“No. So comfy here.” I nuzzled against him, and he sighed, rolling his eyes, though he didn’t move. “Wake me when is my turn again.”
Monty said nothing for a while, and then he shifted to lean back, taking me with him. “So. You heard anything about who’s taking over for Noah?”
“No. I’m more curious about new owner.”
“Yeah. It’s kind of a dick move to come in here and do a fucking sweep, you know?”
I shrugged. “Not going to miss Noah.”
No one was, and the way Monty laughed told me he agreed. “I just don’t want some dickhead who has no idea what he’s doing. Noah had no fuckin’ business as a coach.”
He’d never played before. He and his brother had been in juniors, but his brother was drafted. He was not. Noah took it personally and coached like his sole purpose was to make sure every single player he came into contact with lost all faith in themselves.
But he wasn’t universally hated until he started going after the blind coaches in the PPHL. It was like he had a vendetta against something that hadn’t been his business at all, and he’d almost succeeded.
Getting to know Ben a little better last season, now Noah had an enemy for life.
“If he ever has no hater,” I said, my voice thick with half sleep, “is because I am dead.”
Monty snorted. “You’re so fuckin’ weird, Vanny.”
“Mm.” I was drifting now, into the memory of Micah. I could still feel his hands on me, his legs wrapped around me, his hole tight as I fucked it hard and fast—just the way he wanted.
I was lost to visions of him frustrated and angry and desperate and needy as I made him work himself into a frantic sweat, chasing his orgasm. And fuck, as much as he’d cussed me out, he’d loved it.
He’d come so hard he almost passed out, and he’d been so boneless and relaxed once he’d let go.
I wanted to give that to him every night.
My dick thickened behind my cup, and I let out a slow breath, trying to hide the way it trembled. The last thing I needed was for my teammates to know I was entirely gone on someone.
Micah was right about one thing: if anyone knew, we would never be left alone.
I didn’t put up a fight in the third period when Noah pulled me out of the crease. I passed Ferris on my way to the bench and knocked my mask against his.
“Do good hockey.”
And he did. He didn’t let a single puck slip by him, which meant we won 2-1, which wasn’t the best game we’d ever played, but it was his first on NHL ice, and that was a victory he was going to take with him.
I felt a little bit like an asshole for slipping out while everyone was celebrating, but I planned to make it up to him later. Ferris was a good guy and fit in with the team well, so he wasn’t going to be alone.
And I could shower, throw on clothes, and slip out before anyone noticed me.
The drive to Salem felt a thousand hours longer than normal, so I put Micah’s game on my satellite radio and listened to the very end. They were losing, and there wasn’t a chance in hell they were going to catch up.
I knew it was probably fucking with Micah’s head, and there was a damn good chance he was going to blame me. That was what we did as hockey players. Anything new—it could ruin us, or it could define a new streak of luck in our game.
I didn’t want to become a bad omen, and my stomach was twisted into knots by the time I was swiping my badge at the security gate and pulling in.
The game had been over for nearly an hour as Ifound a spot, and I could see several of the WAGs walking their partners out to their cars. They all looked upset, and I understood it.
The last season had been rough, but they’d been rebuilding, so the losses were expected.
This year was supposed to be better. And it was. Mostly.
But nights like tonight were bound to happen, and Micah was off his game. There was too much on his shoulders, and god help me if I became part of that burden.
The moment I put my car in park, I opened the door and turned to look over my shoulder. And shit. There he was. He was alone, his bag slung over his arm, cane in one hand, phone in the other. He was probably calling for some sort of ride, and I moved without really thinking.
