Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Rebel Arena, Freedom
Shay
I’d trade our newbie player here with Wilder Talon from the Pittsburgh Penguins.
Newbie.
Heine didn’t even call me by my name when he threatened to tear me from the first home, family, love…stability…that I’ve ever trusted.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to skate faster.
The lights are bright in the arena. The cold cuts across my cheeks. I take a breath of the scent of rubber and sweat.
The rest of the team are skating laps with me, in between drills, but I ignore them. I’m faster than they are, passing them as they flag.
How far away is Pittsburgh?
My parents have never left their home town. Now, I could be traded like property to a strange city that is hours away.
Would Robyn visit me?
How would I survive without waking up curled around Robyn like a limpet? Singing and joking with my brother each morning? Being taught to play piano duets with D’Angelo in the evenings?
A hundred small domestic moments every day that I never knew I needed like breathing?
I ignore the screaming pain in my muscles, bloody welcoming it.
I’m not meant to hurt myself (it’s been negotiated and written into my contract), but D’Angelo can’t complain about working hard in practice to be respectful to the new coach, right?
D’Angelo fixes his icy glare on me. “Slow down. You’re not a bird about to take flight.”
D’Angelo is leaning against the rink’s boards in Rebel Arena, standing next to the new coach. They’re talking in low voices, pointing out the players and taking notes.
It’s like they’ve always known each other.
Something pulls in my chest.
If I couldn’t still feel the heat on my arse from where D’Angelo pulled me into an empty closet in the corridor outside the lockers, yanked down my hockey pants, and swatted my arse crisply enough to make sure that I’d feel it as I skated, I’d feel cold right now.
Alone.
As it is, I can still sense D’Angelo’s hands on my arse. D’Angelo is with me, even while his shoulder is touching the new coach’s, which makes me want to scream.
I need to be touching him. I need him to be touching me.
I bite my tongue, relishing the sharp bite if I can’t have D’Angelo’s.
I’m breaking the rules of my contract but if I don’t, then the tears in my eyes are going to spill over, right in front of everyone.
Lucas wouldn’t let me live it down.
He’d probably make a meme out of it.
I wish that I was a bird, as D’Angelo called me.
It feels bloody brilliant to skate recklessly fast, as if I could take flight.
Faster and faster and…
Sweat drips down the back of my neck. I clutch tighter onto my stick.
Dad saving all week to have enough money to take me to the rink, when I’d been newly adopted as a kid, had offered me the same escape.
It saved me.
Every day was a battle to obey the strange rules of the world that I’d been thrown into, which was different in every way from the one without rules that I’d come from.
Feral.
I was exhausted from being told to sit still, pay attention, and stop talking.
At the same time, I buzzed with energy and the drive to move.
I never understood how calm, silent, and still my brother could be. Eden escaped into his books, which scared and confused me. Mum quietly baked with him.
It was Dad who understood that I needed the thrill on the ice.
Dad worked overtime for months to afford my first pair of skates.
Yet he also bought Eden a pair.
What will Dad think of me if I abandon my own brother?
I promised him that I never would.
After our first parents’ evening at high school, Dad spoke to me alone in the kitchen.
“You must look out for Dee.” Dad rested his hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “You’re a good brother. But he’s…I don’t know…he just needs you. You have to help him understand the world. Does that make sense?”
I wasn’t sure but I still nodded, eagerly. “Yeah, Dad.”
Dad patted my back. “Promise that you’ll look out for him. I know that you’ve got all your new mates now, but he doesn’t. Don’t abandon him.”
“I never will,” I swore, fiercely.
Dad’s eyes were unusually serious. “I trust you, Shay.”
How can I break that trust now?
Is my hockey career more important than my dad’s trust? My own twin?
If we lose this bet should I give up my career and stay here in Freedom?
I feel sick.
I push myself harder. The backs of my thighs protest. My knees are close to buckling.
Plus, the pain settles something in me.
It punishes me for allowing myself to believe that my dream life in America with Robyn and D’Angelo could be real — that it could last.
It’s too good for trash like me. D’Angelo’s mansion is like Buckingham Palace or something.
It’s been amazing to glimpse that life, and I’ve experienced every moment as fully as I always grasp life. I don’t regret it.
If I lose it now, however, it will break me.
How do I stop it also breaking my brother?
I’m going to fight my hardest to win the bet against Heine, but if we lose it, then how do I get Eden to separate from me for the first time in his life?
I will fall apart when I’m alone. But I won’t let Eden sacrifice his place with the first people who accept and love him just as he is. He has his first girlfriend in Freedom, his new brother in D’Angelo, and his first ever friends.
After Blythe, I swore to Eden that I wouldn’t keep secrets from him. This time, however, hiding my pain is paying him back for every blow that he has taken to save my life.
For what happened to us in the Room. For saving us from the couple who hurt us.
Eden was so bloody happy yesterday and this morning.
Robyn is good for him. She’s incredible.
When they’re together, it’s bittersweet because I can tell that they’re emotionally connected deeper than I am. I may be the body that can pleasure Robyn, but Eden is the mind she needs.
My eyes burn.
Blythe always told me that I was only good for one thing.
My guts churn.
Blythe said a lot of things. I wish that I could scour them from my mind.
But how can I?
Robyn is the opposite of Blythe in every way. Yet that doesn’t mean Blythe was wrong about me.
And if it’s the reason that I’m allowed a place within this relationship, then I’ll accept it. But why would they want a long distance relationship with me?
Aside from phone sex, what use will they have for me?
What use is a sub who has been sent away?
I stumble on the thought, losing my balance. My hip slams into the boards, as I crash.
I hiss in pain, rubbing the blossoming bruise on my hip.
“You okay?” Zach calls.
“Fine,” I gasp.
I’m bent over, catching my breath.
Suddenly, there is a harsh grip on my neck, pulling me upright.
I yelp in shock.
“You are not fine.” D’Angelo’s voice is soft and low enough for only me to hear, despite the hardness of his grip. “You haven’t been fine since Heine’s sick bet. I’m not either. I should have found a way to get you out of this practice.”
I slide my gaze to the coach. “Did I mess up with the new AC? I wanted to impress him. Grayson said that a couple of decades ago he used to be a legend.”
D’Angelo doesn’t let go of me. To everyone else, it must look like he’s being a hardass and scolding me.
In fact, D’Angelo knows that right now I need his rough touch to feel grounded. His close contact stops me from flying apart.
D’Angelo turns me just enough to allow me to glance underneath my eyelashes at the new assistant coach, who is watching us with an evaluating tilt of his head.
The man is athletic and in his sixties. He has a dominant, military air about him. He is taller even than D’Angelo with broad shoulders and bulging muscles. His hair is neat and silver, contrasting to his cool brown skin and dark eyes.
“We will talk about things when we’re home,” D’Angelo says, and it makes something curl warmly inside me that he’s calling Freedom Mansion home in that casual way.
“I wish that I could hug you, massage you, or bite hard into your skin until you stopped spiraling. Let me assure you, however, that whatever happens, you will always be mine, Shay Prince. If I need to prove that by tattooing my name onto your cock, then I will. If you think for one moment in that muddled golden retriever head of yours that Robyn and I will break up with you simply because you need to move for your job, then there will be consequences, am I making myself clear?”
My cheeks flush, but a smile curls my lips. “You can brand my cock, darlin’, as long as it means that I’ll always be yours.”
D’Angelo’s pupils dilate, and we both freeze.
“Don’t tempt me. And I hope that your mouth is not writing checks that your cock can’t cash.” His hand flexes around my neck like a collar.
“No one pays with checks anymore, old man,” I risk, teasing. “I’m paying it with my phone.”
D’Angelo’s expression becomes playfully dangerous in a way that makes my stomach swoop. “You’ll pay for that later anyway I say you will. More importantly, we’re going to win these games because no one is destroying my forever family now that I’ve found it.”
“Stop it.” I push at D’Angelo lightly with my stick. “Or you’ll make me bawl. Then Lucas will nickname me Puck Baby.”
D’Angelo smirks, finally letting go of me. “I like it. I may call you that.”
“Only if I can call you Puck Daddy.”
He chokes on his tongue. “Don’t you dare.”
“Our Robyn will dare.” I laugh, feeling lighter than I have since the meeting in coach’s room.
I duck around, eyes gleaming at the thought of inciting Robyn into calling D’Angelo the new nickname.
Brat solidarity.
“Skate to coach,” D’Angelo growls.
Still grinning, I skate toward Fleet.
Fleet is glancing between D’Angelo and me like he’s trying to work something out.
“Hey, coach. It’s fantastic to have you here.
I hope to learn as much from you as possible.
I promise to work hard and take every opportunity.
” I smile at Fleet. “But I’m sorry. I wasn’t focusing properly before.
I shouldn’t have crashed into the boards like that because I wasn’t concentrating.
I have a problem with that. Do you want me to skate punishment laps? ”
Fleet arches his brow.
“Punishment laps? What bullshit is that?” Fleet’s voice is gravelly. “You’ve been out there working harder on the drills than anyone. The problem is that you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. I’m guessing that your last coach didn’t teach you about limits, huh?”
I blink.
Okay, not what I was expecting.
D’Angelo skates up behind me, nudging my shoulder with his. “You’ve fried his mind, Ty. Our last coach believed in punishments and pushing us until we puked.”
Ty?
I glance sharply between the two men.
How do they know each other?
“I know the type. I call them assholes. I’m not like that.” Fleet leans more casually against the boards. “You already have the team well disciplined, D’Angelo. They’re in good shape. I’m excited about this challenge.”
D’Angelo huffs. “Interesting that you chose to keep your employment here a secret from me.”
“A surprise,” Fleet corrects, grinning. “I wanted to see your face — yeah, that one — when you realized that I would be your boss.”
I chuckle and then duck my head when D’Angelo casts me a frosty glare.
“Don’t scare the poor pup.” Fleet laughs. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ll be your boss. Is it bringing back memories?”
Both D’Angelo and I blush.
Pup?
And why is D’Angelo embarrassed?
D’Angelo leans closer to Fleet. “Play nice, Ty. But thanks for taking on this role. We’ve been desperate for a permanent coach. But I know that you didn’t want to—”
Fleet waves his hand. “I can’t get lazy in my retirement, can I?”
D’Angelo snorts. “You work harder than I do still.”
“That may be because I don’t look so stylish lounging around with a cocktail clutched in my hand.”
Curious, I glance between them. “Are you friends?”
D’Angelo hesitates, but Fleet drags D’Angelo into a one-armed hug. “More like bros.”
My blood chills. They’re as close as brothers?
How much more don’t I know about D’Angelo? He’s lived here for years. He must have an entire life that I don’t know about.
Am I truly part of his life?
His world?
“It means a lot that you’re helping me this season,” D’Angelo replies. “We must win the next games.”
“I know what it means to you.” But it’s me that Fleet’s serious gaze settles on. “And maybe I didn’t take the job because of you but because I’ve been watching this new star player from the stands. You’re the best that I’ve seen in decades, Prince. I’m impressed.”
D’Angelo shrugs away from Fleet. “You should be. He’s good. Dedicated too.”
My cheeks glow at the pride in D’Angelo’s voice. I straighten my shoulders under the coach’s inspection.
I worry that his gaze is too knowing.
Fleet flicks his gaze to D’Angelo. “I look forward to seeing how good he is.”
My blush deepens on the low, rumbling emphasis that he puts on good.
Why does it feel like he’s talking about more than my hockey skills?
My skin is too hot. My pulse flutters in my neck.
Fleet’s gaze sharpens.
“Of course, it’ll be nothing compared to how much you’ll admire my play.” D’Angelo smirks.
Fleet suddenly looks a lot less friendly.
I shiver.
“Don’t get cocky with me, D’Angelo.” Fleet’s voice deepens. “Get back to your drills and show me what you’ve got. Send Zach over to me, before he collapses too. And don’t think that I won’t kick your ass just because you’re the captain and we’re—”
“Bros?” D’Angelo salutes.
Then he smirks and nods at me to follow him out onto the ice.
As I turn, however, my mind is dangerously elsewhere.
I should be focused on impressing Fleet and preparing for the first game on Tuesday.
Yet I’m haunted by thoughts of Robyn.
What if these are my final two weeks with her?
At least Eden wasn’t in the meeting. Right now, he’s at Cody’s house and has no idea that our entire world could be about to fall apart once again.
How am I going to tell him?