| |
Ethan was bummed that he couldn’t go home for Thanksgiving, but there were so many Canadian guys on the team that they all ended up going out to one of those hibachi-grill places. Riley went too, and Ethan was glad he stuck around for the holiday, even if it made him mad that no one in Riley’s family had called to wish him a happy Thanksgiving.
Dating was great, and Ethan liked all the sex stuff and how Riley did things like warm up pizza in the oven instead of the microwave and make Ethan drink water and not smoke before games. He was still getting used to the whole “have someone take care of me” thing, but the sex sure helped it be a lot less weird.
Road trips were a bummer, because Riley had a “no sex before away games” rule that he refused to break. They spent most of their time on a bus, and their teammates might be aware they were dating—Ethan might have gotten drunk on Thanksgiving and informed everyone at the hibachi grill, including the waiter and the chef, that he was thankful for his hot boyfriend—but that didn’t mean they wanted a show.
Ethan’s roommate on the road was Bennett Halley, and Ethan had a dark suspicion that Halley didn’t approve of him and Riley. Halley always made a point to be in their room after games instead of going out. But that might have more to do with Halley still not being able to score on Riley in practice.
Or it might be that time when Halley got frustrated at having Riley turn yet another shot away and told Riley to “Go back to Montana, cowboy.” It wasn’t really that mean, but Ethan heard him and tried to punch Halley for saying it.
Coach Spencer ran them through extra drills for that and then hauled them both to his office. Halley was spitting mad, probably because Halley had tried to duck Ethan’s punch and ended up falling down on the ice. Everyone laughed and started calling him Rocky. Halley had been around the game long enough to know that nickname would stick.
It was a cool nickname, though. Halley shouldn’t be so pissed.
“What the fuck was that?” Spence asked, arms crossed. “Why are you throwing punches at your teammate, Kennedy? This isn’t The Real Housewives of Jacksonville, you know.”
Naturally that made Ethan mad. “Are you calling us girls to make us ashamed or something, because that’s lame... Coach,” he added in an attempt to be respectful. He did like Coach Spencer, despite his tendency to yell at him and his strangely violent metaphors.
“No, Kennedy. I am not. Have you ever seen girls fight? They don’t give up that easy. I have three daughters.”
“I didn’t know that,” Ethan said, surprised. “Do they play hockey?” He wondered if they were hot.
“No,” Spence said with gritted teeth. “And you aren’t supposed to know that. I don’t want my precious darlings around you Neanderthals.”
Ethan was now imagining three girls with identical crossed arms and glares, until Spence cleared his throat and Ethan realized he was supposed to say something.
“He was giving the goalie shit,” Ethan answered, a bit sheepishly. “I beat people up when they do that. That’s my thing.”
“Yes,” Spence sighed. He sounded very tired. “When they’re on the other team. Don’t do that. Okay? And you, Halley? What’d you say to Hunter? Don’t pretend you didn’t say anything, because I heard you running your mouth. You just score enough goals to make me pretend you’re an annoying cartoon character that a mouse will blow up with a bomb at some point.”
“I chirped him, but I don’t know why that got Kennedy’s panties in a twist.”
Ethan glared at him. “Did you not hear me say how lame it is to call me a girl as an insult?”
“Kennedy, stop trying to right the wrongs of society. This is a locker room, not a fucking peace rally. And Halley, don’t you ever say the word panties around me again. It makes me sick to my stomach.”
“I said he should go back to Montana and called him a cowboy,” Halley said.
Spence turned to Ethan. “And you hit him for that? Why, Kennedy?”
Ethan wasn’t sure, but he probably shouldn’t say that. “Because Riley’s from Wyoming.”
Halley was still pissed at Ethan when they left on their next road trip, but Ethan made it up to him by earning a five-minute major penalty and a ten-minute game misconduct for fighting because some guy on the other team threw a late hit on Halley.
Their next game in Savannah was a lot better than their 6-2 loss earlier in the season. Ethan got in a fight with Jace Wynn, gave Wynn a respectable black eye and a split lip, and got a shiner of his own out of it.
Ethan liked Wynn a lot, actually. He spent his time in the penalty box wondering if he thought Wynn was hot. Was Riley the only guy he was into? Did it even work like that?
He didn’t know, but he knew one thing for sure—he might let Wynn blow him, but no way would he get on his knees for him like he did for Riley.
That made his attention wander, and he spent the duration of his entire five-minute penalty watching Riley move in the goal. So he saw the Renegades’ best player, Darcy Leblanc, crash into the net and knock Riley over to score a goal.
Riley was mad and clearly trying to argue that the goal shouldn’t have counted due to goalie interference. It ended with Riley hitting his stick on the ice, which was something Ethan had never seen Riley do, even in practice. It was really hot, though. Riley even skated after the linesman to keep yelling about it, but the linesman blew the whistle and gave him a penalty.
Ethan was joined in the box by Becker, who served the penalty for Riley because goalies didn’t go to the box. “He’s pissed,” Becker told Ethan. “I’ve been playing with him for three years. He’s never done that.” He sounded proud. “Good for him. That’s a bullshit goal.”
Ethan liked to think he was rubbing off on Riley. And not just in a sexy way.
That was pretty much the end of anything civilized in the game. The second he got out of the box, Ethan went gunning for Leblanc. Though not a fighter, Leblanc was tough, and he wasn’t going to back down. He threw his gloves down and squared off with Ethan.
Ethan was so mad, he didn’t pull his punches like he should have with a guy like Leblanc. That got him five minutes and another game misconduct, meaning he missed the rest of the second period.
In the third the Renegades put their enforcer out. It wasn’t Wynn, who was technically a winger, but a defenseman like Ethan. That guy looked like he was Colossus from X-Men and spoke no English. Ethan was a fighter, but Colossus was a tank, and Ethan knew he probably deserved the pounding he got for not following fighters’ rules with Leblanc.
That time he didn’t get five minutes and a game misconduct. He got ejected and had to watch the rest of the game from the locker room.
Riley played like a god, stopping every shot thrown at the net. But the Storm couldn’t score, and the game ended with Leblanc’s bullshit goal giving the Renegades the win.
It wasn’t one of those games where you go out and get drunk with the other team, but Ethan went to find Leblanc anyway. It turned out that apologizing to a guy for not pulling your punches was insulting, and that got him a cold stare and Leblanc muttering in French, like he didn’t know any English.
Coach Spencer yelled at Ethan for fifteen minutes in the locker room after the game. Everyone had to get on the bus and wait for Ethan to finish getting his ass chewed out.
“Kennedy, I wanted you on this team because when you play smart, when you’re thinking with your head instead of your tattoos, or whatever else it is you think with, you’re an asset to our morale. You get the guys fired up. You get the crowd fired up. You get the other team fired up. Are you following what I’m saying, son?”
Ethan’s back stiffened. “I’m not your son.” He said it flatly, and there must have been something in his eyes that made Spence nod.
“Look. I don’t believe in sugarcoating shit or whatever it is people tell you to do to inspire today’s youth, because that just turns today’s youth into a bunch of spineless brats who think they know everything.” Coach Spence scowled. “And I hate that, Kennedy. I hate it. If I wanted to deal with that shit, I’d go be a coach for kid’s soccer. Fuck every single motherfucking parent at those games. I swear to God. Our youngest is some kind of soccer prodigy, and my wife won’t let me go to the games anymore, because I almost decked this little brat’s dad with a lawn chair.”
Ethan had absolutely no trouble imagining that.
“So here’s what you need to know. You’re slow as molasses out there, and I know you can skate better. So stop smoking so goddamn much. If you don’t? You’ll be like that tank disguised as a hockey player who pummeled you into the ice. You’re an enforcer, but you’re on my goddamn hockey team. So you play hockey. I don’t keep goons on the bench. So if that’s what you’re going to be, you’ll go be it somewhere else. You understand me?”
Ethan nodded. “Yes, Coach.”
Coach Spencer sighed. “I’m scratching you for the game tomorrow. And when we get back, you’re going to come in on two of your off days for conditioning. And you’re going to watch some goddamn game tapes of guys who played your role and played it well. Understand? Because you’re not the most talented player I’ve got... but you don’t suck.”
As compliments went, that wasn’t too bad.
“Now go get on the bus and don’t tell anyone I said a single nice thing to you. I’m gonna eat a sandwich and make ’em wait another twenty minutes. Get out of here.”
For a moment Ethan was envious of Coach Spencer’s kids. Something told him they’d never wonder what it was like to have a dad, even if their dad might embarrass the hell out of them for the rest of their lives.
The coach yelled at them all the way back to the hotel and then kept yelling when they got there too fast. He made the bus driver circle the block four times so he could finish.
When he finally stopped yelling, he sent them all to their rooms and to bed—no going out and definitely no going to the hotel bar to talk about what a dick their coach was.
“I didn’t know they had a bar in the Super 8,” Ryan muttered.
“Captain Sloan, there’s a time for you to be funny and there’s a time to shut the fuck up,” Spence said. “And I bet I don’t need to tell you what time it is. Besides, it’s a Best Western. Now go to bed.”
No one was in a good mood after that, so it probably wouldn’t have been a very late night even if they weren’t sent to their rooms. But Ethan wanted to see Riley, even though they both had roommates and it might just make things worse if they were in the same room.
Halley put a hockey game on, but it was a game between the Phoenix Coyotes and Florida Panthers, so neither of them cared about it. Halley took out his phone and left the sound on while playing Angry Birds, the ass. Ethan texted Riley.
Sorry i got everyone in trouble.
Riley’s response came back a few seconds later.
I want to shove you against a wall.
Ethan blinked, his face heating even if he wasn’t sure what Riley meant.
To beat me up ha-ha or calm me down?
His face didn’t get any less heated by Riley’s answer. He gave a quiet laugh.
Does it matter?
Ethan should have stopped sending Riley suggestive text messages, given he was already wound up. But apparently it wasn’t his night to be sensible.
No. But I don’t want you to be mad.
Ethan bit his lip. He felt like an idiot for sending that, but it was true.
I’m not mad. It was hot.
Oh. Well, then. Smirking, Ethan settled back against the headboard.
It was hot when you got mad too.
Riley’s response made him laugh out loud.
Even Brodeur hits his stick sometimes.
Maybe I’m a bad influence, Ethan sent.
That shouldn’t have been a goal, Riley responded.
Would you make me suck you off?
Ethan sent that because he didn’t want Riley thinking about the game, and because sending sexy text messages wasn’t as lame as he always thought it would be.
But he drew the line at calling it “sexting.”
Riley’s next reply was Do you really want to know what I want?
Ethan’s breath caught, but there was only one response to a dare like that, so he didn’t hesitate.
Yeah.
He stared at the screen for a long time, waiting for Riley’s text. It seemed to take forever.
I want to fuck you.
Oh. Ethan swallowed hard, stared at his phone, and flushed hot as he thought about Riley doing that to him. Part of him really liked the idea, and part of him didn’t. Blow jobs were one thing, but getting fucked...? It made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t sure he liked.
Was that what it felt like to be pressured for sex? Holy fuck. If any loser douchebag ever made either one of his sisters feel pressured to put out, Ethan would end the guy. No question. Ethan didn’t feel that way about Riley, of course, but he still wasn’t sure what he thought about... that.
It’s okay, Ethan.
Ethan looked down at the message from Riley and felt himself breathe again.
I know. Wish you were here. That was kind of sappy, but he did wish that.
Thanks for standing up for me, Riley sent.
Ethan looked at his phone for a long time. He was pretty sure he was in love with Riley Hunter. He wondered if he should tell him. If he said it first, that could totally be blow job leverage, right there. And Riley deserved it anyway, for coming up with “I want to fuck you” during a text exchange that was entirely about blow jobs.
Predictably Ethan was then distracted by the thought of blow jobs. Which meant that when he went to text Riley back, he wasn’t thinking. He meant to send something playful, easy, like “Anytime.”
Instead he texted back, Count on it.
Ethan sighed and leaned up to turn off his light. Good job, idiot. You might as well have put a little heart after it.
Oh, well. No one had ever accused him of being subtle.