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New Year’s Eve in a new town sucks.
There’s not one thing about being alone at the bar, watching straight couples kissing as confetti, balloons, and streamers drop down on them, that’s fun. Actually, it’s the exact opposite of fun. It’s torture. I picked up my beer, an icy cold Miller High Life, pondering on how the label didn’t accurately describe my existence. High life. Not even close. I swilled a mouthful of hops and barley around then swallowed, a flash of gold appearing in my periphery.
Older woman, late 40’s, thin, pretty, in a sparkling gold dress. Her hair was glittery gold and wound up on her head, and her eyes were dark and moving over me hungrily.
“What’s a sweet thing like you doing sitting all alone on New Year’s Eve?” She leaned in close, her perfume musky and her breast brushing my arm.
“Enjoying the ambiance,” I replied, my beer bottle resting on my bottom lip.
“Did your date dump you?” She’d been into the champagne. Her words were slightly slurred, and her breast was getting really friendly with my bicep.
“I came stag.”
“And no one picked you up? Stupid women don’t know a fine young stud when they see one.” Her hand dropped to my thigh. I emptied my beer as she massaged my leg then swiveled around on the stool to face her, taking her clammy hand in mine before she managed to grab hold of my dick.
“I’m thinking this isn’t really my kind of club.” I held her hand between mine. “Want to come with me to Vespers?”
She giggled. It really didn’t suit her age. “Is that a kink club of some sort?”
I leaned in real close, her hand still held in mine. “It’s a gay club.”
She pulled back and yanked her hand free as if she’d been holding the hand of a leper.
“What a damn waste,” she huffed and staggered back into the throng of straights.
It had been stupid to come here. I should have just gone to a gay bar but shit, sitting there watching gay couples ringing in another year would have been twice as depressing. Knowing it was time to call it a night, I pulled on my coat, tossed a ten to the bartender, and stepped out into cold so fierce it made my face hurt. Winter in Cayuga. What a blast. I missed the gentle winters of the Carolinas. I really missed the heat of Birmingham, where I’d played before coming north.
You’d think a guy who spent four years in Manitoba playing college hockey would be better acclimated to the cold. Totally not and never would be. My older sister, Kimmy, was the same. When she’d moved from Chapel Hill, where we’d grown up, to Ohio, the winters about killed her. Her daughter Charlie loved the cold, but she was ten. All ten-year-olds love the snow. Thinking of my sister and niece made me smile. Probably should have thought of them earlier.
I jogged to my car parked around back, hands in my front pockets, shoulders up over my ears. There was a little bit of residual heat left inside my new Toyota RAV 4. I’d traded my sleek little Miata in after the first snow storm had blasted into Cayuga. Lesson learned. Always own something that has four-wheel drive and invest in snow chains. I cranked the engine over, sat back, and waited for some heat to eke out of the vents. The stereo came on, Halsey telling everyone that she was bad at love.
Her and me both. Way too many mistakes made in the past, looking for happiness with men who couldn’t give it to me. And none of the fault of those failed relationships was on the men I’d left. Nope. The fuck-ups were all on me. I probably had one of the best men to draw breath in my life for years. In the end, even Dan Arou wasn’t enough. He loved me, and I cared about him, but something was lacking. Thing was, after I left Dan, and all the others that had followed in the years since college, I’d not discovered what that something all my romances lacked was.
Sitting in a parking lot on New Year’s Eve rehashing all my past failures in love. Great way to ring in the year. I could go home, but I wasn’t tired and staring at the walls only made me edgy. I could go to the Cougar’s party at McGarrity’s house, but no one wanted me there. Sure, Dan had passed along the invitation because that’s how Dan Arou is, but trust me, I was a persona non-grata at that party. Victor would be there as he and Mario were close, and there was this fat icy wall between Kalinski and me that no white walker could get through, ice dragon under his cold ass or not.
I wasn’t feeling the ride to Corning to sulk around inside Vespers. So, I called Kimmy. She picked up on the third ring, after seeing who was calling as she should.
“Happy New Year, baby brother,” she whispered.
“Charlie asleep on your lap?” I asked, the sound of my sister’s voice lifting me from the lonesome place Sander March was spending tonight in.
“She wanted to stay up to see the ball drop, but she conked out around ten. Are you out celebrating?”
I looked in the rearview. Was parked behind a bar considered celebrating? It was close enough. Kimmy had enough on her plate; she didn’t need my shit to fret over. And I had been inside for a beer when midnight hit so we’d call it a party.
“Yep,” I sort-of lied. “I spent the night talking with some cougar who wanted to get into my pants.”
“Did she get offended when you told her you were gay?”
“Majorly. Like my sexuality was an affront to her attractiveness or something. Not important though. Everything is cool there?”
“It’s fine,” Kimmy softly replied. I turned Halsey down, so I could pick up any kind of inflection in her voice if it happened. “We’re fine, Sander.”
“Is the parole hearing still the same date?”
“Yes, it’s not been changed.”
I stared at the windshield as it began to thaw. “Eight weeks.”
“Eight weeks,” she murmured.
I shifted in my seat, unease creeping into my bones at the thought of Wade and the hell he’d brought down on my sister and me. If he was released early...
“They’ll deny his parole, Kimmy,” I told her, as I had been telling her for months now.
“I hope so. I don’t want to move again.” I could hear the fear in her voice now despite how she was trying to cover it up. I was glad Charlie was asleep. She didn’t need to hear how badly rattled her mom was.
“He’ll never find you.” I’d made sure of that. We’d moved her to the most remote part of the state we could find while he’d been in prison. It was the only thing we could do shy of witness protection, which battered wives and traumatized children weren’t eligible for.
“He’ll find you, Sander. What happens if he finds you?” I blinked away the sharp memory of Wade’s hands around my throat. I’d been thirteen, and he was thirty-five that time. “Sander, if he finds you, he’ll kill you.”
“Nope, he won’t. His days of terrorizing us are over.” I felt strong in that conviction even though my skin felt creepy and tight. Some drunk staggered by my car, bounced off the bumper, and then proceeded to puke all over the front fender. Nice. “I’m going to call it a night. One can only have so much fun.” I watched the drunken frat boy and his giggling girlfriend veering around the parking lot, hooting and being assholes.
“Okay. I’ll call you Sunday so Charlie can talk to you. She’s wrote a report for school about the science of hockey. She wants to read it to you.”
“I can’t wait.” I found myself smiling even though someone had just barfed on my car. “Talk to you then. Keep your head down, Kimmy.”
“Always Sander. Talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The line went dead. I chucked my phone to the empty passenger seat and slid the nicely warmed SUV into reverse. Sleep in a big, empty bed and morning skate awaited. Yep, Sander March was all about that high life.
* * *
I jogged through the players’ entrance of the Rader Arena at ten minutes after nine. Guess who was leaning by the Coke machine, nursing a can of cola, his cold hazel eyes slapping onto me as soon as I rounded the corner.
“You’re late,” Coach Kalinski said as I walked toward him.
“Only ten minutes.”
“Got a good excuse for those ten minutes you weren’t here?” He tossed the empty can into a trash can and folded his arms over his chest. This was pretty typical of our relationship. Victor Kalinski and I were never going to be close. I doubted we’d ever even be able to say we were sort-of friends. He disliked the fact that I had intimate knowledge of his husband. I mean, in general, Kalinski was an asshole of the highest caliber, but he ramped up his venom for me. Somedays it was better than others. Today must be a bad day. Maybe his kid had kept him up or he’d had bad eggs for breakfast. Shit, maybe his toast wasn’t toasted enough. It didn’t take much for him and me to knock heads.
“I had to stop at the Spiffy Clean Car Wash and hose the frozen puke off my fender.”
One rusty eyebrow crept up Vic’s brow. “Rough night on the town last night?”
“Not mine.”
And there we stood, looking at each other. “You owe me ten minutes on the ice.”
I blinked at that announcement and opened my mouth to argue then clamped my jaws shut. Fighting with Kalinski was pointless. He took a person’s anger as a sign of weakness. Once he knew he’d gotten a tear in your skin, he’d work at it like a fucking vulture, ripping bits of flesh off until he had bone exposed.
“I always pay my debts,” I replied, cool as ice.
“How did I know you’d have Lannister blood?” He pushed away from the wall and moseyed off, hands in his pockets, pleased with himself. The prick.
“You handle him well,” I heard Coach Hart drawl. He strolled up to me, wearing a lazy smile and an ease of his sexuality that was crazy appealing. I liked him. He was laid back and easy to talk to. Rarely yelled or acted violent. I kind of had reactions to verbally abusive men. Two to be precise. Hide under the bed or lash out. Neither were socially acceptable ways to act.
“Fucker is a thorn right in the balls,” I confessed, hoping some of the irritation would leech away.
“He’s a hard one to handle. Best way I’ve found is to simply nod and say something he can’t chew apart.”
“Such as?” We walked to the Cougars dressing room, and I turned to face the associate coach. God, he was handsome. If I was into DILF’s, I’d be all over him.
“Sweet tea talk.” He chuckled then glanced around me when a shout echoed out of the packed room. “Man can’t find one thing to say about sweet tea, so when he’s getting snippy, I just start talking about sweet tea, and he loses his steam. Might try it.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
Hart patted my shoulder and went off, in search of tea bags probably. I turned and faced my team, getting a few nods from the guys on my line. Most of the others tended to shy away. Probably because they didn’t want to bring the wrath of Kalinski down on them by associating with me. Which was fine. I’d gone through life with only Kimmy to help me along. I didn’t need them. I’d be out of here by next season and hopefully making lots of cash to help the only two people in my life who gave two shits about me.
“Hey, you read the papers this morning?” Dan asked as I tried to walk around him.
“Nope. Why?”
“You got a nod for outstanding newcomer from the Twin Tiers Sports Writers Association.”
Dan handed me a rumpled newspaper. I didn’t think people even read actual newspapers anymore. Then again, in a town this size, probably reading the newspaper was faster than trying to connect to the internet. This I kind of knew first hand.
“Oh, well, that’s cool.” I skimmed over the article in the sports section of the Cayuga Banner, the weekly paper our little burgh put out.
“It kind of is,” Mike Buttonwood stepped up, all geared up aside from his skates, and draped an arm around my shoulder. I wanted to sling it off, but I left it laying there on my neck. “That means you get to go to the Twin Tiers SWA dinner at the end of the month.”
“But we’re not really in the Twin Tiers,” Mario chimed in, wiggling into the tiny group, and yanking the paper from my hand. McGarrity was also not a Sander fan, but he didn’t go out of his way to shiv me daily like his buddy Vic did.
“We’re close enough that they include us,” Mike explained. I kind of liked the captain. He was a little dorky, but always stood up for the players in management stuff. He was also a damn good hockey player. Not as good as me according to the media. Hell, according to them I was the next Gretzky, which was not at all accurate. I’d be happy to be the next Kalinski to be honest. Not that I would ever let Vic hear me say that.
“You got this. There’s like some tennis player, a golfer, and a kid with a skateboard.” Mario read aloud, the paper out as far as he could stretch his arm. “Since when is riding a damn skateboard a sport?”
“Jesus, you’re frigging ancient,” I mumbled. Mike and Dan chuckled. Mario whipped the paper at my head and limped back to his side of the locker room. Mike rubbed my head and ambled off. Dan gave me a funny smile. I knew that smile well. It meant he wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how. “Spit it out.”
I peeled off my suit jacket and was working on my tie when he finally found the words.
“I been thinking about you and me.”
I threw him a fast glance. He was still one of the prettiest men I’d ever met. Those blue eyes of his were amazing. And his mouth was lush.
“Past tense or present tense?” I rolled up my tie and shoved it into the front pocket of my pants.
“Present. I think we’d have lots less stress if you and Vic could stop snapping at each other. He’s trying, you know.”
“Trying. Yeah, he’s trying. That’s why he hit me with a ten-minute bag skate after morning skate for being ten minutes late.”
Dan’s expressive face fell. “You sure he said a bag skate?”
“Dan, the man said I was his for ten minutes. What do you think we’re going to do for ten minutes after everyone leaves? Tango? Talk literature and art? For fuck sake.”
“Yeah, okay, I guess so. I’m sorry. He’s been in a mood today. Heather got engaged last night, and he’s not dealing well with the fact that my cousin will be Jack’s new stepfather.”
Dan looked like someone had kicked his cat. I kind of felt bad for snapping at him. I didn’t feel bad for being pissed at his husband.
“Yeah, well, it’s my fault. I rolled in late. I’ll deal.” I gave him a shoulder bump that did nothing to make him look any less upset. “Seriously, I’ll deal.”
“Yah, I know, it’s just...he was doing better about you.” He shuffled off, leaving me staring at the back of his sweater. I flipped the whole Arou-Kalinski drama to a back burner. There was nothing I could do to help Victor get over it. He and I had done that sit down and that was all I could do. I didn’t want Dan, and all that jealousy on Kalinski’s part was just low self-esteem. That I totally got but why project it?
“March.”
I looked up from unbuttoning my shirt. Victor stood in front of me, hazel gaze snapping like a live wire. “It’s come to my attention that several other puck heads were late this morning as well. Guess the giddiness of New Year’s Eve was too much for the tender little lambs in here.”
I threw a look around and did see some sickly-looking hockey players.
“So, considering that, we’ll be making the fun after morning skate with Coach Kalinski a group event! Everyone who piled in late gets to play with me for a while. Now tell me that don’t fatten up your dick.”
Off he went after giving me a look that should have singed my lashes off. Groans rolled out of the hungover players. Yep, my dick was hard as hell thinking about additional power play drills. Not. Man, being a professional athlete was fun at times.