Breakneck Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #3)

16. Defining Worship

Chapter 16

Defining Worship

Casey

S utter’s been quiet since that last fuckfest in Boston. I’ve figured out his pattern—I think. Anytime he gets the least bit vulnerable, he flees for a bit. And I know my fingers work as well as his do—I can text him too—but my pride won’t let me. We’re postgame in New York and I’m at Jack’s apartment. Logan’s at school, and I was told that Rhett’s showering in his apartment upstairs, getting ready to head over to Columbia University. He’s going to get there past curfew, but Rhett doesn’t think the rules of this universe pertain to him, convinced he’s a hockey God, walking among the mortals.

Jack and I showered at the arena like normal people. Logan and Rhett have a weird fear they’re gonna end up with athlete’s foot or something. I’ve never caught anything from a locker room in my life.

As soon as I walked in the door, I traded my hat for Jack’s. Merc doesn’t love when I do that, but he’s not here. Plus, these days it’s only a half-hearted grumble about our hat-sharing ways. I think he’s come to understand that it’s a family thing for me, so he’s less jealous about it than he was originally. Jack’s part of my pack and he’s my bestie. That makes him more like a brother.

He’s poured us a couple beers and he’s got water boiling for the mac ‘n’ cheese. He knows how to make a guy feel at home. I’ve thrown myself on his overly comfortable couch, sinking so far into it that it might swallow me. Stace and I need to get one of these. He’s out with the guys from the team, getting blitzed. Dash and Syd didn’t break up. If anything, they’re closer than ever. He’s pretty sure Dash will marry Syd and he’ll have lost his chance forever.

“What’s a chance you never had?” I’d said to him. Partly because I’m in a bad mood, but partly because it’s true. He could have been with Dash forever ago. He’s in his own damn way on that one, and I hate seeing my brother so fucking miserable.

He grumbled something to himself and went to the bar. He’s supposed to meet us here after.

Before long, I feel the judge-y Jack eyes. They don’t come out often, but when they do I know he’s on to me. “What?”

“Nothin’. You’re quiet. You’re never quiet. I thought you and Sutter were on again?”

I’m quiet because I’m afraid of what might come out of my mouth. A knock at the door saves me or, more like, prolongs the inevitable. Jack’s gonna make me talk one way or the other. Rhett struts in the door. Turns out it was only a cursory knock because he has a key.

“Logan left something here. Just grabbing it,” he says, not bothering to say hello to me.

“Hello to you, too, Elkington,” I call. But he’s either out of earshot or has elected to ignore me. “Are they always like that?” I refer to RhettLo as a collective now. They’ve ceased to be one person.

Jack adds the macaroni to the boiling water. “Always. I swear to fuck. They’re in their own RhettLo world.”

“Found it!” Rhett calls as if we give a fuck. He’s not holding anything in his hands when his feet pound down the stairs, so I don’t even wanna know what he fit into the inner pocket of that jacket he’s wearing. But then he pulls out his phone to send a text and with the way he’s smiling, Logan’s definitely the recipient of that text. “Not sorry for ignoring you, Alderchuck. Logan comes first. Now that he’s taken care of, hello.”

I catch eyes with Jack and pop a brow upward. Am I seeing what I’m seeing? Rhett was devoted to Jack when they dated, but it wasn’t like this. Rhett’s redefining the term devoted. Dear God. It’s like he’s made a hockey game out of it, and he’s entered his own private competition to win best prize for boyfriend of the year.

“No one’s giving you MVP for boyfriending, Elkington,” I inform him.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about anyone else,” he says. “If Logan isn’t happy, I’ll burn the world down.”

Huh. I believe him and I’m—oh God—I’m jealous. Yeah. Of the attention Logan’s getting from his man. A man who happens to be Rhett, someone I’ve hated for at least as long as I’ve hated Sutter. I’ve officially reached a new low.

My overactive mind sifts through all the tidbits Sutter’s given me, even those he hasn’t. Like the night I lost him for a bit. I followed my instincts. He was in another world, a dark one. He needed something in this world he could hang onto. I couldn’t pull him out of it, so I did the next best thing.

Became an anchor.

Wouldn’t be the first time I did that for someone, was just the first time for someone who wasn’t Mom. I went about it a little differently, but the idea was the same. He might have been with me physically, but he wasn’t there mentally.

Last time he seemed to want to open up. Offering information. I did right back, hoping—actually fucking hoping—that these things would bring us closer. I know the bullshit he’s fed to the media about his tattoos; what he shared with me was personal.

Real.

And so, you thought you two might be real, Alderchuck. Fucking, dumbass.

Yeah, I agree with the voice in my head on that one. I’m a dumbass for thinking I’m anything more than Sutter’s personal fuck toy. Why am I even mad about it? I love being a fuck toy. It’s number two on my top ten kinks list just above my kink for being forcefully abducted, which Sutter kinda sorta made happen. He’s the hottest sex I’ve ever had. I need to enjoy it for what it is. I don’t need Sutter to be “my man”. We’ll have our fun, and then someday we’ll part ways and that’s when I’ll find the guy who redefines worship for me.

No way am I ever telling Rhett that he brought on this kind of philosophical realization for me. Time to do what I do best.

“You’re like two red flags dating each other,” I say. “You two scream codependency.”

“Jealous because you’re just your hookup’s pet, Alderchuck?”

I know I deserved that barb because my barb was equally barbarous, but it hits too close to home. I’m off the couch so fast, ready to break his perfect nose.

Jack steps between us. “Alright, you two. Jesus. It’s like breaking up a Meyer brawl. Go illegally sneak into your boyfriend’s dorm, Rhett. You have until tomorrow before I rat Lo out to Mercy. Case, the mac ‘n’ cheese is ready. Come drown it in ketchup like you always do.”

Jack’s such a dad now.

“Happy to,” Rhett says.

I glare at the door as it shuts behind him.

“Is he right?” Jack says.

Swinging around, I spy the bowl of mac ‘n’ cheese waiting for me. Steam rises from it and along with that the delicious scent of chemically-created cheese. It’s begging to be overloaded with ketchup. Too bad the thought of Sutter’s souring my gut. “I’m not hungry.”

That serves as an answer for Jack. He blinks, readjusting his hat, which is actually my hat. “Quiet and no appetite? Spill it, Casey.”

I groan loud and long. “Do I really need to say it? I never should have started this thing with Sutter, okay? It’s messing with my head. My stomach’s in knots about it.”

He thinks about that, pulling ketchup from the fridge for me, knowing I’ll eventually find it in me to eat. Jack’s listened to me bitch about Sutter all summer.

Jack’s green eyes sparkle at me. “Things have fucking changed, Alderchuck. You like him.”

I cover my face. “I don’t know. No. Yeah. Well maybe just in, like, a friend way. I don’t hate him, I guess.”

Jack laughs. “I won’t make too much fun of you if you do. You can admit it.”

I squirt ketchup onto my mac ‘n’ cheese. A lot of it. I’m gonna eat this if it kills me. I won’t let Sutter kill my appetite. “I don’t want to not hate him. I want to go back to loathing him. He’s a serious dick. The opposite of boyfriend material.” Not that he’d want to be my boyfriend anyway. He likes the fucked up thing we have going.

So did I.

Until … this is Rhett’s fault.

“End it if it’s making you that miserable. Only love’s supposed to make you miserable. It’s not worth it for anything else, dude. Even amazing sex.”

I smirk. “You don’t know how good the sex is, man, but you’re right.” I stir the ketchup into my mac ‘n’ cheese and even this reminds me of how fucking different Sutter and I are. He thinks ketchup on mac ‘n’ cheese is disgusting. He doesn’t like sweets. I’m not even sure if he likes poutine. Poutine is a dealbreaker for me. If I can’t enjoy poutine with you, we can’t date.

Jack’s still staring at me. He frowns.

“C’mon, man. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll figure this out. It’s Sutter. Worse comes to worse, I’ll take out my feelings on him next game. We have a system. Tell me about the Meyers. How’s Theo’s online candy shop doing?”

Jack has become a Meyer by this point. He was adopted by them quickly, and I can’t even picture a time when he wasn’t part of their family. That’s saying something, because he didn’t move in with Mercy all that long ago. They aren’t married—yet—even though they have a son together. And y’know? They’re as unconventional as it gets, but they’re so fucking happy. The only thing that ever makes Jack miserable is being away from them.

I think I could be happy with unconventional, too. I’m not looking for white picket fences and two point five children but growing old with someone might be nice.

We sit at the table and shoot the shit. I peck at my ketchuporoni. Is it the ketchup? Do I gross Sutter out with my ketchup that much? If so, fuck him. Any man of mine has to love my ketchup-loving ways. Dealbreaker number two.

My phone buzzes in my pocket a few times. I check it in case it’s important.

Top Dog

This is your fault, Alderchuck.

Underneath is a picture of … “Nacho poutine! What the fuck? How have I never had nacho poutine?”

Top Dog

I was compelled to buy this because I knew it would make you jealous.

Damn right, I’m jealous. What a dickface, eating nacho poutine without me. It looks fucking delicious. Look at the cheese. Look at the olives. Wait, no! Are those jalapenos? They are. My mouth waters. Fuck, I think I’m even a little turned on.

There are three more images, all of Sutter enjoying the fuck out of that poutine. If I thought he was hot before, I knew nothing. Sutter downing nacho poutine is my new Roman Empire.

“Fucking cocksucker.”

Jack laughs. “What’s going on over there?”

I show him the damning evidence. Jack figures it out right away. “Holy shit. Sutter’s cheating on you with poutine.”

Yeah, with poutine. How else would he cheat on me? According to our parameters, he can have another guy’s dick in his mouth and so can I. He can have a lot more than that. Our only rule is no repeats. I guess there’s that, but do repeats matter all that much if we’re just fucking? Oh, and I guess Sutter spouted off that other rule about no hookups when we’re in the same city. I didn’t agree to it, but only because I’m hoping he’ll abduct me again. He knows that’s why, doesn’t he?

Another picture comes through. This time I catch a glimpse of someone else beside him. I recognize the guy. Nicci. The guy who plays for Boston, who I’ve seen flirting with him, and he’s eating poutine with my Sutter. Sutter hasn’t even done that with me yet. The last time, I ate poutine in front of him, but he didn’t eat it with me.

My fists clench, and my stomach knots. I show Jack the new picture. He laughs. “Sutter’s digging a grave for himself, and he doesn’t even know it.”

He sure fucking is.

Top Dog

All that food porn and still nothing?

Me

Don’t expect anything from me when you cheat on me with poutine.

Top Dog

Is that a serious message?

Fuck. It’s you. Of course, it is.

Don’t be mad, kitten. These were supposed to turn you on, not make you jealous.

I wasn’t jealous. Not for real until I saw the other guy there. He has what I don’t have from Sutter. He gets to sit there and do things like eat poutine with him.

My phone rings. I toss my phone on the table as if it caught fire.

“What are you doing?” Jack says. “Answer it.”

“No. No fucking way.”

“Then I’m answering it.”

“Jack!”

It’s too late. Fucking Jack’s got the phone to his ear and it’s pretty clear the kind of thing Sutter’s saying with the way his expression’s gleaming.

“Nah, I don’t wanna sit on your cock, Top Dog, but I know who might.”

“Give me that,” I say, swiping the phone from him.

“What the fuck, Alderchuck? Answer your damn phone,” Sutter says.

“Or don’t call me. What do you want?”

“Am I in shit over poutine?”

Not exactly. Sorta. Both. It’s both. “Figure it out, Sutter. I don’t care enough to tell you.”

“I don’t do fucking guessing games, brat.” He huffs. “Hang on. I’ll call you back.”

“What the…? Sutter, don’t you dare hang up on me.” But he’s already gone.

“What’s going on?” Jack asks.

“I don’t know. Sutter’s fucked.”

“If how he talked to me on the phone is how he talks to you, I get why you’re so addicted to him.”

I might punch my best friend. No one should get that tone from Sutter, except me.

“Whoa, don’t worry. I’m completely taken. One hundred percent besotted with my own growly man.”

Whatever. I’m mad at everything. I stab my macaroni over and over, rage-eating this stupid meal. Maybe I need to lay off the ketchup? No. Yes. No. Ketchup is … delicious. I fucking love ketchup. Sutter better never make me choose between him and ketchup. He won’t like the outcome.

My phone buzzes again. Sutter. I should ignore him. Go cold turkey. But when Jack reaches for the phone, I’m faster.

“What?” I snap.

“I wish I was eating this poutine with you, kitten.”

All my anger vanishes. Something warm swells in my chest. But then I remember about Nicci. “You already have someone to eat it with you.”

“Nicci? He wouldn’t touch this with a ten-foot pole. We’re in Montreal, and I saw the sign for nacho poutine. I knew you’d die for it.”

Did he get poutine just for me? Did he get poutine because he was thinking about me? Yeah, I think he did on both counts.

“He doesn’t sound like a friend of mine. Why did you hang up on me?”

“I didn’t hang up on you. I needed a second to figure you out. You confuse the hell out of me sometimes. How’d I do?”

That’s not fair. I don’t want to admit that Sutter has anything about me figured out. “You sure you didn’t get help from Nicci about it?”

“Not a fucking chance. I take care of my own house, Alderchuck. Now c’mon. Give credit where credit’s due, or I’m gonna make you regret it next time I’m in your ass.”

My face flushes while I picture him taking forever to let me cum, drawing it out until I’m a begging, needy mess. “Jeez. Fine, Sutter. You did …” I take a breath. “You did good.”

“That’s a good little Alderchuck.”

“ Sutter. ”

He laughs. “Anyway, I bet you’ve had nacho poutine hundreds of times.”

“Nope. Never.”

“Never? Shit, Alderchuck. You gotta try it. You’ll love how much nacho cheese they drenched this in. The gravy’s made with real beef broth—I remember you droning on about that.”

Sutter waxes poetic about poutine for three minutes. I can’t believe my ears. What the fuck dimension did I walk into? Does he actually listen to the shit I say?

“Anyway, why’s Jack with you? I hope you’re not sharing a bed with him, kitten.”

No. Not anymore because of Mercy, but Sutter doesn’t know that. “If I want to, I will, Sutter. Stacey said he was gonna be out all night, so I’m staying at Jack and Lo’s.”

“And you can’t stay at your hotel because…?”

“Because why would I? Who wants to stay in a hotel room all by themselves? I mean, I guess I could ask Otterhammer what he’s doin’—"

“No, you’re fucking not. Jack’s is fine,” he says as if I asked him for permission, which I did not. But I can’t deny the way my insides relax.

“Perfect. Jack’s great for snuggling against, y’know, to keep out the cold.” It’s New York and it’s the dead of Autumn, reaching its bare branches into winter. It is pretty cold here.

“Nice try, Alderchuck. I saw Mercy at The Foxy. Don’t think he’d be cool with that.”

“Alright, you got me. Lo’s not here, I’m staying in his room.”

“Mhm. You can cuddle with him—on the couch—for a bit, since I’m not there, but not in the bed,” he clarifies in a voice that could heat steel.

In this case, it’s just my face, heating to searing degrees. What did he just say? A little voice pokes at me, but it’s so small and quiet I can’t quite hear it. It’s saying something I might wish was true but can’t be.

Does Sutter give a fuck about me getting affection when he’s not around to give it? I’m an affection monkey. Everyone knows that—everyone who’s close to me. I didn’t expect Sutter to pick up on that, ever.

“I should go,” he finally says. “But I guess you were on my mind. You good?”

There’s more to that “You good” than he’s trying to play off. It’s more like an “Are we good”?

I was right. There’s a reason he’s been radio silent. He’s feeling me out. Seeing if I’m gonna ask about that time—the time I know not to ask about. He’s not ready to talk about the thing from his past that made him scream for his dad. I’m not gonna make him either. That’s his shit. I wouldn’t want someone making me talk about my mom if I didn’t want to tell them. I know I push boundaries, but I also know which lines not to cross.

“Can’t get better. Jack made me my favorite post-game meal.”

“Mac ‘n’ cheese,” he murmurs. He knows that? “That mean you have ketchup on your lip?”

“I do not have—” Oh, shit. I do. I lick it away. “Lucky guess, Sutter.”

“Educated guess, brat.” His voice lowers to a sinful octave. “If I were there, I’d lick it off you. I’d lick ketchup off your fucking dick, kitten.”

My dick perks up. And now I wish I’d considered calling Sutter from the hotel before I came here. I’ll have to suffer the night, hard and horny.

“Since my food porn didn’t work, I’ll send you a dick pic so you’ve got something to whack off to later. Consider it my act of goodwill for the week. Night, Alderchuck.”

“Wait, Sutter. You’re not getting off that easy.”

“Mhm, alright. What’s my penance, Alderchuck?”

That has my cheeks heating in a new way. He’s such a fucking flirt, and it gets me every time. Stay strong, Alderchuck.

“Not penance exactly. I have a new rule to add to our … whatever the fuck this is.”

“Yes?”

“Never eat poutine without me again. Especially don’t eat poutine with hockey players from Boston, or I’ll put your fucking nuts in the deep fryer at my old work.”

His laughter is loud. Booming. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh like that before. It’s pure or some shit. “Deal, kitten. What should I do with the rest of this?”

“Don’t waste it, Sutter. Fuck. Maybe, um, more pictures?”

“Ha! I was right. Knew you’d love my food porn photoshoot. You got it. I’ll make it good.”

I stare at my phone once he’s gone, not sure what to make of any of that, but my appetite’s made a roaring comeback and there isn’t enough cheddar and pasta in the world that can satiate me.

“You gonna eat that?” I ask, gesturing to Jack’s abandoned bowl.

“Nah. It’s yours.” He slides it over to me. Stares. Smiles.

“You got something to say?”

“Only if I was a hypocrite, but I’m not. Just remember what I said about things that make you miserable.”

“Don’t you ever insinuate that I’m in love with Sutter. Maybe friends. We’ve been friendly before. Yeah, it was only for a hot minute, but we’re growing up now.”

He downs the rest of his beer. “If you say so, man.”

Asshole. He doesn’t believe me.

“But dude, if someday I find out you’re more than friends with Sutter, I want a tattoo of my choice on your body,” he says with the devil in his expression. “It’ll never happen, so taking a bet like that’s low risk, right?”

“You’re on, Jack Leslie,” I say. And then I shake on it with all the confidence in the world.

Just because Sutter’s somewhere in Montreal eating nacho poutine, and just because he’d lick ketchup off my dick, doesn’t mean we’re destined for love. If anything, it means we woulda killed it making OnlyFans content for people with food fetishes.