Chapter 12 Wolfe
TWELVE
WOLFE
Self-reflection sucks.
We didn’t talk on the flight home and went directly from the airport to practice.
Then, the rest of the week snowballed without us having a conversation.
He never seemed to be home. The weekend was weird, and as much as I thought I would enjoy pissing off Steph and Mark, it really didn’t do much for me.
I found them both annoying. But strangely, I had the best weekend with Angel.
The way we leaned into fake dating, and how I can push his buttons so easily, really did something for my brain.
I want to talk to my best friend about all of it and his family, but he’s so busy.
“We have to discuss the team adoption tonight.” I’m waiting for him when he walks in the door.
Archangel takes off his messenger bag, hanging it on the hook, then painfully slowly takes off his gloves and coat, hanging them both up before turning toward me. “What needs to be talked about? Aren’t we doing the same thing we always do?”
“There are still logistics.” It’s something the upperclassmen always do with the freshmen—and basically the way the team gets around hazing.
“I’m just not really into it.”
“What?” I ask, not sure where this is coming from.
He lifts his shoulders, walking to the fridge. “I know it’s tradition or whatever, but you’ve already put it off for weeks, and since it involves talking to your dad…”
“It’s not that big a deal, and he also makes sure you never get a parking ticket when you can’t find parking before practice.” The guy’s an asshole, but since I only spent time with him over the summer and every other Christmas, we aren’t really that close, and he’s worlds better than my mother.
“And what would he think of all this?”
“Huh?” I’m not following the conversation. “What would who think of what? My dad?”
“Of course your dad.”
“What would he think of what? He fucking loves the adoption. He’s getting the college experience he missed out on after knocking a girl up and running off.”
“You still need to talk to him about it so we don’t get in trouble.”
“The cops were turning a blind eye to it before I got recruited.” Which is true, but we’ve turned it into a different level with my dad’s willingness to look the other way.
“He wasn’t the police chief.” Angel is right.
“He was still helping it happen. He loves this shit. You know he gets as piss drunk as everyone else. Fuck, it’s the only time the man breaks character.” He’d spent the last twenty-two years following in his own father’s footsteps.
Archangel knows me and my mother were just a college mistake no one acknowledged.
“I don’t care what he thinks about the fucking adoption. I mean you and I.”
“He knows we’re friends.” I don’t know what he’s getting at.
Archangel looks at the ceiling. He’s annoyed with me, but I can’t figure out what I did.
“What?”
“A whole party full of people in our hometown believe we are together. He went to college there for three years. You don’t think there are people he still talks to?” Archangel is borrowing anxiety.
“I haven’t thought about it.” I don’t think of either of my parents while making decisions. They certainly don’t think of me.
“Well, think about it. What’s he going to say?”
“Does it matter?” I ask, still lost.
What’s gotten into him?
“You don’t think he’ll be an issue?”
Will he? I make a face. “I don’t care. It’s not worth my brain power.”
He sighs. “Whatever.”
I step into him. “What’s going on? Why are you so tense?”
He won’t look at me.
I put my hands on his arms. “Angel.”
“It’s been a long week.”
“You guys heading to practice?” Seaborn opens the door, and Angel shrugs my arms off like I have the plague.
What is he doing?
“Everything okay?” Seaborn asks.
“Fine. He doesn’t want to go to the adoption,” I say, knowing it’s going to piss Archangel off.
“What? I thought you loved it?” Seaborn glances between us.
“Me too, and now he doesn’t even want to bond with the freshmen.” I blow out a breath and let my shoulders sag, acting the part.
“God forbid a guy wants to change it up. I’m going to change for practice.”
“Is Archangel acting weird?” I ask Ridgeway, one of our wings.
Ridgeway glares over at me, but I don’t take his attitude like the other guys on the team. I know that grumpy face is just a front for his big feelings. He’s a softy under it all.
“Don’t make me pinch your cheeks.”
“If you touch me, I’m going to kill you.”
I pinch his cheek anyway.
He swats my hand away. “I’m aiming every puck at your face today.”
“It’s cute you think that will bother me?” I bat my eyelashes at him. “Now answer my question.”
“Don’t you two fucking live together? I’ve barely seen him since the season started.” Ridgeway checked the tape on his stick.
I leaned in closer, sniffing him. “You smell off.”
“I swear to fucking god, Wolfe, if you tell me I smell like sadness one more fucking time.” Ridgeway backs up a step.
I huff. “Well, good, I wasn’t going to tell you, you smell like sadness because you smell like fury.”
Ridgeway glares at me, and I grin back. “Maybe he moved out because you kept smelling him.”
“That can’t be it. He likes when I smell him,” I say more to myself.
But Ridgeway scoffs. “Of course he does. I knew there was something wrong with both of you.”
“Okay, now I am going to demand you tell me who pissed in your Fruity Pebbles.”
“That’s not the saying. It’s cornflakes.”
“I like Fruity Pebbles better. Cornflakes taste like cardboard. And you’d know that if you were in a good mood ever.”
Ridgeway sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “If you didn’t notice, we have a new center, and my brother lost his scholarship. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I knew I’d wear you down. Do you need a hug?”
He throws both his arms up. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
I wrap him up in a hug anyway.
“This is unwanted touching,” Ridgeway mutters.
“Don’t lie.”
“I guess it’s fine as long as you aren’t smelling me.”
“Too late.” I release him and pat him on the top of the head. “You smell a little more like sadness now.”
Ridgeway sighs dramatically. “You cannot smell people’s feelings.”
“Then how do I know what you’re feeling?” I ask, sure I’ve got him there.
“It’s not a real skill. I refuse to fucking believe this is a thing,” Ridgeway mutters.
“It is. It’s a form of synesthesia,” Savage says as he walks by.
“That cannot be true.” Ridgeway brushes himself off like I gave him cooties.
“It is. You should look it up,” I tell him, fist-bumping Savage.
“Next, you’re going to be saying you’re an empath like some blond girl on TikTok.” Ridgeway is so cranky this year.
“Maybe you should try being more attuned to people’s feelings, and then I wouldn’t have to smell you.”
Ridgeway looks at the ceiling. “I need a drink.”
“It’s not even four.” I’m not judging, but maybe I’m judging.
“We have the adoption later, you can drink as much as you want.”
“I don’t want to fucking go to that.” He growls. “Some days you just need a shower beer.”
“When you are vomiting during sprints later, I’m going to say I told you so.”
Ridgeway procured a beer from god knows where and took it to the shower. I look around for who else I can interrogate about Archangel. But everyone seems off.
“It’s such a good day. Why is everyone in a mood? Do we need to have a feelings huddle?” Between Archangel this week and now the rest of the team... “Is this seasonal depression?”
“You know, I’ve been noticing the same. Why is everyone so down?” Solace asks, bringing his cig to his lips.
“You can’t smoke in here.” I grab it from him and throw it on the ground.
“That’s fucking carpet!” Solace picks it up carefully before the carpet catches fire and puts it back between his lips.
“That’s how you get ringworm in your mouth,” Ridgeway calls from the shower.
“I need my nicotine to play. That’s how I trick my brain into liking practice.” Solace puts the cig back in his mouth and I cringe.
“What the fuck are you on about?” Ridgeway sticks his head out of the shower.
“I started when I was eight. My dad taught me. If you smoke or put on a nicotine patch before a workout, it makes your brain like it.” Solace nods excitedly.
I put my hands over Godfrey’s ears. “Don’t say that kind of garbage in front of the freshmen!”
“He’s not wrong. My dad played pro and tried to do that to me. Thank fuck my mom wouldn’t let him get me addicted to nicotine at eight.”
“I’m not even going to touch that unhealthy family dynamic,” Lovelace says as he walks by already in full gear.
“Fucking goalies,” Solace mutters.
“We are a delight,” Savage and I say in unison, then laugh.
Practice puts me in an even better mood, and I grab a Dr. Pepper on my way to the shower.
“Warm dude?” Savage makes a face and shudders.
“Coach Hawke won’t let me have a fridge in my locker, and you’re not ruining my high.”
“Only person in the fucking world who can get high from pucks flying at his body.” Seaborn ducks into a shower stall.
I hang my towel on the outside of my stall and open the door. I happen to glance over at the one across from me as Archangel steps in.
I smile at him and lift a brow. Will he look? Do I want him to?
I turn more toward him. I did bring up my size to see if he’d take the bait.
He narrows his eyes, and one twitches.
I lift my chin putting my hands on my hips.
He curls his lip. I smile not even trying to hide it.
Why do I love this so much?
Finally, his gaze flicks down, and his teeth dig into his lip. His eyes widen a little and he sucks in a breath.
I hang on every micro movement of his face, every flicker.
He’s lean but well-toned, with sculpted pecs and abs. They all stand out now fresh after practice, leading down to his cock. It twitches. I caused that.
I love his reactions so much, and I don’t know why.
“We’re going to be late for your adoption.” He doesn’t whisper.
“Okay.”
He lowers his gaze again and then steps into his stall.
My heart races as I get under my own spray.
Did he like what he saw? He looked a second time, but is that a good sign?
His reactions are like a drug, which makes me want to push them further tonight. Does that make me a bad friend? He doesn’t seem to hate it.
“Hurry up,” Archangel says after a few minutes. “We have places to be.”
I turn around to find the door pulled open just enough for him to peek his face in.
Fuck.