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Boss came out from the showers and froze, glancing between us suspiciously. His dark hair was wet, and he was naked except for the towel around his waist. He was probably a little more muscular than Atlas, and I’d spent a second or two checking him out in the shower, but it was a different story this time. The only man who had my attention was Atlas, and he didn’t have to be naked to get it.
“You cool?” Boss murmured, as though we were two wild dogs needing to be soothed. “Because I’m telling you, guys, if you fight one more time, Coach will kick you off the team. He’s pissed.”
I stared at Atlas for a moment longer before I shot Boss a look and nodded. “We’re good.” I gave Atlas a wink, and then I got rid of my skates, uniform, and protective gear. I stood there naked, something I didn’t usually do, and watched with interest as Atlas’s gaze ate me up—hungry.
Boss cleared his throat, eyebrows raised, and I grinned at him. I patted his shoulder on the way past to the shower room.
“I think your friend wants to fuck me, Boss.”
“Fuck you, asshole!” Atlas snarled.
That got the reaction I wanted. I laughed all the way to the shower.
5
ATLAS
The afternoon sunshinecut through the wooden blinds and made me squint as Dad turned around and closed them. His profile became an ominous shadow, and his glossy wooden desk taking up the space between us transformed into a huge, weird turtle. It took my eyes a moment to adjust so that the furniture and Dad were real again, rather than bizarre figments of my imagination.
Dad stood there, shoulders tense, and I was trapped on the other side of his desk with my spine ramrod straight. I’d always hated being called into Dad’s office. It was worse than getting told to go see the principal. Ever since I was a boy, if he called me in here it was for one reason, and one reason only—to chew me out.Atta boysandgood jobswere distributed at the rink or dining room table.
Everything else was saved for the shadows in his office.
My heart crawled up into my throat and drummed in my ears as a full minute stretched past. Then another. And one more. The silence was heavy and awkward, and I wanted to curl up and hide behind one of the solid wooden chairs—only the best in our house—in front of the desk, but I stayed standing tall. He hadn’t spoken a word since I’d gotten home from practice with Wy, except for the text telling me to get my ass in here.
Fucking Birdy.He was standing outside, leaning against the wall next to the door, being a nosy shit. I’d gotten the message from Dad about three seconds after we’d arrived home, and Wy had driven me here, so he was standing at my elbow snooping and had seen the “summons.” I’d told him to fuck all the way off, but of course, that had made him smirk, and he’d made a show of getting really comfortable next to the door as I’d slunk into the office.
Rage began to eat at me from the center of my bones outward, a slow acid gaining steam. I didn’t want Wy to hear this, to know anything about this. I shook my head. Why had I kissed someone so fucking annoying? I got hard sometimes when I was working out or had been in a fight—maybe it was just the same type of thing? Adrenaline made dicks do weird shit. That must be it.
Dad huffed out a sigh, and I made sure my shoulders were back when he finally turned to give me a glare. We looked a lot alike, but that had never bought me any leniency with him. He paced toward me and stopped as the toes of his shoes nearly touched mine, and then he studied my face up close, looking for weaknesses and flaws. We’d done this more than once, and he only acted this way when he thought I’d really fucked up. My gut churned. I’d tried so hard last year and all summer long. He knew I’d been working nonstop.
“What the fuck was that today, Atlas?” he asked, tone quiet but heated. Dad’s jaw ticked. He spun on his heel and paced off around his desk, then back, and I was pissed at myself as my shoulders tensed each time he walked close to me. Dad was big, but I wasn’t tiny, so I didn’t know why this got to me so much. I wasn’t a kid. He glared at me, and I realized he wasn’t just talking out loud to himself.
He wanted an answer.
“We had a fight,” I mumbled. “It’s hockey. You said the same thing to Coach Hill.”
He stopped when he was close again and slapped the new bruise on my face—not hard, but it fucking hurt. “Does that feel good?” He raised his eyebrows at me.
“No.”
Dad shook his head. “Wystan is bruised, too. Elissa isn’t pleased, but who would be? If you weren’t as banged up as he is, she would probably be in a fucking hotel right now.” Dad’s voice rose until he was shouting, and I flinched.
My chest clenched and I forced out a laugh because the worst thing I could do was tell Dad I was sorry. He would stomp all over me if I did that. “Great. Glad this little talk is about your sex life. You’ve had your dick in her more than out of her the last week. I’m sure you would’ve survived the night apart.”
He poked my chest and the sting had me grinding my teeth. “Pull your head out of your ass.” His hand flew toward my face, and I stepped back this time, instead of letting him prod the bruise, because it still fucking ached from what he’d done already. “Of course I care about what you’re doing! I care about Elissa, too. Wystan is the best thing on your fucking team full of mediocre talent. You should be grateful. A good son would’ve thrown his arms around me and thanked me for welcoming them into our home. I pulled a lot of fucking strings to help Hill get him here so you could have a winning season during college. Losers don’t get scouted as a free agent, you fucking selfish brat! You should be thanking me, asking what you can do to show your gratitude.” Dad’s words were a roar. Had he sent Elissa somewhere so she would miss this lovely family moment? He used to send Mom to a spa when he wanted to rip me a new one without any interference, and one day she’d left and just never come back. I didn’t think that had anything to do with me, though. She’d been remarried within a month of the divorce.
It took a few seconds for Dad’s words to settle into my head, and when they did, I felt like I was falling for a few seconds. “You were behind getting Wy here?”
Dad rolled his eyes, something I’d rarely seen him do. “Yes, me and Coach Hill!”
Groaning, I rubbed my face and stared at the red carpet between my feet. “You’re the reason I’m not captain right now, then. I developed strategies all summer! I was going to take our team all the way.”
Dad slapped the side of my head and it stung. “You and what players?”
For the first time in my life, I considered punching him. My muscles tensed.
Dad slapped my bruise again and the ache had me gritting my teeth. “And you got him drunk? Elissa said Wystan told her you bought drinks. I told you to treat the whole team, not be an irresponsible asshole.”
