Chapter Thirteen #2
“At first, it was fine. Tough love, sure, but I could handle that. But then the yelling started. The threats. The mind games. ‘If you don’t want it bad enough, there’s ten other kids gearing for your spot on the team who do.
’ ‘You think you’re talented? You’re soft.
You’ll never make it.’ Every mistake was personal.
Every missed pass, every bad shift — it was never just a mistake. It was proof I didn’t belong.”
My chest pulled tight. Carter was still staring into the fire, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twisted in his lap. I’d never seen him like that.
“It got worse the older we got,” he continued. “Leduc loved to pick favorites. He’d pit us against each other. If you weren’t his golden boy, you were nothing. He made me feel like nothing.”
My stomach twisted.
I knew that feeling.
“And things just started changing. Where hockey was my happy place before, my safe place… it became like this weird, toxic relationship. I still loved the game, but I hated how I felt playing under Leduc. I stopped smiling at games, stopped celebrating wins. I’d go home and snap at my mom, lock myself in my room, skip dinner.
I’d run drills tirelessly, sometimes until I injured myself, and then I’d punch myself in the face repeatedly and chant how weak I was.
I became this… this fucking monster. This version of myself I didn’t even recognize.
And I stayed in it. For years. Because I thought that’s what it took to be great. ”
His voice cracked on that word, and he looked away, blinking hard.
Oh, God.
If this man cries, I’m going to fucking lose it.
“And you know what? I did make it. I got drafted. I got the dream. But I didn’t get it without those years of abuse still sticking to me like mud.
That was why I bounced back and forth between the AHL and NHL for so long.
” He shook his head. “When I got drafted, Leduc looked me right in the eyes and scoffed with a nasty curl of his lip. He said they’d made a mistake and I’d be out before they could print my name on a jersey.
He said I’d fail.” Carter paled. “And I believed him.”
I closed my eyes on a long exhale. “Carter…”
“Please, just… let me finish.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment before speaking again.
“I knew — deep down — I was never playing free again. Every time I lace up my skates, he’s still there.
He’s this loud and ever-present voice in my head telling me I’m not good enough. That I’m soft. Weak. A loser.”
He drew in another long breath.
“And it didn’t just stop on the ice. I learned early on that silence was safer. That keeping my head down, not taking up space, not making mistakes — that’s how I stayed out of the line of fire. It bled into everything. Friendships. Dating. Sex.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I had one sexual experience before you. With Zina. And I was a fucking kid, Liv. I had no idea what I was doing. And I know I told you the story and joked about it and that’s what I do.
I joke about it with everyone. I joke about every fucking thing.
” He gritted his teeth, then shook it off like he was getting off topic.
“But I choked that night. I didn’t know what to do.
What I left out of that story was that I didn’t last long, and Zina laughed at me.
All the guys there did, too, and it became this running joke.
‘Don’t put Fabri out in the third. We all know he can’t last.’”
I shook my head.
Hockey players could be real fucking asshole sometimes.
“I have this vivid memory of Zina saying I had no idea what I was doing. But it was his voice I heard when she said it.” There was that soft not-smile on his lips again.
“And yeah, after that, I just… I gave up. I throw out corny lines and jokes because I know no one will take me seriously, women included. I make fun of myself before anyone else has the chance. And that’s easier, isn’t it? ”
Carter lifted his gaze, and when it crashed into mine, it was like we were the only two people in the world.
“To laugh first is easier than waiting to be humiliated. To pretend I don’t care is easier than letting it matter. Because if it matters — if I actually try, actually want something — and I still fail?” He shook his head. “Then it means they were right about me all along.”
My chest ached as I watched him, as I did my best to hold space for what he was trusting me to hold for him. Subtly, somewhere in the back of my mind, there was a voice whispering that I should shut this down, that I should tell him I don’t need to know anything else.
But I threw a pillow over that voice and muffled it completely because I wanted to know. I felt honored that he was telling me.
And I felt a burning desire to help him more than ever.
That was something not many understood about The Lifestyle; how consensual, kinky sex could be freeing and could heal wounds so deep no amount of therapy can touch them.
It’s not just about getting off — it could be about facing fears and overcoming insecurities, or reclaiming power and control, or releasing control and learning to relax.
His final words hung there, fragile in the air between us.
When I didn’t respond right away, he dropped his gaze to the fire again.
“You’re not going to say anything?”
I swallowed. “I’m thinking.”
His lips twitched, almost a smile. “Dangerous.”
“Only when it’s about contracts or cock rings,” I teased gently, then let the moment settle. “Thank you. For telling me.”
He gave a half nod, but I could see the tension still lived in his shoulders.
“You know,” I added, reaching for my third martini, “there’s a big difference between being bad at something and never being given the chance to be good at it.”
He blinked, looking at me like he was trying to decide if he believed me.
“You’re not broken, Carter. You’re just untrained.”
He smirked. “That supposed to be sexy?”
“It’s supposed to be honest.” I ate my olive, tapping the skewer against my lip a moment. “And while we’re on that honesty kick, yes… it is sexy. I find it incredibly hot, actually.”
“Okay,” he said, sitting up with flat lips. “You don’t have to patronize me now.”
“I’m not. Your corny lines make me laugh, which is a rarity.
I like corny. And I like teaching you. I like the thought of molding you to be my own little pleasure provider.
I like how eager you are and how well you listen.
And I can tell you that just by the first two times we’ve been together, that coach doesn’t know shit about you.
You’re more than capable, Rook. And you’re passing this class with flying colors already. ”
“Is this praise kink foreplay? Because it’s working.”
I smiled. “Do you have plans on Friday?”
“We travel home from the Winnipeg game that morning, but I should be free that night. Why?”
“Because I think it’s time for your next lesson. And you better catch a nap on that plane ride home...” I tilted my martini to my lips with a wicked grin. “We’re turning up the heat.”