Chapter 45
Artemis
The last two days have passed by in a blur of snuggles and checking Xavier’s cognitive function to make sure he’s not going to die on everyone.
There’s been this low, electric buzz under my skin, like the universe is holding its breath, waiting to come along and ruin something.
Valentina has called every few hours to check up on him, the group chat has been rife with messages, and Xavier is every bit as fucking chaotic to live with as I had anticipated. And then some.
His clothes have somehow managed to infiltrate every inch of my space, the bathroom looks like he detonated a product bomb in there, and if it wasn’t for me bringing him all his meals, he’d have used every dish in the fucking building.
And I hate how much I like it, how easily he fills my space that was never meant to be shared, how natural this all feels.
Despite the unexpected distraction of having him here in my apartment, I’ve somehow managed to stay on top of everything. It’s nothing short of a miracle.
Even my hockey team took word of my new relationship better than expected. Not that I’ve actually said the word relationship out loud. They just… assumed. And I didn’t correct them. Which might be the biggest tell of all.
Mikko: So happy for you, Cap. *kissing emoji*
Eli: Does this mean we have to cheer for the Wolves?
Ricco: I better get an invite to the wedding.
Levi: As long as you remember you’re a Raccoon… then I guess I’m okay with it.
Eli: I don’t think I can cheer for the Wolves, Cap.
Hudson: Called it. Mikko you owe me twenty bucks.
Eli: Please don’t make me cheer for the Wolves.
Ares: I think you broke Eli, Hermano.
Coach has given me a two-game benching, which I deserve for walking out on my team. He even admitted it was more to set an example for the younger kids so they don’t think they can just abandon the game willy nilly.
Willy nilly… like watching the man I-I—care for going down on the ice was akin to dipping out of the rink to pick up a milkshake and a burger instead of playing the game. Ugh. It grates on me, but it could be worse I suppose.
Self-control used to be my entire brand. Now look at me—derailed by one boy with a stupidly perfect smile and a wolf on his shirt.
January isn’t going any better for me in school than December did. It feels like everything’s so fucking fragile, grains of sand slipping through clenched fingertips.
Xavier’s asleep on my shoulder while I work.
The domesticity of the whole thing, while alien, isn’t unwelcome.
There’s something nice about having him here with me and not having to try to take care of him from afar.
I’m ignoring the niggling feeling that I shouldn’t want him here, that I’m supposed to be sworn off men, distractions, and focused solely on destroying my father and this takeover.
But when Xavier lets out a long sigh, it’s hard to think of anything other than how adorable he looks.
My phone rings. I hit cancel and send Apollo to voicemail.
Pollo: Pick up.
Artemis: Xavier’s asleep on my shoulder.
Pollo: 9-1-1
Fuck. My lungs collapse around the breath I’m struggling to take.
My stomach free-falls as any number of worst-case scenarios ricochet through my brain. Is it Abuela? Mamá? Fuck. Athena?
I extricate myself from under Xavier, propping him up on the pillow and placing a quick kiss on his forehead. I dial Apollo’s number and leave the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind me.
“Guessing you haven’t seen the article?” Apollo spares me ‘hello’ and gets straight to the meat of the issue.
Ice floods my veins. “What article?” I’m already swiping the call off my screen to look for whatever it is he’s seen but he’s dropped a link in our chat.
Trash Can Tattle With Tabitha
Hey, Trash Panda fans! Tabitha Tucker here, resident sports-blogger-salacious-newsletter-author extraordinaire. Sit down and get ready to sink your teeth into some seriously sweet tea.
Rumor has it that the ice isn’t the only thing cracking under pressure this season.
We all know that Casa De la Pena never stays quiet. While former Raccoon’s captain, Apollo, resigned from his father's company (because Papá is a "cheating cabrón,") it seems his twin, wasn't so fast to leave the boardroom.
Multiple sources (none of whom will admit to talking to me, the cowards) confirm that Artemis de la Pena—yes, that Artemis, captain of Cedar Rapid’s Raccoons and your favorite brick wall enforcer—has been quietly orchestrating a hostile takeover of his father’s aeronautics empire.
A little digging has confirmed that last year, Artemis successfully executed the purchase of one of Alonso's leading competitors. And word on the street is that this year, there’s a "hostile takeover" in motion—a fearless move that will undoubtedly have Papá Bear pissed!
No bluster or stalling tactics here, friends; Artemis's paperwork is airtight.
It seems that vengeance on Daddy Dearest for having scorned Artemis’s Mamá is high on the list of to dos while he’s beast-moding out on the ice.
Who saw the game a couple nights ago where he almost threw down against his own defender over a hit on one of the visiting team’s roster?
Well, because the universe has a sense of humor, guess what landed in my inbox this morning?
A grainy-but-definitely-them photo of Artemis and Wisconsin’s golden boy, Xavier Martinez, tucked into a shadowy corner table at Guac ’n Roll, looking much friendlier than two rivals should.
Could this be another reason for Artemis's recent power play in the aeronautics world?
We love a hero who fights for his legacy, but to be honest… I could do without the subject of his affections wearing a wolf on his chest.
Sources swear it was “just business.” But unless business now involves leaning in close, sharing chips and salsa, and eye-fucking each other across the table, I’m calling bullshit.
If this takeover goes nuclear, I’m predicting collateral damage… and maybe a forbidden romance hotter than queso left under a heat lamp.
I blink. Read it again.
My stomach bottoms out so fast I think I might actually be sick. Apollo’s voice murmurs in my ear, but I can’t hear him through the red mist descending on me.
Tabitha’s articles have been toeing the line between being a pain in the ass and being entertaining for a while. And none of us have forgotten how she outed our former captain, Justin Ashe, as being everyone’s favorite author.
But this… this takes the cake.
My hand clenches, fist tightening as I struggle to get my breathing under control. “I’m going to destroy whoever is behind this fucking article.”
It’s been brewing for a while. Their snipes at the team, digging just a little harder at us with each passing season. Whoever it is has crossed a line with this. And they’ll pay.
My phone explodes with texts, calls from my father, but Apollo refuses to hang up until he comes into my apartment from across the hall and is standing in front of me. He stares at me, his worried gaze scanning my face. “What can I do? What do you need?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I don’t even know what the right answer is anymore. Those grains of sand are pouring through my fingers faster than ever.
No amount of blinking clears the fog or slows my racing heart. Apollo takes me into the living room, he makes me tea—apparently his better half says it’s good for calming frayed nerves, but there isn’t a quantity of tea on the face of this planet that will calm any piece of me right now.
Alonso is demanding a face to face, his texts are escalating from ‘I can’t believe it’s you,’ to ‘I’m going to fucking destroy you.’
The walls I’ve so carefully crafted around me are crumbling. Everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve flashes before my eyes, right there with a spark of anger that maybe if I hadn’t been so fucking distracted by the sleeping beauty in my bed it might not have come to this.
I push that thought down, it’s not Xavier’s fault.
I can’t blame him, even if I want to. This is on me.
All I can do is sit, staring. I can’t find words when a sleepy-looking Xavier stumbles out from my bedroom to join us.
I have nothing to say when Scott and Hen arrive at the door with Ares either.
I can’t eat. I can’t think. I can’t breathe.
How the fuck do I come back from this? And worse—how do I keep Xavier from getting crushed by the falling pieces of debris?