Chapter 18
Captain’s Hall, Freedom
Robyn
I stare at the beautiful, tight globes of D’Angelo’s naked ass.
I can’t look away. I’m mesmerized.
“Gorgeous,” I murmur.
I’m sure that I first fell in love with D’Angelo at college because of his breathtaking ass.
He turned up at the college Halloween party naked apart from a pair of horns on his head.
D’Angelo looked spectacular in that costume.
A horny devil.
My devil.
Or fallen angel.
I bite my lip, running my finger around the rim of my coffee mug, as I stare at D’Angelo’s long, athletic legs, strong back, and the way that his ass is framed by the I’LL FEED ALL YOU PUCKERS blue hockey cooking apron.
The apron is the only thing that he’s wearing.
Eden was insistent that D’Angelo borrow it to protect his…manly bits…while he cooked.
D’Angelo pushes the sizzling bacon around the frying pan.
I wrinkle up my nose at the delicious scent.
There’s no better smell in the world.
Apart from — possibly — D’Angelo himself.
The scent of D’Angelo naked and cooking bacon should be bottled.
It’s enough to distract me from how early it is.
We’re determined to fit in some time together, before D’Angelo and Shay leave to practice at the arena, and I must focus on the intense press interest in the Bay Rebels after their spectacular win against the Dallas Stars.
Would it be a fair rule that all men should be unclothed in the house?
Shay would go for that in a heartbeat.
Sometimes, it’s a struggle to get him to put on clothes after he’s had a shower. He prefers to saunter around with or without a towel.
“You’re drooling.” Eden arches his pierced brow.
Eden’s sprawled next to me on the bench at the oak table. He’s wearing a gray t-shirt and joggers. His hair is slicked back, but a single golden strand falls over his eyes.
Morning light streams through the wide, bay window behind the oak table. The table is already laid with pastries, fresh rolls, and toast.
I smile, relaxed and happy.
Yesterday was a good day. The win in the game was an important one.
I’m never going to forget the way that D’Angelo walked back into the house with his arm around Shay’s shoulders, smiling with pride, or how Shay glowed like the sun.
Then Eden’s joy, when his gaze met his brother’s.
This success belongs to all of us.
And last night…hell, we celebrated.
Eden needed to watch, as Michael hasn’t cleared him yet. He appeared to enjoy sitting on the chair by the bed, however, jerking himself off in long, twisting strokes to D’Angelo fucking me.
I smile, dreamily.
I’m sore in all the right ways…and places.
I instinctively wipe at my mouth. “I’m not.”
I can only see the back of D’Angelo’s head but I can still tell that he’s smirking.
He shifts the weight on his legs. I’m certain it’s so that the muscles in his ass flexes.
I swallow.
Now, I’m drooling.
“Perhaps, I didn’t expect to come down to our celebratory breakfast and find the naked chef in my kitchen,” I point out. “But I approve.”
D’Angelo glances over his shoulder at me.
“I decided that we shouldn’t wait for the reward until three wins, after yesterday’s stellar performance. I can be generous and I’m not one for delayed gratification,” D’Angelo drawls. “At least, not for me. I rather enjoy other people’s.”
His gaze slides to Shay.
Shay will definitely be sore in certain places this morning.
Shay doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, he seems so hyper with energy that he doesn’t notice that D’Angelo’s talking about him.
Shay’s too busy — and has been for the last half an hour — excitedly recreating the game with his hockey stick in hand. He’s wearing his black silk pajamas that D’Angelo bought him.
I wince.
This is going to end well…not.
“He was like a bloody god.” Shay leaps onto the counter, swinging his stick for emphasis, barely missing the fruit bowl. Eden’s cheek twitches. D’Angelo appears to have a sixth sense about Shay’s disasters and destruction of his kitchen, which is admittedly a daily occurrence. He switches off the cooker and turns around, crossing his arms. “Our captain dominated on that ice. He has the puck. But there were only minutes to go. My heart was fucking hammering in my chest. I couldn’t see anything but the goal. I had to score.”
He throws himself off the counter, wielding the stick like a sword.
“Shay,” Eden warns.
I’m caught up in Shay’s excitement.
I’m back there.
Please let them score…
It’s like Shay can’t hear his brother. “One minute. All I’m thinking is one more goal. That’s it. I can’t let Robyn down. I won’t. Then…like the bloody legend that he is…our captain here passes.”
D’Angelo stays silent, but his cheeks tinge pink.
“And I’m thinking…” Shay darts forward, leaning on the table and slamming the stick perilously close to the vase of roses. I dive forward to steady it, before it can fall. Shit, that was close. “…I’m the fucking English Ice Prince. So, they all think that we’re losers and misfits…? They want to fire the people who I care about? I’m going to show them.” He bounces up and down on his toes. “So, I take the shot and I…”
Eden stands and rests his strong hand calmly on Shay’s shoulder.
Shay steadies and stills without his twin needing to say a word.
Shay lowers the stick and relinquishes it, leaning it against the table. “Sorry, I don’t mean to get hyper. I just do sometimes. You can tell me to shut up and sit down.”
“I’d never do that.” Eden’s stormy gray eyes settle on me. “You shouldn’t have offered him that second muffin.”
I hold my hand out to Shay, tugging him out of his brother’s hold, until he’s perching on the bench next to me. “Shay scored the winning goal. He earned it.”
Shay flushes. Then he slips his finger gently under my chin and kisses me, petal-soft.
Somehow, I feel that he needed to hear that.
I wish that Eden had allowed him to get to the end of his story, even if it’d resulted in ten broken vases.
D’Angelo must agree with me because he says, “And what happens when you take the shot?”
Shay shrugs.
D’Angelo looks determined. “You showed incredible potential out there. It took the other team by surprise. Of course, it’ll be harder in future games because the teams will analyze our play and be more prepared. Now, what happened next.”
Shay ducks his head, looking pleased. He needs this balance: his brother’s stern steadiness, but also, the praise and encouragement from D’Angelo and me.
“I scored and won the game,” he says, quietly.
I tap my chin. “Huh, wasn’t there some sort of bet going on…?”
D’Angelo rolls his eyes. “Here I am, making all this effort, cooking breakfast in nothing but an apron, and you focus on my lost bet. I still have two more games to even the score, you know.”
I chuckle. “It’s a hard life…just not for me.”
Definitely not right now with these three gorgeous men around me, a bacon roll about to be made for me, and a won hockey match yesterday.
Shay brightens. “I won this round of the kink contest too! Are there real kink contests? Because I’d like to enter. If not, we should hold one every game.”
Eden narrows his eyes. “That’s up to Robyn.”
Shay’s lips quirk. “Of course, our mascot.”
“Hey,” I protest, “that’s Seal. I’m more like…”
“Our good luck charm,” D’Angelo offers. “Players are allowed to be superstitious. We could insist that you wear the same panties from the winning game to each game from now on or that we tap your shins with our sticks for luck.”
“So, me wearing smelly underwear and having bruised shins will help?”
D’Angelo smirks. “I don’t make the rules.”
All of a sudden, I hear a noise outside in the hallway and the bang of the front door.
I freeze. “Shit, did you hear that?”
D’Angelo’s shoulders straighten and he nods.
Eden’s gaze becomes steely, as he exchanges a sharp glance with D’Angelo. Then he gestures at Shay and me to remain seated.
What on earth does Eden think he’s doing?
He’s black and blue, with eyes that still look strained with a headache. He’s booked in for hospital appointments all afternoon to make sure that he gets the right treatment over the next few months.
Now is not the time for him to act like an action hero.
“Dee,” Shay whispers, urgently.
He must be thinking the same as me.
Eden shoots Shay a look, however, that’s flashing with such fire that Shay draws back.
D’Angelo raises his finger to his lips to keep us quiet. Then Eden and him stealthily prowl toward the door.
D’Angelo brandishes his spatula in front of him like a sword.
What does he think he’s going to do to an intruder with that? Flip them like a pancake?
My breaths are quick and shallow.
Who the hell is out there?
A burglar? Wilder, my stalker ex? Melanie?
Shay pushes himself up, standing protectively in front of me.
At the same time, I slip my phone out of the pocket of my green dress and hover my finger over the emergency number for the cops, which I have on speed dial.
I needed to for my own safety, when my ex started to stalk me, even if I never called them.
The scandal would destroy my family all over again.
Please, don’t be Wilder…
I can hardly draw breath into my lungs.
I feel lightheaded.
“Hey, guys,” Cody calls breezily as he struggles into the kitchen laden under a heavy, pastel blue physiotherapy bag that matches his boardshorts. He’s wearing his TORTURER t-shirt that Michael only partly bought him tongue-in-cheek to wear as the Director of Physical Therapy for Bay Rebels. He’s carrying a balance pad under one arm and a foam roller under the other. “A little help here.”
My eyes widen.
Am I hallucinating?
I can’t be the only one to see my brother strolling into my kitchen like he’s been summoned by the smell of bacon, right?
D’Angelo is frozen with his spatula still upraised.
Shay bursts into action, however, rushing forward to grab the balance pad from Cody, before Cody…ironically…overbalances.
Cody locks eyes with D’Angelo, and they appear engaged in a battle of wills about who will crack first and mention the fact that D’Angelo is naked apart from the apron.
Shay turns and strides to rest the pad on the floor next to the table, winking at me.
I struggle not to laugh.
D’Angelo slowly lowers his arm and looks like he wants to adjust his non-existent cuff links.
He says stiffly, as if he’s dressed in his smart suit, “Good morning. Would you like some breakfast? I’ve made bacon.”
Now that’s class.
You know that someone has been raised in an elite family, when they offer an uninvited guest to join the meal, even when their own ass is hanging out.
Cody’s eyes are twinkling. “I can smell that. Hmm, yummy. But I’m good thanks. I had eggs with Mike and…” Cody’s helpless gaze darts to mine. “Where do I get a naked butler?”
Shay splutters with laughter.
“You don’t,” I reply. “Mike’s far too possessive. The poor naked butler would find himself kicked out on his ass.”
“Yeah, but what an ass.”
“Read the room,” Eden blurts. “We didn’t know who you were. You could have been attacked as a home invader.”
Cody looks surprised.
Shay perches on the side of the table, swinging his legs. “You’re lucky that I didn’t think to grab my stick and was relying on Jude’s spatula to save us. It shows that you don’t always react like you think you would in the moment.”
I smile. “You were all perfect.”
Cody wanders further into the room, dropping the heavy bag next to the table. He crouches down and places the foam roller onto the pile.
He stretches, easing his neck. “I didn’t mean to cause panic, naked or otherwise. Dad gave me a key after the…accident.”
Of course he did.
Eden marches to the wall next to the fridge where his aprons hang, selecting a red one with BURNED TO PERFECTION in black lettering. He slips it over D’Angelo’s surprised head but backwards, so that it covers his ass.
Eden silently ties the laces for D’Angelo.
“Thanks.” D’Angelo cocks his head, studying Eden.
Eden gives him a small nod.
“Seriously, why are you here?” I watch as my brother kneels on the floor, unrolling a foam mat and opening his bag. “You know that I’m always happy to see you, but we weren’t expecting you.”
Cody chuckles. “Read the room, right? I’m getting that impression. Didn’t you get my text, Eden?”
Shay groans. “I knew that it’d be a text miscommunication.”
Eden’s expression is stony. “It just said 8.”
“As in eight in the morning.” Cody taps his watch. “I need to fit this in, before my work at the Bay Rebels and your appointments at the hospital. I added a thumbs up emoji.”
I groan, tearing off a piece of toast to hurl at Cody’s head, and he dodges it. “The dreaded thumbs up emoji strikes again. Would you prefer an email next time, Eden? You know, something with full sentences like we’re grown-ass adults.”
Cody looks like he wants to give me the finger but is holding back under the weight of D’Angelo’s dominant glare.
Eden nods.
“Now that’s sorted, you’d better get on with your job.” D’Angelo points at Cody.
“He means,” I lean forward, squeezing my brother’s shoulder, “thanks for doing this.”
“Of course, you’re all family.”
D’Angelo turns back to the counter and begins to butter the rolls, ready for the bacon.
Eden cautiously approaches the mat.
Cody pats it. “Come on, I won’t bite. It’s Mike who’s into that.”
“TMI,” I mutter.
“I feel your pain.” Shay tilts his head. “D’Angelo’s the one who sinks his teeth into me, usually my arse.”
“Keep talking,” D’Angelo says without looking around, “and I really will be tempted to.”
My heart clenches, as I watch Eden kneel next to Cody.
He’s stiff and tense but trying to hide it.
He’s squinting against the light. I can see the furrow between his brows, which I now know to look for as proof of his headache.
He’s not moving quite right either, as if his muscles are too stiff.
It’s painful to think that he didn’t say anything because he thought it wasn’t important.
Because he thought that he wasn’t.
I’m going to make sure that he never thinks that again.
“Do you want to do this somewhere else or is this okay here?” Cody asks.
“What are we doing?” Eden’s expression is unreadable.
“Today, we’ll only be talking, and you can look at some of the equipment and get familiar with it.”
Eden’s shoulders relax. “Then here.”
“Don’t look like I’m here to…ehm, torture you.” Cody looks down at his own t-shirt. “Honestly, I’m good at my job. But Mike can be a grumpy dick and even though he let me practice my physiotherapy on him, when I was training, he still nicknamed me Torturer.”
“Now we’re filled with confidence.” Shay steals my coffee and takes a swig.
“Hey.” I steal the mug back and take my own drink.
I have a feeling that I’ll need it.
Eden looks pale.
“Seriously, physical therapy can be fun,” Cody promises.
Eden quirks a disbelieving eyebrow.
“What do you feel about virtual reality? There’s a game that’s really good for your needs. You can play it with a pair of glowing sabers.”
Shay’s mouth drops open. “Do I get to play?”
Cody’s expression is dangerous; many people forget this side to my brother because he’s freckled and looks like a sun blushed college student who wishes that they were surfing. “Unfortunately, it’s not for sarcastic brothers who don’t have any confidence in me.”
Eden’s eyes dance. “I get to play with the sabers.”
“Normally, I’m the twin who enjoys crossing swords in this relationship,” Shay grumbles.
“There’s a problem.” D’Angelo edges the bacon onto the spatula. “How are you going to do any treatment, if Eden can’t — or won’t — tell you his pain thresholds?”
Eden flushes, tracing his finger over his rose tattoo.
I wish that I could hug him, but he wouldn’t appreciate me doing that in front of Cody. Sitting with my brother, who he doesn’t know well, is already a strain for him.
Cody knows about Eden’s social anxiety and is giving him space. I can see how careful my brother is trying to be, at the same time as professionally assessing Eden without making it obvious.
Cody rolls a ball toward Eden, and it appears to break him out of his reverie. He rolls it back.
“I must be smart because I’ve thought of that too.” Cody taps the ball. “You can use a rating system from one to ten. One is mild pain like stubbing your toe and ten is…” Cody screams, falling onto his back and thrashing around.
“Fuck me.” Shay jumps as much as I do, toppling off the table to land on the bench.
“Got that out of your system?” D’Angelo drawls.
“Demonstrations are useful.” Cody pulls himself up to sitting again. He has a point. What would extreme pain even look like to Eden who’s more used to being in pain than any of us? “The important thing is that when you do any exercise, you mustn’t go over level four, ever. I hear that you’re a bit of a gym bunny, as well as being dedicated and hard working. Normally, that’s great. But in this case, you need to slow down and listen to your body. No keeping going, until you hit your limit, which I’m guessing is level ten, screaming and thrashing around on the floor…or getting dizzy and collapsing because that’s a ten too.”
Eden looks frustrated. “Then if I can’t go to the gym, what can I do?”
“To start with you can walk.”
“You love hiking on the trails around here. I’ll go with you,” I offer.
I love the idea of spending more time with Eden in the woods.
This time, hopefully I won’t land on my face in a muddy puddle.
I’m a disaster around nature, but it brings Eden to life to be outside in the sunlight with the birds and animals.
So, I’ll risk it.
“I can’t do more than that?” Eden demands.
“Hey,” Shay warns, “it’s only been two days, since…”
“I know.” Eden looks away.
“I can guess why you’d like hiking in the forest.” Cody rummages around in the bag. “I love the beach and bay around my cottage and couldn’t live anywhere else too. When I surf, it’s like I’m in a different world. It’s just me and the waves. Is it the same for you in the forest?”
I hold my breath.
Cody already sees himself as Eden’s friend. But Eden doesn’t appear to understand that.
If anyone can help him to understand friendship, then it’s my awesome brother.
“Sort of,” Eden cautiously replies.
“There’s this large outcrop of rocks to the side of the beach. The seals like to bask in the sun there. Last year, there was this one dark gray seal, which was bigger than the rest with this whiskery head. I looked out for him every time that I went surfing. I named him Daddy Whiskers. Mike said that he sounded like a porn star.”
This surprises a deep laugh out of Eden.
Eden looks as shocked as I am.
I love hearing Eden laugh and only wish that it was possible to make him laugh more often.
“I have a squirrel called Puck,” Eden confesses in turn.
I try to sit still and not spoil whatever spell has fallen between Eden and Cody that they’re able to talk this comfortably.
D’Angelo appears to be doing the same because he’s stopped making the bacon rolls and is watching the exchange intently.
Shay’s eyes are wide.
“What’s this Puck like then?” Cody asks, and I love my brother even more for the easy smile that he gives.
Cody’s laid back nature and conversation has distracted Eden enough that he hasn’t even noticed that Cody has guided him to lie on his front over the roller to keep pressure off his injured shoulder, while he starts to massage his shoulders and neck.
He’s magic.
“Red fur, feisty, and cute.” Eden rests his cheek on his forearm. “Reminds me of Robyn.”
I can’t hold back the snort.
Cody’s eyes sparkle, as he works on Eden’s back with nimble fingers. “Sounds like my sis. And you can build to jogging soon.”
“I’ll do it with you.” Shay perks up. “Hear that, Dee? You can go running with me.”
“I’m also going to teach you some easy ways to self-massage the pain and stiffness out of your muscles,” Cody continues. “Although I bet that you’ll have some willing volunteers to help as well.”
“Of course,” I say.
“I can do it myself,” Eden replies, suspiciously quickly.
My eyes narrow.
Doesn’t he like my massages?
Okay, I suck at them.
But still…he could at least pretend, right?
“I volunteer!” Shay says, dramatically. “Massage is my specialist subject.”
“And here I was hoping that it was hockey.” D’Angelo turns back to finish the bacon roll.
At last, he carries it across the kitchen to me, and I make grabby hands for it.
“She’s serious about her bacon sandwiches,” Cody says. “We used to have contests about who could eat the most.”
“I always won.” I snatch up the roll off the plate.
“She also won, when it came to ice cream and pancakes.”
I take a large bite.
My eyes almost roll back into my head; it’s fucking good. “I think I just died.”
Shay claps. “Total respect, love. I could watch you eat all day.”
D’Angelo preens. “Only because I’m such a good cook.”
I ready for my next delicious bite, when all of a sudden, my phone on the table vibrates with a message.
I frown. I bet that it’s Dad.
I know better by now not to ignore his messages.
Yet when I click on my messages, it’s from Dad but it’s only a link to an article. Normally, I’d never click on a link but I recognize it.
It’s the Peninsular Daily News.
Melanie’s published her article on D’Angelo.
My heart speeds up, and anxiety spikes through me.
If Dad’s sending this to me, then it has to be bad.
D’Angelo prowls to my shoulder. “I know that look. What’s the bad news?”
I click on the link and then stare at the article for a stupidly long time or at least, stare at the photograph.
The article isn’t what I was expecting. It’s only the headline and a single photograph.
But what a picture.
I’m barely able to look away because of how impossibly beautiful D’Angelo looks in it…but also because of the man on his knees in front of him.
D’Angelo is dressed in the hottest possible ringmaster outfit, complete with top hat and whip coiled at his side.
The man kneeling obediently in front of him in nothing but glittery yellow shorts is wearing a golden lion’s mask. It’s a good choice of outfit for him because he has a shock of golden curls.
I can just make out a kitten tattoo with rope binding it around his upper arm.
“Melanie published the article. She’s still a bully.” My gaze flicks to Cody’s face.
His eyes flash with rage.
Except, I’m the one who’s shaking with it.
It’s my job to protect D’Angelo from this type of press. I’m his shield.
But I didn’t protect him.
Yet how could I? I don’t even know what this picture means.
Why is this a secret?
Still, it smarts. I couldn’t stop Melanie, when she hurt my brother and me. And I haven’t stopped her from attacking D’Angelo.
My expression becomes determined. “I don’t understand what she wants. Why’s she so obsessed?”
“At the moment, she’s trying to get our attention,” D’Angelo replies. “By how you’re shaking, it’s worked. What’s this deep, dark secret of mine then?”
He’s playing it off as casual, but it’s not convincing any of us.
“You’re into lion taming,” Shay answers, squinting at my phone. “How is being into roleplay a scoop? The public know that you’re into stuff like this.”
This photograph is obviously private.
D’Angelo has already taken enough shit about being openly bisexual, and stirring up the media at the start of the season about his sex life is petty and mean.
Still, why is this a secret?
Everybody already knows that D’Angelo is a wild playboy. There are photographs of him being spitroasted over tables in bars and dancing around poles already out in public.
I heard that there’s also a sex tape somewhere.
I guess that I should track that down.
Purely for PR purposes, of course.
I hold up the phone for him to see. “When was this taken?”
I’m alarmed, when D’Angelo becomes ashen and doesn’t immediately reply.
“Hey, you’re okay.” Shay dives off the table to wrap his arm around D’Angelo’s shoulders. “You look incredible in that gear. Everyone will think so.”
Cody exchanges a troubled glance with me.
Who’s the other man in the photograph? Is that why D’Angelo’s worried?
I’m going to kill Melanie.
“It was a fetish Christmas ball.” D’Angelo taps his thigh, rhythmically in threes. He’s increasingly anxious. “I don’t know who took that photo because cameras were banned at the event. It was meant to be strictly discrete and private. It was just fun.”
“We know.” Eden stands, prowling to snatch a bottle of water from the counter. He unscrews its lid as he walks back to D’Angelo and passes it into his hands. “Drink.”
D’Angelo obeys him, and it appears to steady him.
The twins stand either side of D’Angelo, flanking him. When he notices, it makes him straighten and the fire return to his eyes.
I shake my head. “I don’t understand why she’d print this. I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t positively help your image.”
“You don’t understand,” D’Angelo growls. “This is from a side to my life that I haven’t fully shared with any of you yet because people trust me to keep them safe and their identities protected. People don’t always understand our community and lifestyle. If Melanie truly has found a way to break into it and is prepared to reveal private individuals to get to me, then she’s going to hurt my friends and wreck me. This so-called article is a threat.”
“Fuck.” Dread is heavy in my stomach. I hurl the phone onto the table, and it clatters away from me. “Why would she do something so toxic? Who’s the lion?”
D’Angelo takes another swig of water. “I can’t tell you. It’s the rule of parties like that, which you’ll know if you’re eventually invited. I have a duty to those who I dom.”
I’m not jealous.
I love seeing how happy Shay makes D’Angelo. I don’t even know how long ago he played with this other guy.
I know that it takes time to be trusted by communities and I’ve only just returned to Freedom. It makes me intrigued about being invited sometime though.
On the other hand, the thought that this connection could be what destroys the man who I love — all the men I love, as well as my own career — shoots fear through me.
“I get that,” I reply. “And I respect the hell out of you for it. As PR Director, however, I can’t protect all of us from this, unless I have the full facts. On top of that, this shit show is going to hit that guy too. It’s not fair but it is what it is.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you’re innocent and have never done anything yourself, you can still get caught in the crossfire.” Cody’s head is ducked.
I know that he’s thinking about how he and I were haunted throughout our childhoods by Dad’s scandal in the NHL.
The press didn’t care that we were kids.
I press my lips together. “You need to reach out to him.”
“I will.” D’Angelo nods.
“Are you still in contact with him?” Shay tightens his arm around D’Angelo’s neck.
To my surprise, I realize that it’s Shay who’s jealous.
Is his possessiveness because of insecurity?
Shay’s fidgeting and not meeting D’Angelo’s eye.
Is he still not able to believe that D’Angelo can love him?
Does he think that he’s going to be abandoned…again? Thrown away like trash?
When D’Angelo looks at him, Shay plasters on a hurried smile, but I can see through its cracks, now that Eden has pointed them out.
I physically hurt inside, when I look at that smile.
D’Angelo’s expression gentles. “Absolutely not. I haven’t been in a romantic relationship…ever. I’ve been in love with Robyn since college. I’ve fucked a lot of people, but it’s not the same thing, is it?”
Shay’s lips quirk up, and he looks delighted. “Definitely not.”
“I don’t own the lion. I merely tamed him for a single night, as part of a performance for the ball. Neither of us were dating. He didn’t have a dom, and I didn’t a sub. That’s all there was to it. I haven’t played with him since.”
“How do you know that Noah didn’t sell the photo himself?” Cody demands. “I mean, he’s a great guy, but people do out of character stuff, when they’re pressured, scared, or desperate for money. Noah’s from the tough side of town. It’s pretty obvious that he’s been struggling to—”
“How do you know that it’s Noah?” D’Angelo shakes Shay’s arm off his shoulder and stalks to Cody.
To my alarm, he drags Cody to his feet by the front of his t-shirt.
“Hey,” I jump up, “let go of my brother and stop glaring at him with those murder eyes.”
D’Angelo drags Cody closer until their noses are touching. “When your brother tells me how he knows—”
“Whoops,” Cody smiles, sheepishly. “I’m glad that I don’t have your job, Ryn. Sorry, I didn’t mean to say his name.”
“Who is he? And D’Angelo,” I use my best authoritative voice, which I model on the one that Dad uses with his team, “let my brother go.”
To my surprise, D’Angelo startles and drops Cody.
I’m going to use that voice more often. It’s effective. Or at least, keep it as my secret weapon.
Cody smooths down the front of his t-shirt. “Sorry, Noah’s name slipped out. I didn’t mean to say it; I’d never have done that on purpose. I suck at this secrets business. But when you combine his hair and that tattoo…”
“Who is he?” Shay quirks his brow. “And when can I meet him?”
Cody glances at D’Angelo as if requesting permission.
D’Angelo sighs. “Why stop now?”
“He’s the Bay Rebels nurse. You’ve already met him. He normally covers his tattoo, which I never understood. I saw it, however, during training camp, when he was showering. I liked the kitten.”
Eden scowls. “The kitten shouldn’t be bound in ropes.”
“Noah is the kitten.” D’Angelo pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll never forgive myself, if the press’ pursuit of me hurts him. His parents are traditional. They’re distant, poor cousins of Anderson, the finance manager. Anderson is a prejudiced asshole and would fire Noah, if he became involved in a scandal. I know that his parents won’t be accepting of him. If Melanie’s threatening Noah as well, then we should…”
“Burn her alive.” Eden’s expression is unreadable.
D’Angelo blinks. “I was thinking more sue her, but your idea works too.”
“We’re going with suing, Dee.” Shay shoots Eden a quelling look. “But why is this Melanie doing this? Why is she trying to ruin you?”
I’m shaking with anxiety.
What the hell is this all about?
I tried to find out through my sources, but no one is willing to talk about Melanie. On top of that, most of the magazines and news outlets are now looking positively on both D’Angelo and the Bay Rebels.
Is this a lone crusade?
Personal?
“When she rang me, when I was in Merchant’s Inn, she demanded a full interview with D’Angelo,” I say, thoughtfully. “It feels like blackmail to get you to agree.”
“Then I’ll do it.” D’Angelo won’t meet my eye.
He doesn’t want to do it. He’s agreeing for the sake of Noah.
A guy who subbed for him once.
He’s going to do this interview because he’s a good man and he doesn’t want anyone to suffer on his behalf.
It’s agonizing to have to shake my head because I can’t let him do that.
This has gone too far.
“It’s too risky.” I reach for my phone, tapping back to my messages. What the hell am I going to reply to Dad? “Why’s Melanie going to such lengths for this interview? Why now, at the start to the season? When senior management are on our backs? If she’s prepared to cross this many lines already, then she must have a serious reason for wanting a live interview. She could spring anything on you. I wouldn’t be able to prepare you for it. She could destroy your career and Bay Rebels alongside you.”
“If she threatens to reveal Noah directly,” D’Angelo meets my gaze, “then I don’t care. He’s only twenty-two. I’ll do the interview to stop that happening. I’d do it to protect someone in both Bay Rebels and my community from losing their families and suffering…”
I know that he’s thinking about what he went through at the hands of his own family.
Suddenly, my phone vibrates with a text.
Shit.
It’s Melanie.
HELT (8:16): Live interview with br captain 15:00 tomorrow before game. Otherwise, I’ll publish secret number 2…