Breakneck Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #3)

33. Zombie Apocalypse

Chapter 33

Zombie Apocalypse

Sutter

H ow far does he expect to get in hockey skates on the pavement? Hard to say, but there he is, barreling past the Starbucks just outside of TD Garden. I doubt he knows where he’s going. Alderchuck gets pissed and reacts—that’s where I come in.

“Alderchuck! Al- der -chuck! Casey!” I bellow from behind him. I’m a fast fucker. I catch the bottom of his jersey. “Wouldja just give me a second?”

He spins, showing me his angry beautiful face, his shiny curls whipping with his movement from where they hang under his helmet. “Sutter?”

“Where the fuck are you going, Alderchuck?”

“I’m kicked out of the game thanks to you.”

“No, I’m kicked out of the game thanks to you.”

“You are?”

“Yep, and I don’t give a fuck. Wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“I love you. I fucking love you so much it hurts to breathe around you sometimes. The possibility that you might not be with me turns my insides into an empty wasteland?—”

“S-Sutter?—”

The entire city is watching the hockey game. It’s a fucking ghost town out here—kinda creepy, actually. But the few people outside Starbucks are getting a different form of entertainment than the ones inside the building—the Sutterchuck soap opera.

“You don’t get it. It’s like Mad Max in here. The apocalypse didn’t start because of zombies, it began because I fell in love with you.”

Casey’s frozen. His mouth opens and closes a few times as he searches for words. “You love me?”

His teeth are blood-soaked, thanks to my fist. My face throbs where he used it as a punching bag, the skin tightening as it swells. We’re sweaty. Disgusting. But I need him to know. I just need him to know.

I tear my helmet off and send it clattering across the pavement. Taking a step into his space, I lick my cracked lips, sucking my lower one in, nodding.

“Don’t say that shit unless you really fucking mean it.”

“I really fucking mean it, more than I’ve ever meant anything.” My hands clench and unclench. I need my skin against his. That helmet of his has got to go. I tear it from his head, and it cracks against the concrete. I slide a cold palm onto his cheek. He’s searing hot. Pain and torment rage inside me. I lick my cracked lips again.

“Please say I haven’t lost you.” My voice sounds like I’ve been running sandpaper over it daily.

Silent tears snake over his cheeks, and his eyes wince minutely as the salty liquid stings its way down his face, over the smattering of cuts from the game, until the wetness hits my fingers.

“I’m gonna be too weird, or too much for you at some point.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Sutter!”

“I’ve licked ketchup out of your asshole, Alderchuck. I think the normal train has sailed for me.”

“But it’s more than weird food fetishes. I need … I need someone to … fuck.” He can’t even get the words out, and I get it, they make him too vulnerable.

He doesn’t need to say a thing. I’ve already figured it out. The third thing. Maybe the most important thing to know about Casey, the thing he might feel but doesn’t know how to put words to. He needs someone who’s not afraid to be swept into his storm. He needs to be able to run away, push away, beat away with a fucking bat, and know that I’m not going anywhere. Not only will I not go anywhere, I’ll redirect his Casey hurricane—not suffocate it, because oh what a shame that would be. He’s beautiful when he’s roaring with unspent anger.

I can take it. I want it. I crave it. I love the challenge in his eyes, the tension of a wildcat in his body, and the unspoken dare that I could never handle him.

Yes, I fucking can.

I’m your man, Casey Alderchuck.

“I already know you need looking after, kitten, and how you need to be looked after. Your needs are my needs, baby.”

“My mom … m-my mom …” His lip trembles, shaking with the earth-shattering kind of pain his brother’s spent the better part of a decade guiding to a landing rather than letting him crash and burn.

“You don’t have to say it. You never have to say it.” His mom left in the same way my dad left. Too soon and before they wanted to. Kinda leaves its mark in different ways. I put locks on shit and prep for “just in case”, he needs people who’ll fight to stay with him. “You’ve been challenging me since the day we met, and I’m still here, aren’t I? Push me away all you want. I love dragging you back to me, kicking and screaming. Especially kicking and screaming.”

He smirks.

“Besides, looking after each other is part of being in a relationship,” I add.

“Did you just say the ‘R’ word, Sutter?”

“I did. And I mean it. My mom and Francisco have a great relationship and it’s because they lean on each other’s strengths. That’s how I see us. That night with Charles and Stevie? I didn’t know what the fuck to do. You waltzed in there—literally and figuratively—and saved the fucking day.”

He smiles, and I get an idea. Jack says Casey needs me to declare myself? I’ll fucking declare myself. I’ll do it every Goddamn day if he needs me to. I let go of his face and take his hand instead, holding it up in the air as if I’m giving away the next heavy-weight title belt.

“This is my boyfriend, Casey Alderchuck, and I fucking love him!” I make sure it echoes loud and clear.

The sparse smattering of people pull out their phones. I doubt they’re even hockey fans—especially if they’re not watching this particular game somewhere—but everyone in our generation knows a crazy internet moment when they see one.

Just another thing Gina will love me for. After this, I might be out of a hockey career, too. But fuck it. I’m not losing Casey for anything.

He spins us away from the prying cameras, laughing. “Okay, okay, Sutter. I didn’t know you were gonna go unhinged Romeo on my ass.”

“I’m sorry I made you doubt us, even for a second. It won’t ever happen again.” I press his nose.

“I … I guess I did. A bit. But only when you didn’t text me back, asshole.”

“That’s the last time I do the whole ‘give you space’ bullshit. If you want space, you’re gonna have to drug me first,” I promise. I only half mean it. I think Casey only wants space about a quarter of the time he says it and that he has no real gauge on how long he needs space for. I go over that brief time limit, and I’m in shit. Because I understand that about him, I’m gonna take responsibility if I let it go over. I’m here to understand him . Be his man. That means tailoring my approach to his needs and desires, and not using some blanket, generalized recipe society and the internet’s spit out.

He wraps his arms around me and nestles his head into my chest. “Drugging you could be fun.”

I squeeze him back, harder than he’s squeezing me. “Definitely. I’ll spank your ass for that and have a grand ol’ time. Everyone’s happy.”

Casey laughs some more. “Sutter?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the world’s most insensitive asshole, which is why you’re perfect for me and the reason why I’ll always hate you just a little bit. But I fucking love you so much I can’t breathe sometimes, too. You’re not allowed to leave me, okay? Even if I tell you we’re breaking up, let me storm off thinking that, but then chase my ass down and tie me to your bed with all your fancy-ass marine rope and remind me how the fuck it is.”

“Way ahead of you, kitten.” I’ve got a bunch more marine rope on order. I reach into the collar of my jersey and remove the necklace I’m wearing. It was a late-night craft project I got Charles to help me with. “Here.”

Casey inspects it. “Did you glue two pennies together, Sutter? Why are they both tails?”

I place the leather throng over his crown. “This is so that you always know I’m thinking about you. There isn’t any time that you aren’t invading my thoughts, brat.”

“This is legit romantic, babe. You’re gonna ruin your reputation if this keeps up, but I approve.”

Whatever. I kiss the top of his head. “Alright, let’s go celebrate, er, not breaking up.”

For once.

“You don’t want to go back in and watch the game?”

“Not sure we’re allowed back in the building after that. We’ll be lucky to be able to play the next game.”

“Good point.”

“Whatever we do’s gotta be PG, though. I’ve got Charles with me, and uh, guess I should explain that, too.”

“Alright, after. But are you trying to tell me all of that on the ice didn’t get your dick hard?”

I’m not even gonna try to say that. “My dick could cut glass right now, baby,” I breathe into his ear.

“Then I say we wrangle ourselves back in the building, sneak into a shower stall, and take full advantage of the second and third periods.”