Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
JONAH
Before Alexio arrived, I asked Nikos not to mention that I was with the PPHL if he didn’t already know who I was. “Guys like him get weird about it, okay? And I’m not in the mood to get into an argument with some asshole hockey player about who does and doesn’t belong at the arena.”
Nikos didn’t argue with me. “Why do you think he won’t know you?”
I almost laughed. “Because guys on the NHL teams make it a point not to know any of us. And I don’t have any fight left in me tonight.”
Nikos was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “I want to believe my brother won’t be a twat about it, but he can be a little stubborn sometimes.”
I had no doubt.
But I couldn’t be angry at either of them. Fuck’s sake, they were taking care of my dad while my mom was god only knows where, and my brothers had no idea what was happening. I had to sort this out, but I was running out of time before the game, and I was starting to feel a little desperate.
Luckily, Nikos’s brother wasn’t too far, and it only took him ten minutes to get back to the shop, pulling his car into the narrow alley. I heard the car door open, then slam shut, and heavy, arrogant footsteps heading toward us.
Though maybe I was projecting. He might be the one non-ableist, non-asshole player in the league.
“Jonah, right?” His voice was even deeper in person, and fuck…it was nice. It was really nice. I shoved that thought away because what the fuck? I did have weird taste in things that sighted people couldn’t relate to, but I usually didn’t get all shivery over a low rumble.
Idris Elba was my one exception.
And Pedro Pascal when he was dressed up in the Mandalorian mask.
I realized I hadn’t answered him and awkwardly shoved my hand in the direction of his voice. Of course, I hadn’t realized how close he’d come, so I immediately knocked my knuckles right into his balls.
“Shit,” he grunted.
“Fuck,” I answered back, ripping my hand away. “I swear to god I didn’t do that on purpose.”
He took a breath. “I believe you.”
I didn’t bother to offer my hand again. Instead, I gripped my dad’s shoulder and propelled him forward. “You first, old man.”
“Whose car is this?”
“It’s mine. Do you remember me?” Alexio asked.
“I don’t get in strangers’ cars.”
I tried not to groan. “He’s your Uber driver. Let’s go home.”
That got him in the back seat, at least, and I slid in beside him, buckling up and then keeping a hand on his shoulder in case he decided to jump out while we were moving. I wasn’t sure if he still knew how to work the doors, but I wasn’t taking chances.
My mom had very clearly left out how advanced my dad’s diagnosis was. She’d made it sound like it was fresh, but I was starting to realize she’d probably ignored his symptoms for a long, long while before she couldn’t handle it anymore.
“Sorry to make you feel like an actual Uber driver,” I called up to Alexio, who pulled out onto the main road.
“I’ve been called worse.”
I almost laughed. Not quite, but it was a near thing. “I mean. Same. I appreciate this though.”
“Of course. Someone should be looking out for your dad.”
It took me a second to understand he was throwing that jab at me. It hit me right in my tender spot, and I quickly leaned forward. “Okay, first of all, fuck you. I didn’t know this was going on. Second of all—”
“Bollocks. I refuse to believe you didn’t know your own father was ill.”
“You can refuse to believe until your dick comes liquid gold, bruh. That’s not going to change facts. You have no fucking idea what my relationship with my parents is like.”
“Clearly,” he snarked, “it’s shit.”
I sat back and gritted my teeth, trying not to grind them down into nubs because technically, I needed them to eat and chirp.
And to tell his guy what a dick he was. I took a deep breath and counted to ten.
When that didn’t work, I counted to twenty.
That also didn’t work, so I tried it in French. Then in Russian.
After Japanese and Cantonese, my heart was no longer racing.
“You’re not wrong,” I finally said.
“Sorry?” he asked, a little too loud, which instantly pissed me off.
I didn’t call him on it. I just lowered my voice and hoped he’d follow suit. “My relationship with my parents? It’s shit. For a good reason. But if I had known what was going on, I would have been here.”
He grunted like he didn’t believe me, but luckily, he kept his mouth shut, so I didn’t have to threaten to kick his ass in the parking lot. Which wouldn’t have gone my way, I was pretty sure, though I had won plenty of drunken bar fights in my rookie years.
The drive only took another five minutes before I felt the car start to slow, and then Alexio turned into a parking lot, rolled forward a few hundred feet, then stopped.
“So, you’ll have to help me get him to his place.”
“You can’t do it?” he asked, sounding annoyed.
“Well, no. I don’t know where he lives, and I don’t trust him to tell me. I don’t want to spend the night trying his key in every door, and—”
“Fuck’s sake. Fine.” The car rolled forward again, and then I felt it turn into a parking spot, where he threw it in park and turned it off.
Fucker.
I unbuckled myself, then got my dad’s undone too. By the time I was standing at the curb with my hand on his arm, the mood had shifted to something a little less hostile. Not by much, but manageable.
“How can I give you proper directions?” Alexio asked gruffly.
“Is that rhetorical, or…”
“So you don’t get lost next time,” he clarified.
Oh. Well. I cleared my throat. “Just lead the way, I guess. If you see any landmarks, let me know.”
“Landmarks.”
“Mailboxes or…I don’t know, bushes or whatever. Something I can touch.”
“There are two massive turtle statues right when the sidewalk turns toward his building,” Alexio said. “Do you need my arm, or…?”
“No.” I unfolded my cane and dragged my dad by the wrist as I tried to keep one ear on him and one ear on Alexio.
It went as well as it could. I tripped into the grass twice, but I managed to find the turtle statues.
They were rough concrete with maybe some paint over the top.
It was hard to tell, and I wasn’t going to ask.
The sidewalk curved at ninety degrees to the left after that, and everything was great until my temple met with something very sharp and very hard.
“Fucking fuck!” My cane hit the ground, and I lost my grip on my dad as my head swam and my knees threatened to buckle. Before I could hit the ground, strong hands caught me, and I fought the instinctive urge to shove him away. “A warning might have been nice.”
Alexio huffed. “I forgot you couldn’t see it.”
I couldn’t even be angry with him. I could be angry at the fact that men like him never broadened their social circles beyond what felt safe and familiar, but he was a drop in the goddamn ocean, and I couldn’t fight the sea.
“I’d say remember it for next time, but if the universe has any kindness at all, we won’t have to cross paths again.”
“Best thing you’ve said all afternoon,” Alexio muttered, then let me go as I caught my dad’s arm again.
This time, I managed to get around the stairs and into the elevator, but as we approached my dad’s apartment, I felt something dripping down my face. “Am I bleeding?”
Alexio’s footsteps stalled, and he swore under his breath. “Yeah. I’ll get you something to clean up.”
“I can do it,” I started as I heard him unlock the door.
He stopped again. “Do you know where anything is?”
“I—” Shit. He had a point. “Fine. Whatever.” My cane found the doorstep, and I walked over it and got my dad inside without letting him fall on his face because that’s all I’d need. “Alright, Dad—”
“Where’s my son? Who the hell are you?”
I bowed my head and took a breath. I had no idea how to handle this. “He’s playing hockey.”
“Did you know my son’s a goalie? I never thought either of those boys would do anything besides lay in bed and jerk off.”
My face bloomed hotly as I heard Alexio make a startled noise from a few feet to my right. “Jesus Christ.”
“That’s all they were really good for. Their mom raised them to be puss—”
“Hey, Peter.” Alexio’s voice was softer and kinder than it had been all evening. “Do you want me to put on your show for you?”
“Oh. Yes. Thank you.”
My dad’s hand left my arm, and I heard Alexio walking him toward the right, where I assumed his living room was. I stayed rooted to the spot, not willing to feel around to get my bearings. Not in front of my dad or the dickhead who seemed to hate me on sight for no fucking reason.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone and pressed it to my ear before asking for the time.
Fuck. It was nearly four. Although at this point, I wasn’t sure I was making it to the game.
I couldn’t, in good conscience, leave my dad alone like this.
I would have to spend the next few days figuring it out because Micah couldn’t afford to miss games either, and there wasn’t a chance in hell Caleb would go out of his way to help.
Which left me to deal with it all.
“Come on.”
I startled when Alexio’s gruff voice spoke a little too close to me for comfort. “Uh. Fuck you—”
“Don’t be a child. Take my arm.”
His elbow bumped against my hand, and as much as I didn’t want to, I grabbed it. I relied more on my cane than him though, following his steps down what was definitely a very short hallway and then into a room that sounded too much like a bathroom to be anything else.
“Toilet,” Alexio grunted.
“Want me to take a piss, or…” I was being deliberately obnoxious, but fuck, the man drew it out of me.
Instead of answering, he spun me, and on instinct, I shoved him back, then brandished my cane like an undrawn sword.
“Try that again.”
Alexio cleared his throat. “I need you to sit.”
“Words go a long fuckin’ way, bud. I don’t know who told you manhandling people was cute, but it isn’t.”