No Pucks (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #1)

11. Anthony

ELEVEN

ANTHONY

T he last thing I should be doing is walking my happy ass outside in this cold at two in the fucking morning, but after seeing the post on Reddit asking why the Gods hockey team can shut down a whole city block to haze their freshmen when other teams get suspended for less, I can’t ignore it.

This is my fucking team, and I won’t let it be the Monsters.

My leg is stiff, and there is no way I can make it without my cane, but the last thing I want to do is reveal that to the team right now. But what fucking choice do I have as I’m limping down the goddamn sidewalk?

Nothing could have prepared me for what I see when I come around the corner. They have massive lights and a whole ass obstacle course set up. They aren’t even trying to hide it, only three blocks from my apartment. The balls on these kids.

“Why did I have to find out from fucking Reddit that my team is outside shutting down streets, acting like fools?” I purposefully don’t say the word hazing. I can’t have my whole team suspended.

Comically, they all freeze and slowly turn towards me like their hands aren’t filled with contraband.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Wolfe says, fighting a grin.

“What do you think this looks like?” I ask with a snarl.

“It’s not hazing! It’s an adoption!” Archangel hands me a damn balloon, like he actually doesn’t know what they’re doing is bad. “We are all becoming new fathers tonight.”

“Fathers?” I know I shouldn’t ask, but the word escapes my mouth before my overtired brain catches up.

“Yes! We are adopting all the new freshmen. We do it every year—” Archangel continues, but Wolfe elbows him cutting him off. “What?” he mouths.

“Honestly, sometimes I wonder about you,” Wolfe mutters.

“Play it cool,” Archangel says way too loud. “Have a beer, Coach, grab a paintball gun, and join us!”

Wolfe pinches the bridge of his nose.

It takes all my effort to keep a straight face. My lips twitch, and if I fucking lose it, there will be no keeping my credibility with the team.

I suck in a breath, regaining the threads of my composure. “You really think I’m going to support hazing under a different name?” I regret saying it. God knows I’ll be asked about this in a lawsuit in ten years. “Not that I’m saying that’s what you’re doing, but we have our first game this weekend, and this behavior will not fly with me. Shut it fucking down.”

They grumble but do as I ask. I supervise for ten minutes, but I’m annoyed, cold, and in pain. I need to find my bed and a pain pill, or tomorrow is going to be rough.

Logan strolls over, his typical swagger marred by alcohol. He’s covered in paint, which makes him sexier, and he knows it. He better not start any of his shit. I try to communicate as much with my eyes, but he puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry. We are all willing participants in this adoption, so it can’t be hazing. You should support it too, Daddy.”

I fix him in a death stare trying to communicate, not here .

“You don’t want to adopt me?” He winks.

“Watch yourself,” I growl under my breath.

Cox squeezes my arm while his pupils dilate with arousal. I know that fucking look. “Loosen up. We all know you see us as your kids…Daddy.”

I pull out of his grasp. “Don’t.”

Cox steps back, eyes alight with amusement. I don’t know how he pushes every single button in my body so effortlessly.

Wolfe climbed off the scaffolding to come over to talk. “It’s just a bit of harmless team bonding, I promise. As the Captain I would never put the team in jeopardy with hazing?—”

I lose it, cutting him off. “Do any of you know what a risk this is for the team? Do you know how seriously the Myth League and the NCAA take hazing? Let alone underage drinking? The university could suspend you all, suspend your scholarships. They could cut funding and give our facility to the fucking fencing team, who is out there winning nationals and has a National Team member while you are all fucking around the day before we leave for our first away game. You think I’m going to overlook this?”

“Tomorrow is an off travel day…” Archangel mutters.

Everyone shushes him, but it’s too late. He’s given me an idea.

“Not anymore. I expect you all at the rink at six a.m.”I look each one of them in the eyes.

They all groan.

Archangel gets a confused look. “Isn’t that the time the figure skaters have the rink? They won’t let us?—”

Wolfe puts an arm around him, cutting him off. “You’ve taken too many pucks to the head. Let’s not make it worse.”

“Oh!” Archangel expression changes to one akin to the gritty face emoji. “Don’t worry, Coach. We will be there and ready to share the ice.”

“Shhhh.”

“Did I fuck up again?” His expression gets worse, which I didn’t think possible.

“It’s okay. You’re still my favorite himbo.” Wolfe pats his back.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, and I turn around before I feel bad or worse—laugh— “Get this fucking cleaned up.”

I stomp back down the block, already planning the worst practice of their lives, when Logan—Cox catches up to me. I need to remind myself who he is, who his father is and what kind of dynamite I’m playing with here. Cox Sr. would love a reason to burn me to the ground. I can’t give him an avenue through his son.

“What?” I ask when he doesn’t speak.

“I just thought I’d walk you home.”

I glance over at him.

“You’re new to the city. You could easily get lost.” Every step he takes brings him closer to my place, closer to the end of my resolve.

How long can I say no for?

“I went to school here, which you know.” My blood boils—unfortunately not with just rage, but with this need only he seems to ignite, the punishment he has coming for riding the line he promised not to cross.

“The city is alive. It changes.” The alcohol relaxes him a bit, giving me a softer side, much the opposite of the cocky, funny guy he puts on at practice.

Fuck.

I’ve thought about this too many times. How easy it would be to take out everything I’ve pent up on his mouth again.

I have to find a way to be around him without getting a halfy. “It can’t change. The layout of the city has been this way for over a hundred years!”

“Maybe you’re directionally challenged?” He lifts his shoulders. “I’m just a nice guy seeing you home.”

“I’m your coach. I should be seeing you home, making sure you get there so you can play well this weekend.” My stomach drops as I realize he and the rest of the team will probably head to another bar since this got shut down. It’s what we would have done when I was a God, and if Logan goes back there… I don’t let myself finish the thought. I don’t want anyone else touching him, and I know that’s selfish.

I know Logan’s type. When he doesn’t get what he wants, he finds it somewhere else. It’s easy for him. Hell, it’s easy for all hockey players. I don’t want to tell him to go back, but he can’t come into my apartment. That’s crossing a line I can’t ever come back from.

“You can walk me home if you want.” When I don’t say anything, he goes on, “And I know the perfect way for you to ensure I stay in bed for the rest of the night.”