22. Logan
TWENTY-TWO
LOGAN
T hings are messy, but I’m happy.
I don’t feel like I have to worry about my father so much anymore, and while Evander had to return to school, both Grandfather and Mother promised it’s temporary.
We win our next game but lose the one after.
Anthony storms into the locker room, stopping right in front of me. “Can we speak for a minute?”
He’d been in a mood all day, but I hadn’t had time to ask him about it, so I figured I would when I got to his apartment later.
“Sure. What’s up?” I glance around, not sure why he’s singling me out mid pulling a sock off.
“In my office.”
My brow pops. “Can I finish taking my socks off?” I hold one up.
His expression remains flat, ignoring my humor. “Get that out of my face and get your ass up.”
“Yes, sir,” I say in my best assy voice.
He snarls and turns his back, stomping back to his office.
Half the team is looking at me while I yank off my other sock and toss them both into my cubby. And he claims he’s trying to avoid singling me out.
“What did I do to piss him off?” I ask, getting to my feet. “Did I fuck up practice that bad?” I laugh, because what the fuck else can I do?
The guys play into my joking, cat calling and giving me shit about my playing.
I hold up my middle finger. “He’s probably just hangry.”
I close Anthony’s office door behind me and then sit on the edge of his desk. “If you’re trying to be subtle about us, that’s not the way.”
“I’ve had three calls in the last fifteen minutes, after two this morning, telling me to hire your father. What the fuck is this?”
I choke and nearly fall off his desk coughing. “From who?”
“Former teammates. Board members. The university president. They all think he’d be an ‘asset’ to the team.”
“Is he trying to get your job?”
The phone on Anthony’s desk rings again, and he hisses before picking it up. “Yes? Yes…I spoke to Gary about that today. I’m well aware of the feelings on the subject…. Yes, but you see, I don’t have any positions open on the coaching staff…. I’m not sure it’s in the University’s budget to add a position… Yes, I did speak to the president, but he didn’t mention—” Anthony’s head drops back to look at the ceiling. “Right. I will speak to the president about it.” He hangs up and sighs. “This fucking phone.”
I take it off the hook for him. “Problem solved. Now it will just give a busy signal.”
“How do you even know how to do that? Your generation doesn’t have land lines.”
“I have the internet.” I blow out my cheeks. What could Dad’s angle be here? “I don’t know why he’d want to work under you.”
“Because he wants to make my life hell while also making you ‘better’ and somehow get back at your mother by coaching you because he knows he’s going to lose with Evander?” Anthony sinks into his desk chair, defeated.
“That makes sense. But it’s not like you’re going to do it.” It’s a silly notion my father can’t possibly hope to win.
“Do you think they are going to give me a choice?”
“It’s still absurd. I’ll talk to my grandfather. Okay?”
“He’s still going to show up at all the games.”
“Unfortunately, I think you’re right, but there is nothing I can do about that. I’ve endured it this long. I’ll be fine.”
Anthony scowls. “Let me make you better,” he says after a moment.
“I hate to remind you, but that already is your job,” I deadpan.
“No, I mean private coaching.”
“In what time? Because I’m not taking time away from sex and replacing it with more hockey.” I cross my arms.
“I’ll make it worth your while.” He wears a smug look, and I’m not sure if I should be hard or terrified.
“How?”
“However I see fit.” He stands, making any other words unnecessary. “And you know how angry it will make your dad.”
I smirk. “You’re mean for starting this now when I have to go to dinner with the team.”
“Waiting is good for you.” Whatever Anthony was when I met him, he’s more now. He has grown and refilled the empty parts of himself.
I love watching it. I love being a part of it.
“What was that about?” Ridgeway asks when I get back to my stall. I’ve learned to tell them apart mostly. While they are identical, they have little things and mannerisms. Colt, the center, is the one who talks to me most often.
I’m behind the rest of the team, so I talk while stripping. “My father is trying to get on staff, and Coach wanted to ask me about it.”
Savage grimaces. “Is he serious?”
“Coach is getting all kinds of calls from people telling him to hire my dad.”
“I thought he just left managing New York. Why would he want a demotion?” Wolfe, who rarely gets involved in our conversations, asks.
“He got himself fired,” I say, knowing the kind of bomb I’m dropping. The story that had been fed to the sports news was an amicable parting of ways so my dad could explore other opportunities, which everyone thought meant he was accepting something hush hush.
“What?!” a couple of guys ask.
“Him and my mom split, and my grandfather wasn’t keen on keeping him around.”
“And how do you feel about it?”
“He’s a shit coach.” I have to play this carefully. I don’t want any of them thinking my dad will somehow be an asset, nor do I want them digging into the reasons Anthony doesn’t like him. That’s his secret, and it’s much easier to open up about my disdain, since a few of the guys already know about it. “I’ve dealt with that enough. I don’t need it in college.”
“No shit,” Savage adds. “I wouldn’t want my old man coming on to coach either.”
We get more agreement.
“Sounds like hell, even if they are players,” Wolfe adds. “No one needs their parents micromanaging their business.”
Archangel steps in as the other de facto leader of the team. “So we need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I’d prefer that.” I shrug, not trying to make it a big deal but obviously wanting the team on my side. Grandfather will help keep Dad off the team, but if the guys don’t want him, it helps the team present a united front. “Hawke is a better coach anyway.”
I get agreements from them.
“I’m going to shower. Where are we going tonight?” I ask, hoping they give me some time to sneak back into Anthony’s office before I go.
“We’re all going to Wolfe’s tonight,” Archangel says. “Team dinner, and he’s got a surprise for us.”
“Someone shoot me his address?” I hang my pants to dry out.
“I’ll wait for you,” Savage says, and I notice he isn’t dressed. “I’m going to soak in the hot tub for a bit to try and loosen up my muscles. Conditioning has been brutal.”
“Cool.”
This team loves to do dinners, so most of us actually shower at the facility, which isn’t bad. The Gods went all out when they designed this place. It’s decked out with individual stalls, and they keep it pristine. I glance at Anthony’s office. I need to text him, but evidence of this thing isn’t smart, so I don’t dare. We’ve made it work because we spend so much time together anyway, and he usually knows where I am, as he knows where the entire team is, and nights I’m not with them, I’m at his place.
But something tells me Wolfe plans to keep us late with this surprise, and I have no way of telling Anthony that.
Savage puts on shorts and tells me to come find him when I’m done.
“Will do.” I grab a couple of towels and head to the shower in just my compression shorts.
I pull the opaque door closed and drop my towels on the bench before turning on the water, letting it warm while I strip off my shorts and jock. A prickle runs up my spine, and I feel like I’m being watched. I turn around to find Anthony with the stall door pulled open, arms crossed, eyes filled with lust.
I give him a questioning look.
In response, he drags his gaze down my body.
I shake my head. “Naughty.”
He puts his fingers to my lips, stepping inside the stall, pulling the door closed behind him. “You didn’t come back to my office,” he says against my ear. “My cock is waiting for your pretty lips.”
“Savage stayed. He’s soaking.”
Anthony glances behind himself like he can see anything outside the stall and growls low in his chest. “Inconvenient.”
“You’re telling me, because not only do I have a team dinner, but Wolfe has a surprise.” I put the last in air quotes, earning another growl.
“What kind of surprise?” His tone carries an edge.
“I don’t know.” We both know I have to stay. “Want me to come over when I’m done if it’s not too late?”
“You can come over whatever time it is.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. He’s rather grumpy when he doesn’t get enough sleep, and I’m not about to make that my problem.
“When I say something, I mean it.” He’s off, and I can’t put my finger on why, but now, I’m going to think about it all night.