No Pucks (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #1)

9. Logan

NINE

LOGAN

A few weeks later, I stop dead in my tracks as I walk out of my apartment to find Evander standing on the street. “What are you doing here?” He should be at boarding school, and my dorm is at least fifty blocks from where our family brownstone is on the upper east side.

“I was just coming to talk to you,” he says, kicking at the ground. Something is off. He’s never like this. Even for a himbo, it’s out of character.

“And calling me is suddenly illegal?”

“I didn’t want to be wiretapped.”

I blink. “Have you done something illegal, brother mine?”

“If you consider planting a listening device in our house illegal…”

“It is, in the state of New York, illegal to record conversations you aren’t a party to, yes, but why would that make you fear the same?” I ask, remaining calm even though I’m going to be late for practice if he doesn’t hurry up.

“Because if I’m doing it, it means Dad could be recording ours. It’s not like I’m the first person to think of it.”

“It’s much harder to record cell phones.” Not impossible, though, and our father does have quite a bit of disposable income. “Why would he do that?”

“In case he thinks we are on to him.”

“On to?” I ask getting tired of this conversation already.

“That he’s lying to Mother again.”

I stop. “What makes you think that?”

“Right before I left for school, I got suspicious, so I planted something. Then, I was going to have one of my friends go over there and play the recording for me, saying I forgot something and they were picking it up, but we got interrupted.”

I wait, wanting him to finish before I make my judgment.

He kicks at the sidewalk again stalling. “I heard a girl’s voice, but when Ricky walked in, there was no one there but Dad, and he said it was the news. I made up a story about being on FaceTime with Ricky while he went to my room, and Dad scolded me for sending a stranger into our house without asking, but when Ricky went back the next day, the bug I planted was gone.”

“It could be something, or it could be nothing.” It’s not totally unheard of for our father to be playing something on his phone. Just like any other boomer, he doesn’t know what headphones or volume control is, but considering his past… “Don’t you think Mother would be taking precautions to check up on him to make sure he’s not lying?”

Evander shakes his head. “I doubt it. She’s too in love with him, and he has her convinced this was a one-time mistake.”

I sigh. Our mother wants to believe the best in everyone. It’s part of her charm. “If he caught the recording device once, he will again, particularly now that he’s privy to it. He’s going to be suspicious… Wait, why are you even home? School only started a couple of weeks ago. There’s no way you’re on break.”

“I told you: I had to talk to you.”

“It’s an eight hour flight from Geneva.”

“And? I ditched today.”

“How did you get home without them knowing?” After Evander got into a fight with his coach one year and hid out in the Bahamas for a week without telling anyone while missing a load of school, our parents removed his access to our jet.

“I used Grandpa’s business account. He gave me the password in case I ever need it.”

That meddling old man would. He loves getting involved in drama. Part of having too much time and too much money and no more fucks. Ever since Grandma died, his boredom has reached another level of uncontrolled.

“You really are everyone’s favorite, aren't you?”

Evander grins, showing off both dimples. “I can’t help that I’m the baby and everyone likes me.”

All I can do is laugh. I enjoy not being the focus of my extended family and their dynasty, so I can’t even be mad. “I don’t know how we can confirm it, aside from going there. How long are you here for?”

“I don’t know. I might stay the weekend with Grandpa.”

“Okay, I need to get to practice. I’m already late. I’ll call Grandpa’s land line later.”

“I’ll get burner phones and put one in your room.” He holds out his hand, and I just stare at it. “Give me the key.”

“No, you can drop it with the doorman.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

I jog to our practice facility, annoyed at being late and having to deal with all this, and throw on my gear, making me only two minutes late when I step on the ice. The guys are messing around, warming up on their own, and Coach isn’t paying attention, so I easily slip into the fray.

I don’t want to be the one who puts the final nail in the coffin of my mother’s happiness. Even if she doesn’t blame me, I’m still the one bringing light to his bad behavior, and it’s not my fucking job.

“You okay?” A gruff voice pulls me out of my head.

I glance up, finding the backup goalie. “Distracted, but I’m good.” I scrutinize him for a minute. “Savage, right? We played together at one point…” At least, I think we did. I’d been on so many junior teams over the years.

“I think it was camp… a long ass time ago. Maybe?” He holds out his hand, and I clasp it.

“That would have been a long ass time ago. Damn.” I take his hand, pulling him in for a half hug and clap on the back. “Good to be on the same team.”

He’s a killer goalie and not a bad guy from what I remember. “Glad you decided to be a God instead of a Monster, considering your dad...” He flashes me a grin.This seems to be a theme. Hopefully, it will die down and not everyone will think of my dad when they see me.

“I did it for the coach.” I glance at Anthony and laugh, because it’s all I can do. I was excited to have Rex as a coach, but Anthony knows what he’s doing. Now, if he’d keep fucking me, it would be ten times better. “Look how that turned out for me.”

“You upset about it?” Savage’s eyes flicker to Anthony.

“No, strangely.” I keep my mask. I won’t put his job at risk. “He’s a good coach so far. I didn’t want to deal with the bullshit at the Monsters.” Mainly my father’s legacy and the control he still exerts there.

“How’s your dad feel about that?”

“I don’t want to be my dad.” This will tell me if he and I can be friends. I would never deal with people who only see me as Cox 2.0. I’d never fill those shoes, and I’m not sure I want to try.

“Neither do I. Mine’s an asshole.”

“Oh?” I take the bait. It’s easier if the focus is on him.

“He wants me to play professional hockey, so he’s mad I’m sticking with the Gods without a first line position when I could go somewhere else and start.”

“What’s keeping you here?” I ask.

“Pre-med. This is one of the best programs in the world, and I want to stay in New York for my residency.”

“So you don’t want to play hockey at all?” It comes back to me. His dad is also a former NHLer.

“I do as long as it works with school. But aside from that, no, not professionally.” Savage lifts a shoulder.

“The fucking legacy shit blows.” Maybe I could make friends on this team.

“Word. I ain’t having it. I don’t want that life.”

I nod, taking him in. “Is that why you’re the backup?”

Savage’s eyes narrow. “Have you seen Wolfe? He’s a beast. He’s the reason I’m the backup, not because I’m not giving it my all. He’s graduating in the spring, so I’ll get my shot.”

“Fair enough. What about if you get recruited?”

“I’m going to med school. They can’t have me.” His grin is back.

“Get back to warming up,” Hawke calls.

I hold up my fist. “Catch you later.”

Savage touches his gloved knuckles to mine before I skate off.

Hawke runs us through a set of drills, then shooting before telling us we all need to be in better shape. He sets up a ladder for us to do sprints on.

By the time practice is over, I’m dripping sweat and already sore. I need a good roll out. I’m heading to the locker room when Hawke calls for us to stop.

“One more thing before you guys head out.”

We all turn around, waiting for him to speak.

“I know Coach Rex ran his team a bit different than I do, and that he hand-picked you all for who you are as players and how he thinks you’d play as a team. After a month of practice with me, I hope you can see how my style reflects his some, as he was one of my first coaches, but I also have some stark differences. I know each and every one of you on this team has a history, but I am giving you a chance to be a new player this season, and every season after. This is a blank slate.” Everyone starts to mutter and look around, but Hawke goes on, “Which means you are not guaranteed a spot nor first line. From the first day of the new season, what I see reflects if you play, how much ice time you get, and who starts. Period. I will be trying new things, and combinations of players, to find how this team thrives together. You may be the best, but if you aren’t a team player, you won’t play. We live and breathe as a team, win or lose as a team, and I plan to build you as a team. Anyone who has an issue with that should decide now if they want to keep playing for me.” His words are met with silence.

Hawke lets it span a minute before he speaks again. “Understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” we say in unison before pushing our way into the locker room.

“Remember, we leave tomorrow afternoon for our first game,” he calls after us. “Don’t be late.”

I sit on the bench groaning. I don’t want to think about what any of that speech means, but I can’t help but think at least part of it is directed at me, that maybe Hawke will try to get rid of me to solve his issue.

Would he do that? He doesn’t really seem the type, but I have been a thorn in his side all week.

“You okay?” Savage asks me.

“Sore. I’m thinking about an ice bath.” At least the facilities here are top of the line like the Monster’s. There’s no suffering quality, and since the Gods have a bunch of rich alma mater, they have no problem tapping into them for better facilities.

“Have the trainer get one set up for you.”

“Maybe. Part of me wants to go to bed.”

“You can’t do that. It’s Friday, and the seniors have plans. The whole team is encouraged to go.”

Which means forced team bonding. They can’t say any of those things because of hazing rules, but we all know what it means. If we don’t show up, we’ll be iced out.

That’s the last thing I need this weekend.

“Fuck.” But I can’t say no. Team morale and all that. If the guys ice me out, it will affect how they play with me, which will hurt me in Hawkes’ perspective. “You got me. Let me get this ice bath, and I’ll be there.”

He lifts his chin in a nod, dropping his gaze down my body as I pull my pads off. “I look forward to it.”

I sit in the ice bath for longer than I should, until I’m shivering. Then, I take my time getting dressed, waiting for the stragglers to leave the locker room. I run my fingers through my hair and exhale, not sure I should keep pushing Anthony’s buttons. I should just leave and let it be.

My phone buzzes.

Evander: Where are you?

Evander: We need to talk later, you know where.

Logan: You aren’t subtle.

Evander: Don’t ruin it! When will you be home for you know what?

Logan: I have a team thing. It will be late.

I’m horny, sore, and have the urge to be a cunt, so the last thing I want to do is go play nice with the team. But maybe it will provide a much needed opportunity to get laid. Plus, I like the guys, and I do want to know them better. I focus on the bright side. I grab my bag, only to see Anthony’s head pop around the corner, his hand on the light.

“Sorry, I thought the last of the guys had left.” He changed out of his normal team branded polo and slacks into a tee and gray sweatpants. All I can think about is the dick they cover. It’s as close to perfection as I’ve ever seen, and I’d kill to have it in my mouth again.

“Was your little speech about me?” No sense beating around the bush.

His brows pull, and he visibly softens. “I wouldn’t single you out like that. I don’t want the team to go in with expectations. I want you all to know you have to earn you spots with me. I want to build a team here, but I can’t do that myself until I’ve hand-picked everyone…” Anthony trails off.

“You’re hot when you’re passionate.” I take a few steps forward and lean against the wall.

“Don’t do this.”

I grin, all my pent up emotions suddenly in the background while my horny takes over. “No one is here.”

“That you know of. Anyone could walk in at any moment, which means we can’t let our guard down.” He’s gruff but nice about it when he doesn’t have to be.

I’m honestly surprised he’s still putting up with me and maybe that gives me more hope than it should. “Live a little.”

“I’ve lived enough.” He lifts a cane, pressing it into my chest. I haven’t seen it before. Why doesn’t he use it at practice? “Which means you stay six feet away.”

I glance down at the wood dividing us. “First, that’s maybe three feet, and second, you didn’t have that when we—” I cut myself off, sure he doesn’t want me to say it out loud.

“I should all the time, but I only use it on bad days.” He lifts a shoulder like it’s no big deal.

“Is that the injury that ended your career?” I realize I don’t know what happened. I could Google it, but I don’t want to know him because of numbers on a screen. I want to know about him from him.

“It is.” He gives me a funny look.

“What?”

He keeps staring but eventually speaks. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” I cannot imagine why he’s looking at me like I should know. Did he expect me to have looked him up? Maybe he’s like every other professional hockey player and an egomaniac. Before he can speak, I add, “I didn’t Google your career or anything. I don’t care. You don’t have to be a good player to be a good coach.”

His frown deepens, and he looks at me like I have three heads. “Your father did this to me.”