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And for once, he has no power here.
"Go to hell, Darren."
I walk out with my head held high.
Chapter Nine
Jonas
"Move your ass, Jonas!"Wes barks, tapping my skate with his stick. "You're moving too goddamn slow for someone who wants to win a Cup."
"Who made the stupid fucking decision to leave Drill Sergeant Psycho in charge of practice today?" Gray mutters, leaning over the boards like he's dying. On second thought, he might actually be dying. He looks a little green. How he's a professional hockey player, I don't know. He's a damn good one, I'll give him that. But I don't think he knows the meaning of the wordexercise.
Kellan snorts laughter.
"I heard that, asshole," Wes calls, spinning to face us. He skates backward across the ice, a psychotic smirk on his face. "And Coach left me in charge because Kris and Theo had to take care of something."
"They should have taken you with them." I lean over the boards and grab a bottle of Gatorade before downing half of it. "I can't feel my fucking legs."
Logan gives me an odd, assessing look. "What the fuck is up with you today?"
"Nothing."
Gray and Kellan share a look.
"There's nothing up with me."
"You're skating like your balls hurt." Logan nods at my junk.
"He probably chafed in those fucking shorts he was wearing on the 'Gram the other day." Gray straightens up to strike a pose like a bodybuilder, making everyone laugh. "The goddamn things were indecent."
"I wasn't on the 'Gram the other day."
"Uh, yeah, you were." Kellan wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, pushing his sweaty hair away from his face. "Kelsey posted a photo of you from the weight room."
"Ah, goddammit," I groan. "No fucking wonder my damn phone looks like a cougar's playground right now. I wondered why they were all so excited about a picture of Shep chasing a fucking cow."
Logan laughs so hard that he nearly loses his balance.
"You should get ball hammocks."
Logan, Kellan, and I all turn to look at Gray like he's lost his damn mind. Though, frankly, I'm not sure if he had one in the first place. The man is probably one of the smartest people on the team. Which, now that I think of it, is embarrassing as hell for the rest of us. But it's true all the same. He's smart. He's also an idiot.
"What the fuck is a ball hammock?" Kellan growls, his dark brows furrowed.
"It's underwear." Gray shrugs, tossing his water toward the bench. "It has a little hammock for your balls. They're comfortable as fuck." He jerks his head in my direction. "And if he's going to wear those goddamn daisy dukes, it'll keep his shit from chafing."
"Jesus Christ," I mutter. "My balls aren't chafed."
"Then why are you skating bowl-legged?"
"I'm not."
"Yeah, you are." Gray pushes away from the boards and skates a few feet onto the ice, his thighs spread like he's imitating me. The bastard. "This is you, all morning."
"That is not me."
"Uh, that's exactly what you look like," Logan disagrees.
