Chapter 9
Austin
Lying is a sin. I grew up hearing that every single day.
But not telling Grayson the whole truth is better for him.
Or that’s my excuse for lying to my best friend and denying us what we both hunger for.
He’s all I can think about. His coconut scent is everywhere in the apartment.
It’s embedded in my nose. I even smell it in this arena, which is not possible.
The darkness swirls inside me, loose and unpredictable.
I can’t let Grayson anywhere near me because my desire for him is too wild, too primal, and I’ll cause damage.
He’s sure I’ll stop and won’t hurt him because we’re the same size, but I lift weights for a living and my darkness isn’t rational, and it’s capable of horrible things.
I cling to the memory of him hurt on the ice in the CHL, a reminder of the damage I accidentally caused. Never again will he suffer at my hands.
His phony smile is getting on my nerves, but I step into his training room for our pregame ritual. Keeping him safe and mine is a balance I’m learning to manage. But I won’t be the one to pull away. I can’t. He means too much to me.
I’m selfish. I should let him go to find someone else. Someone who won’t drag him into the darkness.
“Hey.” I shrug as if to say “I’m here.”
The left side of his mouth ticks up with a ghost of a smile as he closes the distance between us. “I got your sticky note. Is that our thing now? Instead of dressing the same, you’re gonna leave me notes?”
I shrug again like a dumbass because those stupid notes prevent me from confessing my true feelings and putting him in physical jeopardy.
Gray’s steady hands land on my shoulder. “Have a great game. You got this.”
I inhale, taking in as much of him as I can—his smell, his breaths, and his surety. His forehead rests on mine, and his hair forms a curtain, hiding our faces from the rest of the world. I close my eyes because if there’s a hint of pain in his, it will crush me before I get to the ice.
“Thanks,” I murmur, and back away, avoiding his gaze.
At first, I think the team is off because of me, but it becomes clear it isn’t our night. Griff’s serving his suspension from the game, Benz is flakier than usual, and we’re not gelling.
“We’re still in this.” I stalk the bench. “Let’s find the back of the net.”
On my next shift, I take my own advice and send Drake a quick pass in front of the net. He flicks his wrist, and I’m sure it’s going in, but the goalie gets an arm on it. Lucky’s there to tap the deflection in past the stunned goalie.
The three of us meet for a hug, and I smack Lucky’s helmet. “Way to get it done.”
It wasn’t pretty, but we’re on the board.
Gray hands me a water bottle as I vault over the boards to the bench. “Way to give’r.” When I don’t respond, he continues. “No pass, no goal. You started the play, Lucky finished it.”
“You bet.” I guzzle the water. It wasn’t the assist I’d expected, but my stats don’t matter as long as the team wins.
King is everywhere on his shift. Defending like a champ, stealing the puck, but his line isn’t as effective without Griff. King shoots, but it ricochets off the top bar. Benz grumbles as if the net personally offended him. Goalies are weird about the pipes.
I meet King at the wall with water, and Drake appears next to me.
“It happens to the best of us,” he consoles King.
King nods in acknowledgment. “I shoulda had it.”
“You’ll get it in next time.” I truly believe it. He’s already a crucial part of this team and will definitely be the future as I get older. I dismiss that thought. I’ve got years ahead of me. Retirement is too many years off to count.
“Drake, how are the ribs?” Grayson asks.
“All good,” he responds and hops over the boards.
After a shift in the third period, Grayson nudges me. “What about you? Any aches or pains to report?”
“Nah, just a bruised ego.” I haven’t scored, and my team is down by a goal. It’s my job to fire the guys up and score.
“You’re not a one-man team. Go easy on yourself.” He pats my arm as he walks away.
On my next shift, the trash-talking escalates. “I hear you won’t fight. Just a momma’s boy in a hockey uniform,” a defender taunts me.
I’m unfazed, but Lucky pushes his defender off the puck, and it’s a good thing the ref missed it. “Are the taunts below the belt?” I ask after the ref blows the whistle.
“Nah, just annoying.” Lucky skates into position, and I have to take him at his word. As the captain, it’s my job to report slurs and other issues to the refs.
King ties the game up on his next shift, but they score again, putting us behind by one.
I take my position on the line for the face-off and ignore their winger grinning at me. He looks maniacal. Drake steals the face-off, and the play starts as usual. Their winger stays on me instead of a defender picking me up. We’re a mismatch and Drake notices.
I skate wide and receive Drake’s pass to dish it back to him, and he reroutes it to Lucky. Lucky skates around the net with the puck, and I’m in position, but my legs are taken out from behind.
The whistle blows, but their winger has me pinned down.
“You gonna fight me now?” he growls.
Before I can respond, Drake is there, ripping him off me, and Lucky helps me to my feet. The guy drops his gloves, and Drake strips his off.
The darkness rears up. This is my fight, and I’m not letting Drake possibly get hurt defending me.
It’s not a choice; it’s instinct. I don’t remember taking my gloves off, but they’re not on when I’m yanked off the ice and he stays down, curled in a ball.
There’s a thin streak of red on the ice, which means everything stops. Drake is pushing me back, but I’m horrified by what I’ve done. My mind flashes back to breaking my rival’s rib. I listen for his breathing and don’t hear anything.
“He’s not moving?” I panic.
“He’s a dramatic asshole. And not the good kind,” Lucky jokes. “Hey.” He smashes his palms on each side of my face. “He’s fine. The bastard’s faking, hoping to get you ejected.”
“There’s blood.” I point.
“It’s yours,” Drake says, and it sounds like he’s refraining from calling me stupid.
I glance down at my hands, and my knuckles are bleeding. The darkness is so close to the surface. I let it out by mistake, and an innocent guy paid the consequences. This is what I’m protecting Grayson from—my random violence.
Drake wordlessly enters the penalty box to serve my time while Gray cleans me up. “There’s no blood on him. It’s on the ice from when you put your hand down for balance.”
I glance around for the EMTs, but play has already restarted. “They took him out already?” My head is stuck on how badly he’s injured.
Gray looks confused. “He’s in the sin bin with Drake. He’s got extra time for flopping.”
What they were trying to tell me finally sinks in. The guy’s fine. It’s another day at the office.
“This is going to sting.”
He’s so gentle as he uses the disinfectant on my ragged skin. I’m used to the sting but inhale sharply. He’s so close, and I smell terrible. I’ve never cared about smelling bad around Gray before.
His fingers caress mine as he binds them with tape to stop the bleeding. He’s working slowly, as if we’re not in a game and I won’t have to play in a couple of minutes. He’s touching me as if I’m the most important thing to him.
“Hurry up,” I snap, unable to tolerate his caring touch. I don’t deserve him and the way he forgave me for the past. I’ve done nothing but hurt him throughout our friendship.
I don’t even remember injuring my knuckles. Even if the guy flopped, he was saved by the rules of the game and our teammates pulling us apart.
No one would be there to save Grayson if I lost control with him.
I’d rather take the blame for damaging our friendship than see the marks I left on him.
I’d rather he hate me than to physically hurt him.
I’d rather die than harm him.
Seeing Grayson fake normalcy every day brings a heaviness to the air and an unseen physical barrier between us so large I can’t get around it.
Staying at the team hotel before our home game is a break from that.
It’s one more thing for me to wallow in guilt over.
My alarm will go off soon for the team’s breakfast. I shut my eyes, hoping to relax.
This hotel is my second home, and I’m grateful it has firm mattresses and soft sheets.
But there’s not a hint of menthol or coconut oil, so it can’t compare to home with Grayson.
For the past few days, we’ve texted and talked as if nothing is wrong.
But everything is wrong. He won’t confess that my rejection hurt.
I can’t stop leaving him notes, and I’m not sure if it’s for his benefit or mine.
That’s a lie. It’s for me. Doing it confirms I’m selfish and I deserve the darkness that lurks inside me, waiting for the opportunity to cause harm. It has no conscience and no remorse.
Drake pulled me off the player before I could do any serious damage, but I would’ve if given the chance.
Tonight’s game will be a test of the team’s restraint. We’re playing Tampa, and our former teammate, Richardson, will be out for blood. Trading him was the best thing for our team, but he’s a hoser.
Benz loaned me a crystal for calm and clarity. He swears by their powers, and I need all the help I can get. I’ve given the team a speech about ignoring Richardson’s taunts and taking the high road. It would be very embarrassing to black out and lose my shit in this game.
I clutch the purple amethyst like a lifeline. Benz also gave me a leather band to wear the crystal around my neck. I’ll keep it in my pocket until game time and reevaluate then.
I’m always evaluating and reevaluating situations.
My mind wanders back to Grayson, and he steals all of my focus. The crystal heats in my hand, and it’s a pleasant sensation.
Clamping the lid on my attraction to Gray is the only viable solution.
We’ll get past this. We have to.
I’m going crazy keeping my distance. Part of me wishes our night together had never ended.
That reality never set in, and we could live in a bubble of naked bliss.
I’ve held myself back from physical touch, and the ache feeds my darkness.
It’s hard to be in the same room because I crave his closeness and covet his hands on me again.
I press my palm into my growing cock. The thought of Gray’s strong fingers gripping me is enough to get me hard. I’m so pathetic.
Vaguely, I wonder if the crystal can keep my dick in check, but I’m not brave enough to test it out.
Instead, I throw the covers off and decide to rub one out in the shower before breakfast. Hopefully, that will be enough to make my dick behave.
I can’t sport a hard-on every time I think of Gray or when I get near him. My mouth might lie, but my cock hasn’t mastered that skill.
It’s going to be a long day, and letting Gray or my team down isn’t an option.