Forbidden Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #5)

Prologue

“I’m going out,” I yell, so Hunter can hear me at the back of the house.

I’m being an ass. He won’t like me going out so late, but it’s not like I’m going far, and I need to get out of here.

I waited all fucking day for him to get home just so I could go out, because he doesn’t like it when I leave the house when he’s not home.

And, yeah, Dash coulda just come here, but I want out of this house.

Did I mention that I want out?

I hate this house.

I’m down the creaky porch steps and six feet away when the front door’s thrust open.

My older brother’s still wiping the sleep from his face, eyes adjusting to the brightness.

He keeps it dark in the back room so he can sleep during the day, and when he got home, he stumbled there and crashed.

There’s a little niggle in my chest. I shouldn’t have woken him up; he barely gets sleep, but I barely get to leave this fucking house.

He would have been pissed if all I’d left was a note.

“D’you have a jacket?”

I hold it up and wag it for him. It’s the summertime, the sun’ll still be up for another three hours at least, I won’t need it, but I knew he’d give me shit if I didn’t bring one.

He nods. “Get your ass back here by dark, kid.”

I would roll my eyes at both things—because I’m not that much younger than him, only seven years, and I’m just fine out in the dark—but he will drag my ass back in the house. You don’t fuck with Hunter. Just the sheer size of him! But also, he’s well practiced in fuck around and find out.

“Was plannin’ on it,” I say, even though I wasn’t.

“I mean it, Dirk. If I have to hunt you down, you won’t like the consequences.”

“Alright. Can I go?”

He nods, rubbing his eyes some more, making me feel bad for him. Not on purpose, but I do. I shouldn’t be such a shithead, but I have something important to do. Not only do I want out of this house, but I want out of this fucking life. My only ticket to a better life is hockey.

Freedom achieved, I book it three blocks down, through the park, and up the hill. Dash is already there, lying in the grass, staring at the clear blue sky. He didn’t bring a jacket. Bet nobody was on his ass about it.

“Sorry. Got held up. Hunter was at me,” I explain.

“Least someone cares, Dirk,” Dash says.

I frown. Yeah, I guess. I lie beside him and try to find what he’s looking at. There’s nothing special, just blue. Not even a cloud. Not a bird. Grass pokes at the bare skin at the nape of my neck, sending a shiver through.

“So, listen, I was thinking that we could get jobs,” I tell him.

Since we were tiny mites, we were supported by TimTots Sports, a program through Tim Howards that subsidizes kids like us.

But we’d outgrown the program now that we’re fifteen.

If we want to keep playing, we’ll need to come up with the money ourselves.

Dash snakes a hand over to mine and laces our fingers together. We’ve been friends for a long time. We were also each other’s first kiss, which is what it took to realize that we didn’t have that kind of chemistry.

He turns his head, there’s a rare smile on his face. A great big one. Brighter than the sun shining on us. “I have news.”

“Oh?” It looks like good news. Please say it’s good news.

“I told Mom about hockey.”

My stomach does a flip and a twist. Trusting his mom with anything’s a slippery slope. But I get it. It’s his mom. My mom’s barely around, and it pisses me the fuck off sometimes, but I’ll drop everything to spend five minutes with her.

“And?”

“She suggested I call my dad—she actually said I could call him.”

Dash’s dad lives on the other side of town. He says his mom doesn’t like him seeing his dad, but I think it’s Robin—his mom’s boyfriend—who doesn’t like it. Robin’s fucking weird with Dash. He gives me the creeps.

“Dad said he’d pay for us—both of us. I told him all about you, that we’re practically brothers.”

Rocks sink to the bottom of my stomach. “Your dad can’t pay for me, too. Hockey’s expensive. He rich or somethin’?” I’ve never met his dad, only heard about him.

“Well … no. But he’s opened a restaurant and says he can afford that much. We’d probably have to get secondhand stuff, but we can make it work.”

Hunter will not like that. He’s so fucking proud.

Mom works two jobs, and he’s got a couple himself just to make ends meet.

When he got out of high school, he went straight to full-time.

A heavy sigh leaves my chest. I don’t know what the fuck to do.

Honestly, I was gonna have to fight Hunter on the “get a job plan” anyway because he doesn’t want me having a job while I’m in school, even though he had one.

Maybe I could convince him to take just a little charity in my favor.

I know that if it were the other way around, he’d help Dash.

We can help, but we can’t be helped? That doesn’t make sense. It’s really nice of Dash’s dad, though. He doesn’t even know me.

Dash and I enjoy each other’s company without words, hands threaded in a grip that seals our fates—we’re forever bound. My ears strain to hear the sounds of the kids on the street below. I think it’s a street hockey game…

My eyes snap open. It’s almost dark. Shit. I’m gonna be in shit. I rub my eyes, shaking Dashie. That happens a lot for us—falling asleep when we get beside each other.

“C’mon. Sleep at my place tonight,” I say.

An angry voice calls out Dash’s name. His fingers curl and his body tenses. “Fuck.”

“Dash. Get your ass down here. Your mother’s worried sick about you.” Robin’s at the bottom of the hill. I guess the man’s mildly attractive. He’s a type, anyway. Shaved head, wiry muscles, a thin beard. But I still can’t figure out what his mom sees in him. I fucking hate the guy.

Even I know Dash’s mom isn’t worried about him, as shitty as that is, but Dash lights up, hopeful that maybe today she’s out of her drug-induced high.

It does happen from time to time, so I guess I can see why he thinks it’ll happen again, but it’s not often.

My heart cinches. He doesn’t see the fall waiting for him.

My hands itch to take Dash away, far away from here, keep him hidden, keep him whole.

“Don’t go with him. Come with me.” Because fuck Robin. Robin acts like the unsung hero of their little family, but I know better.

Dash looks from me to Robin. He chews his lip, slowly standing, dusting off his shorts. The bite of a West Coast Canadian summer’s night lifts our arm hairs. Dash’s teeth chatter.

“Here, at least take my jacket.” He doesn’t have to say it, I know he’s not coming with me.

He slips my jacket on as he heads down the hill. Robin rests a hand on the back of his neck—I don’t fucking like it. But there isn’t much time to glare my face off at him, my ass is on the line if I don’t sprint the fuck home in the next five minutes.

Hunter’s waiting on the porch for me, jacket on, ready to head out on a Dirk hunt.

“Cutting it close, kid.”

“But I made it.” I lift a brow, not really sure. He said before dark. Technically, it’s dark even though it’s just dark.

“Where’s your jacket?” he says instead of answering.

“I lent it to Dash.”

“I know he has his own jacket. If he’s not bringing his, he can be cold, and maybe that will remind him.”

I only brought mine because I knew Hunter would be on my case. There’s no one to be on Dash’s case. Not even Robin. Robin doesn’t give a fuck about the important shit, like keeping Dash warm.

“Leave it alone, Hunter.”

“I won’t. I paid good money for that jacket. What if he loses it?”

“Then I guess I won’t have a jacket.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” He huffs. “Just get in the fuckin’ house.”

It’s nine pm on a summer night. The rest of the teenagers are skulking around the neighborhood, getting into low-brow trouble, making memories.

It’s where I’d be if Hunter weren’t on my ass all the time.

Mom’s still not home from work. When she gets home—if she comes home—she’ll pass out hard.

It woulda been soooo easy to sneak out on her non-existent watch if Hunter wasn’t so damn responsible.

I trudge inside and raid the fridge. Tonight’s probably a bad night to bring up the hockey thing, but there isn’t a whole lot of time.

My brother’s followed me, keeping a distance, gauging my mood. I drink straight from the milk carton, and he doesn’t scold me for it.

“I need money for hockey this year. Dash’s dad says he’ll fund us.” Blunt. Blunt’s the way you do things with Hunter.

“What? Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

“Because it’s not like we can fucking afford it, so Dash and I were coming up with a solution.”

Hunter’s eyes drag over me like they’ve been hauling bricks all day, lids heavy, the skin beneath them bruised with shadows.

There’s a sag in his posture that says he’s already got enough on his plate.

But the thing is, I get that, which is why he should let me take care of myself.

I’m fifteen now, more than capable. He was already looking after me at fifteen.

He wipes his hand over his face; a million things playing out in his mind. He shakes his head.

“No. No way. Dash’s dad’s not funding you.”

“Then I’ll get a job.”

“Not happening.”

“For fucksakes, Hunter.”

“No, you’re not doing that either. Talking to me like that. Go to your fucking room. Now.”

I hate that my lip trembles. Hunter is the only person who can do that to me. I suck in a breath so I don’t start crying like an idiot. He’s bein’ so unfair. And he’s so strict. None of the other kids in the neighborhood have as many rules as I do.