Page 75 of The Retreat

“Smug,” I offer, putting my hand on Owen’s leg.

Isaac crosses his arms and turns to look out the window. Fascinating. I can’t wait to get the details of this later. Isaac will crack eventually and tell me when Owen isn’t around.

All of us are wearing sapphire and diamond – our school colors – to show support against our rivals. It’s going to be a fun night.

There’s a mass of people lined up to get in and as much as I hate standing here, it’s part of the experience. Being a student and an athlete means we get cheaper tickets for some sections, but it doesn’t mean we get to skip the line. And we got rink-side tickets. I’m not sitting in the nosebleed section.

Oliver gives an impatient huff, his hands in his pockets with Isaac holding onto his bicep. I reach for Owen’s hand and thread our fingers as Isaac whimpers a surprised sound and turns into Oliver, like he’s trying to hide.

What is this?

I don’t even pretend to not be watching them. Isaac’s face turns pink, and Oliver smirks while not looking at him. The poor boy is damn near panting, his fingertips white against Oliver’s shirt.

I snort, trying to hide my amusement and failing.

“What?” Owen looks at me.

I lean in to whisper in his ear. “Your brother is edging his husband.”

Owen’s eyes jerk to the pair, but isn’t making the connection.

“Oliver has a remote in his pocket to something Isaac is wearing…or has inserted.”

Owen sighs. “I really don’t need the details of their sex life.”

“It’s so much fun though.”

“He’s my brother. It requires brain bleach.”

“I’m not making you watch them fuck, though I would not turn away if given the opportunity.” Desperate times and all that.

Owen growls and squeezes my hand harder. “You’re not watching my brother—or anyone else—fuck.”

“It’s porn.” I love that this is bringing out the possessive side of him. “If you’re vetoing porn, you’re going to have to make videos for me.”

“We will finish this conversation at home.”

I smile to myself, knowing I’ve won. For now.

The game is intense. The crowd is pretty evenly split with sapphire and diamond versus gold and obsidian. The boys are fighting hard, both teams equally hungry for the win.

Ridgeway intercepts the puck and runs it back up the ice toward the Monsters goalie. He passes it to Havoc, who drops it back to Oxley who slaps it toward the net, but it bounces off the upright. There’s a mad scramble for the puck. Too many players all clogged up around the goal for anyone in the crowd to see. The goalie is hit, and a fight breaks out.

The crowd is on their feet, screaming, as guys jump over the boards to get in on the fight. Gloves and helmets go flying, whistles are blown, and coaches are yelling. Someone’s nose is bleeding, but I have no idea whose.

Finally the refs get it broken up, and there are so many players in the penalty boxes, they are all turned sideways. The blood is cleaned off the ice, and the game continues.

This sport is amazing.

TWENTY-SIX

Colin

“I’m busy. I have to practice.”

“You’re always practicing now.”

“I want to win. What did you expect?” I don’t understand this new version of Owen. He turned the spare room into a training facility, which benefits me because it means he ‘sleeps’ in our bed every night, but it has also turned into him being in here around the clock.

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