Chapter 7 - Karter
The teeth marks on my neck were a problem. The text glowing on my phone was worse.
I was still half-asleep when I blindly dug my phone out of the jeans I’d discarded on the floor.
The drafty attic of The Ice House was freezing; the corner heater rattled as it pushed out a pathetic stream of air, but the cold barely registered.
My back still ached from the hard bookshelves...
and the lingering reminder of Aleksey’s hands.
Then the screen illuminated my palm, pulling me out of the memory.
The bright screen lit up the dark room. Yet another text message from my dad had come through late last night.
Scouts are confirmed for the U.P. tournament. Elliot said your passing was sloppy yesterday. Focus. Don’t embarrass the family.
I read the words twice, my thumb hovering over the screen. ‘Don’t embarrass the family’. Usually, I just went along with him. It was easier to play the good son than to push back against pressure from my dad.
I tossed the phone onto the mattress, watching it bounce against the sheets.
The numbness I’d perfected for years felt shattered this morning.
My dad’s pristine world didn’t register at all against the raw, messy reality of the library.
Aleksey’s grip had left a mark that was a lot harder to ignore than a text message.
On the other side of the room, Matt shifted in his bed and pulled his comforter up to his chin.
“Is it always this freezing in Michigan?” Matt asked. His voice was rough with sleep.
“You’ll get used to it,” I said.
“No, I won’t. I miss California.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What time did you get back last night?”
“Late,” I said, grabbing my shower caddy. “Had to study.”
“You look terrible,” Matt observed.
“Thanks.” I slipped out the door before he could ask anything else.
The communal bathroom smelled of stale humidity, but it was quiet, which was why I was there. If the older guys caught me, I’d be stuck shivering through the freezing showers they forced on the freshmen. But at this hour, I could steal a hot one.
I turned the dial and stepped under the spray. The hot water hit my skin, and I hissed, my fingers automatically pressing into the back of my neck. Between the heat and the pain in my back, the numbness cracked.
All I could feel was the memory of Aleksey in the sub-basement. We’d been a second away from getting caught. It was stupid, it was messy, and my blood ran hot just thinking about it.
I heard laughter echo near the sinks. The upperclassmen had arrived.
Shutting off the water, I grabbed my towel and pulled it tight up to my chin.
I didn’t panic. I just put my head down, skipped the mirror, and efficiently walked out before they could give me grief about the hot shower, or worse, see my neck.
My clothes were still living out of the expensive luggage in the corner of our drafty room.
I grabbed a thick, oversized hoodie, pulling it on and adjusting the collar until it concealed the bruising.
It wasn’t my usual look, and Matt noticed.
He sat on his side of the room, already bundled up against the freezing Michigan morning, and watched me check my collar.
He had an expressive look that said he knew something was off, but he was a good roommate. He just went back to tying his shoes and let it go.
The dining hall hummed with morning energy. Plates clattered as teammates yelled over each other at the long tables, but my face stayed perfectly neutral as I walked to the oatmeal station. Yet underneath my calm act, every nerve ending was awake.
Matt walked next to me with a tray of scrambled eggs. “You’re really quiet today,” Matt said.
“Haven’t been getting enough sleep,” I answered, “but it’s fine.”
“You sure, bro? You’ve been spacing out since we left the room.”
“I’m fine, Matt. Really.”
I picked up a serving spoon. And then I saw him.
Aleks.
He was by the coffee machine wearing a washed-out sweatshirt and jeans; his posture was rigid despite looking like he hadn’t slept a single minute. And from beneath his brow, his dark eyes tracked me. Just the sight of him brought back the memory of his desperate hands on my body.
Sitting at my table with a bowl of oatmeal I wasn’t going to eat, I looked back up to find Aleksey staring me down. He was waiting for me to look away.
But looking at him, all I wanted was to close the distance between us. I held his gaze as something stubborn and new locked into place inside me.
I wasn’t going to hide.
The cold air of the arena hit my face. Most mornings, stepping onto the ice was an automatic reset.
I liked getting out here early; staying busy on the rink was always easier than thinking about anything else.
Ice sprayed from my custom skates as I stopped at the blue line, but the normal relief didn’t come.
My mind was still stuck in the sub-basement.
For the first time all season, I didn’t care about running drills. I just wanted morning practice to end.
My brother, Elliot, skated up next to me. He tapped his stick on the ice three times.
“So, did Dad text you?” Elliot asked.
“Yeah, multiple times actually,” I said, keeping my eyes locked on him. “He had a lot of thoughts on how sloppy my passing was yesterday. Funny how he could see that all the way from Boston.”
Elliot had the decency to look ashamed, shifting his weight. “I was just giving him an update. You need to pay attention out here, Karter. We have a lot riding on this tournament, and the Johnston name is on this facility. I’m just trying to keep you locked in.”
I frowned. Any other day, I would have let his unsolicited advice roll off my back. But today, the sound of my father’s exact intonation coming out of my brother’s mouth was incredibly grating.
“I didn’t realize you were his assistant coach now,” I snapped. The sharp, uncharacteristic grit in my voice surprised even me.
Elliot stared at me. Instead of getting mad, he softened, putting the pieces together entirely wrong. “You’re stressed,” he said, nodding to himself. “It’s all that extra time you are spending around those scholarship guys. Babysitting Aleksey is draining your focus.”
“That’s not—”
“You’ve suffered enough for the cause,” Elliot interrupted, waving it off. “I’m going to talk to Coach Corby. I’ll get you off tutoring duty so you can actually get your head right.”
A cold knot formed in my stomach. The thought of losing my only guaranteed time with Aleksey made my heart-rate jump. “Wait. Elliot, don’t do that. I—”
Coach Corby blew his whistle. The shrill blast echoed off the glass, instantly drowning me out.
“Listen up,” Coach said. He took off his cap and ran a hand over his bald spot. “The Upper Peninsula tournament is next weekend. We leave Friday morning. That means an eight-hour bus ride and an overnight stay in a hotel. So do not make me regret taking you idiots on the road.”
My stomach flipped. The text from my dad was right. Scouts would be there.
Glancing down the bench, I watched Aleksey process the news. He didn’t say a word, but he went still, staring dead ahead at the empty ice.
I spent the next hour of drills checked out, my mind spinning with ways to stop my brother from talking to Coach. When practice finally ended, I stepped off the ice and took the rubber-matted tunnel back to the locker-room at a fast pace. I needed to get to Aleksey before Elliot ruined everything.
Inside the locker-room, the post-practice noise level was already high. Trenton stood in the middle of the room, tossing a roll of tape in the air.
“Eight hours on a bus with you losers,” Trenton joked. “Someone save me a window seat.”
I unlaced my skates in the far corner, my mock-neck pulled high to hide the bite mark. Usually, this was the part of the day when I shut down. In a locker room full of naked guys, my standard routine was simple: keep your head down, get in, get out, and never let your eyes drift below the waist.
But as I tracked Aleksey across the room, that instinct vanished, replaced by a slow, sinking letdown. He was violently shoving his equipment into his duffel bag.
He was skipping the showers.
I slumped against my locker. The disappointment hit me before the confusion did. Last night, his hands had been all over me. Now he wouldn’t even look up.
Heat climbed the back of my neck and settled low in my stomach. I’d never thought about another guy like this. Not once. But the library had cracked something open, and now I couldn’t shove it back inside.
I needed to talk to Aleksey.
Across the room, he threw his bag over his shoulder. He didn’t glance back. Just pushed through the door and vanished into the hallway, leaving me staring at the empty stall where he’d been standing.
Trenton’s loud voice carried over the benches, laughing about legacy row on the bus. I ignored him. Instead, I tugged on my jacket, then slammed my locker shut with a sharp crack that made a couple of my nearby teammates jump. Turning on my heel, I hurried straight out the door.
I followed Aleksey a little way down the hall and watched him duck into the small equipment room to drop off a stack of dirty practice jerseys he’d grabbed on his way out. The sharp stench of stale sweat and hockey tape hit me the second I stepped through the doorway.
Aleksey turned around and went rigid.
“Are we going to talk about yesterday?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed as he wiped his hands on the front of his faded sweatshirt. “No.”
He stepped forward to leave. I moved directly into his path, blocking the doorway.
“Move,” he warned.
“Not yet.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Make time.”
A sharp breath punched out of him, half laugh and half disbelief. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“I’ve been told it’s my worst quality.”
“It’s your dumbest quality.” He took a single step toward me, but I didn’t retreat. “Go back to your legacy friends and leave me the hell alone.”