Breakneck Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #3)

1. Off-Season, Baby!

Chapter 1

Off-Season, Baby!

Sutter

I lied, okay? I lied. But if I were a saint, I wouldn’t do half the shit I do. My lie is that I don’t come home for only a week of the off-season, I return home to Vancouver, Canada for at least a month, sometimes more. As far as lies go, it’s small by comparison to some of the shit I’ve done. But no way was I taking the chance that Alderchuck would find out what I really do for two weeks of the off-season.

It would be all over the damn internet. Me in my Steve Irwin khaki zoo shirt and matching shorts, Scooby-Doo-Fred ascot tied around my neck. All the badges I’ve earned are sewn onto my sash, including the leader badge I got from the head leader himself—my stepdad, Francisco Domingo. I think I make the outfit look hot. I never do up the top two buttons. I tie a red bandana around my head to match the ascot. I’m a total vibe.

“We’re set for shore, sir,” Charles says.

“No thanks to him. Charles pushed me, sir,” Joey says.

“Joey pushed him first,” Eric tattles.

Dad gave me a wild gang of youths aged eleven to fifteen. We’re a bit like the Scouts of Canada, but our own thing called The Moose Scouts, and designed for troubled young men. I was one of them. Dad somehow talked me into joining when I was fifteen. Only Francisco Domingo could talk an angry, destructive teenager into joining a somewhat militant organization that takes you out into the middle of nowhere for two weeks of the summer. It’s also a year-round volunteer program, but once I went off to the AHL, my volunteering was limited to the off-season. The summer crowd is largest anyway—some of the kids can only join the summer option.

Francisco was also able to earn that same teenager’s respect enough to get the title “Dad” from him. He’s technically my stepdad, but I’d be in a gutter somewhere if it weren’t for him. Somehow, he knew I’d like the outdoors. Survival. It gave me a hobby that made me feel competent.

Pretty sure Charles has a crush on Joey. I know he does. Great, now I relate to a couple of fifteen-year-old boys. Is that why I’ve been bullying Alderchuck all this time? Is that why he bullies me? Are we nothing but testosterone-fueled pubescents on the inside, even though we’re at the ripe age of twenty-six?

Nah. Can’t be it.

But now that Alderchuck’s strolled into my mind, I have to exile him from my brain. I’ve thought of little else but Alderchuck, since he stormed out of my apartment the first time we fucked. Something happened that night, a switch turned on inside of me, and I haven’t been able to turn it off. I thought a little fresh air and teaching kids some wilderness survival skills would cure me of my affliction, but I was wrong.

It’s been nothing but a barrage of images—him bent over the boat, bent over a picnic table, pushed up against a tree. Hell, on his back works for me, too. Even better. I’m gonna spread those thick thighs of his so fucking far apart he’ll need new tendons.

Dammit. On a boat. Troubled youths. Focus, Sutter.

“If you two don’t figure your shit out, off the boat you go,” I tell them. I didn’t say I was a hearts and flowers leader. This is how I deal with domestic disputes within my crew.

“You’re not supposed to say stuff like that to kids, sir,” Eric says.

Eric’s a bit of a tattletale, but he’s a little younger than the other two.

“No shit?” I say.

“He’s not really gonna do it, dumbass,” Charles says.

Won’t I? They’ve been going at it all day. We’re close to shore. All three of them know how to swim. Dad will have a few choice words for me, but I’m too old for him to ground. Besides, I would argue that kids like them wouldn’t take me seriously if I wasn’t on their level in some way, and I’d have a good point. They’re kids who have grown up in rough neighborhoods, with a rough home life. A hearts and flowers approach is too foreign to them. It’s gotta be somewhere in the middle.

There’s a reason I’ve won counselor of the year via vote from the kids and the leaders for the past three years in a row. I’m good at that balance. They know I don’t fuck around and that’s why they trust me to be there for them. Ultimately, Francisco knows that, too, which is why he gives me some leeway to do things my way.

But, yeah, they’re not fucking around on this boat.

“Get to starboard, Joey. You’re on fender duty and then you’re gonna help with the stern as we dock. Charles, fuck this up because you’re fucking around and you’re on kitchen duty for the rest of the night.”

“I won’t fuck it up because I’m fucking around.”

“What about me, sir?” Eric says.

“You’re gonna help me guide the boat to the dock using the bow rope.”

“And them?”

Three of the other boys are on the bow. They’re still teenage boys, and you have to pick your battles with them, so I let them sit up there when they were getting rowdy earlier. “I have jobs for them later.” They’re going straight on latrine duty. They’ve been fucking around and now they find out.

I hand Eric the rope, he’s shaking. “I haven’t done this by myself before.”

“I know, which is why I’m gonna be right here. I promise, you got this, kid.”

“It’s easy,” Joey assures him. “I’ll have the stern, and Charles is steering the boat. You won’t have to do much.”

“Okay.”

Eric crouches on the thin-lipped gunwale, and I stay close so I can jump out just after he makes his leap. Joey drops the fenders over, and Charles does a decent job of steering the boat flush with the dock. He’s the “me” of their little group. Cool. Thinks he’s super badass. Closed off. A total shithead.

Dealing with him, I feel bad for what I put my mother through at his age.

“Now, Eric,” I instruct.

He jumps, landing without too much trouble on the dock and I’m out right after him, giving my landing a little hockey-man flourish. I let Eric do the bulk of the work, giving a little help via my arm strength. Joey manages his side with minimal bouncing against the dock.

“C’mere. I’m gonna show you how to tie a proper cleat hitch. It’s got to have just enough give.” I show him slowly, looping figure eights around the dock cleat, and then I undo it. “Your turn.”

Charles cuts the engine. He and the other boys hop off the boat, their bare feet landing with thuds onto the polished dock. “Did we earn some free time, sir?” Charles asks, gaze drifting to Joey.

I know what they want to do. It’s like lookin’ at a young me and Alderchuck. Fight all day, devolve into other shit the rest of the time. God, I hope they’re only planning on making out, but teenagers are walking, talking hormones. I would know. I used to be one.

“You two can have free time but stay in the communal areas. The rest of you, meet me by the latrines.”

All five boys groan for different reasons and there’s some swearing, but I could give a fuck. Heavy feet plod off and I check on Eric. His tongue’s poking out of his mouth. He’s working so hard on that knot. Instinct has me itching to jump in and do it for him, but that won’t help him. That’s not how he’ll feel proud of himself.

I’m not a guy with a lot of patience, and I don’t have much left after a day with angry teenagers, but I find it in me to kick it while I wait for Eric.

“Finished,” he says. He looks around. “Did they leave without me?”

“Trust me, kid. You don’t want to have to participate in what any of them are doing. We’ll find your brother after this and you two can hang.” His brother’s older, so he’s in the age group above with Francisco. I suggested—more than once—for Francisco to put Eric in the younger group with Counselor Joshua. It just so happened that this round, we got more kids in the upper age range. But Francisco wanted Eric with me for some reason. “Show me your bowline knot.”

His tongue sticks out as his small hands fumble with the rope. It takes him a few tries. I tug on it a little, testing it. “Solid. Awesome job. We’ll make a sailor out of you yet.” I ruffle his mop of hair.

His eyes are round as marbles. “Do you think … you think my dad would be proud of me?”

My heart constricts. Waves of bile crash in my stomach. I’m near to hurling over the dock, but I suck it the fuck up.

Francisco doesn’t do things that’ll only help the boys. He does things that help the counselors, too. Most of us counselors—but not all—are graduates of the program, which requires a minimum of two years as counselors if you’ve begun as a camper. I stayed on after that mostly voluntarily. I’d be here even if I wasn’t Francisco’s son, but it plays a factor. And so, I’m not in the program, but as Francisco says, “Life’s the real program.” He knows I’ve still got some shit hanging around.

I take a deep breath. “Your dad would be so fucking proud of you, Eric.” The words sink into both of us.

“Leader Francisco is your dad, right?”

“That’s right.” I don’t correct people. Francisco’s my dad in every way. He just wasn’t my dad first.

There’s a glint in between the wooden slats by the kid’s foot.

“ Wow, wouldja look at that?” I say, inflecting a little whimsy into my voice for his benefit.

“What? What is it, Counselor Mitch?”

My skin breaks out in gooseflesh. A buoyant tingle rises in my chest. Happens every time I see one. I fish the penny out and flip it between my fingers. Yep, this one’s American, but I find the odd Canadian penny lying around in random places. Canada stopped minting the penny in 2012. They went out of circulation in 2013, but even when I come home, pennies find me. As if they’ve dropped out of another dimension.

I mean, this one could have been lost by an American visitor.

Or.

“Hold out your hand.” I place the penny in his small palm. The wind picks up, blowing through his messy red hair. This kid’s got freckles galore. Two big front teeth. Also kinda athletic. Will be interesting to see who he grows into. “My dad used to tell me that whenever I found a penny, and he wasn’t around, it was because he was thinking about me. Looks like your dad was thinking about you, kid.”

“Really?” He squeezes the penny in his hand. His eyes fill with the magic of the world.

“Really. Now, c’mon. Let’s get up there before those guys can cause more trouble.”

T he first thing I do when I get back from Camp Kawkawa? Look for a hookup. I’ve done nothing but fantasize about Alderchuck for fourteen days. I’m going to fork my brain out of my skull if it goes on any longer. There are a million messages on my phone. Some from Rhett, some from the guys—my boys—from the old neighborhood. One from Mom and little sis. There’s already one from Dad, too, even though he just dropped me off, thanking me for volunteering again. I took home another Counsellor of the Year award.

Everyone can fucking wait. I need to get rid of this Alderchuck fixation.

I don’t need anyone special. I hit up my Benduovr profile. Just like always, hundreds of messages. I have my pick, anyone I want, but none of them have me as excited as the idea of Alderchuck. That’s a problem. Am I really going to let my dick dictate my life?

Maybe it’s because he makes me so fucking mad. No one’s ever gotten under my skin as much as Casey Alderchuck. Skating around the ice. Thinking he’s hot shit. All his dirty cheap shots. I also kinda just like getting his goat. There’s nothing more satisfying. If I’m not trying to kill him on the ice, I’m tormenting him just for fun.

Fuck it. Maybe the only real way to get him out of my system is by fucking him. The season will come along, which will force an end to fucking him anyway. Why not have a little summer fun?

As long as he hasn’t blocked me, I’ve got a direct line to him.

Me

Meet me at my place.

I include the address.

I see that he’s read it immediately. Things look good. The little dots appear just as fast. And, fuck. I have damn butterflies in my stomach as well as my dick.

Kitten

No. I’m also SO not at your beck and call, Sutter. I never should have given you my number. Fuck off.

Guess he’s gonna play hard to get. I’ve never had to chase anyone before. Could be fun.

Me

I wanna tie you up and fuck you so bad, kitten. C’mon, I’ll make it good.

Every time I tied a bowline knot at camp, I thought about that knot holding his wrists together for me. Casey spread out underneath me. Helpless and mine for the taking.

Kitten

Fuck. Off. Sutter.

He’s not even trying. He’s usually a lot more creative than that.

Me

Arms above your head. Legs open wide. Your cock at my mercy. I’ll swallow it down my hot mouth. You can even fuck it if you want. Get what I’m saying, Alderchuck? I’m willing to choke on your cock, you fucking lucky asshole.

Kitten

You’re such a cocky motherfucker.

I wait.

Kitten

Fine. I should be off around four. But Sutter? I’d much rather be the one choking on your massive dick.

Fucking dammit. I think I have to concede this round to him.

I drag Alderchuck into my condo by the collar of his shirt, slam the door shut, and lock all six of the extra locks I installed personally after moving in here. Alderchuck lifts a judge-y eyebrow, I push him against the fucking wall and ravage his mouth.

Fuck.

Fuuuuck.

This is what I wanted. Craved. Needed. He tastes so fucking good. Is that … is that watermelon? How does a person taste like sweet watermelon? I dunno, but I’m gonna taste the fuck out of him. My lips crush his, and I shove my tongue so far into his mouth he should be gagging on it, but he’s not. He can take me, my roughness, whatever the fuck comes out of my mouth, and give it right back. I inhale him, and it’s mostly his musky man scent, but I catch a hint of … French fries?

“Why do you smell like a restaurant, Alderchuck?”

“I work in a pub. I told you I wanted to shower first, but you said—and I quote—the dirtier the better.”

I did say that. I thought he was trying to get out of coming. I’d also been waiting, growing more desperate by the second.

Know what? I wouldn’t give a fuck if he smelled like a sewer right now, I need to sink my dick in him. Besides, French fries are delicious.

Fumbling with the hem of his shirt, I lift it over his head and drink in his bare skin, save a few tattoos. Where should I bite him? Lick him? Suck him? He’s mine until I release him into the world again and even then, that’s negotiable. When I do, I want whoever has him next to know someone else was here. Someone who has claws in him. Someone who will fuck you up if you do something I don’t like to him.

Alderchuck inspires weird primal devotion from me, and I kinda dig it. He’s not mine, but he’s mine.

I shed my shirt, too, and our hot skin presses together, threatening to incinerate us. Is this what rivalry turns into off the ice? We need to harness this kind of fire before it burns out.

My apartment fills with kissing and sucking sounds. I continue ravaging him against the wall, keeping one arm trapped over his head, shoving my hand down the waistband of his jeans. I catch a palmful of hard round hockey-man ass and give it a good squeeze. My tongue’s wrapped around his, sucking all the watermelon flavor out of him.

“Shoes then bedroom,” I demand, extracting myself from him, smacking his ass like I own it.

He kicks his shoes off. “This is the most demanding booty call I’ve ever been on,” he mutters.

The hot skin of his neck burns under my hand, fingers digging in before I know what I’m doing.

“Just how many booty calls do you have, Alderchuck?”

“None of your fucking business, Sutter.”

He’s always gotta challenge me. “I told you before, I don’t wanna hear about your other conquests when you’re with me.”

That drove me crazy the last time. I played it off like it was a standard “me” rule, but it was one I dreamt up on the spot. In all our time as on-ice rivals, I’d never considered fucking him, but our banter via text message as Top Dog and Brat Cat really hit the spot. Something inside me clicked into place, filled a hole that’s been empty for a long time.

Couldn’t fucking articulate it if I tried. I just know that after the initial “I picked Casey Alderchuck up on Benduovr” shock wore off, he imprinted somewhere in the deep dark recesses of my bones. It was our particular brand of banter for me. I don’t want to think about him doing this shit with anyone else. It sets my damn teeth on edge.

He pushes me off him. “Alright, Jesus. Only your dick matters tonight, Sutter.”

A shot of adrenaline mixed with fierce sexual arousal barrels through me. I can’t wait anymore. I yank him by the waistband of his jeans into my bedroom.