No Pucks (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #1)

1. Logan

ONE

LOGAN

“ Y ou’re letting your disdain show on your face again.” My younger brother Evander elbows in next to me. “Maybe try to smile.” He’s everything my father wanted in a first son, the golden child, but I don’t hate him for it.

“I’m smiling.”

“Sure, I guess, but it’s more like how a shark smiles…” Evander is so effortlessly funny, I’m not sure he even knows it half the time, quite the opposite of my snark.

“Thank you for noticing.” My smirk grows.

He shivers and makes a face. “Unnerving, but it seems to work for you, so good luck.”

“Did Mother send you over?” I barely spare him a glance, keeping my focus on the people milling in and out of the cocktail hour waiting for their time slot to walk the carpet.

“No, but she’ll be looking for us any minute.”

“I’m ready and waiting.” I sigh, absentmindedly smoothing a hand down the sheer shirt I’m wearing. I hate charity events.

Actually, I just hate my parents’ friends showing off like prized cocks. It’s sold as altruism, but it just comes off as them playing whose yacht is bigger, and by yacht, I mean dick. There’s a kind of desperation to these events, a kind of theatric sorting ceremony held once a year to establish their pathetic pecking order. I came to the conclusion many years ago they were all over compensating. I would know—I’d fucked enough of them.

I’ve found the only way to get through these things is to hunt.

Sex is the most honest thing on the planet.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Evander wears the standard boring male attire, not allowing our mother to dress him beyond the classic look: black suit, black shirt, black tie with a designer tag. But he wears it like a model, which fits well into the image of our family Mother wants to put out.

“I’m good,” I reply, wanting to shut him down. I’m not looking to rehash it all here. Unfortunately, his face tells me he won’t just drop it. “Leave it. Dad will get over it eventually.” I look away. I’m here because I love our mother, and this is important to her. “We can pretend to be a normal family tonight and Dad can continue his tirade tomorrow.”

My father’s mad I choose not to go to his alma mater, but this is Mother’s favorite event of the season and she sits on the board, so the whole family’s attendance is kind of a requirement.

“Or he’ll hold it like a grudge the rest of his life.” Evander shoves his hands into his pockets. He never clashes with our father because he’s what’s expected: the typical jock, the spitting image of dear old dad.

I play hockey too, but I took after our mother. I’m slimmer and quicker on the ice, and I’ve rejected all of Dad’s dynasty bullshit, wanting to be myself, much to his disappointment.

“Then he holds a grudge. I’ve never been his favorite, and I’m not trying to start.” I’m over this conversation. After the fight we had at home, I just want to find someone to help me forget, and this is the perfect setting.

“I don’t want you upset all night.” Evander’s massive bleeding heart kills me.

“I promise, I’m going to enjoy myself one way or another.” I don’t let anything keep me down for long. I finish my drink and set it on the bar. “I’m going to get some air before we have to do this thing.”

“There are other ways to process feelings, Logan.”

“Other than whoring myself out to someone twice my age, you mean? I don’t think so.” I laugh.

“Let’s hug it out.” Evander opens his arms.

I fake repulsion. “Not in public. People might get the idea we like each other.”

Evander forcefully wraps his arms around me. “Don’t you feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.” I love him for his big himbo jock heart and can’t bring myself to crush it. “I’m going to get some air before I have to do the people thing.”

Evander follows me out the back door of the hotel like my emotional support puppy. I lean against the brick wall of the side alley, absorbing the cool air—a moment of peace, trying to tune out the crowds around the corner screaming at their favorite celebrities walking the gala carpet.

Movement catches my attention, and I look up to find a man further down the alley having a heated conversation on his phone. He’s yelling under his breath, illuminated by the propped open door of a bar. He’s rough around the edges, not the kind of guy who’d normally frequent a bar off Fifth Ave.

A few strands of hair stand out at odd angles, like he has run his hands through it too many times—a slightly overgrown fade, flecked with gray. He’s big too, with at least a couple of inches on me, dark chest hair peeking out of the v-neck he’s wearing. Just the type of man who can throw me around.

I’m instantly drawn to him.

Evander smacks my shoulder.

“What was that for?” My attention snaps back to Evander.

“Were you even listening?” Evander asks, smacking me again.

“No, can’t say I was.”

“I said?—”

I hold up a hand, cutting him off. “Is this going to make me mad?”

“I’m sure it will, but you’ll do it anyway.” Evander steps in front of me and meets my eyes. “Mother wants us all to walk the carpet together.”

“She’s lucky I love her.” I’m searching over his shoulder, but the man must have slipped back inside the bar. I wrack my brain for what place that is.

“What are you looking at?” He tries to follow my line of sight, but there’s nothing there.

“Nothing.” I give him a tight smile. “I’m hangry and horny and ready to cut a bitch. Don’t play.”

“Keep it in your pants, you whore. There will be plenty of time to seduce an old man after pictures.” He snickers and shoves me towards the hotel.

I open my mouth to object to his slander, but I have no argument. It’s alarmingly easy to get older guys into bed, and I have a self-diagnosed daddy complex. I’m far past denying it at this point.

“I’ll keep it in my pants for now, but I can’t make any promises for the rest of the night.” If I finish this quickly, maybe that guy will still be there.

Evander pulls his phone out of his pocket, looking at the screen and sighing rather dramatically. “Mother wants you to go find Dad and meet us for pictures.”

“Where is he?” I ask, realizing this is a trap. Mother texted him, not me. He just didn’t want to go find our father himself. I know Mother wants me to talk to him, but nothing is getting solved unless I bend to his will, which I’m not going to do.

Evander lifts his shoulders. “She said you might know.”

“Uh huh. You mean you don’t want to go look for him,” I say flatly.

He avoids my eyes. “You’re not the only one he’s making life hell for. He’s sending me back to boarding school.”

“Can’t you tell him no?”

Evander shakes his head. “Mother won’t let me. She told me to do it to keep the peace.”

I’m suddenly quite thankful I’m not our father’s favorite. I pull Evander into a hug. “Have you sat him down and talked to him and Mother about what it’s like there?”

“They won’t listen.” He reluctantly wraps his arms around me, leaning into the hug like he needs it to breathe.

“You need to talk to Grandpa. Maybe he will.”

“I guess I’ll try that.”

“I can hide you in my dorm anytime you need.” Not that he can get back from Switzerland often, but at least the offer is out there.

“I can’t believe you’re staying in a dorm.” He laughs into my shoulder.

“After boarding school, it’s not a big difference. And it’s so much better than living at home.” Plus, it isn’t really like other dorms. It’s basically an apartment with a roommate. We each have our own room. The university requires all students to live in student housing for the first year. My parents think it will be good for me, but they wouldn’t put me in a shithole.

“How would you know? When was the last time you even lived at home?” He pulls back, smoothing a hand over his shirt.

“I don’t have any plans to start, either. I don’t need to be in the middle of those two.” I shudder as bile rises in my throat.

“Only made worse by when they’re lovey-dovey.”

We both shudder.

“Gross. Let’s get playing happy family over so I find my next victim.” I take a breath before leading the way inside.

“Victim? Have you graduated to snuff?”

“Not hardly. But I have time. Just the normal older guy for me today.” I laugh, glancing around to see if I can spot my father. He loves fanfare and admiration, which makes him easy to find. “Help me find Dad. Please.”

Evander grumbles but follows. “I haven’t seen him all afternoon.”

“I don’t see him, so he’s probably still in his room getting ready. You know he’ll be late. He’s always late.” I head for the elevator.

As a former professional hockey player turned team-owner socialite, our father likes to look good.

Evander leans against the wall as we wait. “I’ll tell him Mother is waiting. You know he doesn’t like to piss her off. Then, we’ll walk the carpet, and you can go off to stalk your prey. Have you decided who you’re going after tonight?”

“I saw someone, but you smacked me and I lost him. Are you offering a suggestion or just being nosy?” We step on to the elevator, and I push the button before I turn on my brother.

“Nosy. I’ve made a mint betting on who you can score.” That sounds strange coming from Evander.

“I told you to stop telling your friends about my exploits.” I narrow my eyes as I stroll out onto our floor, stopping in front of our parents’ door.

“They’re harmless. Most of them just want to live vicariously through you.” Evander winks and shoves into their room with me on his heels, but I slam into his back when he stops a few paces in.

“What the fuck, Vander—” My words cut off when my father comes into focus, balls deep in a woman who’s decidedly not our mother.

As if time stops, none of us move.

The only person who reacts is the woman. “Why’d you stop?!” When she looks around, she notices us and shrieks.

I dry heave and look at the ceiling, desperately needing a bottle of brain bleach.

That seems to get my father moving, and he pulls the sheet off the bed to half cover his erection. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Is he fucking kidding?

“Oh? What the fuck is it if it’s not what it looks like?” I barely bite back my anger.

“It’s not a thing, and we do not need to tell your mother,” he continues, putting on all his charm that has never worked on me.

“You promised.” I inhale sharply, knowing I have to tell her but not wanting to ruin her favorite event of the year.

“It was a slip. Again, nothing to ruin your mother’s night over…”

I hold up a hand and press my eyes closed. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Logan…”

I open my eyes and lock them with my father. “Get fucking dressed. If you take a minute longer…” I don’t need to finish—he knows.

My father stalks towards us, still alarmingly naked and babbling a bunch of bullshit. I don’t give him time to speak, dragging Evander out of the room and slamming the door in our father’s face.

“I have to tell Mother,” I say, slumping against the back wall of the elevator. I know the man is incapable of change, but I really hoped this time. They’d almost divorced about ten years ago when it all came out in a huge scandal. My father was newly retired and apparently couldn’t find anything better to do with his newfound time than chase puck bunnies.

He promised it was a one-time lapse in judgement and begged Mother for forgiveness. They reconciled, but I guess second chances only make better liars.

“I can…” Evander puts his hand on my shoulder.

“No, you don’t have to. I will after.” I leave him where he stands, needing air as the walls of the hotel close in around me.

I shove through the stairway door and take them to the roof. The cool air hits me like a much-needed truck, stopping my hyperventilating and thoughts of inflicting serious bodily harm on my father.

I walk to the edge and press my palms on the rail, looking out over the city. I’m glad to be back in New York and going to college in the fall, but at the same time, I long to escape. How can I possibly carve my own life path with my father’s fame hanging over my head? I learned a long time ago that in hockey, I’ll always be judged for who my father is. It’s never about how well I play or who I am. It’s always his legacy.

I vow to make it my father’s problem.

But how?

And how do I tell my mother the man she has been madly in love with for twenty fucking years is, and always will be, a douche bag? She doesn’t deserve this, but I can’t shield her from it either.

I close my eyes, trying to get the image of my father out of my fucking brain.

The guy on the phone in the alley comes to mind, and immediately, the rest is purged. My gaze flicks open, scanning the buildings for the one he came out of. It’s a hotel bar. That’s where we’re going as soon as I can make an exit.

My brother finds me after a little while, and I put on a mask to do my duty, refusing to embarrass Mother on her big night.

After we walk the carpet and take photos, I find myself unable to act. I don’t want to be my father’s son tonight. I try to just blend in, but I can’t laugh or play my part any longer.

“I’m leaving,” I say to my brother when I feel enough time has passed that I can finally escape. I feel bad abandoning him.

“I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to,” I offer, though I know he needs to leave too.

Lying to our mother’s face isn’t something either of us can do.

We slip out the back, making our way down the alley and coming out in front of the hotel.

“Where are we going?” Evander asks, walking shoulder to shoulder with his best friend James, who tagged along tonight. They’re inseparable and have been since they were in diapers.

“I told you, I have an agenda.”

“Who’s at this bar that you could have possibly seen?” James asks.

I ignore the question, scanning the small bar for the guy. It has been hours, and with my luck, he’ll be gone.

But he’s there, at the bar, sipping what looks to be a whiskey.

He’s exactly my type, with flecks of gray in his hair, glimmering under the low lights. His wide shoulders pull his shirt across his pecs as he reaches for his drink. He’s scowling and scruffy, with two or three days of stubble on his jaw. The slight thickening in his nose tells me it has been broken at least once. His massive, tattooed hands hold a glass of liquor on the rocks. I’m already wondering what they’ll look like wrapped around my cock.

His size suggests he played sports, a type I usually avoid.

But I can’t help myself.

I want him.