Chapter 16 Wolfe
SIXTEEN
WOLFE
Igauge his reaction. But his expression doesn’t change.
“Did you hear me?”
He rolls his eyes, but he’s not quite annoyed. “What’s he going to do, come out of the goal? They already play aggressive on purpose.”
“Well, you can not care or whatever, but I’m pissed.” I shouldn’t be annoyed by his nonchalance, but it gets under my skin.
“What can you do about it from the goal? Get the other guys involved?”
“Fuck the other guys! I fight my own damn battles.”
“We gonna do the first goalie fighting goalie?” Archangel cracks a hint of a smile. At least he’s warming up.
“I told him if he or anyone else lays a finger on you, I’ll be meeting them at Chili’s.” I’m salivating for it.
Archangel laughs, and we feel normal for a moment. “Come on. We can’t keep standing here.”
I follow him into the locker room. “What the fuck does he even think we’re doing?”
“I wish I knew. I’m going to try and get it out of Steph at Christmas.” He stops next to his cubby, gauging my reaction.
“You actually going home?” It surprises me, and I don’t know what else to say.
“I got guilted. Mom says Grandfather isn’t doing well and it might be his last Christmas.” He pulls off his jersey and tosses it in the cubby. “Are we going out to celebrate or what?”
“Is that what you want?” I ask after stripping down and grabbing a towel.
“Yes. I’m desperate for things to be normal.” His eyes bleed truth, but it sucks not to believe him.
“Okay.”
Even in Boston, where most of the city hates us, fighting off puck bunnies is harder than the best players in college hockey taking shots at me. “I need a fucking salt circle,” I mutter after turning down two more, trying to get more drinks.
“I’ve never seen you turn down so many women in your life.
” Ridgeway cuts in next to me and leans against the bar.
He’s got a face like he’d knife me in my sleep.
He’s as mean as he is good at hockey, and I’m glad he’s on my team.
We don’t really hang out in the same circle, but we are like brothers and I give him a lot of shit.
I’m just glad not to meet him in a dark alley.
I lift a shoulder, playing it off. “What if they are sleeper cells trying to kill me?”
He rolls his eyes but laughs. “Think that highly of yourself.”
“Tell me they wouldn’t do it.” I jab a finger into the bar.
“Fucking Boston. They would probably do something like that, but do you really think they are sending in college girls?”
“It’s a double win for the girls.”
He blinks at me like I’ve lost it, but he’s walked right into my joke.
I barely keep my composure, leaning in. “Well, they get to sleep with me first, and I’m fantastic in bed.”
Ridgeway scrubs a hand over my face. “If you weren’t such a good goalie, I’d want your head examined.”
“I can be a good goalie and mentally unstable.”
“I kinda think you have to be.” He picks up his drink and takes a sip. “So what’s this with you and Archangel?”
“The switching rooms?” I ask, annoyed that the rest of the team has heard. “It’s nothing. He’s being a bitch—”
Ridgeway cuts me off. “You two aren’t in the same room?”
“Fuck.” I press my face into the bar and groan. “What did you hear?”
“Do you know how dirty that is?” Ridgeway grimaces.
“I’m trying to have a moment, not think about the bacteria content.” I dip my fingers into my beer and rub it on my forehead.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Alcohol kills germs.” I tap my temple, then suck on my fingers and wink.
“The brain damage in goalies needs to be studied.” He pauses, trying to act normal, but he’s got one of those faces that gives away too much.
“Just fucking say it.”
“One of the Boston guys said you two were a thing.” Ridgeway glances to where Archangel is standing with a couple of the other guys, a couple of women, and one guy who’s as close as he can get to Archangel without touching him.
Angel better get that motherfucker away.
If I can fight off girls all night, he can deal with one fucking dude.
My lip curls in a silent snarl. I force my attention back to Ridgeway. “Who said?”
“Their goalie.”
I fucking knew Mark would.
“That fucking dick bag. He’s engaged to Archangel’s sister.”
“Seriously?” Ridgeway asks.
I have to make a choice. Tell Ridgeway it’s real, or say it’s a thing we are doing to his family.
We talked about it coming out, but only kind of.
The guys would understand if we were just trying to fuck with Mark and Steph, but the more people who know a secret, the more likely it will come out.
I’m already not touching puck bunnies, and they’ve noticed. I won’t embarrass him.
“Yes. And he knows because…” I blow out a breath.
“I’m Archangel’s date to the wedding. We’ve been together for a few months but haven’t said anything because we don’t want to make things weird with the rest of the guys, or for anyone to think it will affect our play,” I say, driving this boat full steam ahead.
He takes a beat to process my words before his expression turns hard.
I brace myself for the negative reaction.
“You better fucking rip off the Band-Aid if Mark is talking. The guys will feel betrayed and not trust you if you’re keeping shit from them.
They’re already going to talk if you two aren’t rooming together. ” He’s got a point.
“You think?”
He cocks his head, giving me a duh look.
I know he’s right. “You think they’ll have an issue with it?”
He shrugs. “They don’t have an issue with Cox sucking the coach’s dick. So I don’t see why they’d have an issue with Archangel sucking yours.”
“I suck his dick too, or whatever,” I say, sounding weird but not liking the tone or inference about Archangel.
“I wasn’t—” He cuts himself off lifting a brow. “Why do I believe you two are together but also not at the same time?”
“Maybe we are saving ourselves until marriage.”
He spits out his drink laughing. “You just said you suck his dick or whatever. Like that wasn’t a weird way to put it.”
I wipe my eyes ignoring his comment. Thankfully, the bartender hands me a napkin. “Fucking rude.”
“It’s alcohol. It killed all the germs in my mouth.”
“I still don’t want your spit in my mouth.”
“No?” He smiles, looking meaner somehow. “But Archangel’s is okay?”
“He can spit in my mouth if he wants, yours is a violation of my person.” I use the napkin to wipe off my tongue, getting little bits of paper all over it. “Fuck.” I take his drink and pour some in my mouth, then swish it around and spit it into an empty cup.
“But drinking my backwash is okay? I’ve basically spit in your mouth twice now.”
“Fuck you and your mother!” I take my drink and stomp off toward Archangel to figure out what we are going to do.
I force my way between him and the guy, who seems put out—good—and put an arm around Archangel’s shoulders.
He turns slightly into me. “Why does your skin smell like beer?”
“I rubbed some on my face…but don’t mind that. Mark told the team, and Ridgeway knows.”
“Why did you rub vodka on your… Wait what?” Archangel’s eyes flash to mine.
“Mark told his team, and they were making comments to the guys. Ridgeway just asked me about it.”
“Fuck.”
“I told you!”