Page 44 of The Break Out

Colton: Nah, that was a one-time deal. Hat trick or not I’ll be seeing you.

Regardless, I’m still trying to get as many goals as possible, but that’s for myself every game, no matter what.

Colton: And when I do. It’ll be you on your knees, naked, waiting for me. I know you want to be a good girl for me.

Baby Collee: In your dreams, Wheeler.

Smirking, I put my phone away. That does it. There’s the motivation. The visual of her doing exactly what I want, on her knees, waiting for me in my bedroom when I get home. I’d take my time before giving her any attention, just letting the anticipation build, not saying anything to acknowledge her in any way. And when I sit on the edge of my bed and tell her to crawl over to me, she will want to fight, but ultimately gives us both whatwe want. And that’s when she will take my cock out of my pants, parting her plump lips, about to take me in–

“Wheeler, you going to join the team at all?” Captain Collee’s voice obliterates my fantasy about his sister. I can’t help the smile on my face knowing what I do.

“Not like I have a fucking choice,” I mumble before joining the stupid pregame ritual bullshit I’m roped into. I still don’t feel like these guys are my team, they all hate me, and the feeling is mutual. But having this secret over all of them makes it more tolerable.

Except now weare losing once again.

This shit is getting old and when I pass the puck to Jones, his shot goes so wide I’m pretty sure he wasn’t even aiming for the fucking net.

“What the fuck was that?” I yell at him as we skate toward the bench.

“Shitty shot, like you never have those,” he snaps back.

“No, because I’m never aiming for the boards like you just fucking did.”

“Shut up, and lay off,” McQuaid butts in.

“Oh, what? Is he also fucking your girlfriend, so you have to defend him being a shitty player?”

“Motherfucker,” McQuaid shoves me, and I shove him back, gripping each other’s jerseys. There’s yelling and a whistle as we’re pulled apart at the bench.

“What the fuck?” Coach yells.

“This piece of shit doesn’t even want to be here; you should take him off the lines altogether.” McQuaid shakes his head, fixing his helmet that I fucked up on his head.

“I’m going to lock you all in the fucking rink to work out your issues if you don’t knock it the fuck off.” Coach glares at both of us.

The ref skates over and points to both myself and McQuaid. “Both of you to the box, delay of game.”

“What the fuck?”

“Fucking kidding me!”

We both scream.

“Now, or be ejected,” the ref threatens.

We both skate over to the box. I’m aware this probably has never happened during a game before and part of me is proud of that. The other part is concerned that we may kill each other in the penalty box for two minutes. The moderator is a middle-aged guy that isn’t even six foot, there’s no way he would be able to break up a fight between us.

“You happy about this?” McQuaid spits out as we sit as far apart as we can.

“You didn’t need to get involved, and yet that’s always what you seem to do, isn’t it?”

“You don’t fucking know me. You don’t know any of us and you clearly don’t want to.”

“I don’t. At all. I don’t give a fuck about any of you.”

“Yeah? What about Brent’s sister? You give a fuck about her?”

My eyes shoot up to his and see the smug look he’s giving me.

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