Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rebel Arena, Freedom
Shay
I fly across the rink like the wind is beneath my skates.
No one can catch me.
I keep my gaze fixed on the goal and where I am going to hit the puck for the third time tonight.
I am winning this second game against the Penguins. I am bloody buzzing. So is D’Angelo and the rest of the team.
The entire arena.
Sometimes, I forget that there are as many fans as there are haters.
Although, is it only paranoia that made me feel like I was being watched, when I strolled through the corridors to the locker rooms this afternoon with Atlas, as part of our new buddy system?
I glanced around and couldn’t see anyone.
Yet the hairs on my neck still raised.
It was probably just because of my insomnia.
I haven’t been able to sleep uninterrupted for more than a couple of hours at a time since that interview was published by Peninsular Daily News.
Is it true?
Are Nicole and Craig my biological mum and dad?
They’ll never be my real parents. I already have those.
The Princes saved Eden and me from the system, taking us in even though they had barely enough money to spare for themselves. Yet they showed us what unconditional love meant. They’re the people who got us into school and sports.
They gave Eden his voice. They gave me my joy.
Eden and I owe the Princes everything. We owe the Webbs nothing.
Eden hates the Webbs. It’s why we argued yesterday.
What if the Webbs meant what they said? What if they do love us?
What if they’re sorry?
Noticing that I am distracted, Wilder tries to brutally check me.
Focused again, I spin around him like he’s insignificant. After the scene that D’Angelo and Eden put on in the playroom, I know that Wilder is.
I knew that he was before but only in my mind. D’Angelo made me feel it. He has this way of rewiring me deep inside that should scare me but yet doesn’t.
Wilder is screaming chirps at me, but I don’t hear them. Wilder is as easy to ignore now as the fussing cry from a peacock behind a wall.
He can’t cope not being the center of attention. He’s no longer the player who anyone is watching.
My heart is soaring.
I remember the delicious taste of Robyn on my tongue and the deep ache of D’Angelo fucking owning me inside with his thick cock.
I remember the feeling of being caught safely between the man and woman I bloody worship and knowing that neither of them are abandoning or rejecting me.
Wilder coming back to this town means nothing. He can try and break Robyn, D’Angelo, and my brother and me down. But we’re stronger than we ever were.
On the other hand, Wilder is a sad, pathetic excuse of a tarnished Golden Boy who cheated and lost the best woman in the world.
He’ll have to live with his regrets for the rest of his life. But I have the rest of my life to love his Birdie.
My Robyn.
Also, my cruel D’Angelo, of course.
I’d spend the rest of my life on my knees for him.
I glance sideways and catch D’Angelo adjusting his position ahead of me in case I need to pass to him.
Throughout the entire game, we’ve been perfectly in sync.
D’Angelo scored two goals as well.
This is a high scoring game.
I smile, catching D’Angelo’s eye.
Of course, it’s not been the Penguins scoring, as it’s only the Bay Rebels who have been on fire.
The score is 5 — 1.
I barely hear the crowds or feel the cold of the rink.
My focus has been intense since our scene, as if I am still flying in the heavens of the starry playroom.
The playroom is D’Angelo’s favorite room, but after the observatory that he built for me, it’s close to becoming my second favorite too.
It was like walking into a candy store.
Also, I’d force myself to read through every book by the dead blokes in the library like Shakespeare and Dickens and even attend one of Michael’s boring Murder Mystery Evenings with cheese and wine — the true tortures of the world — if I received D’Angelo’s aftercare afterward.
I mean, I would need it.
In those moments, when D’Angelo wraps me in blankets, pulling me onto his lap to stroke my hair, he looks at me with this particular softness.
He praises me.
His voice is gentle.
He sounds like he’s talking to Robyn.
I don’t know if he realizes that he is doing it.
I could live in those moments.
It feels like I am stealing them, somehow. I still soak them up, however, storing each tender look, as if I am more than his sub and truly could be as precious to him as the woman he has loved since he was eighteen.
Last night, he ran me a bath, washed my hair, then massaged me until I fell asleep to his murmured words and the feel of his hands gentle on my skin.
To feeling loved.
I glow, still on a high.
This is it.
“You’ve got time,” D’Angelo calls, steadying me.
I take a single moment to hold onto the control. D’Angelo’s trust in me shines in his eyes.
Suddenly, a defenseman closes the gap. With a subtle shoulder fake, I shift the defenseman’s weight and pull the puck through his skates.
I smirk, as I accelerate onto open ice just in front of the net.
I don’t hesitate.
Confidently, I pretend that I am about to shoot.
Wilder is not the only one who can play bloody mind games.
The goalie reacts, dropping and spreading to block the shot. At the last moment, however, I trick him by pulling the puck sideways instead of shooting.
The goalie scrambles to adjust his weight, which opens his legs.
Instantly, I snap the puck along the ice and right between his legs.
It happens lightning fast, before the goalie can react.
The puck hits the back of the net.
I’ve scored!
The commentator and home crowd go wild.
I raise my stick in victory. Then I twirl around to my teammates, and they also raise their sticks.
Grayson whoops.
I smile at the tantrum Wilder is throwing. He hurls his stick and helmet to the ice. His face is red with humiliation and rage, as he yells at his dejected team for allowing me to score.
Wilder is a terrible captain.
D’Angelo has never treated any of his team like that, either in public or private, even when we fuck up.
This is why we’re like family. It’s why the rest of the team are loyal to D’Angelo and would bloody die for the bloke.
I skate closer to the side of the rink, where Eden and Robyn are standing holding hands.
Eden is dressed in one of his favorite gray suits, but Robyn has slipped one of D’Angelo’s number 22 hockey jerseys on over her dress.
She knows how to make a point.
She is smart at PR, as well as kind. She knew wearing that jersey would draw the press attention onto her, rather than D’Angelo or me, if we screwed up again.
Of course, it also made D’Angelo feral. His eyes glinted possessively when he saw her. I give her three seconds at most before he’s ripping it off her and then chasing her down through the mansion when we return home.
It makes my chest warm every time that Robyn and Eden no longer must hide how close they are standing.
Fuck it.
If they can be open like this, then so can I.
I laugh, swirling the stick in the air in an exaggerated pattern of a heart, before pointing at Robyn.
That goal was for her.
Robyn blushes but smiles, pleased.
I know that the cameras are focused on us both.
Won’t she like that good press? After the article came out about the Webbs everyone had something to say about me.
Well, let them now say that I’m a bloody legend.
An ice prince.
I’m proud for the news to also include how much I love the coach’s daughter, along with my captain.
When I turn, still laughing, I bump into D’Angelo.
He peers down at me. “Done making a point?”
I shake my head. “It’s called celebrating. We earned it. Did you see…?”
“An amazing goal, cucciolo,” D’Angelo leans down to whisper.
I shiver at the sudden dark promise in his eyes as he holds my gaze.
“Have you forgotten our deal? Every hockey game we win means a fantasy with the Pucking Them Positions. Win on the ice. Earn the night off it. I reward good behavior. I’m giving you only one choice. ”
My breathing is so fast that I feel lightheaded. “Yeah?”
“Do you win your fantasy or Robyn’s?”
I glance over my shoulder at Robyn, who is excitedly pressing her hand to the glass, dressed in the number 22 jersey.
My smile gentles.
It was never a choice.
“Our Robyn’s,” I reply. “Let’s spend our lives making all her fantasies come true.”