No Pucks (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #1)

36. Logan

THIRTY-SIX

LOGAN

U nfortunately, we make it to the semifinals and have to play the Monsters. If we lose this game, we’re out, since the Frozen Four is single elimination. Whichever team wins this advances to the championship. In the beginning of the season, I didn’t think we’d make it here.

“I bet he has a massive dick, doesn’t he?” Savage says, leaning over to me while we’re watching films before the game.

I laugh. I’ve gotten used to comments like that, and I’m not mad. “I’m not telling you how nice my boyfriend’s dick is.”

“You gave it away right there, bro.”

I wink and then laugh. “What makes you ask? I didn’t know you liked cock.”

He lifts his shoulders noncommittally. “I don’t know. I haven’t really had time to think about it.”

“I feel you there. If he wasn’t with us most of the time, I don’t think I’d have time either.” I return my gaze from where Anthony is passionately gesturing at the screen. He has been drilling this stuff into our head for days. “I wish he’d just let us do our own thing.”

“He is going a little hard on it. But considering it’s your dad’s team, who can blame him?” Savage makes a good point.

“I just want to get on the ice.” I’m itching for it. I’ve rediscovered my love of hockey this season. I’ve always liked it and used it to cope, but this is different. I’m even looking forward to this game.

We head to the locker room to get changed for warm-ups, only to be met with what looks like the entire Monsters team. They shouldn’t be over here.

Wolfe pushes to the front, dominating just by sheer size. “What are you guys doing? You looking for a beating before the game?”

Archangel elbows up alongside him, his arms crossed.

Their captain, Barlowe, steps up to go head to head with Wolfe. “No, nothing like that, guys. We don’t like you and we never will. That’s just how it is. We just hate Coach Cox more.”

I balk and speak without thinking. “What?”

“Your dad is a jackass. I know all Monsters have to hate all Gods and vice versa, but your dad takes it to an unhealthy level.” Barlowe’s attention flicks over to me.

“And he’s a fucking awful coach,” another kid says.

“I’m not surprised,” I mutter.

“So? What is this about? You hate him. Take that to your school or, I don’t know, whatever you want to do. Why come over here before the game?” Wolfe asks.

Barlowe exhales, holding out a folder I didn’t realize he had. “Your dad not only has been sleeping with college age puck bunnies, which is bad but probably won’t get him fired, but one of them is my fucking sister.”

We all grimace.

I know my dad is a douche bag, but this is a whole new level. One of his own player’s sister?

Fuck, that is low.

“And why bring this to us?” Wolfe asks. “Is your admin not listening?”

Since our school isn’t doing anything about Anthony, I feel sick to my stomach. I’m not sure how comfortable the team will be saying shit, considering what they know. Panic chokes my throat, and I’m glad Wolfe is doing the talking.

“They don’t give a fuck. They want to win, and they think he’s the best shot at that. Still, they don’t even care he’s been pushing banned substances, so that’s where you come in.” Barlowe’s words erupt like a cannon, and the entire team is gaping again. “He’s been encouraging the team to blood dope, and I have all the proof.”

“Fuck,” Wolfe spits. “That is fucked up.”

“We know they’re going to try and hide it,” Barlowe sneers. “But I’m going to bury this motherfucker, and I figured if the people who hate him most know, it’s only going to help me.”

“Damn, you’d risk not having a coach and possibly part of your team for the semi-finals to out him? Respect.” Wolfe holds up his fist.

“We don’t fucking need him, and we don’t fucking want him on our bench.” Barlowe throws his words back at Wolfe. “None of my guys will pop or have used. I made sure of it.”

I’m not sure he’s telling the truth, as blood doping is basically undetectable when an athlete uses their own blood, but maybe he’d made the team stop when he decided he wanted to burn my father down.

“Word,” Archangel says. “How can we help?”

I hold out my hand for the folder. “Let me send it to my mother and grandfather.”

Barlowe smiles, gladly handing it to me. “Tell them to work quick. We have an hour, but don’t think for a single second we’ll go easy on you out there.”

“I’d be fucking pissed if you did,” Wolfe says.

We head back to the locker room to brief Anthony instead of heading out to the ice.

My father is removed and suspended. Watching my father ejected from a second place in so many months is a surreal experience. The game has been postponed so they can retest both the Monsters and us. It’ll be a couple of hours, since blood doping requires a hematologist to look at all the blood profiles.

So, we are left holding, waiting around the arena until they clear everyone.

I find Anthony reviewing tapes alone. I knock on the doorframe. “How do you feel?”

“I’m still processing,” he says. “How are you?”

I take a seat next to him, making sure I’m not too close. We don’t need to give the organization a reason to investigate Anthony with how pissed they are about this going down right before a highly televised game.

“Shocked. Still processing, but ready to get out there.”

“It shouldn’t be that much longer.” He leans back, looking over at me. The longing in his eyes tell me he misses me.

I love being able to read him like this. “I miss you too.”

His lips twist into a smile that’s so natural for him now. “We’ll be back in our bed tomorrow.” His voice is low and radiates through me.

“I know. I can’t wait.” We started maintaining stricter boundaries with hotels and team spaces, much to both our displeasure. “It sucks to not be able to fuck you for three days.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve been hard all day, and it won’t go down even jacking off.”

I drop my gaze to his groin. “Is that so?”

“If I have to suffer, you should have to too knowing about it.” The bastard is smug.

I lean in, dropping my voice low so it barely caresses his skin. “Will you fuck me raw?”

“Raw? Like without a condom?” It works through his brain almost in slow motion as I watch.

“Yes, I want to feel all of you.”

He groans and closes his eyes for a moment.

“Is that a yes?”

He opens his eyes, pupils dilated. “If you win.”

“You’ve gotten too powerful.”

“Don’t like a taste of your own medicine?”

“Will you make me crawl again?”

“Would you like that?” he asks.

I nod emphatically. “I guess we better win.”

“I guess so.”