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“And I wish I hadn’t,” Preston deadpans.
“That’s disrespectful. I work hard for this ass.” I throw my balled-up T-shirt at him, hitting him in the back of the head.
“What makes you think I want to smell like you?” He glances at me with disgust and brushes the shirt away.
I grab my shirt and button it up while Jeremy leans into Preston. Honestly, I’m glad they found each other. Jeremy deserves to be loved completely, and while I don’t know all the details, I know Preston needed to be shown how to love. There was no one else that could have gotten through to him like Jeremy did.
It took a second, but Preston and I have managed to understand each other. I know he doesn’t like to be touched, probably because of his trauma if the news reports are at all correct, but I tease him about it while knowing he will not allow it. I would never actually do it, and he knows that too. I’m pretty sure threating to murder me is his love language.
I tuck my shirt in, adjust my clothes, and tie my tie. Preston huffs and steps in front of me, grabbing the silk and adjusting it while I grin up at him.
“Ohh, who knew getting pulled around by the tie was so hot?” I wag my eyebrows at him, and Jeremy snorts.
Preston freezes and looks like he’s about two seconds from punching me in the face.
“Are you trying to get your nose broken?” Jeremy shakes his head and opens the door for us to leave.
Preston finishes adjusting the tie, and I wink at him as he walks away. Jeremy and I follow him down the hallway where we meet up with some of the other players as we make our way down to the rink.
Everyone asks where Paul and I were this morning and where he is now. I tell the story for what feels like a hundred times by the time we’re changed into warmup clothes.
Through warmups, I’m able to get lost in the familiarity of each movement. My muscles remember how to do it, though I still have to think about what’s next and how many sets I’ve done. It keeps my mind busy, which I need right now.
My head is such a messy place that it’s not until we’re on the ice for the team skate that I realize what Paul said in his voicemail. We play Minnesota tonight. I’m going to have to face Chad. I’m afraid of falling apart again, spiraling and not having Paul to pull me back from the edge.
The weight of the last twenty-four hours pulls on me once again. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to go back to my dorm alone. Sleep alone. Then get up and do all this all over again tomorrow.
Coach put Riggs on our line for the game, so he’ll get some good ice time today, but I’m not sure how well the game will go since we haven’t practiced much with just the three of us. Riggs is eighteen, and while he has the potential, he’s still green. Jeremy, Paul, and I played together for years on the same line before Paul came out here for a year. We know each other inside and out.
Jeremy and I slap sticks and head out onto the ice, but it doesn’t feel right. Paul not being here, not even in the stands, puts me off my game. Is he watching on TV in the hospital?
Our first line gets set up for the puck drop and the game starts. I love how fast the game moves; there’s no time for anything except watching the puck. Guys are constantly in motion, the puck flying back and forth, the lines changing. It’s exhilarating.
Coach switches out the lines a few times, and we’re sent out. Albrooke and Riggs follow me out, racing for the puck before they can get it in the net. Jeremy intercepts a pass and flings the puck to Riggs who somehow loses it between his own legs and kicks it to me. I manage to get a breakaway, rear back, and slap the puck toward the goal. The goalie tries to stop it but barely misses it. The lamp lights up, and we are on the board!
We’re smiling when our asses hit the bench and the next line goes out. We get drinks of water or Gatorade and watch the game, knocking gloves with our teammates in celebration.
The game moves on, we get another two in the net before they score, but I can’t help but watch Chad and his stepdad. The way they talk in the box, motioning over here and looking at me. It makes my skin crawl, and I have to force my head not to go back into that locker room.
In the second period, Chad is on the ice at the same time as I am, and he’s on me like a virus. I can’t shake him. Every chance he gets he’s slamming me into the boards, waits until the ref turns his back and trips me, hits my back with this stick. It’s infuriating.
“Come on, birdy, you gonna chirp for us?” he calls loud enough for some of the guys around us to hear him. He makes a squawk sound, and a few of the other guys on his line do the same. Embarrassment heats my cheeks, and I want to hit him so fucking bad.
“You really need some new material,” Jeremy tosses back after hearing the same line a few times. This period of the game, Coach Williams has decided to throw Chad and his line out every time my skates hit the ice, so I can’t get away from them.
“I packed a bar of Irish Spring just for you.” Chad smirks as he shoves past me, and I swear I can almost taste it.
Even Preston is getting fed up with the bullshit and has started targeting the asshole when given the chance.
If I just look at the puck, that fucker is on my ass.
Chad shoves me into the boards, his stick against my throat and his face in mine.
“Come on, birdy, cry for me. It gets me hard when you act like a bitch.”
“Why don’t you grow the fuck up, huh?” I shove him off me.
“Because getting under your skin is a favorite pastime.” He smirks and turns his back to me. “The memory of you choking on my dick is a particular favorite of mine.”
