Chapter 16
DENNY
One of my favorite practice games is a version of monkey in the middle.
As long as I’m not the one in the middle.
We change it up by making a triangle—three of us on the outside and one on the inside that we’re keeping the puck away from.
It’s easy enough when there are two on one.
There are only so many different ways the puck can go. Three on one is far less predictable.
I’m on the outside with Jackson Troy and Dasan Ukiah. Willits Hopland is our monkey. Honestly, he’s gotten his stick on the puck far more times than I do when I’m the monkey. He has yet to fully intercept it, but he has knocked it off course and forced us to chase it.
Dasan sends the puck my way, and I have it flying back toward him as soon as I can reach it. I slide a little to the left, giving both Dasan and Jackson a different angle. Dasan looks at Jackson as he passes it back to me.
We play a game between us since Willits is waiting for one of us to send it to Jackson. After the sixth or seventh pass, I finally send it his way. Sure enough, Willits hits the puck with his blade, and Jackson has to go after it.
“Nice,” Dasan tells Willits. “Waiting us out.”
Willits winks, shrugs. The puck comes flying back at us and streaks through Willits’ legs, making the three of us laugh as Dasan chases it down again.
“Take that, fucker,” Jackson says as he gets back in place.
“Trade with me,” Willits invites.
“God, no. I’d much rather work around the obstacle than be the obstacle,” Jackson says, laughing.
“Troy,” Coach calls, and we pause to face him. “Swap out. Wiley, inside.”
They hit gloves as they pass each other, Willits skating off in the direction D’Quan came from. Jackson moves to the outside so D’Quan can be monkey. D’Quan Wiley is a massive fucking man. Without skates on, he’s well over six feet. With skates on, I feel like he’s a damn tower.
“At least with him being so tall, it’ll be easier to get it between his legs,” Jackson notes. “He has to move so far to block it.”
“You’d think so,” D’Quan says. He has the deepest damn voice I’ve ever heard. Deep like rolling thunder but smooth as fuck. I could listen to it all day. It has such a calming, soothing quality to it. I bet he puts his kids to sleep reading stories like it’s magic.
D’Quan’s strategy differs from Jackson’s. He watches us more than the puck, waiting to make a prediction until a split second before the puck leaves our sticks. His reach is longer, so we might take a few sliding steps backward to widen our triangle, something he smirks about.
Interestingly, he stops the puck a whole handful of times.
“Willits,” I call. “Even in a bigger circle, D’Quan catches the puck more than you do.”
“Fuck off,” Willits calls back.
We grin as I try to pick the puck up off the ice and chuck it through the air at about knee level to Jackson. That D’Quan wasn’t expecting. His booming laugh as it streaks by him has my smile widening.
“Good,” Coach says as he skates just off to my right. “That’s the idea. You see what’s not working, so try something new. Adapt to what your defense is doing.”
“Yes, Coach,” the three of us circling D’Quan answer.
“Wiley, you’re a beast. You have the ice covered, but what about the air around you? How do you adapt to different shots?”
D’Quan nods. “I need a glove like Badcock has, Coach,” he answers.
Coach grins. “Ah. Now that’d be an unfair advantage.”
“Would it, though?” Dasan wonders. “That means he can’t truly grip the stick with two hands. If anything, it’d be a handicap since, in a game, there aren’t a lot of times that the puck goes through the air. That trick only works sometimes.”
“Fair enough. I like the airplay. Alternate with that sometimes. Now you’re expecting it, Wiley. You need to adapt too.”
“Yes, Coach,” D’Quan answers.
We spend the next half an hour silently shooting pucks at each other, at least half of them airborne. Honestly, D’Quan adapts his play far quicker than anyone else I’ve ever seen. I’m fucking impressed.
“You need more ice time,” I comment when we slow down a little.
D’Quan meets my eyes. “I’d like that. Put in a good word for me.”
There’s something in the way he says it that has me watching him. We break apart and gather around the bench with the rest of our teammates as Coach talks about the upcoming game.
“You joining us, Willow?” Nason asks.
“Not for the away games yet,” I answer.
“Everything okay? You need anything?” Marion asks, placing his big goalie glove over my head.
I shove him away, smiling. “Nothing that’s possible outside a paranormal story,” I answer.
“We’re okay. I just… don’t have anyone to help me with Ty, and I’m not comfortable leaving him for several days at a time.
He’s brand new. The statistics of newborns dying suddenly in the first six weeks of life give me nightmares. ”
“You need to stay off the internet,” Zenia says.
I grunt in agreement. “Sally’s brother is here, and he’s helping me.
He’s home with Ty now, but…” I shake my head.
I understand that he wants to be a constant in Ty’s life, but what if he wants to go out?
What if he wants to get a job? My son isn’t his responsibility, and even though I heard what he said, asking him to put his entire life on hold to be with Ty while I’m busy with hockey feels too big. And unfair.
“Hey, if you need anything while we’re away, Tash and I live close. I know she’d be happy to help out. She’s already got baby fever again. I keep telling her three is enough, but she’s unconvinced,” D’Quan says.
I incline my head. “Thanks.”
“I think what he’s really saying is please let my wife have baby snuggles so we don’t have to have another one yet,” Jackson says. His mimicry of D’Quan’s deep voice makes us laugh.
“Alright,” Coach says. “Focus for a minute. Denny will be with us for home games and practice. We’re talking about the middle of the month, he’ll be with us, bringing Ty with us.”
“Have you gotten Ty’s passport?” D’Quan asks.
I nod. “Not in hand, but I filed for it, yeah.” Looking at Coach, I say, “Hey, Coach. I think D’Quan needs more ice time. Just my humble opinion, but that man is magic.”
D’Quan tilts his head, surprised. Coach looks between us for a moment before nodding at me without comment.
“Noted,” Coach says. “That’s all for today. Go clean up and get some rest.”
As if his dismissal triggered my fatigue, I yawn as I follow my teammates to the chute and locker room beyond. I toss my gloves into the cubby as D’Quan shoves me. “I was joking, man, but I appreciate it.”
“Your ability to modify your gameplay so quickly to answer what we were doing is impressive. It’s valuable, and we should take advantage of that. Besides, you’re not my competition.” I shove him back as he heads to his cubby.
D’Quan snorts.
“Before you get slow and sloppy,” Nason says. “You older players hang around way too long.”
“I’m thirty-one,” D’Quan deadpans, frowning.
“Yes, sir. I respect my elders.” Nason bows in his direction.
D’Quan reaches for him with his stick and wraps it around Nason’s ankle. He doesn’t tug hard enough to make Nason fall, but it’s enough that we’re all laughing as we strip out of our gear.
As soon as I’m under the hot water, I scrub my hair, digging my fingers into my scalp. Sweat doesn’t just smell; it makes me feel oily and uncomfortable. Especially and primarily in my hair. I can deal with just about anything else, but only if my hair is clean.
When I’m relatively clean, I stand under the hot spray of water and breathe in the thick steam with my eyes closed. Usually, I would stand here for a very, very long time. Almost always until I’m the last one in the locker room. I like this moment of decompression after practice or a game.
With Tyler home watching Ty for me, I don’t feel like I have that luxury anymore. I know Tyler offered and wants to be there, but it feels like I’m taking advantage of him by extending my time out of the house.
Then there’s the idea that we’ve recently fucked. He’s been in my bed most nights for the past week or so. Is there something here?
As soon as the question enters my head, guilt makes my mouth taste sour. Why do I feel far more of a connection with Sally’s brother than I did with her? It’s wrong. It’s fucking inappropriate. I feel like I’m cheating on her, and I didn’t feel this guilty when I was actually cheating on her!
Sighing, I turn the water off and step out of the shower. There’s still chatter and laughter as I head for the cubbies, drying along the way. Once I slip into my underwear, I drop my ass to the bench and lean backwards, letting my eyes close as another yawn overtakes me.
Someone kicks my foot, and I open my eyes. Zenia stands over me. “You sleeping at all? He keeping you up all night?”
With another heavy sigh because my body feels really fucking heavy all of a sudden, I begin pulling on my socks. “Yes, I sleep, but is it really sleep when it’s constantly interrupted?”
“So he doesn’t sleep well?”
“He sleeps pretty good. But he’s little. He has to eat often. Every few hours.”
“I grew up on a farm,” Nason says, and I glance in his direction while pulling up my pants.
“Our mare had a foal but died soon after—she was attacked by coyotes or something. I’m not sure.
My parents didn’t tell us what happened exactly.
We had to feed the foal every three hours, too. It’s exhausting.”
“You’re comparing his human kid to a horse?” Marion asks.
Nason laughs. “Actually, most mammal newborns need to feed every three hours. Any creature that nurses as their first form of food and nutrients do. It’s normal.
I’m just saying, I remember what that sleep schedule is like.
While I was excused from a lot of it because of hockey, I didn’t get a break on my days off because those ended up being my days to tend to the foal. ”
“Well…” I say as I tie my sneakers. “Thank you for commiserating?”
The room fills with chuckles.
Once I stuff all my gear into the bag and get it slung over my shoulder, Zenia is at my side, and we leave together. “What’re you doing tonight?”
“I’d like to say I’m sleeping, but I’ll probably be feeding my baby,” I answer. “And relieving Tyler from baby duty.”
“Ah.”
I clap his shoulder before he can ask anything else. “See you tomorrow, Zen.” To further discourage any follow-up, I jog across the parking lot to my car. My trunk is already rising as I click the button on my key fob. I’d started my car before loading my gear bag, so it’s semi-warm.
Once I’m inside, I rub my hands together and shiver dramatically. It’s so cold that it’s too cold to snow. Fun times. Have to love single-digit weather.
As soon as I’m home, I head into the living room where Tyler is usually hanging out with Ty. The room is empty. As is the bedroom they kind of share. Huh. His car was in the driveway, so I know he’s in the house somewhere.
I wander around until I come to a stop just beyond the hall, catching sight of Tyler. He has a baby sling wrapped around him, and Ty is sleeping against his chest. He has headphones on as he shakes his ass while moving around the kitchen.
Laughter nearly escapes when he turns slightly, and I see he’s also wearing an apron, further protecting Ty from whatever he’s doing.
He comes around the island, and I don’t quite swallow the groan that escapes.
He’s wearing these little shorts, but it’s not the shorts clinging to his ass that have me groaning.
It’s something about those long fucking socks that reach up his calves.
Slutty socks. I’m nearly rolling my eyes at the thought because…
they’re socks. Socks! Yet, as I watch him move around with his slutty socks and those fucking glasses, headphones on while he shimmies a little and my baby on his chest…
Let’s just say that it’s probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking seen. Seriously. Maybe I can get him into bed with those socks on. Socks and glasses. Nothing else.
The images flooding my brain have me shifting my weight and trying to ignore my chubbing dick. My movement alerts Tyler to my presence, and he looks up, meeting my eyes and smiling.
He taps the phone on the counter and pulls his headphones off. “Hey. How was hockey?”
I already feel a little frozen, but the question levels up this entire vision to the point where it practically screams domestic! Words are lodged in my throat so I can’t make myself answer. Instead, I cross the space and cup his face in my hands, staring into his pretty eyes.
A second passes. The longer I look at him, the more guilt tries to claw its way to my chest. Sally’s brother. This is Sally’s brother. My baby’s uncle. I can’t be this into him. I just can’t be.
But I am.
“Are you okay?” Tyler asks after several silent minutes have passed.
I nod and press my mouth to his. Tyler sighs. I feel his hand on Ty’s back, as if giving Ty extra support so he won’t magically roll himself out of the sling backward, but the other now rests on my side. His touch is hot, bleeding through my shirt to my skin.
My baby between us is the only thing that prevents me from making this moment far more heated than I’m keeping it. “You keep wearing those slutty socks, and I’m going to fuck you on the counter,” I mutter, biting his bottom lip.
Tyler grins. “Oh, yeah?”
“Seriously. I’m just as startled as you are.
They’re fucking socks, but if you could feel the way my dick started reaching for you as soon as I saw them.
” I shake my head. “It’s ridiculous. When we put Ty to bed tonight, your glasses and those damn fucking socks are what I want to see you in, Tyler. ”
He likes what I say. “Are you fucking me this time?”
“Do you want me to?”
He studies me and then shakes his head. “No. I think I want to fuck you again. You have a pretty, perfect hole, Denny.”
I grunt and take a step back. “No more talking of slutty socks and holes with my baby between us.”
He laughs and turns back to the kitchen. “You started it.”
That I did.