Chapter 14
DEVON
Losing in a shootout wasn’t the worst way to lose, but it stung all the same.
I stared out the window as we drove west from Belleville to Toronto.
When I spotted the GM smokestacks in Oshawa, I knew we were almost there. When we found ourselves snarled in rush-hour traffic trying to get into the city, I felt like I’d come home.
Claus cracked an eye open and gazed over the barriers between the freeway and the factories. “Kind of depressing.”
“Yeah, Oshawa is the home of General Motors. People think Detroit, but it started here. For years, this town really only had one purpose.”
He rummaged around in his bag until he came up with an apple. He buffed it on his shirt.
Then caught my look.
He shrugged. “I washed it before I put it in my bag.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” He grinned. “So this isn’t an industrial town anymore?” He pointed. “Looks like it to me.”
“Well, they’ve, uh, diversified.” I racked my brain, but couldn’t remember the name of the university. “Things have changed. Progress.”
“Robots.” He shrugged. “Humans are destined for the scrap pile. Robots are going to destroy us all.”
I wanted to argue. Except I couldn’t. Not really.
I didn’t understand all this technology stuff.
I understood my phone was more powerful than the computers Jack grew up using.
But that didn’t help contextualize progress or the trajectory of change.
Things would happen in the future that would make me look back at this moment and think how quaint things were.
That scared me.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. I knew it wouldn’t be Jack. But for just an instant, my heart leapt.
Mickey
When are you hitting town, Devs? I’m booooored.
I rolled my eyes.
We’re in Whitby now. Going straight to Exhibition for a skate before tonight’s game.
I know. I got tickets for tonight’s game. We still good afterward?
I have a roommate.
So invite him.
My gut clenched.
No fucking way. He’s not like that.
Not like what? Into fun?
I closed my eyes.
More like too much fun.
Will he let me fuck him?
Hard no.
Will you fuck me?
Hard no.
Will you tie me up and whip my ass until I beg you to stop?
Usually, those words would be enough to get my motor revving and my cock filling. Not today, though.
Sorry, not tonight. Early morning drive to Sudbury.
Fuck Sudbury.
I’d rather not. Have you seen that D man on their third pair? Jesus. Talk about a bruiser. With that ugly mug.
Truthfully, I didn’t care about looks. That had never been the determinative factor over whether I invited someone into my life. Whether for a night or a week or whatever.
You’re no fun.
That’s not what you said the last time you saw me.
Then you got traded and poof…gone. Like, no final beating or anything.
I chuckled.
Claus nudged me. “Hooking up?”
“Nah, old friend. Just a quick drink after the game.”
After the game.
You better believe it.
I grinned as memories assailed me. Mickey had been my one friend away from hockey.
Well, away being relative. We’d played in youth hockey together, but he hadn’t been into the game much.
Had played for his parents more than for himself.
They’d let him bail, and we’d cemented a friendship outside of the rink.
Tough to maintain, but we’d always managed.
When I’d gone down the rabbit hole of BDSM when I hit my late teens, I’d confided in Mickey.
He’d gawked and then asked a ton of questions—but he’d never ridiculed.
Or tried to talk me out of it. On a lark, he’d volunteered to be my first bottom.
We’d had more laughter than serious times, but I figured out what I liked and what I didn’t like.
Then I sought out mentors and technique instructors. Finally, I joined Leathr.
Man, I’d had a constant barrage of submissives offering to do anything and everything.
At first, I hadn’t wanted to bring sex into the mix.
Mickey and I were doing that on the side as well.
Totally fuck buddies with benefits. He didn’t treat me differently because I was an orphan or because I was a damn good hockey player.
We figured out how to make each other feel good.
Then I figured out how to make other people feel good—whips, floggers, paddles, dragon tongues, bondage, and all kinds of other things.
I let my mentors do those things to me because I needed to know.
I didn’t get the rush bottoms assured me they got.
But I understand the power I wielded every time I did a scene with someone.
Eventually I added sex to the mix and holy fuck—that had taken things to an entirely new level of intensity—
“You think it’s going to be weird?”
I blinked.
Traffic was picking up speed as we made our way through Scarborough.
“Weird?”
“To play your old team,” Claus said. “So soon after leaving.”
I shook my head. “My loyalties are to the Grizzlies now. I’m looking forward to kicking Brampton’s ass.”
Claus chuckled. “You know, I thought you were a little softhearted when you arrived. Trying to make friends. Being a good guy. Now, though? I can see you’re a badass. In the best sense of the word.”
I smiled to myself. You have no idea how badass I can be. He wouldn’t know, of course. No one ever would. Because Coach wasn’t talking and I sure as shit wasn’t confiding in anyone.
A resolution I kept right up until I was sitting across from Mickey in a gay bar off Church Street we knew. I hadn’t told any teammates where I was going. Just seeing an old friend.
Hairs had given me that look and I’d fought the urge to tell him to fuck off. Given he appeared to get lucky every night we were in a city, I figured he could just screw himself.
I deserved a night off.
“That hurt.” Mickey held his beer bottle for me to clink.
“Yeah.” We’d arrived in Brampton ready to kick some ass. I also had to prove I was a badass and not soft toward my old team.
I’d scored twice. Not bad for a D-man.
“Think the city will forgive me?” I batted my eyelashes.
I didn’t give a fuck. I was one of the best players on the team, and they traded me.
A bunch of outraged fans had made their opinion known—but management had been resolute; I had to go.
And so I had. To the Grizzlies. Hopefully tonight I’d both proven myself to my new team and shown my old team that they’d been stupid to let me go.
Except we’d lost. By one fucking goal.
“Who gives a shit?” he asked. “Live your best life. Get called up. Vancouver’s got a solid team. They’d be crazy not to give you a shot.”
I sipped my beer. I wanted my shot. But that also meant being away from Coach. Well, you’re not with him right now…are you?
Memories of the stairwell haunted me.
Mickey nudged my shoulder with his. “Who is he?”
“What?” I nearly choked on my beer.
“The guy you’re hung up on.”
“What?” God, I hope I injected enough disbelief in that.
He shook his head. “Don’t fuck with me. We’ve known each other too long. No way you blow me off if you’re not seeing someone.”
“I’m not ‘seeing someone’.” I used air quotes.
And instantly realized my mistake.
Mickey laughed. Wholeheartedly. Almost enough to attract attention.
Almost…but not quite. We were getting close to last call since this was a weeknight. Everyone was hooking up before the bar closed.
“Dare I ask?”
“There’s no one.”
“Don’t bullshit the bullshitter. I’ve known you forever. I’ve had your cock in my ass and welts on my back from your whip. Hell, after a particularly epic paddling, I couldn’t sit comfortably for a week.”
“You loved it.”
“Not saying otherwise.” He sobered. “Man, you’re in deep.”
I shook my head vehemently. “No. Absolutely not.”
He cocked his head. “Fellow player, management, a coach, or someone underage?”
“Ew. Gross.”
“To all or none?”
“Underage? Fucking hell. Even when I was barely legal, I didn’t do under eighteen. Not for me. Ever.”
“So that eliminates—”
“Jack.” There. I’d fucking said his name. To the one person who would never, under any circumstance, give away my secret.
Mickey blinked. Then frowned. “Showalter?”
Bleakly, I nodded.
“Like…holy shit. You’re not a rule breaker, so you’ve got to know how fucked up this is.”
I saluted him with my beer.
“Tell me everything.”
And so I did.
When I returned to the hotel, Hairs wasn’t there. In fact, he didn’t show until twenty minutes before the bus was scheduled to leave. I was in a panic—trying to figure out what I’d tell Jack.
In the end, I didn’t have to. But I stayed away from Asshole Hairs on the bus, because he reeked of vodka and sex.
Man, it’s going to be a long season.