Chapter 40 Archangel
FORTY
ARCHANGEL
“I’m way too tired for this.” I don’t even care what’s on the screen. I’ve had enough panic over Wolfe hurt. I can’t handle anything else.
“What is this on?” Wolfe asks, taking the phone from Seaborn.
“Tumblr.”
“How old are you, thirty-five? Who even uses Tumblr? Hasn’t it gone the way of Myspace?” Wolfe hands him back his phone.
“Lots of people use Tumblr, and go fuck yourself. At least you know photos of you two are leaking before they are all over Twitter.”
“Photos of us are leaking?!”
This day will seriously not end.
“Were we hiding?” Wolfe looks at me questioningly.
“Huh?” I ask, too tired to figure out what point he’s trying to make.
“I wasn’t aware we were hiding,” he says, which doesn’t help clarify anything.
“What do you mean, hiding? Are we, like, in the bushes in the photos? Because I do not remember making out in the bushes…” I need to not be a person for a few hours and for no one to perceive me. This is too much for my brain.
“Photos of us can’t leak if we aren’t hiding our relationship. Then it’s just people being weird and taking photos of us in public.”
“Well, to be fair, even when celebrities aren’t hiding a relationship, people love to take pictures of them in public,” Seaborn says with a shrug.
“And it’s weird because I’m not a celebrity.”
“Not yet. But dude, once you’re drafted, you will be. You know that, right?”
Wolfe shrugs and then growls. “This stupid bruise is really inconvenient with how I live my life.”
My brain catches up with the conversation. “So it’s just fine if there are photos of us floating around?”
“It’s annoying we’re being stalked, but like, who’s really going to care other than this niche Tumblr blog?” Wolfe makes a semi good point. Most people don’t pay attention until a player reaches the NHL level.
“But what will the team say?”
Wolfe scoffs. “Half those fuckers are gay. Hawke is gay.”
“Hawke is bisexual,” I say to rib him.
“Now you’re lecturing me on bisexuality?!” Wolfe gives me a flat look.
“I’m also bisexual, not out to the team, but Cox is, and no one seems to care,” Seaborn says, making me feel a little better.
“That’s true…but it’s not weird to date a teammate?
I don’t want them thinking I’d fuck any of them.
” I’d gone out of my way to make sure all the guys on every team I’ve ever played on know gay guys weren’t just ‘checking them out in the locker room’ or attracted to them just because they are male. “I have standards.”
“I think everyone got it after your PowerPoint.”
“So there’s no issue?” Why do I keep feeling like the other shoe is going to drop? Is it just me?
“What issue would there be?” Wolfe asks. “I told you I don’t care if people know from the beginning, and you keep being surprised.”
I flip him off. “The issue is your throat, that’s my issue.”
“If you want to try fucking my throat, you can, but if I can’t breathe, it’s on you.”
“I’m going to leave.” Seaborn gets up.
I lock the door behind him, and when I get back, Wolfe looks totally worn out. Like he was only holding it together for everyone else. “Let’s go to bed.”
He lays back from where he’s sitting on the edge, not even taking his shoes off. “But I’m all gross.”
“Then let’s take a shower.” I drop to one knee in front of him to take the cheap slides they gave him to leave in since he didn’t have shoes.
“Are you proposing?” He half sits up.
I glare up at him. “You told my uncle you were doing that.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t as well.”
“Let’s get through the draft and my sister’s wedding before anyone proposes, okay?” I help him out of his Under Armor, then his shorts and jock. It’s a shame we are both dead on our feet because he is so fucking hot in his gear.
“This is how I know you’re not a gold digger.”
“How?” I ask, draping my arms over his shoulders.
“Because you’re not trying to get me down the aisle before the draft. Lock it in.” Wolfe smiles teasingly.
“I still have to see your blow job game before I commit.”
“I’m never giving you a blow job now.”
After breakfast, Wolfe and I head to the arena to get him checked out by the team doctor where he’s set up in their training facility, figuring I might as well get some treatments in too.
Wolfe is called back to the exam room and makes me go with him. It must be bad today. He doesn’t like anyone to witness this part of his trauma.
Inside the room, I sit in one of the chairs while he gets up on the exam table. When I look up, he gives me a sad lip.
“What?”
“Come here,” he says so I get up and stand next to him.
“I’m going to be in the way,” I mutter.
“I need my emotional support person,” Wolfe says, and I’m ruined. The vulnerability and openness make me fall even harder.
I can’t believe he can still surprise me with the trust he’s giving me. “I’m here.”
“Thank you,” he says.
Hawke and the doctor come in a few minutes later.
“Is it cool if I’m in here?” Hawke asks.
“It’s fine,” Wolfe says in a monotone voice.
The doctor goes about his thing, checking out what he needs to, while Hawke keeps to the corner waiting for the determination.
“How’s your pain level?”
“It’s a bruise. Hurts like a bruise,” Wolfe says, knowing no one will believe him if he says it doesn’t hurt.
Hockey players all treat bruises the same way: an annoyance and part of the game. It’s impossible to play or practice and not add more to our collection.
“I’m going to touch it. This may hurt.”
Wolfe grunts for him to go ahead. He’s stone faced the entire time, which is pretty typical for him.
“You don’t just have to sit there,” Hawke says after a minute. “It’s okay to show that it hurts.”
I cringe.
“When I say I’m used to it, I mean my mom’s boyfriend made a habit of putting out his cigarettes on my skin.
” Wolfe hates medical stuff after years of his mom’s guilt trips that if he told anyone about his injuries, they would tear him away from his family, and school, and hockey.
Even seeing the team doctor was hard for him for a while.
In Hawke’s defense, he is trying to combat the toxic masculinity in the sport, but he is totally reading the room wrong.
He just has no idea that the mask is the way Wolfe copes. He usually doesn’t drop his own lore like this, but occasionally, when he’s pushed too far, he does just enough to put people in their place. “I had no idea. I’m sorry—”
Wolfe cuts him off. “I’m not looking for sympathy. Just telling you I’m dealing, and I’m fine.”
“Understood,” Hawke says.
The doctor finishes up his exam and takes his gloves off. “I agree with the hospital’s diagnosis. I don’t see why he can’t play. I don’t see any signs of concussion or other limiting injuries.”
“Great.” Hawke is clearly relieved. “So, what? Have him get some treatments and then rest?”
“I think that’s the best idea. I’ll talk to Chad and come up with a plan.”
We both go for our own treatments and finish about the same time.
“I’m going to practice. Then I’ll be back. Is that okay?” I don’t want to leave him if he’s still not dealing well.
He takes his AirPod out. “It’s okay. Then we can go to the team dinner together and be captains. I’m sure the team needs it before tomorrow.”
He’s not wrong, and I quickly see that in practice. Everyone is worried about him and disjointed on the ice. They need their captain, and while I wear the C on the ice because he can’t as the goalie, it’s really him.
I shower after practice and put on regular clothes before I go to the trainer’s area to see if Wolfe is done.
His eyes light up when he sees me and then pull into a frown.
I glance behind me to make sure Mark didn’t walk in, but it’s just me. “What did I do?”
“You know what you did.” He lets them take the heat off his neck and gets up but doesn’t put his shirt back on. “Ready?”
“What did I do?” I wait for him to get dressed, but he doesn’t.
“Let’s go.” The mother fucker walks toward the door.
“What did I do? And why are you shirtless?”
“You don’t get to be the only one teasing.”
“How am I teasing?” I gesture at my fully dressed self.
“Dressing like you do every day. You know you have half the room looking at you, and it’s particularly rude when I can’t fuck you.”
“Most aren’t looking because they like it.” But I’m smiling.
“They are wrong or lying to themselves.” He huffs and still doesn’t put his shirt on.
“Whatever. At least I have clothes on. You’re on full display.” And I want him. I hate how much I want him. But I never want the feeling to go away.
“All of your abs are showing.”
“All of them, huh?” I ask fighting a smile.
“Yes, literally.”
“Well, your tits are out,” I throw back.
“I’m going to buy a bunch of shirts that only cover my nipples.”
“Oh no, my hot boyfriend will only be covering his nipples and leaving the rest for me to look at all day. What will I do?” I can’t say it with a straight face, and once again, Wolfe takes his hoodie and forcefully puts it on me.
“I never went to kindergarten and never learned to share. So I’m keeping my snack to myself today.” He then puts his own shirt on carefully.
It’s pretty toxic and probably wrong. I love it.
“This isn’t going to be a problem all the time, right? Because no man is going to tell me what I can wear,” I say as we walk out.
“It’s only a problem when I can’t have and mark what’s mine.” He puts his arm around me, dragging me close for a minute.
“Oh, so this is because of your no nut crap?” I look around to make sure none of the guys are here before hugging him.
“Obviously.” He pulls back from the hug to look me in the eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”