenaline is flowing through me.

It’s not the normal game-day high; it’s something else.

Something so light and free dances behind my rib cage.

I’m ready to kick some ass tonight . . .

show all the assholes who think being queer is wrong.

Before we get onto the ice I have one thing to do, though.

I don’t see Oli—he was talking to our coach a little bit ago—so I walk up to Viktor who’s on his headphones, his thick fingers tapping on his knee, his eyes closed, head nodding to whatever he’s listening to.

I tap on his shoulder, and he flinches, looking up to see me. “Oh hey, Andre. ”

“Can I, uh, ask you a question?”

“Uh, yes.” He looks around. This behemoth of a man is quiet most days.

“Can you tell me what zayka means?” He looks around for help, but I’m not giving this up. Yes, I could figure out the spelling and probably google it, but I don’t want to in case it fucks up the translation.

“Why?”

“Don’t worry about why? What is it?”

His brows pinch as he looks beyond me, and I turn, seeing Oli now pulling his jersey over his pads. He gives me a wink. Oh, that asshole. “No, don’t look at him. Look at me! What does it mean?”

“Does Oli call you that?” He smiles

“What Oli and I do in the privacy of our—” His brows rise. “Yes, okay! What does it mean?” Instead of answering me he stands, towering over my six foot two inches. Why is he so damn tall? And wide! All he does is chuckle. Why is he chuckling?! “Hey! Tell me.”

Instead he pats my head. “Good luck tonight, little zayka. ”

Oh, what the fuck! “Viktor! Viktor, get back here!” Ignoring me, he walks away, and I walk to my stupid fucking boyfriend who’s smirking like the proudest dick on the planet. “You’re an asshole.”

His eyes go molten. “Mm, why now?”

“I will find out what it means.”

“Google, baby,” he whispers. “Just google it.”

Baby? The endearment heats my skin. Don’t get distracted! I want someone who speaks Russian to tell me. “You’re a dick.”

“Yeah.” Oli looks back, and yeah, I can feel eyes on us, but I don’t even care.

I’m so happy despite our privacy being leaked.

I feel free. Yes, I’m angry, and those photographers will get what’s coming.

I know Jessica won’t rest until she has vengeance on our behalf.

They’re going to have to keep their identities a secret because I have no doubt Oli will want a word with whoever did it too.

Right here, though . . . right in this moment with Oli’s soft blue eyes on me, I know we can make it through whatever.

“You’re going to do great tonight, Dre.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

He steps closer, just a touch but I soak in his heat. “Because you’re the best fucking goalie out there, Dre. And I’ll be right there defending you. Then I’m going to take you home and turn you inside out.”

“Oh, Oli. Rule number one of hockey. Never touch the goalie.”

He steps a hair closer, and now I feel eyes on us, but I don’t even care. “Touching you is the least depraved thing I have planned for later tonight.”

I am dying!

Honestly, I don’t understand how I’m so winded.

The Santa Fe Phantoms are a great team, but not better than us.

They’re on the lower level in their division and not normally this fast or quick to shoot.

They have like two decent players who carry their team, but not tonight apparently.

They’ve kept me company over the last two periods, and while I’m a friendly fucking guy, I’d like a few less guests invading my house.

We’re down by one with just four minutes left on the clock.

Four to three. It’s not that the Phantoms’ goalie or I have played bad, but our players have been on fire.

My gaze zeros in as the puck drops. Grey gains the advantage, shooting toward Atlas who dodges a player skating by him.

Getting knocked into the boards, he loses the puck.

Ryker skates over, blocking my view a bit, but he knocks into one of their players, gaining the puck back and skating faster than I’ve ever seen away from me.

A hoard of Phantoms rush to him, and he fakes shooting forward only to knock it back to Oli who slaps the puck straight into the net.

“Yes, baby!” Whoa, okay, thank god I’m not mic'ed up. Watching Oli celebrate with his teammates makes me feel kind of jealous. I want to get in there. He skates by our bench, slapping the hands of our teammates, then he looks back, pointing his stick at me.

I beam.

They reset. One more goal. Just one more. That’s all we need.

Minutes fall away.

We just need one more. Just one. I hate overtime.

Atlas gains the advantage, skating to the left.

One of the Phantoms hooks him, they both trip.

I hold my breath, watching him tumble against one of the Phantoms, and his skate barely misses Atlas’s face.

Grey skates over, grabbing the guy and punching him.

They’re swarmed. It’s a mess of bodies as Grey fights, gloves off, and it’s hard to see much until the two of them break out of the swarm.

Atlas is helped up. I can see blood from here, but thankfully it seems cosmetic. He holds his lip, watching Grey.

Finally the refs break it up. They’re still chirping back and forth, but finally Grey skates off, followed by the Phantom.

He says something else. Grey turns in the refs hold, shouting back.

It’s chaos. I think I see Oli laughing a bit.

Atlas skates off the ice, holding his lip, then he’s replaced by Ivan. We only have minutes left.

We have the disadvantage as Grey sits in the sin bin.

Oli takes the puck, skating backwards toward our side.

He shoots to Ryker, who shoots to Ivan. He skates, faking out left, then right.

A Phantom slaps the puck. We briefly lose the advantage as a Phantom skates toward me.

Ryker demolishes him straight into the boards.

Ivan takes the puck, skating on a breakaway.

He goes to shoot, but knocks it back to Oli who drives it home.

“Fuck yes!” Oli is swarmed. Grey shouts from the box. Two in one game. Back-to-back goals. Fuck yes. I look up at the clock. We only have a minute left. Fuck. I hate the pressure, I do. I just need to keep it out of my house for one more minute. My guys are exhausted.

The puck drops.

The adrenaline rush I get when everyone rushes to my crease is unmatched.

I fucking love it. Now, with only seconds left, basically the whole fucking game rests on the goalie’s shoulders.

Not so much. I do not want to go into OT.

Still sweating and running out of steam, I hold steady, and my eyes zero in on the puck as it’s being pushed toward the crease.

I brace myself, not losing sight of it as it gets knocked back and forth between players. The chaos around me is deafening. Atlas gets back on the ice, replacing Ryker. He skates faster, but not fast enough as an opponent shoots.

It sails through the air, and I watch it, then collapse on top of it, freezing the puck. The whistle blows. I stand slowly, bouncing the puck on my glove, then I toss it to the ref. Atlas knocks my helmet before they reset.

Anxiety makes my skin buzz—it’s the aftereffects of living with my father.

I watch a Phantom start to skate steadily toward me.

I zero in and focus. Luckily we’re down here on the ice, so I haven’t heard the commentary around us.

For the most part the fans are acting like they normally do, but I still can’t shake this feeling of being scrutinized extra hard.

I shut that all out. My breath quickens. I love and loathe this rush. As he comes closer, I focus. He shoots. I fall forward, snatching the air. I don’t move, don’t breathe until I turn my glove, seeing the puck in my hand at the exact time the buzzer zeros out.

The arena erupts.

It takes a few moments for me to realize we’ve won. We did it. I look up, seeing my teammates come to me one by one, tapping my helmet. I laugh, releasing my first real breath since we stepped onto the ice.

Grey, Atlas, and even some of the other guys who didn’t seem happy at all about Oli and me tap my helmet.

I lose myself, emotion rushes forward, and for the first time in maybe my entire life I am exactly where I’m supposed be.

I want this for the rest of my life. Not hockey per se, but this feeling.

Being surrounded by people who give a shit about me.

Since joining the Otters there’s this family feeling that I’ve never felt anywhere else in my entire life.

Even after each win on my old team, there was always this ugly edge to the victories, knowing that no matter what, I was going home to a monster.

While I got along with those guys, it never felt like this.

It never felt like I mattered. I was just a body in the net.

As the guys swarm me, laughing and knocking my helmet, I feel my eyes heat.

I have a family. They are my family.

I’m not alone.

My team disappears away from me, and finally it’s Oli’s turn.

I want to remember the way he’s looking at me now forever.

Soft blue eyes that look at me like he’s drinking in every detail.

I’m still not sure what happened all those years ago, but I know that I will fight for him now.

I want to be the place where Oli can relax.

I want him to feel just as safe with me as I do with him.

And I am safe. I’ll never have to go back to how I lived before.

I’ll never have to put up with it anymore. Oli is my safe place.