Breakneck Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #3)

13. Dad

Chapter 13

Dad

Sutter

T ha-thump. Tha-thump. Kicking feet, kicking feet against the wooden bench. And then, “Hold still just a sec, buddy.” Dad ties my skate, lacing it tight enough that the inner tongue imprints on the top of my socked foot. I reach. Wiry beard scratches against my little hand. He smiles at me like I’m something, and the skin folds at the corners of his eyes.

I chase him around the ice, stick in hand. He’s so big and so tall. I stick to his shadow where it can protect me.

“C’mon, Mitch. C’mon, bud.”

It’s an outdoor ice rink. Pine trees reach skyward, dusted with white powder. I follow his voice, his laughter, but my heart pounds. Something’s … something’s coming. “Dad. Dad, don’t go too far, okay?”

“I won’t. I’m right here, Mitch.”

Turning, the cold chill whips by my face. He skates by me until he’s ahead. The dull haze of sunlight makes for an eerie backdrop. My heart won’t stop pounding. Dan ger . Dan ger . Dan ger . Dad beckons me. Long wool sweater. Mittens. Caramel hair.

The sun moves behind a cloud. Dad’s … where’s Dad?

Rusty red.

Squelch.

A muffled whimper.

I shake my head, shedding the pull to go there. Not there. I won’t go there. The sun’s bright again. “Dad. Dad!”

His deathless stare meets my gaze from across the ice.

There you are, Dad. Thank fuck. I thought he was gone. Taken from me.

The wind picks up his locks, waving them over his shoulder. “This way, buddy. Don’t fall behind.”

Dad’s still there. I won’t fall behind. Won’t let Dad out of my sight. He needs me for something.

I skate as fast as my little legs will carry me. It’s an endless sheet of ice, heading toward the edge of the earth. I’m going so fast I don’t know if I can stop.

“Dad! Dad, where are you?”

There are shadows ahead, but they’re not Dad’s protective shadow. Something more sinister. My skate catches, I trip and slide. It’s cold. I spin like a starfish over the ice, clawing, searching for something to hang onto. When I land, I’m there.

There.

Under the bed.

A hand over my mouth—my hand.

Don’t breathe. Don’t make a sound. Don’t breathe. Don’t make a sound. Does my heart count? What if they hear? Dad? Dad? Dad!

There’s a thud, and then quiet. Bone quiet. Dead quiet. Freeze in the darkness quiet.

Rusty red.

Blood.

Squelch!

I reach my hand. Dad’s wiry beard. Dad’s wool sweater. Caramel hair. Sweat on my face. Shaking limbs. My heart beating, beating?—

I t’s like waking up in the middle of drowning. Afraid to pull breath. Afraid not to pull breath. Then my body jockeying for oxygen so bad it burns my lungs. My mouth opens maybe to scream—I’m not sure—but it’s a dead scream. No sound.

A hand hooks over my shoulder.

Y’know the whole fight, flight, or freeze thing? Yeah, I’m fight. Always fight. The wrist attached to that hand is in my grip so fast, body under me, my fist raised.

“Whoa, Sutter. Fuck, it’s me.”

Too late. My fist lands just as he’s rolling. I hit pillow. The voice finally registers. “Alderchuck?”

It rushes back. His mouth on my dick. Saliva, wet, cumming down his throat. He sucks cock so good. He’s ruining me for other mouths.

My bewildered face scans the room. Are we in Boston or Vancouver? Can’t remember. I just know it’s gotta be one or the other if he’s here. That’s something I can build on. I look into Casey’s brown eyes, and I don’t like what I see there.

Fear and pity.

Fuck that.

“Get out.”

“Sutter, it’s the middle of the Goddamn night.”

“Then I’ll get out.” I don’t bother turning on the light. There’s enough coming in from the window for me to see what I’m doing.

“Sutter, wait.”

I’m already off the bed, my flaccid dick flopping between my legs. Pants. I need pants.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” he says, watching me hunt for something, anything to cover me.

“A lot. Pretty sure I was clear about that.”

He’s not doing much to stop me. He knows once I set my mind to something, I’m a dog with a bone.

“Alright. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” he says, flopping backward, intent on going back to sleep.

Then I remember, this is my hotel room. I rented it thinking we were more inconspicuous this way. Know what? Fuck it. He’ll revenge spend on my credit card again, but I can’t be here.

I find some shit to cover my body.

“If you calm the fuck down, I might let you back in when you inevitably come to your senses,” he says as I open the door.

That gets under my skin. “It’s my hotel room, Alderchuck. I can have you thrown out of here.”

“But you won’t.” He’s lying on the bed like a cocky asshole, eyes closed. “For some reason, it’s okay for you to prowl around in the dark, but not me. You're gonna have to explain that one to me.”

He’s right, which is why I’m leaving instead of pushing him out the door like I used to. When did I start giving a fuck about Alderchuck?

“I know how to take care of myself,” I say.

“So that black eye got there itself, eh?”

“That’s different.” Hockey fighting doesn’t count. I grew up with a rough crowd, he didn’t.

“Ugh. I’m so gonna regret this.” He slogs himself out of bed. He digs around in the darkness, coming up with his jeans.

I let go of the door. It shuts with a mild slam. “What are you doing?”

“Either you come back to bed, or I’m leaving, too. There’s no way in hell I’m staying here alone, Sutter.”

Didn’t think of that in my state of confusion. If I’m not here, there’s nothing stopping him from leaving. He’ll do it too, head off into the darkness. I could stuff us in my car and take him to wherever his team’s staying, but it all seems counterproductive to getting distance from him.

“Can’t you behave for one night?”

He’s barefoot, legs covered with the jeans he arrived in, arms crossed over his chest. He looks so fucking good in those jeans, the way they hang off his hips enough to expose the trail leading to his dick. His stiff upper lip means business, and that’s a turn on too. Whatever was in his eyes before has left the building. Nowhere to be found.

“I’m getting real tired of your complicated ass, Sutter,” he says instead of answering me. It was a rhetorical question anyway. We both know he only behaves when my dick’s inside him. He moves toward me slowly, like he’s dealing with a wild animal—I guess he is—and when he gets close enough, I let him tug off the hoodie I just put on, unveiling my big round deltoids.

“By the way, you’re not wearing shoes,” he whispers.

“Huh?” I look down. Oh. Oh, fuck. My toes are bare.

He layers his bare toes on top of my bare toes. It’s kinda weird, and so Alderchuck. He’s still not sure I’m not gonna bolt. I’m not sure I’m not gonna bolt. Instinct has me running a hand through his tumble of locks. Touching him sends waves of calm through me, grounding me in reality. Closing my eyes, I let my nose settle into his hair, deep breathing his scent until my heart rate finally returns to normal.

“C’mon.” He tugs my hand and drags me to the bed. I think it’s the first time we slide in with clothes on. He keeps on with his weird foot thing, rubbing the soft sole of his right foot over my left one, settling it under my big Fred Flintstone foot.

He claws onto me, doing a good impression of a koala bear.

“Don’t say whatever stupid shit you’re about to say. Just go the fuck to sleep. I’ve had it up to my tits with your bullshit, Sutter.”

“Then why are you—mmph.”

He shoves fingers into my mouth. “No talking. Sleeping only, dickface.”

I don’t get him. I don’t get myself when I’m around him. I’m relieved he’s not asking me a bunch of questions, but I have a few. Was I screaming in my sleep? What did he hear me say? Isn’t he the least bit curious? Alderchuck was totally the “why is the sky blue” kid, pestering adults with every question that came to his little brain. It’s got to be killing him. Or maybe he doesn’t actually give a fuck about me.

Then why are we … does this count as cuddling?

Pulling his hand from my mouth, I kiss his bruised and taped knuckles. I rest my chin atop his head. I watch him until his breathing smooths into the soft cadence of dreamland. I wish I could drift off as quickly as he did, but after that fucking nightmare, I’m not sure I want to close my eyes ever again.

Holding him like this makes me feel things. Makes my heart threaten to open the locks I secured it with forever ago and pull him inside. Oh, fucking, God. I’m not doing that. Not in a million fucking years.

Imagine what that would be like? Loving Casey Alderchuck. All it took was fucking him one time—one—and I became a feral obsessive creature with a singular thought: Own Alderchuck. If I let my heart latch onto him that would be a disaster. I already burn for him, if my heart got involved, I’d perish for him.

Adding him to the list of people I live in constant fear of losing would ruin me. Yeah, not happening. I add a mental layer of cement around my locked heart. Casey’s not getting in there now no matter which part of me tries to conspire against me.

I force my eyes shut and go the fuck to sleep.