Chapter 5 #2
Did Denali call him Kid’s Toy?
Oh my god, was that a nickname? I was horrified—not just that Montoya had a shitty nickname on his hockey team, but the bigger implication that Denali was part of the group ganging up on Montoya. He couldn’t be—Denali would never bully someone.
Would he?
My stomach sank as I saw how Montoya flinched when Denali spoke to him.
How could Denali do that? After everything that happened that summer, how could he push down one of his teammates? I wasn’t just angry—I was hurt. Because this wasn’t the boy I knew at all.
I yanked my arm away from Denali. “Can you stop manhandling me for five seconds?”
He blinked, his tone immediately softened. “I’m sorry.” But when his gaze landed on Montoya again, the venom returned. “That was inexcusable—”
“You need to watch your attitude,” I retorted.
Both boys froze. Denali was taken aback again. “I’m his captain—”
“That gives you the right to talk to him like that?”
“He should’ve been paying attention—”
“And you should watch your tone. I don’t care whose captain you are, you don’t talk to anyone on your team like that.”
We were too close again, and I couldn’t stop glaring at Denali. Considering his past, how could he join in on Montoya’s torment?
Denali muttered something under his breath and slipped on his helmet, returning to the rink.
Montoya remained but the color had drained from his face, he looked petrified. “I’m really sorry—”
“It was just a fall, we’re good,” I promised.
“I can’t believe you said that to Denali.”
“Oh, please.” I watched Denali walk to the rink, my insides twisted up from the conversation. “He’s an athlete like any other. You just have to learn how to handle them.”
“Um, who are you?” Montoya scrunched up his features. “You’re not one of the hockey girlfriends. Or, sorry, are you?”
“The girlfriends? No, I’m not dating a hockey player, that curse won’t befall me," I joked. "I’m a teammate’s sister—it’s a toss-up on what’s worse.”
“I don’t think I’m allowed to laugh at that,” he admitted, a nervous laugh slipping out. “Um, I’m—”
“I know who you are, Montoya. Cleo’s a friend.” I thumbed towards Cleo before holding out my hand to shake Montoya’s. “I’m hosting a mixer for my floor. I know you’re not one of my residents, but you’re required to come. I don’t want leftover pizza.”
“Pizza?” He hesitated before grabbing my hand. “My RA just texted us the floor rules. He didn’t say anything about pizza.”
“I always order food, I love abusing the housing budgets.”
Montoya’s lips twitched for a small smile. “Whose sister are you?”
“I’m Zariah—Elijah’s twin.”
For a moment, Montoya shook my hand, but his muscles seized, his hand squeezing mine unnaturally tight. The smile vanished like someone slapped it off him.
“Kid’s Toy!” someone shouted from the rink. “On the ice!”
Montoya dropped my hand and recoiled away. “I didn’t know you were Elijah’s sister—”
“It’s okay—”
He headed to the rink, head down. “I have to practice—I’m sorry—I hope you have a good mixer.”
My stomach sank. I didn’t know how Elijah’s situation affected his team, and I didn’t know if Montoya was involved. I pinched the bridge of my nose, breathing deep. Okay. It wasn’t ideal but it wasn’t impossible. We’d figure this out.
I made my way back to Cleo. “Please tell me Montoya’s nickname isn’t Kid’s Toy.”
“It is. His only friends are in an all-consuming relationship, and I can’t let Montoya wander aimlessly with his teammates.” She narrowed her eyes. “The Gladiators had a hot sauce contest yesterday.”
“Did they burn a lot of tongues?”
“No, they dripped it onto unmentionable places until someone cried mercy. Coach had a talk with them this morning. That’s why one of the boys is excused from practice.” She glanced my way. “Montoya wasn’t involved but he’s too easily influenced—”
Some of the hockey players on the ice erupted into catcalls and whistling, interrupting Cleo. I spotted who they were calling to—Denali, taking his helmet off. One of his teammates soared by, shouting out, “Daddy Denali!”
“Oh my god.” Cleo blinked. “Everyone’s been trying to get him to cut that beard. What made him change his mind?”
Denali glanced over, skating towards another player. He had his helmet back on, I couldn’t see his face anymore, but I saw the subtle turn as he glanced from Cleo to me. For a beat, I could feel him watching me.
He slammed into another player, who tumbled to the ice.
“Fuck, Denali!”
“Sorry!” he barked, hurrying to help him up.
“Daddy Denali,” Cleo repeated. “If I don’t wear makeup for a day, the boys ask if I’m sick. Denali cuts his beard and he’s suddenly hot. Men have it so easy.”
For a moment, I was too busy watching Denali to understand. But when her words sank in, something dug its claw deep inside of me. “You think Denali’s hot?”
“Uh, yes, I have eyes.”
“Hot, like…?”
“Denali’s always had the sexy mountain man look. And with a clean beard, it’s so much better,” Cleo explained and I had to stop grinding my teeth. “Our followers certainly think so. You should see the Denali comments on our pages.”
I was irritated, but what for? Denali didn’t belong to me and that wasn’t jealousy. It couldn’t be. I refused to lay a claim on him, I actually didn’t care who he was with.
That’d even be better. If Denali was with someone else, kissing her goodnight, writing her letters, tying her ice skates—
Someone clapping their hands snapped me into focus and I caught sight of their new coach, decked out in a crisp midnight-blue suit. The irritation melted away as I stared in surprise. Elijah mentioned they hired a new coach, but Anthony Sémajuste? The New York hockey player? The Séma-automatic?
“Shit really has changed around here,” I whispered.
“Gladiators!” he shouted. “We have something to talk about, come to the bleachers!”