Breakneck Hockey (Heartbreak Hockey #3)

Epilogue

Sutter

I ’ve been waiting in the hot sun outside the Meyers’ garage. Even though I trust Logan with my bike—I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t—I can’t find it in me to leave it alone here. I’m dressed for the sun rather than riding, in a tank, board shorts, and sandals. We were finally hit with a heatwave hot enough to sear my skin just the way I like it, bringing out the olive tone in my complexion.

There’s the crunch of tires over gravel as Jack’s truck climbs the long, sloped driveway, and I flip my sunglasses back to sit them above my bandana. Casey hops out of the passenger side and meanders toward the deck while Jack retrieves Stanley from the back seat. I tried to tell them that I could look after a toddler for a few measly hours, but Jack wanted to bring him to the tattoo place. A toddler in a tattoo place just seemed like a bad idea, but it’s not my baby.

“It went well?” I assume. He’s beaming.

“Yeah, check it out.”

He opens his neck for me. Across his shiver spot, where I like to gnaw and suck, is a permanent hickey tattoo in the shape of my last artistic masterpiece. That, I expected. But there’s something else inked just under his collarbone.

“What’s this?”

Property of Top Dog

Since

IV. XX. MMXXIV

The Roman numerals are reminiscent of the tattoo I have to honor my dad.

“I don’t remember approving of two tattoos.” My declaration was finally Jack approved and he wanted to collect on their bet. I made Jack tell me his plan before he abducted my boyfriend, but I liked the idea of having a permanent mark on Casey.

He bites his lip. “I thought you’d like it?—”

“I love it.” I wish I could run my thumb over it. I can’t wait to rip the Saniderm off it. “I’m adding Property of Brat Cat with the date to mine.”

“Are you ever gonna show me yours?”

I got mine a few days ago but refused to show him until he had his done. I remove my shirt. Over the place where my heart lives is an exaggerated cat-scratch tattoo. He’s always scratching me up. Now he’s engraved over my heart forever.

“I fucking love that, but yeah, it needs the label so people know that this means you’re mine.”

“Whatever you want, kitten.” I kiss his lips. I already missed them. I was getting fucking antsy without him.

Jack disappears into the garage with the baby. Rhett saunters out with a couple of brewskies from inside. “You’re back.” He shakes his head. “Can’t you get married like normal people?”

“You have noticed that your husband’s covered in tattoos, yes? He’s gonna wanna get one with you at some point,” I inform him.

“I’m sure Logan has enough tattoos,” Rhett says.

“What do I have enough of?” Logan says, wandering out from the garage, twirling an extra-large wrench. There’s grease streaked across his face and his coveralls are tied around his waist, showing off his toned skater’s body. Rhett’s right, Logan makes for a hot mechanic, but he’s nothing like my Alderchuck.

“Sutterchuck got weird tattoos. We don’t need those, do we?” Rhett noses under Logan’s collarbone.

Logan twists his lips. “I thought it might be nice to get something. I was thinking about having our wedding date written on my ribcage.”

I don’t think Rhett’s ready for a tattoo, but if Logan wants it, he’ll do it. “I already own you on paper.”

“That’s not what a marriage certificate means, gorilla.”

“It sure as fuck does, Mr. Elkington.”

Logan rolls his eyes, gripping Rhett by the biceps, turning his attention to me. “Your bike is ready, Sutter,” he says. “Purrs like a kitten.”

Casey smirks, probably thinking about the last time I made him purr.

“And you think she’s highway-worthy?” I ask. I have visions of Casey on the back of my bike, arms wrapped around my waist, his hair blowing behind him from under the helmet as we conquer the open roads.

“Definitely. I made a few adjustments, so you won’t have to stop for gas a thousand times.”

Casey groans. “You can’t still be thinking about taking me to camp with you. I’m not a good camper. I’ll be a worse camp counselor.”

“It’s already arranged, kitten. Too fucking late.” His head falls against my chest. “Besides, if you think I’m spending two weeks without you, you’re wrong.”

“As if, Sutter, but I don’t have to counsel kids. Don’t they have a hotel nearby or something?”

“Nope. You’re bunking with me.” I plan on pushing a couple of the beds together.

“We’re taking your bike, though?”

“Yep.”

“At least that’ll be fun.”

“And we’ll leave early so we can drop in on the Curtis brothers for a few days.” They live in Langley, Langley’s on the way to Hope, which is a stone’s throw from Camp Kawkawa.

“No fucking way, Sutter. I hate your friends. You have the worst friends. Especially Lane. Lane can go fuck a cactus with his dick hole.”

I can’t deny that they’re pains in the ass, but they’re my brothers. I’m hoping Lane and Casey can come to a truce of some kind. It’ll be a mutilated version of the word truce, but it’d be enough.

“You can suck it the fuck up for a few damn days.”

Casey shakes his head. “Francisco loves me. I’ll hitch a ride with him to camp and you can hang out with your asshole friends without me.”

“Like hell, you will, Alderchuck.”

“Go fuck yourself, Sutter. Literally and figuratively.” He flips me two birds and heads into the house.

“I’m gonna kick his fucking ass.”

Logan laughs. “At least some things never change.”

T wo days later, we’re at his place stuffing his duffel bag with clothes. It took a lot of convincing, but he’s coming with me to camp rather than Francisco, who he did ask for a ride, and we’ll stop in on the Curtis brothers, but I only get two days versus the four I wanted. Compromise is what Mercy Meyer called it.

“Compromise is a four-letter word around here,” Jack had said. Apparently, they do it a lot. Apparently, it’s what you do in a relationship, so you don’t kill each other. But no one likes it, and I get why. Compromise means that nobody gets what they want. We need a better system.

Stacey’s due back any time. He’s been gone for a couple of weeks. I want to get him out of here before Stacey arrives, he wants to wait. I don’t think there’s an acceptable compromise on that one.

“Hand me a penny, Alderchuck. Heads we leave now.”

“You’re the only psychopath who keeps pennies around. Hell, I don’t even have a quarter on me. Cash is what boomers and servers use. I haven’t served a table since last summer.”

A vehicle’s already rumbling into the driveway, though. It’s so loud that it might as well be fucking thunder shaking through the house. I move to the fridge to make enough food to keep Casey’s stomach from eating itself on the road.

His brother’s home, and he brought company. Two young blond men who can’t be much older than Logan. Shit. He’s supposed to be the responsible Alderchuck, but it’s clear he’s mid some kind of crisis.

Stacey’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts, sandals, and a pair of Maui Jims. He’s got a few necklaces strewn around his neck and his hair’s seen a lot of sun—a lot. There’s a lot of blond mixing with the light brown and his skin’s shaded a golden tan.

“Hey, hey, guys. Goin’ somewhere? Alex, Trent, and I were gonna throw a party,” Stacey says. “You can head back there, boys. My room’s second door on the left.”

Casey doesn’t know what to digest first. The men, the sus way his brother’s acting. There’s also the too-many bracelets around his brother’s left wrist, golden skin, and sun-bleached hair. He looks like he’s been to Ayawaska, not Kamloops Resort.

“Holy shit, bro. Is that a Hummer?” Casey shouts, peering out the window to the driveway. “What the fuck did you do with our car?”

“Meh. We needed an upgrade. Not like we can’t afford it,” he says. “Well, aren’t you gonna give me a hug? I missed you, little bro.”

“I’m five minutes younger,” Casey grumbles, but he embraces his newly recharged brother.

“And, Sutter, it’s good to see yah. Looks like you’ve been taking good care of this guy.”

“Yeah, and it ain’t easy. Can I return him to you and get my money back?” I say to lighten the mood. Even though Stacey came in here as a ray of sunshine, he’s not brightening the place. Casey’s getting cagey, flicking his eyes to me, asking without asking, are you seeing what I’m fucking seeing?

Stacey’s far from okay, but he probably thinks the summertime twins back there make him okay.

Casey scowls on cue, but he ignores my jibe. “Who are they?” he asks, gesturing with his thumb.

“Oh, that? Not serious. I met a group of free-spirited types. They’re in an open kind of deal with their Daddy Dom.”

Kinda hot, but whoa. I imagine sharing Alderchuck for a hot second. Yeah, nope. Never. I’ll grind bones to dust. It won’t be pretty. Reaching out, I yank Casey to me by the waistband of his shorts.

“I’m not running off to find a Daddy Dom, Sutter,” he murmurs, reading my mind. He lolls his head into my neck, and I plant a kiss on his lips.

“Damn right, you’re not.”

“What happened to New Guy?” Casey asks.

“I broke up with New Guy a while back. You gotta keep up, little bro.”

“Apparently.”

“You should come with us, Stacey,” I suggest. “Two weeks at Camp Kawkawa, molding impressionable minds. Charles and Stevie will be there. Stevie’s been asking about you.”

Yeah, I said that to twist a metaphorical knife into his heart. Sue me. I’m not above a little guilting for his own good. He’s not just Casey’s brother, he’s Casey’s twin, and they have some kinda weird bond thing that’s affecting Casey above and beyond the usual. Several times this week, Casey’s put his hand over his heart, wincing. I thought he was fucking with me at first, but it’s happened enough I’m starting to believe it. I at least believe that he believes it, and that’s enough for me.

Stacey bites his lower lip. He turns his head to gaze at the door where the kinky twins disappeared.

“They’re coming back here after camp, though, aren’t they? Casey told me your parents are applying to be their foster parents.”

I huff and nod. Yeah, but still. Camp is camp. Special shit happens there. It could heal his broken heart.

“Good, I’ll see them then for sure. We’ll organize a family-friendly game of street hockey with the Meyers.”

Nothing hockey and Meyers related is family friendly and he knows it. Even I know that now, and I’m the newest add to the group.

“Hey, Hockey Daddy. You comin’?” one of the young men calls from the bedroom.

“Hockey Daddy? Seriously, Stace?” Casey says.

Stacey shrugs, smiling. “Cool tattoo, by the way, bro. I’ll show you my new one when you get back. Have fun.” Stacey wanders unapologetically toward his paramours.

“Gee, I can hardly wait to see what the fuck he got inked on his body when he was out of his damn mind,” Casey says with all the sarcasm.

“Tattoos can be removed,” I remind him.

“Not easily. Fuck, this is a disaster. Do you think I should give Dash the heads up? This is gonna be a surprise and a half after a long shift at The Wicklow.”

“Why would he care? He’s got his man. Won’t he be happy that Stacey found, uh, two someones to play with for a bit?”

He chews on his lip. “I don’t know. Stacey’s dated other men, and had boyfriends around the house, but he’s never been this ‘in your face’ about it because it causes a weird-ass tension around here.”

There’s got to be a reason for that tension. “Leave it,” I say.

A slow smile spreads its way across Alderchuck’s face. “Are you sayin’ we use our powers for evil today, Sutter?”

“I always use my powers for evil.” I spin him around so I can see his face. The penny attached to the necklace I gave him shifts, falling to the center of his chest. I got him a titanium chain for it so that it doesn’t break during our rough activities.

“Not true. It was real nice what you did for Charles and Stevie.”

My parents weren’t my first choice because I was hoping we’d be able to find a blood relative. All kinds of shit happens between couples, and we don’t have clear stories about either of the kids’ dads. The best we can fathom is that Charles and Stevie’s mom was with Stevie’s dad before Charles remembers anything but him being around.

Charles isn’t keen on his bio dad. I think he should meet with him—at the least—and I’m working on convincing him to that end.

Asking Mom and Dad was nerve-wracking. I didn’t expect it to be, but there was a lot to consider. Especially Isla. Charles and Stevie are nice kids, but they’ve got a lot of shit going on. Dad was already familiar with Charles, but after she met them, Mom was on board, too.

“I think they’ll be good for Isla,” she said. “And Isla will be good for them.”

So long as they don’t annoy her. She might only be ten years old, but she could have them doing her bidding.

We’re going to keep looking for a relative, but for now, it works. Mom and Dad will take them to visit their mom. The Meyers have said they can stay with them whenever they want.

“My only act of purity for the season. Now, get your ass dressed.” I smack his thinly-clad ass for good measure. “I want to beat rush-hour traffic and get to the Curtis brothers’ house in time for the big cookout.”

“Gee, can’t fucking wait.”

He rubs where I smacked his ass as he sulks toward his bedroom. There’s probably a nice handprint there. I’m gonna add a lot more handprints later.

I should also talk to him about our living situation. He’s not quite ready to move out of here, so we’ve spent all our time between my place and his. I know having the other two friends living here complicates things, which is why the four of them opted to keep things as they are through the season.

Us hockey players are nomads anyway, but I’d love a place to call ours.

But that’s for future us to figure out. Let’s be real, that’s for future us to fight about. Today’s about him bitching to me about my asshole friends, and me getting so annoyed with his smart-assed mouth that I shove my cock in it to shut him up.

“ D o not, I repeat, do not piss Counsellor Mitchell off this year.” Charles’s voice drifts in through the window, from where he’s schooling other campers in sage tones. He must not know this is our cabin—mine and Casey’s—or he wouldn’t be talking about me where I can hear him. “He learned a cruel new punishment. I drank one, one lousy rum and coke, and I was cleaning stuff with a toothbrush that should never be cleaned with a toothbrush.”

Peering out the window, I spy Charles with Joey and Eric. He shudders at the memory. I smile and shut the curtains. I plan to christen this cabin, can’t have prying eyes.

“You’re such an asshole, Sutter,” Casey hisses, adjusting his khaki, Robert Irwin issue button-down. “Can’t believe you made him do the toothbrush thing.”

“Stop fidgeting. You’re fine.”

“I’m gonna punch you in the dick is what I’m gonna do. I can’t believe you forced me to be here. And why do I get the younger kids? Are you trying to tell me— mmph .”

His back hits the hard cabin wall. My mouth and tongue work together to shut him up, and my hands pin a wrist each over his head. He opens his body for me, immediately submitting.

“That’s it. That’s my good little Alderchuck.”

“ Sutter. ”

I flip him around. His hands plant firmly on the wall. “You look fuckable in that outfit, kitten. I’m gonna defile you. Ruin you.”

He sticks his ass out, trying to find my khaki-covered dick that’s straining under the zipper. I pop the button on his shorts and slide a hand up his shirt, tweaking a nipple. Hard. He moans. I pull the shorts down and over his round ass slowly, unveiling the trail of hickeys I left last night. I leave them just under the base, where ass meets thigh, and rub my long middle finger inside his crease as I nibble on his shiver spot.

I kiss my way down his back, suddenly hit with an odd sort of tenderness. Casey and I don’t do a lot of tenderness, but I’m consumed with the need to try it. I don’t know why. It’s not like a cabin in the middle of the woods is conducive to romance—hell, it’s not like I know anything about romance—but my heart’s decided it’s about to explode.

“What the fuck are you doing back there, Sutter? Taking more pictures?”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to worship your ass, but you’re making it impossible.”

He laughs. “Your poetry is legendary, Romeo.”

Ignoring him, I make it to his ass, which I hold back from spanking—just barely because he’s asking for it—and shove my wet tongue inside. The shorts hold his legs together, preventing him from writhing like he wants to. Instead, he arches his back, offering himself to me. I lick his insides, jamming my tongue repeatedly into his hole, while he moans and bangs on the wall with his fist.

Finally, I release him from the khaki prison, yanking the shorts down his legs. He spreads them, sighing relief.

“Can you worship me a little faster back there? My nuts are cold.”

No patience. Alderchuck has no fucking patience. I smack his ass and squeeze the nuts he claims are cold. They’re not cold at all.

“Get on the bed.”

He smirks, but he doesn’t dare touch his dick. He’s learned the folly in that. He unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way and trust-falls onto the bed. It groans and bounces under his weight. I stare down at him, drinking in every ounce of his hockey-toned muscles and his long dick bobbing between his legs. He softens.

My instincts want me to sink my teeth into him, but I keep those at bay in favor of softness. The mattress sinks with my added weight on the small double bed—I’ve gotta move the other one over here—and I pause to take my shirt off. Alderchuck’s nimble fingers pop the button on my shorts, and his hand reaches inside to stroke my dick a few times.

“I love you so much, baby,” I say softly.

“I love you, Mitchell.”

I let him call me that. He’s been added to the small list of people who are allowed to call me that without getting punched in the face.

Casey’s fingers trace over the muscles of my abs, a thought on the tip of his brain. “Would you ever … well, I guess it’s kind of a dumb question because it doesn’t really matter and?—”

I capture his lips. I dunno what he’s so nervous to ask me, but he can stop that shit right now, even if it’s adorable as fuck. “What do you want, kitten?” My voice comes out raspy. I want him so bad.

He laces his hand with one of mine. “I was kinda thinking getting married would be cool—someday,” he tacks on.

“If you don’t think I’ve already got plans to own you on paper, too, you don’t know a thing about me.”

“Why do you and Rhett think married means owning someone on paper? That’s some eighteenth-century bullshit, Sutter.”

But he’s blushing a pretty shade of pink. I think he likes the thought of that, but he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t complain about it. And as far as I’m concerned, I will own him on paper once we’re hitched, but we can fight about that later. “You tellin’ me you don’t wanna be my gorgeous bride, Alderchuck?”

He laughs as I suck on his neck. “Not gonna be your bride, Sutter, but I’d be your husband. Don’t think this gets you out of asking, though. I want something special or I’m tellin’ you to go fuck yourself.”

I frown. “Since when?” We’re the same that way. We don’t do big romance shit … except for the time I had to pronounce my love for him on the street front outside of TD Garden.

Huh. Starting to think that wasn’t a one-off.

“Since now.”

“So, we can’t run off to Vegas for a weekend?” I suck his neck a little harder, hoping that’ll talk him out of some weird, lavish wedding. I’ll do that if it’s what he wants, but we’d both look out of place at our own wedding.

“We can—totally our vibe, by the way—but I just want it to be?—”

“Thoughtful.”

“Yeah.” He smiles.

“Got it. Your wish is my fucking command and shit, kitten.”

He laughs and I kiss his face. He pushes at my chest. “What are you gonna do?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.” And I am gonna do something because I officially have a new obsession—making Alderchuck my husband—but that’s gonna be a whole other adventure. “Now, be quiet while I get you ready for my cock, baby.”

With a healthy dose of lube, I twist my fingers inside, reaching for the place I’ve become oh-so-familiar with. I can’t believe I let him fuck with other men for half the season. That’s messed up.

“ Ow , fuck, Sutter. Are you thinking about other men fucking me again?”

“Well, you won’t tell me who they were.”

“Yeah, because I don’t want to have to have sex with you during conjugal visits because you’ve murdered them on the ice. Shit. Didn’t mean to say that last part.”

“So, they’re hockey players.”

This was supposed to be a sweet and sappy fuck, but that’s not gonna happen now that my brain’s decided to go down a jealous yellow brick road. I think I’d rather just rearrange his insides with my cock. It takes a little fancy maneuvering, but I slide out of my shorts and boxers.

“Fuck, you make me so crazy with wanting you,” I say as I stroke my cock a bit. “How about I hold you down and make you cry? Then will you tell me?”

“Aw, puddin’, that’s just a good time.” He has the audacity to laugh in the face of my threats.

“That’s it.” I thrust my cock inside of him, forcing him to grip my ass for dear life. He arches, pushing his torso against me, exhaling a sinful moan.

“There, there! God, please, more like that.”

I set a punishing pace, which isn’t all that punishing for Casey. He likes it as hard as I can thrust. Hmm. That gives me an idea. I slow the fuck down, all the way down, so that my dick only just connects with the place that makes him moan.

“Oh, that’s mean.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

Just because I’m trying to torture him, doesn’t mean I can resist wanting to eat him. I suck over the hickey tattoo on his collarbone, pumping into him at a painfully slow pace.

“C’mon, baby. It’s driving me insane,” I say.

But I lose my own game today, too preoccupied with my feelings to continue to feed the animal in me. Fuck, when did I get distracted by feelings? Right. The moment I became obsessed with this man. Alderchuck’s lips part and I lean over to catch his breath.

“I love you,” he tells me again.

We rub noses, instinctively, and I forget everything else. There’s just him, me, and my dick pumping into him.

“More, more. I want more, Sutter.”

What kitten wants, he’ll get, but he might regret asking in a throaty voice like that. It sets me off again. This time, I grip under each knee, folding him almost in half, spreading him wide for me so my cock can hammer him like he wants it. He pants, barely able to get a sound out. My knees slide against the sheets, burning, my ass squeezes with pummeling force over and over as my lungs beg for fucking oxygen. There isn’t time to suck in what I need, but I don’t care, I suffer through the fire of dry lungs like I would if I were racing down the ice for the puck. Loud slaps clap the air and sweat trickles into my eyes. Alderchuck’s kitten claws make their mark, stripping the skin off my back painfully. I cry out, but I can’t stop fucking him, so I fuck him through the pain.

“You fucking bitch,” I hiss.

He laughs.

I get him back, plunging my teeth into the meat of his shoulder until he cries out, sucking painful bruises onto his skin, drawing out pleasure-filled moans.

His ass chokes my cock, trying to milk the cum from it, forcing it to deliciously scrape its way out, overwhelming me with pleasure. Make no mistake, we’re locked in yet another battle, but this one isn’t for dominance—I win those—it’s for who’s the bigger simp when it comes to giving the other what he wants.

Alderchuck’s proving—flawlessly—that it’s me. And that’s fine. He deserves a man who’ll worship the fuck out of him in the way he wants it, and that man’s gonna be me for the rest of our lives.

“Fine, you don’t gotta tell me. Let’s see you cum, baby.”

He holds his breath, which makes me suck in mine, finally giving my body the air it needs, and his lips part. I squeeze the base of his cock for good measure, and attach my mouth to his shiver spot, sucking him through his orgasm. Hot cum hits my belly and he moans softly in my ear, his arms circling my neck, hanging on for dear life.

Casey thinks he’s gonna collapse into the sheets. I don’t fucking think so. I might be cock-whipped when it comes to his wants and needs, but I fucking own his ass and he’s always gonna know it.

“Open, kitten.”

I release his legs and straddle his torso, stroking and angling my cock to paint his face, hitting his tongue, his cheeks, and even some of his hair with sticky white. I use my thumb to gather stray bits and wipe them over his tongue.

Gripping his face in my hand by his jaw and before he can down my cum, I narrow my eyes. “Wait.”

Crawling down him enough, I tongue a long lick of his jizz from the crevices of his abs and then I shove my cum-covered tongue in his mouth, mixing our fluids as I kiss the fuck out of him like I’m a feral thing. And I might be. I’m always that way for him.

“Now you can swallow.” His Adam’s apple bobs with the motion. “That’s my good little Alderchuck.”

I’ve ravaged him just the way I like him, lips kiss-swollen, eyes dazed, limbs splayed and limp, and most importantly, decorated in “Sutter was here” love bites.

Okay, now we can both fucking collapse. I pull him onto my body, our chests heaving in sync as we let the aftermath of our fucking fade into the peace it always does. We’re the storm and the calm. I won’t have long until he gets hungry, but I steal as many of these post-orgasm moments as I can. They’re some of the best moments with him, our bond heightened as if my dick really does have magic powers.

I kiss the top of his sweaty head.

“Still not telling you shit, Sutter,” he murmurs, eyelids fluttering.

We’ll see about that. I’ve got an entire off-season to fuck it out of him. “Close your eyes, baby.”

He passes the fuck out, and I get to relish in the aftermath of our hurricane under a blanket of peaceful Alderchuck.

T he gong sounds three times. Dinner. Not even my dick will convince Casey to miss dinner. We’ve already been up long enough to clean ourselves up, but I convinced him—read dragged his ass by a hand weaved into his thick hockey hair—to lie down with me again. I wanted to cuddle with my damn man. Sue me.

But cuddle time’s over. He’s up and into his clothes so fast. Nothing short of a zombie horde will stop him.

“Do they have mac ‘n’ cheese here, Sutter? Fuck, they’d better. If not, you’d better fucking find me some.”

That was the one con of bringing the bike. I couldn’t fit as much mac ‘n’ cheese as Alderchuck’s stomach requires, so I had Francisco bring a whole bunch for me. Casey doesn’t know that, though. I’ll surprise him with it later. After I’ve fucked with him.

“Did you see mac ‘n’ cheese anywhere in my bags? You’ll live for two weeks without it.”

He freezes mid-tying his hair up. The look on his face—he might kill me. “Please say you’re fucking with me.”

“I mean, it’s a camp full of kids. They’re bound to have mac ‘n’ cheese a couple of the nights.” I shrug as if it’s no big deal.

Casey rage ties his hockey coif into a bun. He spins and approaches me on the bed. I’m sitting up now, still naked, my freshly spent dick flopped toward my thigh. He steps between my legs, cupping my face in his hands, studying me. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, he finds it.

“Aha! Francisco. He brought the mac ‘n’ cheese for you,” he figures out.

I can’t hide the shock. “How could you know that?” It’s gonna be a real problem if he’s able to read me that well. I let my arms slowly wrap their way around his legs. My hands rest on his ass.

Alderchuck’s fingers trace over the tattoo on my chest. There are new Roman numerals under the cat scratches, under the words Property of Brat Cat Since.

“First, you’re a prepper and you’re always fucking prepared. While we’re on the topic, make sure you have enough for me in case of the zombie apocalypse you keep saying we’re on the brink of.” I’m way ahead of him on that one. I’ve already begun stockpiling every time I go to Costco. “But also, because as much as it pains you, you love the fuck outta me, babe.”

“It is a hardship that I’ll be suffering the rest of my life. I’m glad you’re able to recognize that.”

“The rest of your life, Sutter,” he echoes. “Don’t forget it.” He kisses my lips and then his stomach growls long and loud.

“Go. I’ll meet you in the mess hall. Make me a plate?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I watch his sexy khaki-clad ass trounce out the door in search of food and as he opens and closes the door, it allows for the sunlight to catch something shiny in between the floorboards. My heart picks up the pace as my bare feet patter over the wood flooring. I might as well be hauling ass across the ice as far as my cardiovascular system is concerned. Gooseflesh prickles my skin, making my arm hair stand at attention.

Leaning over, I have to wiggle it just a bit, but it pries loose from its timber prison. I study the Canadian penny in the light. Fuck trying to explain away the magic. Dad’s thinking about me, the end. He knew there was a chance I might not get my head out of my ass, and I would have missed out on the love of my life if not for his clues.

Something surges within me. I need to be with him. I stumble into my clothes, not bothering to button up my shirt or tuck it in to comply with camp spec.

I run out the door. “Casey, wait!”

I never call him Casey. That stops him in his tracks, and he spins. His expression says he’s questioning my sanity. Catching up with him, I place the penny in his hand.

“Dad says hi.”

He studies it. “This is a penny, Sutter. Do we need to have you checked? I’m gettin’ worried here.”

“Never been better.” I lace our fingers together, holding the penny between our palms.

“Are you going commando? You’re going commando. Fuck. Counsellor Jonathan was already checking out your junk earlier. Now, it’s even more obvious.” He rubs his free hand over his face.

I shrug. “Counsellor Matthew was staring at your ass.”

“And you’re not plotting revenge?”

“Not in an obvious way.”

“Fuck. We’re so gonna get kicked out of camp for metaphorically high-sticking them and each other just like we did on the damn ice during the playoffs. Sutter, this is such a bad idea.” He groans, gesturing between us.

“The worst idea, kitten, but we fucking love each other and I’m not spending another second without you, so the world’s just gonna have to deal.”

The Mother Fucking End, Bitches.

With love and shit, though.