Breakneck Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #3)

19. Dryland Hockey Camp

Chapter 19

Dryland Hockey Camp

Sutter

W ho the fuck does Casey think he is? I’m smart enough to know what he’s doing, just not smart enough to do anything about it.

Nicci smacks me upside the head. “You’re thinking about him again. You’re gonna have to admit how much you like him one day, Sutter.”

I scowl and shove my shit into my cubby so that the equipment crew can collect it and dry it for me. Practice was a bitch. I just wanna get home and wallow. And try not to miss Alderchuck. Fuck. When did this happen? But I think I know. We’re off and on all the fucking time, but this time it had a bit of finality to it. He wanted time away from me, whether he realized it or not, and I don’t like that.

It's so Alderchuck to want space, but not know he actually needs space. He’s likely fuming at me right now and wishing for my death, but I give him what he needs, so space it is, but I’m only waiting so long. If he’s confused, I’m gonna unconfuse him. We have a game with Vancouver next week. He gets until then.

“I’m planning on telling him,” I say, if just to fuck with Nicci.

“Gonna be honest, never thought it would happen. You’re both stubborn fucks.”

I did not dress for the November weather and now I’m guilty of the same thing every other Vancouverite is guilty of. The weather in Vancouver is so mild for most of the year, that Vancouverites delete the memory of cold from their brains. Even freezing their asses off in t-shirts and flip-flops isn’t enough to convince them that the shivering they’re experiencing is from the cold, and they live in denial until the first snowfall—usually in late December—reaches in with icy claws, tearing them from that delusion.

It's something I bitch about while taking pride in my own preparedness. But this year? Didn’t even think to bring my heavier leather jacket on the plane. Why? One guess. Yep—Alderchuck. He’s the only thing my brain’s capable of thinking about. It’s his fault that I have to race from my Uber to the front door of my building with the cold biting through my insufficiently padded hoodie.

I’m barely through the door to my condo in Vancouver and my phone’s going nuts. Messages from Lane, Charles, Gina, and one from Alderchuck.

My heart stops. Would he break up with me through text? Can we break up if we were never dating to begin with? Like a coward, I leave that one alone. I’m no saint. I’m willing to push some of his boundaries when I think he’s playing hard to get, but if he’s for real I’d respect his word, hard as that might be.

Charles

Good news! Mom’s doing great. Thanks for all your help.

Does he think he’s getting rid of me that easily? Nice try, kid.

Lane

I was by the house today. Nothing major to report.

I toss my keys on the kitchen island and leave my carry-on by the door. I put in a call to Charles.

“I told you she was good,” he says.

“Which makes me think she’s not good.”

“Happy for you to talk to her, Mitch.”

“No need. I’ll be talking to Lane. He’ll tell me.”

“He’ll tell you just how fine she is.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

He makes a frustrated sound. “You’re the worst.” He hangs up.

Me

Good talk.

I’ll deal with his ass later. I put off opening Casey’s text a little longer and open Gina’s instead.

Gina

You off the plane yet? Get ready. Someone’s picking you up at five pm.

Me

What the fuck, Gina?

Gina

Wear something comfortable. Sporty. Something with the Copperheads logo on it. Bring your pretty camera smile.

Sarcastic fuck. She knows that I don’t have a pretty camera smile.

She must have some kinda PR thing planned. It would be nice if she fucking told me what it was. Whatever it is, it’ll involve Casey. Does he know about it? Maybe that’s why he texted. I open his message with less tension squeezing my muscles.

Kitten

Did you hear? You and me, volunteering at the Boys and Girls Club of Canada. This’ll be fun. Don’t they know it’s not safe to let wild animals loose around children?

He might be talking about both of us.

Is that what we’re doing, though? That’s a good thing. I poke out my chest. An excited bubble inflates there. Alderchuck’s about to see something he’s never seen before—me with kids. I’m good with them in my own way and it’ll shock the fuck out of him.

Me

Am I still in the penalty box, baby?

My cheeks flush hot at my own text message that isn’t even dirty. I send it anyway.

Kitten

No. We good. See yah later.

My heart drops into my stomach. He’s being aloof and he’s way too good at it. I claw at my chest. Fuck. I’m fucked. I wasn’t supposed to fall for Alderchuck, but it snuck up on me. Now here he is, distancing himself from me with his “see yah later” bullshit after I called him baby, after the closest thing to an apology I’ve ever given him.

Asshole.

But as good as he is at faking nonchalance, I wrote the book on it. Fuck him. Two can play. Let’s see if he really means it, or if he’s just as fucked as I am.

I arrive at the community center in high-top shoes, baggy black sweats, and an oversized Copperheads hoodie, as per Gina’s instructions. I opted for a black ball cap instead of the bandana today, spun backward, the brim facing my nape I finally got my head on right, though, and pulled one of my snowboarding jackets from storage to wear over my athletic ensemble.

I catch sight of Alderchuck dressed similarly in his Orcas sweatshirt. I hope he wore a jacket over that too but, knowing Alderchuck, he’s the kind to wear his flip-flops in the dead of winter. Well, not on my watch. I’m gonna make sure he’s warm.

There’s a film crew and Milton’s skulking around. I hate that guy. Beelining it for Alderchuck gets me noticed. Heads turn. Milton fucking quakes.

I wanna put my hands on Casey, but I can’t. Not with all these people around. I mean, I would if it wouldn’t land us in jail, because I don’t give a fuck about these people. I wanna pull him into a bathroom stall, a back alley, wherever, and stick my dick in him. Reclaim him. Restamp him with all my “Sutter was here” markings that he should be wearing full-time as far as I’m concerned. It’s been too long. I’m kinda pissed at him for that at the same time. How dare he think about ending this for real. We had a deal. Fuck until the flavor wears out.

That should mean if the flavor never wears out, we never end.

“Alderchuck,” I say.

“Sutter,” he says.

He’s not smiling, he’s glaring. More anger builds, filling my pulsing veins with rage. What the fuck is he pissed at me for? I gave him the space he said he wanted.

Unless.

I knew it. I fucking knew it.

Okay, kitten. You want to be chased. Message received.

I should have known that the usual rules don’t apply to us, and so I let this go on far longer than I should have. That changes now.

“What’s the deal?” I demand from Gina.

“A friendly game of floor hockey with the kids,” Gina says. I’m not used to her in anything but heels and dress suits. Today she’s wearing Adidas kicks and a Copperheads tracksuit. Wonder if I could have Casey in something Copperheads by the end of the night?

Either way, I’m definitely putting a smile back on his face.

“Um, don’t forget to mention about the shots we need,” Milton says with a nervous lilt in his tone. Casey said he gave Daddy vibes, but I’m not seeing it. Maybe that’s because my energy reduces him to a sniveling boy.

“What kind of shots would those be?” I ask.

“The kids will be split into two teams. You’ll coach one, and Casey will coach the other. We need some shots of you two as coaching rivals.”

Is he completely inept? That’s just gonna fuel the rivalry thing, the bloodthirsty kind he doesn’t want, or the kind he claimed not to want anyway. I suspect that’s changed. He’s figured out from Gina how much money can be made on our rivalry. But I could give a fuck about that shit. We are rivals. If they want to make money off it, that’s fine.

What I don’t like is what I’m seeing from Casey. His hands clench and unclench. He’s running his hands through his hair, looking around, not making eye contact with anyone.

He doesn’t like being in charge like that. Sure, he can be, but it makes him fucking nervous. Especially with this being televised.

“No,” I say.

“What do you mean no?” Milton says, finding his balls. “Gina, do something about your over-sized monkey.” He throws his hands up.

“Do you have a better idea?” she says to me instead of trying to force me to do anything. At least she’s got some intelligence. What’s she doing fraternizing with a snake like Milton?

“I do. Casey and I will run a dryland practice—together. We do a short game after that for fun,” I stress, “with either Casey and I coaching both sides equally or apart, but he decides.”

That’ll take the wrong kind of pressure off. Casey loves a good battle with me on the ice, but this is different. This is us right in the middle of a PR circus that’s stressing the fuck out of him.

Casey’s nervousness vanishes. A hint of a smile graces his lips. “I like that, Sutter. Quick, roll the cameras, we’re agreeing on something. That should make national headlines.”

“I don’t like it,” Milton says. “It’s boring.”

“Don’t you want to cool everyone’s jets, not stoke them?” Casey says. I’m glad Casey’s standing up for himself to that douchebag.

“It’s the best you’re gonna get,” I add. “It’s this or nothing.”

Milton makes a frustrated sound and glares at me. “Fine. Do what you want.” He storms to the side like the child he is, planting himself on one of the benches.

“Ready to do this, Alderchuck?”

He smiles like I hung the moon. Perfect. I still have plans to teach him a lesson, just not with this—that’s a line that shan’t be crossed. But his smile validates my theory. He wants me to chase him.

“Ready, Sutter.”

W e take the kids through a bunch of drills, turning this into a “dryland practice sponsored by two professional hockey players” kinda day for them. They love it. It’s clear that some of them aren’t hockey players, and don’t want to be hockey players, but they’re all Canadian kids, so they’re having a blast participating.

The drills are simple, but they’re high energy. I high-five each kid at the finish line, giving them honest encouragement with some friendly critiques. Casey lets the kids laugh at him while he maneuvers through each drill, pretending to botch it in catastrophic ways. Even my lips twitch as I fight to tamp down on the laughter that wants to break free. He’s a giant child. One of the kids laughs extra hard, and with the way she shouts Casey , I get the impression she knows him.

By the time we reach the family-friendly game, it’s clear Casey’s ready for a little competition, but he opts to do the “coach them together” thing.

“I don’t want to make a fool out of you in front of all these kids,” he says, winking.

Yeah, sure, Alderchuck.

One of the kids barrels toward me. She’s a tiny wisp of a thing and the same little girl who was laughing the most exuberantly at Casey earlier. She clings to my leg, squeezing it tightly.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Sutter! I like you,” she says.

“How dare you, Lorelei Meyer? I thought we were bros,” Casey says, bumping knuckles with her.

I introduced myself as Coach Mitch to the kids. If she knows I’m Sutter, she knows a lot more about me than I have any idea.

“She’s got good taste,” I say.

She looks up at me with her cornflower blue eyes. “I said I was gonna marry Rhett, but I might marry you instead.”

I smirk in Casey’s direction. He’s fuming, but also slowly coming to the realization that he’s jealous of a little girl.

“Sorry, Miss Lorelei, but I’m taken,” I tell her, shaking her hand. “But it’s nice to meet you.”

She sighs. “All the good ones are.”

I laugh.

“Anyways, thanks! You’re almost as good a coach as my big brother Merc.”

She races off to meet up with two women. They wave at Casey. Wait a sec. I recognize one of them—Trish the yoga instructor.

Other children run up to me before their parents pick them up with big smiles, thanking me, high-fiving me, and asking me and Casey when we’ll be back.

“I don’t know what universe I was dropped into this morning. How the fuck are you so good with children, Sutter? It doesn’t seem like a thing that should be,” he says when the last child has been collected.

I stand a little taller, preening. I like that I surprised him. I like that he’s impressed.

A woman races up to the pair of us before I can answer his question, which I might pretend to think is rhetorical. Not sure I want him to know about my summers as a camp counselor. Maybe ever. He will make fun of me for that shit.

“Wait, wait! Before you go, I wanted to thank you. The kids were so excited when they heard you were gonna be here. I mean, not all of them knew who you were, but they understood the famous hockey player part. You were both great with them. Would you ever consider coming back?”

“Absolutely,” Casey says, shaking her hand.

“Me, too.”

Casey smiles just for me. My dick reminds me what we want to do with him. Right. Let’s get the fuck out of here.

“Do you have what you need, Gina?” I ask.

She checks in with Milton. He nods—begrudgingly so—and that’s good enough for me.

“Come along, Alderchuck.” I don’t bother hiding that I’m abducting him. If Gina and Milton don’t know about us by now, they’re dumb as fuck.

“What makes you think I’m coming with you?” he says as he comes along with me.

I don’t say a word, letting him follow me out the building to a secluded area, fuming and huffing behind me all the way. All the fuss about jackets, and now neither of us is wearing one. That’s fine, for now, I plan to keep him plenty warm. Together, we generate enough heat to forget about the cold.

In a move I’d now call practiced, I grip his wrists in one hand and pin them over his head to the wall. I have him in my snare, and he relaxes into it, breathing off rhythm.

Fuck, I want him. Want him with every cell in my body. He looks too innocent and clean with his favorite hat slung backward, sporting athletic gear. I want to wreck him. Ruin him. Dirty him up.

But all of that has to wait.

“What’s your fucking deal, Alderchuck?”

“Private and personal shit.”

“Maybe, but that’s not all.”

He whacks his head against the bricks that make up the wall behind him. “I don’t wanna have this conversation again. We’ve already had it.”

“Things change. Things are forever changing. That means some conversations might need to be had again in case they’ve changed, kitten.” I learned that shit in therapy. “So, have things changed for you?”

“A little.”

I sneer, baring my teeth. They have not chan ? —

“You think of me as yours, even though we don’t have a label. I decided that I’m okay with that.”

That’s … true. And he’s okay with it?

But maybe we need a label. My label.

I should tell him now. It’s burning in me to just fucking say it.

Be my boyfriend.

But then Logan will bust my balls. Not that I give a fuck about what Logan thinks, it’s because he’ll remind me about something I agree with him on. Alderchuck deserves something special, and memorable.

I get an idea.

I smack his ass. Hard. “Be ready early tomorrow after breakfast. I’m picking you up.”

“Why?”

“Not telling, kitten.” I nibble on his shiver spot just a little.

“Are you gonna tell me where you learned to make kids love you?”

“If you’re a good boy.”

“I’m never good.”

“For me you are. You’re a good little Alderchuck.”

“What does that even mean, Sutter? Fuck you’re an asshole.”

I am. But I’m an asshole who’s fallen hard for him. Will that count for something? My lips make their way up his neck, and I catch his with mine, coaxing my tongue inside, tangling it with his, inhaling all of him.

My heart beats so damn fast.

He smirks against my lips. “Just when I think you can’t get any weirder.”

I let go of his wrists. My forehead rests against his and I imagine myself consuming all of him. I’m gonna make him so mine. “Tomorrow.”